A table, a tattoo, and some thoughts.

I walk into the conference room to clean the glass topped table that had just been used. Finger prints and oil smudges from skin are all over it. I come with Windex and paper towels to make it spotless once more. My mind is else wear.

In my head I continue the stream of self-loathing thoughts that have been filling it all day.
"Gosh I love the new blemishes on my face, so disgusting", as I lean over the table to wipe it down I feel my stomach roll, "I'm such a cow", as I am still leaning over the table I see my face reflected in the glass, "Oh awesome, my hair is disgusting and frizzy today". I straighten back up to spray a different area of the table, I roll up the sleeves to my sweater. As I do this I glance at my right arm, my fresh tattoo completely exposed reads "Hallelujah". I hear in my head the meaning "To Praise God," and then "are you praising God right now?" Whoa, that's a hit to the heart. Am I? Are these cruel hurtful thoughts I have about myself, a creation of God himself, thoughts of praise? Surely not. Definitely not. I am ashamed. I am apologetic.

A memory of earlier today comes flooding back.
I was sitting at my desk and a lady in my office who I have taken pictures for was telling one of her employees about me. This employee needs her photo taken and so the lady says, "Courtney can take a few new ones for you, she takes pretty good pictures". Ouch.
She didn't say my pictures were bad or awful, but it was the sort of statement that makes an artist feel only average. She probably didn't mean it in a way to be rude or hurtful, in fact I know this woman to be someone who is very no nonsense and very straight forward. It's just who she is. But to her what are just pictures of her employees, are to me, my hard work and more importantly my passion.

How must my Father feel then, when I His creation, that He formed and designed and labored over, think and say mean degrading things about myself? Probably not so good. The truth is I am insulting His hard work, which is definitely NOT praising my King. If for no other reason, I am lovely because He created me. His hard work and love is why I exsist.

As these things sink from my mind down to my heart I finish cleaning the table. I turn out the light and go to put the cleaning supplies away in the cabinet of the bathroom. While I am there I look in the mirror I think "I feel better". Nothing hateful or abusive. My thoughts become filled with why I wanted my tattoo as I head back to my desk.
I wanted Hallelujah on my arm for many reasons. I think it's a beautiful word, it just sounds musical. It is used in some of my favorite songs. But the meaning itself is even more beautiful. "To Praise God" Just by proclaiming that, you can praise God. I love that. And so I wanted it to be on my arm as a symbol and a reminder that my desire is for my life "to praise God".
I blot my nose with my compact puff, just to get some of the shine to go away, while I mull over the lesson I had just begun learning.

A woman who I don't know, who works with a company in my office is leaving as I do this.

"Oh stop that," she says, "you don't need that at all, you're beautiful"

As I thank her for the compliment I almost cry.

Thanks for that Jesus.

Monday Monday

It's Monday. The weekend came and went in the blink of an eye. It's Monday.
I'm at work so this feels naughty. But I really have nothing else to do, except sit at my desk and be available. Be available and ready for whoever may come through the door or whoever may call on the phone. But until then I must blog, or I will fall asleep.


Today I'm going to tell you some things I've observed while living in Florida.
Being a California girl through and through, living here in Florida this past year has been quite an adventure.

• Here in Florida it is completely flat. No mountains, not even really big hills. I know that most people are aware of the fact that it's flat here, but you don't realize just how weird it is until you are living here. Especially coming from a mountainous place like California.

• Here in Florida it is not the law for motorcyclists to wear helmets. I regularly see guys cruisin' down the highways on their bikes, hair flowing free in the wind, boy is it freaky! I don't understand why it isn't a law in every state for people riding motorcycles to wear helmets. But what I don't understand even more, is why people don't WANT to wear one. I mean seriously?! Is it worth the risk??

• Here in Florida you can ride around in the bed of a pick-up truck. Up until this past weekend I had only ever seen people in the backs of trucks on regular roads. This weekend however, I saw people riding in a truck bed on the highway. Ridiculous I say.

• Here in Florida if it is below 70 degrees the natives freak out. So this winter has been a bit chaotic being that they have been having record lows with temperatures getting down to the mid to low thirties at some points. I think it is the only place where a girl from San Diego can look tough when it comes to winter weather.

• Here in Florida I have only seen two doves the whole year and two months I've lived here.

• Here in Florida, Tampa is the lightning capital of the US. The summer of 2009 was quite an experience for me. On the news they keep track of how many strikes of lightning happen within periods of time during particularly big storms. I remember one day there was over 1,200 lightning strikes in our county within an hour. Crazy.

• Here in Florida the students have to take the FCATS several different times throughout their school careers. It's three days of testing and they don't get the results until December. And if they don't pass the test, THEY FAIL their grade! How absurd is that? What about the kids who just don't test well but have amazing grades? A lady who works in my office was telling me that last year a few high school students who had great grade point averages and who had scholarships waiting for them failed the FCATS and got held back! All I have to say is I'm glad my kids won't be going to school in Florida. The school system here I've heard on numerous occasions is just plain ole' shitty.

• Here in Florida there is a place called Ocala. It is the horse capital of the US. Apparently they breed 'em good.

The truth is there are many more observations and facts I've gathered since living here but I can't recall them all at once. So as they come into my mind I intend to put them on this blog. It is an interesting place to say the least. And it has been a fun adventure so far, I am intrigued to see what this coming year will show me.

blankness

Today I want to write.
I don't know where to start. I have ideas for posts, I have aspirations for my blog. I want to grow and become a better blogger. I love to write. Writing was actually my first love. Before dancing, before photography, before anything else, as a little girl I was a writer. I have a box full of poetry from my adolescent days up to my teenage years. I have pages and pages of fictional stories that I wrote just for fun, not because I had an assignment. For quite a long time I remember wanting to be an author. I loved writing, I love writing.
But I have a special relationship with writing. When I neglect writing, when I put writing off to do other things first, it doesn't come back to me very willingly. It seems to have become a bit bitter that I didn't pay attention to it sooner, writing wants me to work for it. But if I give writing my time and attention on a regular basis it comes naturally and easily, we are like old friends who have easy conversation full of meaning. Even now as I am typing this, I am deleting and re-writing sentences over and over and over.

I need to take the time to write more, because this is just too challenging. I'm annoyed.

Because It's Been An Absurdly long time...

It is MARCH of 2010.

I have not posted in so long because I got a full time job in November. And then the holidays came and we were in San Diego with family for that.
Also having a full time job meant that I got home around or after my husband and because we only had the one computer I didn't seem to have time because he wanted to use the computer too.
Then I forgot my PASSWORD for my blogger account.

Well now, not only do I know my password, but I have my own LAPTOP. Also I am quite settled in at my new job and might even be able to post from there every now and then.
I'm not going to say I'm sorry, because these things happen and plus I doubt anyone even noticed I was being so neglectful of my blog.
But I will say, I am better equipped and I am going to try this again.

STAY TUNED

1000 Gifts

• Scented Candles

• Cranberry Juice

• The pure, honest laughter of a baby.

• A best friend who always listens and enjoys my long detailed style of storytelling.

• The excitement of knowing I'm going to be receiving something in the mail.

• A sincere compliment from my husband.

• Getting the job I really wanted.

• Witnessing the amazing wonder of my friend's 11 month old developing his walking skills.

• A Dad who has knowledge about so many things and he is always a phone call away willing to share it.

• The kisses I get every morning while I'm still sleeping before Ty leaves for work.

• A goofy Sunday night full of bad jokes, bad smells, and mischievous laughter.

• Cloudy days

Today My "Baby" Brother is 16? How did that happen?

My brother has always been fast, unstoppable when he has his mind set on something. When my mom was in labor he started coming out without her pushing. The doctor wasn't even in the room yet, so the nurse kept asking her to not push. To which my mom's reply was "I'M NOT PUSHING". The story is that as soon as the doctor walked in and got suited up, he sat down and BAM! David was out. The doctor called him rocket baby after that.

I was five years old when my brother was born. I don't remember much of anything about the first time I met him, or the first few weeks of him being at home. I was only five.
I am told I was loving, yet jealous at times of my new brother receiving all my mother's attention. At the time I didn't understand that my mom and dad were actually worried about him. He wasn't getting enough food due to having a really hard time nursing. My mom didn't know why . He started going to the doctor weekly to get weighed and he was losing too much weight. He became quite skinny. They soon figured out that he was tongue tied. Basically the piece of skin under his tongue came all the way out to the tip of his tongue. Making it impossible for him to latch on. So he went to bottles and he got much better. He eventually had a procedure to cut the skin so he would be able to talk normal. I do remember being upset about my brother having surgery, I didn't want anyone hurting my brother.

I started calling him Guy Smiley. He was always happy and smiling, reminding me of a character on Sesame Street. A puppet talk show host of sorts, named Guy Smiley. His mouth was permanently fixed into a huge toothy grin. My brother didn't have teeth yet, but that's who he reminded me of. My memories of him as a baby start once he was several months old. I LOVED to read as a little girl,(still do), and he loved it when I read to him. My mom would lay him down on my bed with me before bedtime and so I could read to him.
There was a book of nursery rhymes that seemed to be his favorite. I would read them to him with different voices for each rhyme and he would laugh hysterically.
As my brother got older and started walking I became extremely protective of him. I guarded him. I loved him more than anything I had ever loved in my 6 years of life.

The older he got the more fun we had. He quickly learned how to make me laugh, as well as make me scream. But he was really quite a wonderful little brother. We had our spats and squabbles, but people said quite often how obvious it was that we were very close to each other. We had so much fun goofing off and playing pretend. We shared a room for 10 years, so the memories are endless. After being put to bed we were often being shouted at from downstairs to be quiet and go to sleep. Something about being in our beds in the dark encouraged many many conversations. Some ridiculous, bringing fits of laughter and some quite meaningful. He liked to hide under my bed in the mornings. Thinking, I guess, that I wouldn't know he was there even though he did it all the time. I would usually just start talking to him about something and hear "How'd you knoooow?" Silly boy.
As much as he annoyed me as we got older and I wanted him to go away when I had friends over, he was my best friend. He still is. I really, truly, have the coolest brother.

My brother is now becoming a man, and a great one at that. Today he is sixteen. I wish I could be there to celebrate with him. Out of all the things that have been hard about moving away from my hometown and everyone I know, being apart from him has been the hardest. I've missed him the most. I feel like I'm missing so much of his life. But he keeps me involved, because he is awesome. He texts me everyday, and we talk regularly as well. He tells me he misses me often, and that he is excited for me to come home for Christmas time. He is so considerate. He always has been, since he was quite young.

He is very aware of peoples feelings. He also has a great sense of discernment. He has great instincts and he listens to them. He has always been quick to greet adults and shake hands, something most adults tend to be taken aback by because of his young age. He makes friends easily and people become attached to him quickly. He has never abused this gift to manipulate, he treats his friends well. His friend's parents love him. My brother is a gifted athlete, one of those who can do whatever he tries. He runs fast and can climb anything. He loves baseball. His work ethic is strong, my father has taught him to give it all he's got. He is great with animals, getting hired regularly by neighbors for pet-sitting while they are away on trips. He is trustworthy. He is smart. He is kind. He is funny. He has a great sense of who he is already. I can't wait to see what he does and where he goes in life. I know it will be great.

He is my brother, I am proud to say. And I am so glad he was born.



This is from my visit home in July of this year.
He hunched to take this picture with me, he is actually much taller
than me.

1 Year

I woke up before you this morning. This almost never happens, but I'm glad it did.
In the dim light of our bedroom you lay sleeping soundly next to me. Your deep steady breathing the only sound in the room. I looked at you and I took in this moment. There my husband was, with me, in OUR room, in OUR home. It still can bring me to tears to think about how blessed I have been and how our hopes are finally a reality. How I love you. How I love waking up to your kisses and your smell. How I love the way you laugh and tease, how you dance around when a song you love is playing, how you sing to me, how you crinkle your face when I sing to you, and how right now as I write this you are making both of us a delicious breakfast. I didn't even ask. You are a wonderful man, and a wonderful husband. The grace you have for me is hard to understand sometimes, Jesus definitely loves me through you.
There are so many many many things I could keep writing, but I will just finish with this.
This first year of our marriage has been the hardest, craziest, most exciting and wonderful year of my life. There is no one I could imagine beginning this journey with but you. So as I lay for the brief moment awake before you, I took your sleeping body in for my memory. So that when we are apart for months and months at a time in the coming years, when I will have to wake up alone and only speak to you through email, I will recall this morning. The morning of the anniversary of our first year of marriage, and all the mornings before it and all the mornings after. Forever and ever.