Being a teenager is wrought with uncertainty, decisions, frustrations, and some of the best times of your life. But there are also some of the hardest times. How I can, having seen so little of life, be able to choose a career? Find a college? Know what I want to do with my life? Sometimes I want to give up. I feel in adequate and not ready. All this scares me, honestly. Wouldn't it just be easier to go back to elementary school, where college was just a distant unknown and the present delightfully simple?

I've always looked forward to being a "grown up", being able to do whatever I want to do and not having to be dictated by what a superior tells me. But now? Now that I'm so close to the age I longed to be all those years ago? I cower. I hide in the corner, I turn a blind eye, I pretend that it's too far in the future to worry about. But it's still there. Lurking. A source of excitement and something that scares me to death at the same time. It's part of growing up, I know, but that doesn't lessen the anxiety.


I wrote a new looking forward list last night. The list I'd written in early September helped me get through fall -- and even made me grow to adore it. And since I'm kind of dreading winter, and to help me see that the future isn't always bad, I wrote another one.

....

looking forward / winter 

thanksgiving, christmas, and the breaks that accompany both

getting a christmas tree + christmas music 

midnight candlelight christmas eve service (I really love christmas, can you tell?)

fires + hot chocolate + hot apple cider + letter writing

the first snow

a trip with my dad to canada (more on that soon)

starbucks dates

....

Winter isn't looking so bad after all. And when it comes to the not so great part of being this age...I know I can get through it with the help of Christ.

What are you looking forward to?

Happy Monday!

xo

I live in a white house sprawled across two lots. It's only been two and a half years since we moved in, but it feels like home. The neighbors across the street have dubbed it "the happy house"; it's not unusual to see all the little girls of the neighborhood laughing and drawing with chalk and playing in worlds of their own in the front yard.

I live in a house that creaks with age -- the wood floors, windows, and walls. Sometimes I wander through the rooms, running my hand across the walls that were built in 1934, dreaming about the family that lived here like us fifty years ago. What kind of secrets are hidden within the plaster? What kind of things has this house seen?

I live in a house with lots and lots of windows. I like the way the setting sun pours in, casting rippling shadows and pooling in puddles of liquid gold on the floor, transforming everything for twenty precious minutes. And when darkness falls, I like the way the lights get switched on, one by one, making the house feel warm and cozy and safe.

I live in a house that's more than a house. It's a home. Behind the peeling layers of paint, the old wallpaper, there are stories. It's steeped in tradition, filled with family; stories are etched into the foundation, they're what hold it up. Our home is like an additional family member. It cradles us, supports us, listens and soaks up each and every moment of life. And for that, I wouldn't trade it for anything.




what's your home's story?

In the midst of pumpkin bars, cinnamon spice, and apple crisp, a sandwich lurks. But not just any kind of sandwich -- one with graham crackers for bread; marshmallows and a slab of chocolate for filling. A s'more, they call it. And it's a delightful coda to an autumn day, the flavors, nutty and rich and mixed with a tinge of smoke, are thoughtfully calibrated. (though I must confess I reach my limit at two...too.much.sugar.)
S'mores speak of bonfires and glove-coated fingers. They whisper of steaming mugs of hot chocolate and apple cider, of laughter and hayrides. And with each crumbly, melted, gooey bite, it's like a memory in edible form.

S'mores -- love them or hate them? Marshmallows golden brown or blackened? Do tell!

xo

ps my sweet friend abby drew me...is she not amazing?

It comes in the form of a stirring deep inside my chest. Evoked by the haunting melody of a song that brings back a flood of memories, an old photograph, or diary entry, it's a soft fluttering just strong enough that I can physically feel it when I concentrate. I can see it swirling and awakening, like a cat stretching and contorting itself after a nap. It's a strange sensation, this emotion. It's as if a little piece of me that had been amputated, forgotten about, suddenly reappears in a burst of memory, just like that.

Lately I've been bored with my life. Yes, I have more than enough to keep myself busy (almost too much, in fact), but I can't help feel dissatisfied with the monotony of day-to-day life. There's that moment, as the sun kisses the horizon farewell, that I look back at the day and when I realize I haven't really done anything, I get frustrated. I hate wasting a day, a day that is physically impossible to retrieve.



And as I gaze at photos and read entries from when I was in the midst of exciting things, I miss Germany. I miss Paris. I miss seeing new things and the feeling of productivity that comes with exploring and discovering. I am the kind of girl that craves change and adventure -- and when I settle into the same routine, I can feel the inception of restlessness, and the restlessness is even stronger after already having had a taste of this vast world.

I realize these thoughts are a bit selfish and unrealistic -- but I think it's human nature, always being dissatisfied with what you have at the present. Still, I can't help but long for...something. It's like a cross between wanderlust and fernweh, but intensified. What I'm longing for, I'm not exactly sure -- though I do know that I would rather be sailing anywhere except the dark throes of winter. Because even though I'm looking forward to the holidays, I see the long, grey, depressing months of January and February lurking behind the joy and celebration, and wish it were spring we're moving into.



So here I am, writing about my feelings, making do with memories and looking forward to my next adventure.

And in the meantime, those two earthquakes (one with a magnitude of 4.7, the other 5.6) that shook Oklahoma this weekend added just enough spice to hold me over. Who knew that Oklahoma had earthquakes anyway?


How has your Monday been, friend?

xo