Day Thirty Eight - New Years Resolutions

To all my dear friends who "don't have new years resolutions because when I see a change I want to make I make it immediately/I stopped since I usually fail anyway/I don't know I haven't really thought about it". I don't care, make something up. You sound unfestive and it annoys me. It's the new year. Resolutions are to Dec 31st as fireworks are to July 4th. We get all excited about lighting them and 6 hours later we're over it. Get into the mood, dammit.

Now that we've settled that. My new years resolutions are as follows:

1) Start a bible reading plan. (shout out to my buddy Zach for doing that one with me)

2) Give up pop (not caffeine, coffee and I are still good friends) and drink the actual recommended amount of water per day.

3) Make time for this blog everyday otherwise you'll get more pictures/aimless rants/and poorly edited blogs. And none of us want that.

So, although I know that more than half the people who read this blog don't "do" resolutions, but just in case you're reading this and you do, what are yours?

Day Thirty Seven - There Has To Be A Trick

a) I'm exhausted and have so much work to do this weekend it makes my brain hurt. I would have preferred to keep working tonight, but when your eyes start to blur, data entry isn't exactly an option.

b) so I thought to myself, I need a quick blog. What was sparkly about today? Waking up.

c) I got so little sleep last night I'm amazed I was able to call it 'waking up' this morning since I'm fairly sure I was never truly asleep. And yet, when I did indeed wake up, I woke up more refreshed than I have in weeks. There must be a trick that I'm missing. Something that I did last night that I haven't been doing. I know the trick isn't staying up until 3am, I know it isn't sleeping in a bed with someone (it was a girl and it was for mutual warmth and protection), but I don't know what it was. Was it the deep chat we had in front of the fire? Was it the two hours of giggles and whispers as we fell asleep? Was it secrets shared? Was it secrets learned? Was it the silence of the country? Was it the knowledge that I literally couldn't be working because there was no internet signal and thusly could fully relax? I don't have any idea, let alone any real way to experiment to try and narrow them down. Any thoughts here people? I could use your help on this one.

Day Thirty Six - This Is Why

I've learned through the past three years to always be ready to let go of people I love. To not hold them too tightly or too close, to let them go if they choose without being completely devastated. I lived through that pain once and never really intend on trying to a second time. Sometimes I wonder if it's not time to stop guarding myself so closely, but then it happens all over again and I remember why it's a rather essential way for me to love right now.

Let me explain. When I love, I love with everything I've got. When I love you and you feel pain, I feel pain. And when you continually walk yourself into pain, it gets to be a little much. So I ask that you stop, and when you don't, I tend to yell at you. Because I care about both of us going through pain so unnecessarily. This has a tendency to make people stop talking to me. But then I really only have two options: to back down (which rarely happens because I'm usually right and my advice is solid) or to let you walk away. It's not that I'd rather be right, it's that I can't, in good conscience, endorse the choices that continue to hurt you.

Walk away. Take your time. Come back when you're ready, if you ever want to. My love for you will have neither changed nor faded. My love for you will remain constant. I don't expect the same to be true for you but I can hope. Feel free to test it. Others have. Some have come back after years, and my arms were open.

Just know that when I'm asked why I'm so guarded and cautious, that this is why. Because it's either this, or stop loving people the way I do. And I can't do that. I've always loved like this and I always will. And appreciate the people who love me like I love them the most.

Just remember. I love you. I yelled out of love, not to hurt you, but to try and pull your hand from the fire. I will always love you and my arms will always be open and longing for your return.

Day Thirty Five - A Little About Me

There are three people on this earth that I am genuinely tempted to physically assault. Three women, to be more accurate. And not a single one of them knows my name or my face. They have no idea I exist, and I have never once met them. And, because the Good Lord leads me away from temptation, I probably never will. Who are these women? No, they're not the Kardashians, as tempting as that is. They're the exes. Not mine, obviously, I am very straight. I like men. Maybe even too much. Alas, I digress.

These three women I know of only because I can see the scars they left in the men I love. I hate them with every once of my being. I loathe them more than cockroaches and tarantulas combined. It's a fairly simple concept: you can mess with me all you want to. I've had dbags in my life that have done things that deserve a well placed fist to the teeth. But I get over it. I'm a quick forgiver (for most things, I'll give you. Held a grudge for a year once.) But hurt one of my friends and I will never get over it. Ever. Hurt my friend and I will forever think you the most vile person on the face of the planet. Or one of them, since there are three.

I realize the extreme stance I take on this issue is mildly hypocritical. I can think of two separate occasions where I hurt a really super nice guy, but neither of them were intentional, and neither of them were entirely my fault. And I understand that the future wives of these very nice men may hate me for the scar I left, and I'm okay with that. I deserve a little of their hatred. But knowing that, I still have nothing but the taste of bile in the back of my throat for these women. They are evil and I hate them.

So please, for the sake of my blood pressure, if you're a guy: please stop dating pretty whores. The face is not worth the lying, cheating, manipulative, needy, thing that dare call itself a woman. Say no. She's not a project, she's a train wreck. Spend your time on a girl who will love you, build you up, trust you, and can be trusted. Stop walking yourself into bad situations. If she's playing with fire, chances are you're going to get burned. You cannot save her. She never wanted to be saved.

If you're a girl: Please, please, please, for our entire gender, grow the fuck up. What is your problem anyway? Yea, must be really tough to be loved by sweet men. I mean really, how could you not cheat on them with your psycho ex boyfriend or that guy who looked sexy across the bar? Stop being so damn self absorbed you can't see the damage you inflict on everyone you know. There is more to life than getting attention. And for the love of God, after you practically kill a man, take your filthy claws out of him so those of us who actually love him can try and start putting him back together again. If you must destroy people, be satisfied in only doing it once you manipulative tramp. I hate you so much.

Yup. That pretty much covers it.

Day Thirty Four - The Bible Doesn't Say

If I hear the words, "The Bible says" one more time, I'm going to punch a penguin. Really? Does it. Interesting. That's like saying, "The Anthology of British Poets says," Really? Which one? You don't know? Hmm, suddenly I'm a lot less sure whether or not I believe you. Or whether or not you actually read it, or are just quoting someone else who told you that's what it said. Or even if you did actually read it, did you take the time to read it in context? I'm guessing not. Because people who do take the time to read whole books of the bible are often shocked at what they find.

The Bible isn't a book that someone sat down and wrote, its 66 (or if you're catholic 73) separate books written by various authors over the course of about 2-4,000 years, depending. I'll grant, some of the authors are unknown, or best guesses according to tradition and outside sources. But a lot of them are known, especially in the New Testament. If you're going to quote Jesus, quote Jesus. Jesus said, the bible didn't. If you're going to quote Paul, quote Paul. Or Peter. Or James. Or John. Or Luke.

Sometimes, when fact quoting, its hard to fact check. The internet can distort all sorts of things. But whats sort of awesome is the fact that not only is the print version of the bible available in almost all of its forms online, it is still pretty darn popular in print and can thusly be checked whenever necessary. You can actually READ what the original authors actually SAID and in context. Whenever you want to!

Please do before you quote it again. Me, and everyone around you, thanks you in advance for thinking before you spout off rhetoric again.

Day Thirty Three - Look At The Picture

Look people. It's almost 4 in the morning and my brain hurts from the explosion of random and the vast amounts of contemplation that will occur without my consent. I actually have a number of lovely things to tell you, dear reader, for a lot of lovely things happened. But not tonight. Tonight, look at the picture and be jealous of my future husband, whoever he may be.

Day Thirty Two - I Celebrate The Day

In all of the "Jesus is the reason for the season" stuff, I think we all lose sight of what this holiday should be about. Notice I didn't say, "is supposed to be about". There is no denying the fact that we Christians merely took over a pagan holiday and made it our own instead. I'm sure there was a pagan somewhere standing on the street corner shouting, "Remember! Thor is the reason for the season!". Jesus wasn't even born in the winter. He was born in the spring. The exact day wasn't recorded. Because early Christians didn't think the day of His birth was overly important. It wasn't when He was born that matters, it was why He was born.

Christmas is a celebration of the birth of Jesus, but I think we often confuse it with our modern birthday celebrations. We're not celebrating the day He was born to celebrate His life, we celebrate His birth because it was the day He was born to die and rise again. It was the day heaven came to earth, the day our Savior took His first breath. I just... maybe it's just me but I don't really understand how that equates to our celebrations with cake and balloons. Congrats, Jesus! If You'd stayed on earth, you'd be 2011ish years old! Really? Pretty sure He doesn't care.

Pretty sure He wants us to realize the fact that He is still alive. That He did overcome death. That He did rise. That He did save us from death. That He chose to came. As a human, as flesh, to save us. That He came humbly, not royally. That He came according to prophesy that stretched across thousands of years. THAT is what its all about. So no. At my house we don't bake Jesus a cake. And we never will.

Day Thirty One - Like A Bandit

Overwhelmed. That is what I am. In every sense. The gifts this season have been incredible. Far more than I ever expected, though I admit half of them were indeed answered prayer. This season I got my dream job, and make enough money to at it to support myself and help support my family. I get excited when I get up because I genuinely enjoy my job, my coworkers, and find my work fulfilling. It is the biggest answer to prayer in years. And it couldn't have come at a better time. Not to take away from the awesomeness of my boss (which can't be done) but the timing was pretty Divine. I needed to be at the right place in my life, both circumstantially, and frankly spiritually. Without the last two years of struggle and growth, I'd have never been prepared for this job, or have recognized it for the gem that it is.

On top of those two massive prayers being answered, I also happened to get everything I wanted for Christmas and more. I asked for two things, socks and the video game Viva Pinata. I stole 2 pairs of wool socks from my boyfriend (now ex, but when I 'borrowed' them we were dating) and over the past 4 years since I stole them have managed to wear them out. Completely. They no longer have a bottom. It was time for new ones. And my non wool, regular socks have started to come out of the dryer with the elastic still stretched. New socks. Viva Pinata. All I wanted.

I got wool socks, new socks, Viva Pinata, Banjo Kazooie, Bioshock 2, gift cards to Promenade (the local movie theatre), gift cards to pampered chef, a 3 foot long sharpened samurai sword (not even kidding about that one, it will one day hang in my home office), an apron for my many cooking endeavors, a twilight board game (my sister in law really does have the same sense of humor as me), chocolate, and coffee. Not to mention getting to spend the entire day with my brother (who has gotten a lot better over the past few years) and his wife and their six, beautiful, lovely, funny, wonderful children. How can any present, Christmas or other, compare with snuggling with my niece Sarah as she tells me all about her dolly? And I got presents AND Sarah.

I made out like a bandit. I got everything I wanted, and so much more. I could have never anticipated that 2011 was going to be the best Christmas eve of my adult memory. And knowing that 2012 is going to be even better (if we get there, hoping all of those History Channel specials on Nostrodamus and the Mayans were wrong) because I'll finally be able to afford to get my friends presents. Nieces and nephews, prepare to be spoiled! I digress.

The point of all of this is a simple, I was overwhelmed. (Note: I am not going to transfer this into "And it hit me that I hadn't even counted the sacrifice of Christ into the equation and burst into tears" thing. Nope. Not going there. I'm talking about Jesus tomorrow, it being Christmas and everything.) I was overwhelmed by the physical blessing. I think Christians often times neglect the whole physical aspect of life. There's not just church and everything else, the soul and everything else, and prayer time and the rest of your life. It'd be a fairly crappy religion if it worked that way. Well, actually, when it works that way it is a really crappy religion. God is in every part of our life, joy is His gift and pain His megaphone. And this Christmas He was there, holding me like I was holding Sarah, and smiling as I was overwhelmed with happiness from my physical gifts, in the same way I smile when Rachel just about passed out from excitement over the massive amounts of my little pony toys she got. This Christmas I was showered with physical delights. Games, socks, my brother's kids, spades, and far too many sweets. He was even sweet enough to give me a renewed friendship from the past. (I'm telling you, that part of life is still in rewind.)

This Christmas I made out like a bandit.

Day Thirty - Traditions

I love holiday traditions. I love my family's the best. Simple. But the same. Every year.

This year we're going to celebrate Christmas a day early, since my brother has to work on Christmas day. (Darn police and their need to constantly be protecting us.) So tonight (the 23rd) the kids were so excited, getting them to bed was practically impossible. But once they did, the old ways began. The coffee was passed around (as all of us were exhausted by the 6 children throughout the course of the day), and the left over snacks brought out. We played Pictionary and spades. We talked politics and pop culture. We didn't go to bed until midnight, and even then it was lingering. 

And every year I seem to be reminded of how important the little traditions are. How included they make everyone feel. Each member of the tradition is important. Mike and I need each other to beat my brother and my mother at Spades. One without the other just leads to trouble. Melissa always begins the dough for the morning donuts, and forces snacks on us to clean out the fridge. We talk politics and catch up, and joke about our Christmas gifts and what we didn't get each other. We belong, we enjoy, and we all know our parts. 

I also realize that someday, new traditions will have to be started, and old ones changed. Thus is the nature of growth and change. Things cannot be as they always were. Someday I will add someone new to our family, and be added into another. And then our traditions will have to grow and change to accommodate the new, and change to accommodate the loss. But then the old traditions will slowly fade from memory until, according to us, it's always been this way. 

And perhaps, as a resident of the Rabbit Hole, when the opportunity arises, I will take the opportunity to create a few traditions for the better. Perhaps in the family I help create we'll read the bible every Christmas Eve, or make it the night the kids learn to donate gifts to charity. I want to restart the tradition we had when my grandparents were alive; we went looking at Christmas lights every Christmas Eve (that was when Santa came, we missed him every year!). Or take the time to remember the gifts that have really stuck with us through the years.

That being said, no matter what happens or changes or grows, I will always, always love the times I get to play spades and talk politics and snack on meat and cheese and crackers with my brother and mother and Uncle Mike and sister in law. 

What Christmas traditions do you cherish the most? Are there any you would add if you could?

Day Twenty Nine - Just When You Need It

As usual, I didn't realize how much I needed tonight until it happened. Tonight I got to rock out to some old music with my bestie and remember all of the reasons we are a perfect fit. Mostly because we're sarcastic enough to keep each other in check. She can see in my blind spots and I in hers.

It was the perfect mix of saucy and sweet. And once again, God has shown His provision and care. I have no doubt that the night was carefully orchestrated to be exactly what I needed, and exactly what she needed as well, even though anyone looking in would have thought that we'd completely lost our minds. It was for us.

A last night, of sorts. Not that we won't see each other again or have our girl's night, but she's in a committed relationship that is headed right towards a proposal and soon I'll have to really, honestly share her. It won't ever be quite the same as it is right now, and tonight was a great send off as we both start new chapters in our lives. The places and people in our lives may stay the same, but we won't be.

Day Twenty Eight - Once Upon a December

This is linked a lot to "Rewind" so if you haven't read that one go catch up really quick. No worries. I'll wait.

Oh good you're back. Awesome. Okay, so a) I am clearly loved as DESPITE what those high and mighty weathermen claimed, there is indeed snow on the ground. It's just a dusting but that's all I wanted anyway. Just some white on the ground. B) Why does everything have to change?

Because it is. Somewhere deep inside of me, I know that this is the last Christmas that we'll be like this. We're all single and struggling, trying to find our way, our place, our person. Next year, I just... somehow it'll all be different. It won't be just us anymore. There will be new people. We'll have to adapt. Next year it won't be the same reunion, we'll have responsibilities and limits. Next year... But first, first we still have to rewind. We have to go back.

I prefer to think of it like that scene from Anastasia where she starts dancing with her own memories. One last dance with them before everything changes. Tonight was our last night of spades with just us. Petey and I may have already had our last car chat and didn't even know it. I know I've had my last smoke with Honky. Everything changes. For one last season, things are as they always have been, and I will be thankful for them.

And then, at the end of the dance, when the rewind ends and its time to move forward, I'll move forward with open arms, ready for my next dance.

Day Twenty Seven - Start New

1) I realize now that I will actually start having to schedule time for these. But that's gonna start happening after Christmas, so until then you, my dear reader, will have to deal with short and sweet.

2) Sometimes, things are broken beyond repair. No amount of gorilla glue is going to fix your iPhone. That baby is busted. And to a certain extent, even sending it back to the manufacturer isn't going to solve your problem. There are some things that simply cannot be fixed. You have to get a new one.

I guess that's my thought for the day. Because like expensive phones, relationships can be smashed beyond repair as well. When everything lays in pieces around you, you know that there is no getting that thing back. It will never be what it was. But that doesn't mean you have to give up.

When you send in your trashed phone, (I hope this next part is true for the sake of my analogy) they take the non broken parts and put them into other phones. It gets refurbished. And sent back to you. It's not the same phone you had, but its darn close. I think sometimes that's the only way for a shattered relationship to survive. It can never be exactly what it once was. But it can still be something wonderful if both parties are willing to start new, and accept changes. Let go of what was broken, hold onto to what still works, and see if you both can't forgive and... start new.

That's my deep thought for the day. My eyes stopped focusing about halfway through writing this so sorry for any spelling errors. I swear, if tomorrow is anything like today you'll be lucky to get a cute picture with a caption.

Day Twenty Six - Plans

Sometimes, things just come together. The last few days have proven that. In a rather spectacular sort of way. My brain is really too fried to try and make it eloquent so its going to be short instead. Tomorrow looks a little like this: organize brain, create calendars, fire off a whole ton of e-mails, have Jason (a friend of the family) over for a few hours, and then some solid awesome time with Petey. The next day, more organization, more e-mails, and a few phone calls, and then hopefully a spades night with a few friends. The day after, whatever I haven't finished (which is hopefully all done which will allow for organization time), should hopefully be spent with a friend looking at Christmas lights. And then Friday leave for the brother's and spend the holidays with his family.

Work, friends, and family are all coming together so well. Granted, it's a bit of a squeeze sometimes, but it's doable. And it's just... nice. It's peaceful and calming. This season, I get to have it all.

One, two, three ducks in a row, which is nice, even if that fourth one is still kind of floating out into the middle of nowhere. (If you didn't catch it, ducky #4 is my love life.) In time, little ducky. In time. Until then, I think this life is quite sparkly enough.

Day Twenty Five - Presidents and Assholes

Tonight was a Sunday Dinner, and like they always seem to be, it was really necessary to get me back to where I needed to be. After dinner (which was delicious) we played cards. A game called Presidents and Assholes. If you know the game, let me add, there was no drinking involved. I like it better when there is no drinking, because it got hilarious. Presidents were naming 3 wilds at a time, there was an asshole santa hat, and every time there was a social, we did a cheers with our Mt. Dews. Adam definitely lost, as he was mostly the asshole. But he had a few meteoric rises to President that were truly majestic.

Which of course, I am now going to tie into something in my life, because if there is something being 2.5% done with this blogging adventure has taught me, its that my life is more like a sitcom than I'd ever realized. Ever since I graduated college, I've been struggling for money. Making it, but just barely. My goal is to one day be able to take on all the financial responsibilities of my home, so that my mother works because she wants to, not because she has to. And for the very first time ever, that goal is now within sight. It's not quite within reach, but I can see it. It's now in the realm of possibility. And that... That is amazing. 

Part of it is providence, part of it is just dumb luck, but I'm not going to take myself out of the equation. Ever since I was offered an opportunity with my current company, I have been busting my ass to do the best possible job. And it's starting to pay off. I truly believe it was always going to, but it's hard, believing in a company at the ground floor, working for money that hasn't shown up. It's not easy on the bank account either. But whenever my boss called, and asked for something, I made sure I could deliver. I said yes. Even if it meant I had to work late, or a weekend. Even if it meant lost sleep, a shortened social schedule (okay, introvert that I am, I never really minded having an excuse to bow out of social obligations but keep with me here) or even an ability to get a second job to try and put a little more black in the bank account. And it paid off. For the first time, ever, in my entire life, my boss has recognized my hard work, and rewarded it. She knows that when she needs something done, she can call me, and I'll get it done. And she pays me accordingly. 

In the monetary part of life, I went from being an asshole to a president in a few short months. (Granted, my presidency is making enough to start saving, and be able to give more, but that's been my ambition from the start.) Sometimes, life can't be controlled, and my circumstances may change just as quickly and I'll be an asshole once again. But until then, I'm going to bask in being a President in my own right. I've earned that. 

Day Twenty Four - Men, It's Your Mouth

Dear Men everywhere,

There is something I feel the need to explain to you. The sexiest part of you is your mouth. Not the shape of your lips or the taste of your tongue (though no one likes halitosis) but rather what comes out of it. Despite popular belief, an asshole is not attractive, he is merely more readily able and willing to play off of feminine stereotypes and desires more easily than his goodnatured counterparts.

I know that I'm an odd duck this way, but the sexiest thing I've heard a man say all year is, "How is your relationship with Jesus?" If I didn't see the man as my little brother, I'd have probably kissed him right then and there. Yes, gentlemen, that is what really makes my eyes glaze over and my knees weak. Granted, my desire for Jesus loving men is perhaps unique, but any decent female favors intelligence and kindness. If she doesn't, don't bitch to us good ones about how she wasn't worth your time. Stop getting distracted by large breasts, and take a moment to listen what is coming out of our mouth. It's your own damn fault, isn't it?

Would you like to know the second sexiest thing I've heard in a year? "Anthropomorphize". He knew what the word meant, and used it properly. My brain just stopped for a second as it flooded with pleasure. A man. With a brain. Who liked to exercise it. Who valued knowledge. Dear Lord, if that isn't the second sexiest thing in the world, I have no idea what is.

Honestly, men, look around at your fellow men. Look at what we have to deal with on a daily basis. Not only men who spew uselessness and vulgarity from their lips, but who aren't willing to even listen to what comes out of ours but judge us by cup size and the tightness of our jeans. Say a kind word, an intelligent word, flex your brain instead of your bicep, and I think you'll be shocked at the sort of women you attract. They may have a smaller cup size and don't wear jeans that appear glued to their hips, but their personalities are deeper than a shower.

But hey, if you're looking for shallow and sexy (though how you stand the thought of being one in a long line of casual sexual encounters is beyond me because well, if she's sleeping with you, is there anyone she won't say no to?) knock yourself out. But leave the good ones to the men worth their time. 

If you're not, speak goodness and intelligence. The good ones will find you. There is no doubt about that.

I know this seems a bit preachy, and I apologize for that. I just wanted to let the good men out there know that I hear what they're saying, and I appreciate it. And so will others. Please don't change because you see the assholes getting the good girls. Assholes ruin good girls. Get up the courage, and get to us first.

Sincerely,
    Me.

Day Twenty Three - Huffing Vicks & Security Blankets

Okay, I got sick last night. 7 o'clock rolled around and my stuffy nose went crazy on me, congesting every spare inch of room in my head, and decided to flood out of my nose. It was not pretty. But thank the Good Lord the people at Puffs decided to infuse a few of their precious, soft tissues with the blessed cooling, clearing power of Vicks vapor. So I sat, and using the term coined by my theatre professor (Shout out to you, Samwise) I huffed all the vicks out of the tissue. And then I blew my nose. And started again. Breathing deeply with a stupid grin on my face.

Vicks filled tissue is one of the many things I use to make myself feel better when fighting off illness. Another is people. Certain people, I guess. Certain people I don't want to talk to when I'm sick because I tend to digress into the mental processing of a 4 year old, and it happens to be rather embarrassing. But certain people... Well I know they love me enough that they don't hold it against me. And I find myself reaching out for them, like a security blanket. When my brain decides to work like a 4 year old's, it happens to get anxious fairly easily. I don't have any idea what there is to worry about it, but it does.

Confession: there is one friend in particular that I always imagine with me whenever I feel under the weather. I couldn't tell you why. I've spent so little time around him in my life, I cannot explain why the thought of his presence gives me comfort. I cannot tell you why texting him when I'm scared or sad or sick makes me feel instantly feel better. Safer, somehow. So when I get sick or scared or sad, on top of texting him, when I close my eyes I imagine he's near. Just sitting next to my bed. And when my brain gets anxious for any reason, I reach out and take his hand and hold it until the feeling passes. And then I let it go, because I'm afraid to inconvenience even my pretended version of him. But take it up as soon as I need to again.

I honestly couldn't give a rhyme or reason for my desire to hold his hand like a security blanket, but there is no denying the comfort it gives me. I give my imaginary blanket a gentle squeeze in thanks.

 What makes you feel better when you're under the weather? And do you have any idea why I reach for this one friend in particular?

I can't explain it, why he calms me so.

Day Twenty Two - The Book That's Already Written

You how those evil little twihards posted everywhere on the internet "I want Stephanie Meyer to write my love story!!!!!!!!!" And yes, there were that many exclamation points. Maybe more. A) Stephanie Meyer can't write a good love story for crap. It's decent escapist fiction, but it's also encouraging co-dependency. Not good for impressionable young minds. Trust me, there is more out there than crazy, controlling rich guys who want to own you. I promise.

Tonight, as I was praying, some of my sappier music started playing on my iPod. (It may or may not have been part of the Beauty and the Beast soundtrack, just saying.) And I admit, my girly heart ached for a love story of my very own. Hopefully with a guy who is already human. Again, just saying.

And a wave of reassurance washed over me. God's got this. He's writing my love story. And He's proven Himself to be quite the author. I smiled, I could wait a little longer.

And then it hit me. This whole idea of waiting is stupid. Think of your favorite romance novel. And I mean good one so you better be thinking Austen or Rivers or something good. Then think of the hero, and the heroine, and what they did before they met, or got together. They certainly weren't waiting around for their life to begin. They were living it, to the fullest of their ability. That's what made them such great people in the first place. Their life didn't begin the day they met, or the day they got married. It began long before that. And continued to play through those special moments.

There is no waiting. Because each of our stories have already begun. And because God isn't writing the story, and we live it out with the strokes of His pen, He already wrote the story. He wrote the story a really, really long time ago. My first breath to my last has already been written, and nothing I can do will speed it up or slow it down. I am at the complete and total mercy of the author. Which led me to two conclusions.

2) I need to PRAISE Him now for what He has ALREADY done. He already wrote the book. And I'm looking to the author to get me through the book as best I can. So I'm going to thank Him for everything, even before I see what it is. I mean, that's what faith is, isn't it? Believing in what you can't see? That's what He asks of us every day, to believe in Him. So it makes sense He'd want that for every aspect of our life. Including that tiny aspect that happens to be my future love life.  

1) I need to do the author justice and be a worthy heroine. There is no waiting. I've got a life to lead, and frankly I rather love my life. Great job, great friends, great home. There is nothing to wait for, just another character to be added. I'm certainly not going to let that stop me, sappy songs or not.

Day Twenty One - Rewind

First of all, I hate the dentist. I mean loathe. Sharp metal objects poking around nice soft tissue and bone. These are masochists. And yet we pay them to do their work. Because they make our smiles prettier. I swear, if nice teeth weren't attractive to the opposite sex, they'd go out of business in a matter of days. Anyway, this is important only for two reasons: 1) everyone should know how much I loathe dentists and 2) because I had a weird premonition as I was driving back from my dentist.

I was mildly distracted with my thoughts of hatred and how weird my mouth felt, when a song on my iPod started to play. The beginning reminded me of a different song, and the line "Light light light light up the sky" suddenly became stuck in my head. When I was with an ex, we'll call him "Pierce", the song "Light Up the Sky" by Yellow Card was our song. I deleted the song from my iPod a long time ago. It wasn't a pleasant break. He was angry at me for a long time, and with just cause. I was a different person back then, and going through a lot, but none of it excuses my behavior. I apologized a thousand times, but he stayed angry. And I let it go, knowing that nothing I could do could ever really change how he felt. And I honestly haven't thought about him in probably over a year. And suddenly he was on my mind, and I felt that somehow, I was going to start going backward.

Not in a bad, regressive way. But in a 'clearing out the closet' sort of way, dropping off old baggage left and right. And that this trend was going to continue, and he was the first step. I didn't think much of it, as I had no idea where Pierce was, and no had idea how to get in touch with him again. Or even what I'd say if I did. I got home, parked my car, and didn't think on it further.

I had to leave a few hours later to go to a work part for my mom, and low and behold, Pierce is stepping out of his car. Apparently he and my landlord (who is also a good friend of mine) had reconciled and he was visiting. Damn near stopped me in my tracks. We just kind of looked at each other wide eyed, and I got into my car and drove away. But as I was driving, I felt God telling me to turn around, to invite him to the party. So I did, because really, the worst that could happen is that he could say, "No," followed by a few choice words. Instead, he said yes. We went, spent an hour talking and joking around, and then said goodbye. It was pleasant, and I'm more at peace knowing there is at least one less person in the world that thinks I'm the devil.

This marks the first time in history that one of my weird premonitions has come true in a matter of hours. I praised God for His goodness, and for His work in this. I hope it was good for both of us, because I know it was good for me. As I was thinking on this, I looked up the song that was stubbornly stuck in my head, which happens to be "Light  Up the Sky" by The Afters, which if you haven't listened to it before, I highly recommend it. And I felt God once again, stronger than before, telling me, "I am able, I am willing. Ask. Ask of Me. Ask Me to light up the sky." And I did; I prayed for things I've been afraid to ask for for a long time. And will spend the rest of the night in peaceful praise, and earnest supplication. Because He is able, and He is willing.

I cannot help but wonder, swirling around in my overwhelmed brain, what other baggage is going to come out of the closet to greet me, and be able to say their peaceful goodbyes, or welcome hellos. But I know He's in control, and tonight, that's all I need to know.

Day Twenty - So Simply Complicated

As I lay me down... where do I begin?


 Today, a friend reminded me to lay it all down. I don't need to worry, or fear. I have no need to be enslaved to anything, for I have been set free. I don't need to wast my time regretting, for I have been forgiven. I don't need to waste my time dreading, for I have been made new. I need to spend my time enjoying. I enjoy the gifts I have been given. I enjoy my God for simply who He is. I enjoy the changes He has made in me, and hope for more. I can enjoy my life, because He's in control. And He has my trust. So tonight, I'm resting in Him. I lay it all down.  


I encourage you to do the same. 

Day Nineteen - Jimmy Johns You Rock

It was a slow day. I brain stormed and google image searched for work. I got over a small hangover. I showered and changed my linens because hangover linens must be changed. I talked to the new friends I made last night. But I didn't feel much like cooking today, most due to exhaustion. Going to sleep at 4am and waking up at 8am makes me less than enthusiastic. In case you have not read previous posts, 6 is my absolute minimum for sleep, 8-9 is the goal area. I require a whole lot of it to function regularly. And without it, I am not greasing any casserole dish, chopping onions, or stand over a hot stove. Nope. I'm going to sit, on my couch, and order Jimmy Johns. I have eaten two BLT's today and the third is in the fridge waiting for me. My stomach is satisfied, my body exhausted, my dishes clean. So Jimmy Johns, this is my shout of of love to you.

P.S. I realize that this isn't exactly Sparkly Marshmallow material, and I'll work on having back up ideas for slow days, or talking about something deeper than my love of a sub sandwich shop, but the utter gratefulness that I am full of is pretty darn sparkly.

Day Eighteen - A Fantastic Night That Reminded Me Exactly Why I Am A Hermit

Tonight was the "Annual Christmas Formal and Sacrifice" which is my friend Tyler's way of hosting a winter formal. It's spectacular. All the girls are in dresses; all the men are in suits. It is an undeniably good time. I decided, after all of my good behavior, I deserved a night off. I had a few drinks (which I had given up) and a few cigarettes (which I had also given up). And I had a blast. I chatted with people on the smoke breaks, I had a little social lubricant, and the night was fantastic. I laughed, great pictures were taken, I danced, I socialized. Much fun was had.

And yet, I have never been so convicted to never do any of it again. Let me re-emphasize, there were no negative consequences. I didn't get too drunk, just happily buzzed at my peak. I have no regrets at the end of the night. But I have never been more convinced that I am both a non-drinker and a non-smoker. I chose two and a half months ago to stop doing both, for personal reasons. I talked myself into letting loose tonight and doing both. And I never want to do either again. I can't tell you why. I'm not sure myself. But there is a certainty in my soul that knows that I have given that life up for a reason, and I don't want it back. I waded my feet into a pool I used to swim in, and all I want to do is take a shower and stay on dry land forever, preferably curled up with a good book.

Speaking of which, I started reading a book today, while trying to waste time waiting for the blessed time of the party to arrive. It was RC Sproul's The Holiness of God. The first few pages, though I knew they should be moving me, weren't. I set the book aside, when the proper time came, and did my make-up and hair. And now, now after my night of pleasureful socialization, feel his words with a thunder to my heart. There is so much more than this. 


Yes, it was fun. Yes, I enjoyed myself. Yes, I got to see and talk to people I do not see and talk to enough, Lindie and Molly, I'm looking at you. But there is so much more than this. And that, that more is what I truly want. That more is what Sparkly Marshmallows are all about. That more is what I have dedicated my life to come to know.

No more shallow waters for me. Of course, I will still struggle. Tomorrow I might crochet an entire scarf to keep myself from smoking once again (though I doubt it since my mouth tastes like hell and I have literally no desire to even look a cigarette). I will still have days where ignoring my responsibilities to play Pokemon will be my agenda for the day. But if anything, this night has reaffirmed my choice to be a hermit. I don't drink. I don't smoke. I try not to participate in drama. And I read, a whole lot, while staying at home (as my work is computer based) and cook for me and my lovely mother. This is the life I have chosen. And this wonderful night, for reasons beyond my comprehension, reminded me why.

Day Seventeen - I Am Not Grumpy, You Are Annoying

I am not grumpy, you are annoying. This is to my friends that know about this blog but don't read it. To my friends that have no idea what the Sparkly Marshmallow Theory of Life is really about and assume that its about rainbows and butterflies and thinking positively. It honestly makes me wonder if you know me at all. This is to my friends that I dearly love but want to kill. My friends that have never really understood how $^#)^#$)(#%$@ frustrating it is when they made terrible leaps in logic and then assume that I'm cranky. I'm not cranky. You're retarded. And today I have had enough of you.

To answer a few questions that seem to be getting brought up alot: I do believe in true love. I do believe in marriage. I do believe love can last a lifetime. I just don't think it's necessarily a physical certainty that it's going to happen between you and that girl you met two months ago that you've already proposed to. Call me, and statistics, a cynic.

I do believe some people get married for the wrong reasons or at the wrong time and will probably get a divorce. In my own humble opinion, that doesn't make me "so damn negative", it makes me a realist. I wish every marriage, especially those happening to people I genuinely care about, was going to last forever. But statistics prove my theory that some of my friends just aren't capable of not making poor decisions. It doesn't make them any less my friends, it doesn't change how much I love them or how good they are. Just don't expect a shocked face from me when it doesn't work out.

It makes me sad when my friends make decisions that in my opinion seem to be hasty and poorly thought out. "OF COURSE I have to propose to her right now! Why, you ask? Um... well because I want to." You sir, must be a genius. Despite the fact that you can't afford a wedding, you met the girl over the internet less than two months ago, and I'm not entirely sure stable is really your strong suit since you were utterly convinced you were in love six months ago and look how that turned out, no, you don't have my blessing. Because I actually love you. And will tell you when you're being an idiot. Please, dear Lord, do the same for me. Do you think I want to hurt you? Saving you from pain is my number one goal, why is that so hard to see? If you're determined, I'll be there every step of the way, but don't expect me to get all blank stare and say, "Gee, didn't see that one coming." when it all falls apart because that wouldn't help either one of us grow or heal. And if, hopefully, I'm wrong and you are blissfully happy in a forever love then I'll be blissfully happy because your happiness is what I wanted all along.

So no. I'm not cranky. You're just acting like you're mentally handicapped and it's frustrating me. All I'm asking for is one moment worth of pondering enough for you to say, "I see where you're coming from, I just happen to disagree." because that I can respect. Saying, "Oh so you believe in reality. So you're saying that happiness isn't a reality?" because you're a sappy idiot is certainly not going to convince me you're thinking clearly. Happiness based on reality is the best kind, you dumbass. It means it has a solid chance at lasting. Happiness based on the delusion that your significant other poops rainbows and farts butterflies is definitely more likely to fail and when you learn that their shit stinks, your happiness is going to sink like yesterday's lunch.

Alright, now you've got me. I am cranky. BECAUSE you're an idiot. And because I love you enough to tell you when I think you're being one. Again: please return the favor. Without my friends that truly loved me enough to tell me when I was being an idiot (you know who you are and I love you) I'd have made a hell of a lot more mistakes than I have. So get it out of your head that I'm being cranky or negative and listen to what I am telling you. I'm not even asking that you agree. Just consider. Please.

Until then, I beg of you, please stfu. You're fueling my next round of arguments with the nonsense coming out of your mouth. It's almost painful. No, it is. It is painful because your grammar is going to shit too. Just stop. Please. For both of us.

Day Sixteen - What He's Good For

I think it was over three years ago that I had the phone call that today's subject is based on. We'll call him Jonah. I was searching for answers. Answers that had gone denied to me for years, either by being blown off or... no mostly just getting blown off. We were talking about Christianity. I hadn't practiced my faith in years. I had prayed occassionally, but nothing really more than that. But I wanted more. I just... wasn't sure church was the place I could find it. I'd been burned a few times by Christians who were supposed to be leaders, but I knew I wanted more with God. And if I was going to find any answers, Jonah was going to have them. He was a PK (Preacher's Kid) going to a school with an amazing Ministry dept.. He was going to have the answers. And he did. Mostly. But as I was asking my questions, I asked him one that to me seemed rather basic, and yet he swore he'd never heard before.

"What can God do for me now? I mean, heaven is great and all and I appreciate the eternal life, but I need help now."

Truth be told, I do not remember his answer. At all. And I feel sort of terrible about that because it was important at the time. But it was three years, and a whole different person ago. And I think it's time for me to answer the question. Because it's important for me to remember exactly why I dove into the Rabbit Hole, and why I am determined to stay here. Why this insane life is the life that I willingly choose. Over and over and over again. That's right my dear friends, there is a reason beyond the sadomasochistic pleasure I derive from beating my head against a wall.

To answer the question: He gives peace beyond understanding. I still stress out a lot, but in the middle of the biggest hurricanes of stress filled life, there is a peace that keeps the world from falling in and crushing you. I stress out about the little things because I don't trust enough, but He's never let me fall. And when I need Him the most, He's always there. To comfort, to console, to fight for you when you're too tired.

He gives wisdom beyond your years. I've made some giant mistakes, its true. (Remember that week we talked about yesterday?) But I can tell you some giant mistakes I didn't make because it went against what I knew was best for me, or what was best for others. And I just knew, somehow, to say no at the right times to avoid truly massive disasters. And I'm really thankful for that.

He gives more than I ever dreamed. Just knowing that He holds my past, present, and future in His hands is one of the most comforting thoughts I have. Having Him in my life is the most rewarding thing in my life by far. Honestly, I'd be a Christian even if Heaven wasn't part of it.

In Him I found everything I had been looking for. I found satisfaction, love, devotion, peace, adventure, comfort, and community. It's the best decision I ever made, to pursue God with my whole life. And I wouldn't have made that decision without Jonah and his phone calls. So thanks Jonah. I owe you one. And maybe, I can be someone's Jonah someday.

Day Fifteen - I Have A Question

Yes, this is a question blog for two reasons. One: I really don't feel well and I'm going to bed as soon as I am done typing this. Two: I'm genuinely curious. I happened to watch a How I Met Your Mother episode about it, and it's happening in my life this weekend. 

How do you feel about having an ex at your wedding? Be you future bride or future groom or uninvited ex (that'd be me in this situation) what do you think is the proper procedure for dealing with them at weddings? 

Special bonus points: What if the ex also happens to be a good friend? 

Day Fourteen - I Wanna Sing So Big

Oh man. Today was great. Today I crafted (Homemade Kindle Case) and decorated my Hobbit sized apartment. It goes without saying, but I'm going to say it anyway: There is glitter. Lots of glitter. And sparkly lights. It's beautiful, and of the lovely silent season variety. Lights and glitter sooth my soul. I was more relaxed while putting up my tree and listening to Christmas carols than I am after a spoonful of codeine cough medicine. And it was during this delicious lull, that the words of the carol starting soaking in. 

Said the little lamb to the shepherd boy, "Do you hear what I hear? Ringing through the sky, shepherd boy, do you hear what I hear? A song, a song high above the trees with a voice as big as the sea, with a voice as big as the sea." 

And without warning, my soul responded, and enthusiastically. I wanna sing so big, it said. I want to join in the chorus of glory that is being sung and that will be sung for all time. I don't want to merely hum along, I want to sing with a voice as big as the sea. I want my voice, my life, to resonate with this song. The song of God's glory. A voice as big as the sea. Alone, I know I am not capable of doing that. My voice is so small, my life a little speck, but with God, even my tiny little voice can sing as big as the sea. 

When I was little, like second grade little, I didn't care what my voice sounded like. I just sang as loud as I pleased. Which was very loud. Sometimes I didn't remember the words. That didn't stop me. Sometimes, I had no idea what the melody was. That didn't stop me either. I just loved to belt it out. Sometime when I was growing up, I lost that. Not only did I stop singing if I didn't know the words or the music, but my voice got quiet. I didn't even like the sound of it. And then, sometime in the last year or so, I stopped caring and started singing again. I warn everyone when they get into my car, "I can't sing well, but that doesn't stop me. If a song I like comes on, regardless of whether or not I can hit those notes, I'm going to belt it as loud as my little diaphragm can." And, oddly enough, I've yet to have a single person seem to mind. Because after a few songs of me rocking out with reckless abandon, they feel comfortable enough to join me. Especially if I forget a word and just keep going anyway.  And suddenly, we're all belting out the songs at the top of our lungs, and it doesn't sound bad, not bad at all, because when you sing with reckless abandon, the soul comes through, and unless your thing is death metal, the soul sounds pretty darn good. And when my eyes are closed (not when I'm driving, but when I'm belting in a perfectly safe location) and I'm not thinking about how I sound, or how the lady next to me sounds, but thinking only of the words and my Audience of One, then my voice is as big as the sea. 

My voice, my little voice, as big as a shining, golden sea. My voice, my little voice, resounding through my life and your life and this world and this time, joined with voices throughout history, and into eternity, singing the same song. I was made to, you see. He made my little voice to sing as big as the sea. And I'm going to. I'm going to close my eyes and sing, and when I open them, I hope to see His face. 

Do you see what I see? Do you see a world that is desperate for beauty and life and wonder and love and forgiveness? Do you hear what I hear? Do you hear the cry of the many, the cry of souls who know that there has to be more? Do you know what I know? Do you know the joy of knowing God, of being forgiven, of His joy, of His peace, of His love? If you do, will you sing with me? If you don't, will you let me tell you?

Day Thirteen - Signs of the Times

"He also said to the crowds, "When you see a cloud rising in the west, you say at once, 'A shower is coming.' And so it happens. And when you see the south wind blowing, you say, 'There will be scorching heat,' and it happens. You hypocrites! You know how to interpret the appearance of earth and sky, but why do you not know how to interpret the present time?" - Luke 12:54-56

I think we're all sort of blind when it comes to our own lives. I think that's probably why we all act so surprised when the results of our stupidity are disastrous when all of our friends are holding in their 'how did you not see that coming?' faces. And yet, the mistakes other people make are glaringly obvious. Which is why we look at our friends with the 'how did you not see that coming?' face. But after mistake after mistake after mistake, even my thick skull has started to pick up on the warning signs that I'm already making poor decisions, or about to. And, in a rare moment of synchronicity, each warning sign has an opposite that tells I'm doing well.

Warning Sign #1 - Mess. As everyone who knows me knows, I'm not the tidiest of people. Not by a long shot. But I've noticed that the mess gets 10x worse when I start making mistakes. Sometimes, the mess is created because I'm in a rush to leave the house when I know I should stay home instead. Sometimes, the mess is created because I stay home and sit still when I should get up and be productive. Either way, I don't want to clean the mess because it forces me to face my mistakes. The longer the mess just stays there, the easier it is to continue ignoring the mistakes. Each mistake seems to somehow make its very own layer of mess. By the time I accept that something is wrong, the work of cleaning it up seems overwhelming. If that isn't blatantly metaphorical, I'm not sure what is.

Warning Sign #2 - Passions. There are some things I am passionate about. I love books. All sorts of books. Especially theology. I love video games, especially social ones that I can talk to Linz while I play, or talk to her about the game play (and then of course read her blog). I love decorating and crafting and cooking, and I adore spending my weekends doing all of those things. And when I'm making mistakes, I don't do those things. I don't do the things I love because I can't just relax and enjoy them. I'm too wound up, too busy avoiding the rest of my life to find any relief in, or time for, my passions. I don't read because as soon as I pick up that book I'm going to have to face the fact that I'm being an idiot. I don't game because I can't get settled enough to even pick a game, or throw myself into a story line. I don't decorate or craft or cook because of the mess.

Warning Sign #3 - Sleep. I sleep like shit when I'm doing that which I shouldn't, or not doing that which I should. The stress gets to me almost instantly, and slowly builds until I'm trying to function on less than six hours a night and sore all over. (Ask anyone. I'm useless with less than 8, and function best with 9.) Because of the loss of my passions, I have no stress release. And mess just stresses me out in general. And to top it all off, I'm sleep deprived.

In reverse, when I'm doing well, making the right decisions, and have my head on straight, my house is mostly clean, I enjoy my passions almost every night, and I'm sleeping like a baby. Even when the choices aren't obviously right and wrong in my mind, the consequences start to bleed into my life pretty quickly. The last set of decisions I made honestly seemed like the right choice, and I meant well, but my house is messy, my books are gathering dust, and I'm sleeping like crap.

So today, I'm choosing to see the signs of the times, and change them before it gets any worse. I can see the storm coming, and it's in my power to stop it before it starts to downpour. Today, I started to clean the mess. My living room is livable again, and my sink is empty. Tonight, I'm going to crawl into bed with a book and a note pad. Tonight, I'm going to sleep better than I have all week. Because just like the warning signs stem from the decisions, working on fixing them somehow always lead me to enough introspection to change the root cause and get the peace filled life I love back.

So I challenge you to look back on old situations and try and find the warning signs in your own life. And then look at your life now and see if any of them are flashing red. And if they are, change before it gets worse. Because looking at the mess after the storm and realizing how much time its going to take to clean it up is a really sucky feeling (again, blatantly metaphorical). Join me, and change it while you still can.

Day Twelve - Not Yet

Facts about me: I'm twenty-three. I'm single. I have been single for three years. The first two and a half years were because I just wasn't ready. (The past six months just can be attributed to the fact that I'm really, really picky about men.) Mostly, I just had a lot of growing up to do. And now that I look back, I'm glad I was single, however much I whined about it at the time. I can't imagine trying to figure myself out being so involved with someone else. I don't know how anyone does it. I thought I was ready to be a wife when I was eighteen and dating my first boyfriend. (Stop judging, I was a super late bloomer). I was naive. I didn't know who I was, or who I really wanted to be, let alone what I wanted out of life. Neither did he. Every time he crosses my mind, I thank God that he broke up with me, and that I didn't take him back. I don't think, even then, that I would have gone through with it and married him. But I can tell you, without a doubt, that I was stupid enough to stay in a relationship I knew I was doomed.

And that's sort of the point of today's post. Not that I think I'm suddenly ready to be a wife. I'm not. And I know that. And I know we're not all the same, but when I see people who are trying to paint this picture of a perfect relationship, it makes me wince. I remember doing that. We pretended, even with each other, that we were happy when neither one of us really was. But we broke up. And now I see the people around me getting engaged instead. Vows aren't going to make him any less promiscuous. Vows aren't going to make her any less bitchy. Marriage vows don't change the person you're marrying, they just change the timeline and housing situation.

What I can't figure out is why everyone seems to be in such a rush. Yea. I'm twenty-three. I'm single. Despite my brother's claims that his children will never have cousins, I don't think I've quite hit that 'desperate old maid' stage yet. Next year, or five years from now, or even ten - of all the things in life that I've rushed, my marriage isn't going to be one of them. Singleness isn't a curse, it's a rare time in your life that shouldn't be squandered, but spent wisely. I don't even want to think about what would have happened to me if I hadn't had the last three years to myself. No, I'm still not ready to be a wife. But I am wise enough to admit that to myself. And wise enough to walk away from relationships that have no chance before they start, so as not to hurt anyone unnecessarily. And wise enough to hold onto the people in my life that I never want to live without.

So, if you want to get married at twenty-three, or younger, then I'm not going to stop you. A good friend of mine got married at 18, and it was the best thing for her. But she was a lot more mature than I was at that age. She still is. And she's still blissfully married, expecting her first baby here any day. My brother was married at twenty-one, and ten years later, he and his wife are both very happy and committed. One of my best friends was married at my age and is now expecting their third child and are sort of disgusting still in love. I have a couple friends though, that are single at twenty-three because their divorce just became final. And they'd tell you the same thing I am: chill the fuck out and make sure you know what you're doing. Hormones, love, and wishful thinking are all very different things. Make sure you know which one is motivating your marriage, because two  out of the three will fade really quickly after the honeymoon.

Day Eleven - Sailors

I love every other Sunday. Every other Sunday is a dinner party that is thrown by some of my all time favorite guys. Tonight was my night to cook. I had to borrow Adam's house since my apartment can hardly fit two people, let alone six. He graciously loaned me his kitchen, and I made him dinner. I love that he considers that a fair trade. The six of us chatted at the table, and I hope my face conveyed how much pleasure I get out of cooking a meal and being surrounded by my friends. I get happy, a sort of still inner happiness, as the banter goes on around me. These are my friends, and I love them.

These are also the 'sailors' that I learned to keep up with at the bar. After dinner, we all decided to stick around and watch a movie. Believe it or not, the sailors chose Breaking Dawn, Part One. The movie was hardly watched, except as it seemed to fuel a malevolent fire. I understand that my friends, my sailors, are divorcees and have had some nasty breakups with some nasty people. But the stories flowing around me felt like knives. I winced each time a new one started. I winced at the hard laughter that followed. There was no glitter here, no marshmallow either. There was dark, and there was hard, and there was cold.

I didn't join in. It hurt me to just listen. I scooted away from the group, determined to just watch the movie and shut them out. Even Breaking Dawn wasn't as painful as the ice in their voices. I kept looking at my favorite Sparkly Marshmallow, wondering why he was acting like this, but for some reason, he wasn't there tonight. Someone gritty and cynical was instead. I tried not to take it personally. We all have bad days. We can't be sparkly all the time, or even soft all the time. But to sit and listen to them criticize and mock the values that I hold dear... well it certainly didn't make me any softer. It just made me sad, truth be told. Sailors' mouths though they may have, they are genuine, wonderful people. I understand that life, and other people, can be cruel and can devastate the things we work so hard to build.

But no sailor is going to take my hope from me, or infect me with their cynicism. If I didn't believe in looking beyond appearances, I wouldn't have discovered how amazing they are once you get past the sailor mouth. And truth be told, it's bullshit coming out of their mouth. Bullshit I don't think they really believe. Because if they did, they wouldn't have given me the time of day either. There is hope in this world, there is love. Real love. Not that codependent crap that Twilight tries to sell as love, but the stuff that makes old couples hold hands and giggle like teenagers. Relationships, Marriage, Honesty, Innocence, Integrity, Loyalty, Fidelity, Love, they all matter. They all do still have worth. They are still things I believe in and will honor.

So my dear Sailors: I'm sorry you got your heart broken. I'm sorry they lied to you, and hurt you. But just because they did, doesn't make the marriage vows I hope to one day take meaningless. I will mean them. I have faith that my marriage will be the second best thing to ever happen to me, not the first thing in a long list of regrets. It doesn't mean I'll get a divorce, or marry a jerk. In fact, it has nothing to do with me, or who I will choose to marry. So if its okay with you, I'm going to keep believing that some things are sacred. That some vows are never broken, that some loves are true, that some people are honest, and that maybe, just maybe, there is hope in the world yet.

Day Ten - The Quiet Season

I love snow. I love snow so much. I love the entire season. It's a glitter lovers season. The world, at least the American one, loves everything that is sparkly this season. Christmas lights, and candles, and tinsel. The snow makes everything three times as sparkly. It reflects the sun, the moon, the starlight.

But I love it for a different reason, if it's possible to believe. I love it because it makes the whole world quiet. Snow is a blanket for the world, tucking it in while it sleeps away the winter. I love it because during the rest of the year when everything in life moves so quickly its hard to breathe, during the winter, during the snow, it slows down long enough for me to catch up.

Unfortunately, when the world quiets down, my subconscious gets a chance to speak up. When I slow down, everything that I've been putting off rises to the surface. I didn't realize, until today, while watching the snow drift and dance, how many unanswered questions I had. The questions swirling in my head are as patient as the season though. Like a good cup of tea that needs to seep, these questions need to swirl around and not be rushed. Who do I want to be? Which paths do I need to take to become that person? What do I want my future to look like? Questions that might very well take all season to answer. Which isn't a bad thing. Spring is the best time to have those questions answered and be able to act on those answers.

As for now, I sit down when the sun goes down, holding a cup of tea, wrapped up in a blanket, pondering, and looking out at the fresh snow. When spring comes, will I have a fresh start? Or will I be in the same place, content while life moves around me for a while longer? Only time will tell. I'm excited to find out the answers myself. Until then, winter, tuck me in like you tuck in the world, and let me rest.

Day Nine - Backsliding

Guess what happens when I feel nervous? I fall into old habits to feel safe. It happened tonight. I regret it, and regret more that to continue forward I'm going to have to appear bipolar. Let me explain.

Tonight I went out, just as friends (don't look at me like that, I'd date him if I could) with a guy who we'll call Todd. I don't say anything about being friend zoned because I honestly enjoy his company so much that I'm afraid to mess with it. We have so much fun, I'm not giving it up, not even for a shot at something more.

He makes me laugh. Laugh so hard my cheeks hurt at the end of the night. It took us twenty minutes to order our food tonight because we couldn't stop bantering. I can't help but look at him a little longingly. It didn't help when the lovely waitress assumed we were married, or her truly shocked face when he told her we were just friends. I know, lady, it doesn't make sense to me either.

Part of me hopes that maybe he'll change his mind, maybe my awesomeness can win him over. Well that plan pretty much went out the window tonight. See, I used to work at a bar. I can have a mouth like a sailor. I'm not proud of it, but I can keep up with most guys I know. It was a defense mechanism I developed at the bar. If you can talk like them, then suddenly you're one of the guys, and being one of the guys is the safest thing to be at the bar. I don't know why I got nervous. Usually around him I'm not. Usually it's really easy to just be myself, because I'm too busy laughing to think. I think tonight was different because for some reason, I couldn't stop thinking about wanting to hold his hand. And being in the friend zone, those thoughts made me feel small, because he doesn't want to hold mine.

That's right. All I wanted was a hand holding. I'm that girl. I worked at a bar, all the over sexualization of everything wearies me, and it's not what I'm looking for. I just wanted to hold his hand. But suddenly, there were things coming out of my mouth that might make a sailor blush. Even better, it made Todd blush. Not because he hadn't heard people talk like that (he's in the military) but because it was coming out of my mouth. Suddenly I was a deep scarlet. Hey, did you see that? That was me blowing any chance I had of wowing him with my girly awesomeness. I might as well throw on some BCG's and grow a mustache.

What's worse, although I sent him a text explaining a lot of this (not the whole, I want to hold your hand thing but the whole 'I do stupid things when I fall into old habits' thing) and he said he understood, the point remains that the next time we hang out, it's going to seem like I'm bipolar. Because the real me is more innocent than that. The real me does actually blush. The real me wants to hold hands. And I want him to know the real me.

So I must push forward, and be true to myself, no matter how bipolar the back and forth makes me look. To pressing on, no matter how silly, stupid, or insincere it may appear.

Day Eight - An Ode to the Hidden Hours

There is something magical about a secret of the heart. A secret in where there is no shame, no sin, no lie. A secret that is simply kept and tucked away, because it's a sacred thing, hidden deep in the beat of the heart. And then, every time it beats, a whisper of the hidden hours flows back into you. This is my ode to them, because tonight, the hidden hours revived me.

You are my secret warmth in a world determined to be cold. When we are together, in our secret hours, there is a magic in the air that shimmers with thousands of possibilities. The question is never what will we do, only which delight we will chase. I can breathe in the brisk air with you, because in a moment it will be a giggle, a squeal of delight escaping my lips as I find myself lost in the pleasure of rushing down a slick steel slide in a wool skirt and catching air before I reach the bottom. And when I do, I don't want move, I just want to look up and lose my breath again as thousands of Christmas lights sparkle around me. And so I do, because you'll understand. You'll stand next to me, and we'll enjoy the silence of the sparkling cold.

In the hidden hours, I am never hidden. I am found. Again and again and again. In the hidden hours, I find you too. In the hidden hours, I am seen. In the hidden hours, I can see with more clarity than a January sky. Tonight, I saw the perfection of the best Chai Tea Latte in existence. Tonight, I relished the feeling of tingling lips, and the relief of cold water rushing over my burning tongue. Tonight, I relived the beginning of a friendship and the memory, the one we've made in its retelling, is the one that will stay with me. And you and I will be friends.

There is an innocence; there is an immersion in the hidden hours. There is an honesty in indulging in the sound of your voice and the colors of your stories and the patterns that they weave. There is an honesty in being seen, in wanting you to see me. There is an honesty in seeing you, in wanting to see you.

The hidden hours are never too long, or too short. They offer a sort of reprieve, but they revive at the same time. They drain me of despair and complication, and fill me with thanksgiving and simple delight. They are a gift. And an offering that requires no sacrifice. There are no words to express how much I appreciate my hidden hours with you, but even if there were, they would fall flat. For we make them, together.

For all the hidden hours that have been, and all the hidden hours to come - I am blessed to share them with you.

Day Seven - Coincidence

Sometimes... the most unexpected, tiniest of things, can stop you dead in your tracks. That happened to me today. And I found not one, not two, but three things that all pointed to the fact that I am completely nuts. Which is sort of great considering that's what I was going for. I mean, it is the Rabbit Hole. Sparkly Marshmallows. This is not a place for the sane.

The thing is, of course, that it would take about sixteen paragraphs to explain why a Jeremiah 29:11 pendant, 5 fake catholic coins, and a Prayer of Jabez coin radically changed my day. Their significance is for me to understand. But let me tell you, it's insane. Each one was like a resounding, deep gong that echoed through the past and the present and the future. Each one like a little, annoying blue fairy that is desperate for your attention to point you on the right path, or give you some tip for defeating that dreaded enemy: doubt.

The pendent is now around my neck and won't be leaving. I'm fairly confident it's as permanent as the Rabbit Hole. So, for at least for the next 993 days. The coins... I'm not sure what I'm going to do with those yet, but it'll have some significance and when I figure out what they're for, I'll be sure to tell you. The prayer coin is going to stay near, like a token that stays with me, to constantly remind of that prayer on the wall I used to look at when I was pretending to care about... Godfather? That was a Playstation game, right? I said I was pretending.

I know they all seem weirdly insignificant, but they really did mean the world to me. And they appeared the moment I needed them most. In the Rabbit Hole, there is no such thing as a coincidence. There are perfectly timed gifts. In today's case - they were lifelines. Lifelines pulling me back into the Rabbit Hole. They made my heart a little lighter. The added a little more sparkle to my life. A little more glitter. Even if I'm the only one that can see it.

P.S. My kitchen is SPARKLING with lysoled cleanliness. Better Homes and Gardens you are not out of my reach.

Day Six - Shine

*Sorry guys, I wrote this yesterday, apparently I forgot to hit 'publish' so you get two today!

It's day six and I'm already having issues staying in the Rabbit Hole. There is such a fine line between the Rabbit Hole and insanity, and sometimes as Christians we have to cross that line willingly anyway. But how does one know when to cross that line and when to err on the side of sanity? I think, because the brain has a really difficult time with the Rabbit Hole and sanity, (at least mine does now, maybe that changes with ten more years of practice) I think that decision should be left, primarily to the heart.

Although I'm not a morning person, I usually wake up in a fairly good mood. Today, I woke up absolutely gripped in despair. There was no joy in my heart, and I'm not sure why, but I think it has something to do with rejecting the craziness of the Rabbit Hole. I felt the desire to praise all day yesterday, and not randomly praise, but praise because of who God is, and that all His promises will come true. I was to praise His faithfulness specifically. And I didn't. I wanted to praise Him for a great many things, but His faithfulness, or my perception of that, is something He and I are working on at the moment. So I didn't. And when I woke up this morning I felt ill with despair.

And then it occurred to me. I must be retarded. Who cares how crazy it is? Who, in their right mind, says no to spontaneous joy? What was I thinking? Nothing is more sparkly than joy. Nothing breeds sparkles like joy. And I'm sort of beyond caring if it makes any sense. (It does, in case you were curious, because God is awesome, and so whenever He wants to grace me with joy, then I'm in.) Because the most satisfying praise is the kind that comes out of joy. Praise can come out of anything; praise is a command and a delight, if we always waited until we felt like it, praise would be in short stock when we needed it most desperately. But the kind that simply floods your heart... And I choked it away to keep some sense of control over my own life? And of course, the consequences demonstrated exactly why I shouldn't do that. When I flex control, I lose my joy.

So I urge you, the same way I urge myself, to relax that grip, even just a little, and see what happens. I'm going with the insanity, because its so much better than the despair. Even if I don't understand exactly what's going on. I'm human, God is God, and I don't ever remember a time that God said we'd understand it all. I'm too little to understand the grand plan even for my life. But that's okay. My duty is not to understand, my duty is to (I'm stealing this from John Piper so please read his stuff) "...glorify God by enjoying Him forever". To walk each day in the light He provides, and shine that light back to Him, and to my fellow man.

I guess what I want to get across today is don't block the light that He shines, even if it goes against your plans, even if it goes against your reason. If it gives you that innocent, pure joy then shine with it for the love of all that is sparkly.

Day Five - Better Homes and Gardens

   Reality doesn't change. But perception does. I know this is a blog about becoming a sparkly marshmallow, but sparkly marshmallows aren't ignorant of the dark, they just try not to live there. In this particular case, dark and sparkly are more literal than they should be. 

I didn't notice it when I was a kid, but I grew up living with hoarders. Not my lovely mother, she wasn't a hoarder, she was just messy. But both of my aunts, who I stayed with often during our half year trips south, were. The kind you see on TLC. The singular pathways through the home. The beds were clear, mostly. But when I was younger, I really didn't think anything of it. I knew it wasn't normal, but it was my family. I didn't mind. I was a good monkey, climbing over stuff, through stuff, wasn't hard. The stacks of stuff were taller than me, every surface was constantly cluttered. There was no room for productivity. No room for anything. 

And I've been a messy person ever since. It's not an attractive trait, I realize, but for the vast majority of my life I really couldn't care less. Ask anyone that has ever ridden in my car. They will tell you. But all of that is changing. Hoarding is a mental illness. My aunt has 2 houses because the first one couldn't hold all of her stuff. I'm not kidding.

But now, it's like a light switch has turned on in my head. I refuse to be that way, constantly surrounded by shit that always in the way and completely useless. I refuse to be messy. My life, my space is going to sparkle and smell like Lysol and fresh laundry. It is going to be Better Homes and Gardens clean. Because I've seen what's on the other side of procrastination, because I've seen what it can become. My house will be beautiful, and I will have guests over, and they will always feel welcome and comfortable. My kids will grow up in a clean house, with lots of free space. No clutter, no hoarding, nothing. Usable space. 

Though, I do have one concession to make, and maybe someone will be able to convince me of it in the comments, but... really, what is the purpose of dusting? I still don't get it.

Day Four - The Most Sparkly Thing On Earth

I think I found the most sparkly thing on earth. 

Her name is Sarah. And she lives about an hour from me. She's two, but she'll be three soon. Today, I learned she actually does possess the ability to speak, and has quite a lot to say, once you get her alone. You see, Sarah is the fifth child. Of six. She has four three older brothers, and one older sister. And if you ever met those children, you'd understand why we didn't know Sarah could talk until she was speaking full sentences. 

Each and every one of my dear ones is sparkly like you wouldn't believe, Sarah merely affected me more today because she's the only one willing to cuddle on me that doesn't have an affinity for crapping her pants. I'm not judging him, he's not six months old yet, it's just less appealing for the senses. I don't see them terribly often, only ten or so times a year, but due to my new job, and the changes going on in my heart, I might get to spend more time with my sparkly ones. Today, they were absolutely necessary. 

They grin at the drop of the hat. No one will mock my sparkly ones for being children of a lazy generation. All they do is play. The older ones do their homework. Today they showed me how they feed the baby goats, and let me help them feed the chickens. And the duck. They showed me the Christmas tree they'd cut down themselves to put in the play house and decorated with baling wire and pumpkin seeds. They're amazing, those kids. And I love them. 

Being their only aunt, and frankly their only chance of ever having an uncle (sorry children, I'm working on it, I swear!) I'm the only one whose ever going to tell the world about them. Their father would shoot me right now if he had any way of ever finding this obscure blog and finding I talked about them (even with their names changed). But when I think about the fact that for the time being, I'm the only window the world has to these amazing sparkly children, I wonder what I am missing that you can share with me. What sparkles in your life that is unique to you? What would you share with the world if you had the chance?

Day Three - Home

How is it that I forget exactly how long a ten hour drive is? Its ten hours. In a car. Driving. Ugh. At least its over. This entry will be short ladies and gents, and more than likely will seem as if I'm typing more gibberish than sense. Do you see my face? No? Well, it doesn't care.

I did get to think today, but most of it wasn't consciously coherent. It was sort of like dreaming. Sometimes the picture was clear and sharp, I think perhaps my imagination was trying to find a new hope in letting go of the old one. Other times I was simply happy, or hopeful, or sad. There were no pictures, no story, just a feeling, gentle and soft, and I felt it. From the bottom of Missouri until I was almost home, I was flying. Part of me kissed the sky and flew in a sea of improbabilities that made it happy, and calmed me down. By the time I was home, I was quite satisfied, though I lack the words to explain the quiet contentment that has taken root.

As for now, I am home, I am at peace, and I am freaking exhausted. The only thing on my mind is that I get to see my six beautiful nieces and nephews tomorrow, and won't see my more annoying relatives for over a year. Today is a good day. Tomorrow will be better.

Day Two - Distraction

Today was the fabled Farmageddon. Just in case anyone NOT in the Midwest reads this, today was the day that the Iowa Hawkeyes faced off against the Nebraska Huskers. I happen to be a raging Husker fan. It was a slow process, me coming out of the football closet, but it has been an incredibly satisfying addition to my life. Being as I'm not from Nebraska, but rather the state of their age old rivals, I'm constantly surrounded by Iowa fans. Which, on days like today, makes my smugness nearly unbearable. (Sorry, Nick.) But despite it all, despite my absolute exultation over the Huskers dominating win today, my mind is less than satisfied. I should be over the moon. I should be doing a two hour long Husker dance and stopping only to hydrate myself. Instead, I find myself lost in thought. Distracted.

Let's rewind a few hours. I woke up distracted. I had a crazy dream, that while not entirely unpleasant, was enough to get my heart pounding. I sneaked out of the bed, my cousin still deep in sleep as she'd only gotten home from her overnight shift at the hospital a few hours earlier. Carefully, I tiptoed into the living room, and turned the volume on low. God bless ABC for playing my beloved Huskers nationally. But my racing heart didn't stop. This time, I chalked it up to the nerves of the game. I mean this game is HUGE. The outcome means bragging rights for an entire year. Not to mention that I had quite the non-monetary bet riding on this one. I needed this win. But even when we were ahead by 10, my anxiety didn't go down. Not when we were ahead by 13. Not when we were ahead by 20. Not when we won. Of course by then we were watching the Battle of the Boot (as my extended family lives in the top of the Boot) and its been an exhilarating game as well. But since my desire for the Hogs to win is only for the joy of my beloved cousin (who as I write this has stomped off to the shower because she can't stand to watch it anymore), there is no reason to be anxious about it. There is no reason to be anxious at all.

So why am I constantly feeling as if I can't catch  my breath? Why do I feel as if I'm about to come out of my own skin? I can't get comfortable. Hell, I can't even distract myself. And when my favorite novel and my ROM of pokemon can't keep me occupied, something is very wrong. And distracted doesn't really begin to describe it. There is some sort of war going on inside of me. When I took my shower earlier, trying to catch my breath under the hot flow, I was overwhelmed by emotions that had no reasonable source. I was so happy, so relieved that I started crying, with this giant stupid grin on my face. For one second, my heart was outside of my mind's control, and it was reaching, grasping, desperate to hold on to the reality of the moment, to cling to that fleeting hope. But it flitted away through my hands before I could so much as sigh. And it was gone. And I couldn't breathe, and I couldn't think of anything but running. Running home. Like the other half of my heart was back in Iowa, pulling me there with all of its little will.

I wish I could understand exactly what's going on internally. I mean it was a shower for heaven's sake. The shampoo smelled lovely, but not put me in tears lovely. I don't think there is a smell that lovely, except for maybe newborn baby smell. I digress. There was nothing extraordinary about that shower. It was a moment outside of the shower, a moment even just thinking about gives me new words with which to ponder. There must be some war going on, for I feel as if I'm keeping myself constantly in check, holding myself through sheer will to this reality; I'm sitting on a couch watching football; when part of me longs to... well I'm not sure. Move, somehow. Change something. I will not let it go to the past, that is not healthy, and it goes against everything this blog is trying to accomplish. But in my iron lock of it, I cannot tell if it would go to the past, or go to some place I'm unaware of. Terrified that it will quickly run out of my control, I'm keeping it on a tight lockdown. But this can't last. It will escape, sooner or later. It has to. If it doesn't, I'll suffocate. I'll burst out of my skin.

At the very least I've got ten hours to think about it tomorrow as I drive home. I'll let you know how it goes. I'm curious myself.

Day One - Thanksgiving

   At first, I thought this was going to be difficult. I mean, finding something significant and hopefully either enlightening or witty every day? And then I experienced Thanksgiving with my extended family and realized that every day offers up more than enough for a blog post. The real difficulty is choosing what to write about. My family's drama could definitely fill an entire blog post, but that isn't enlightening or witty, is it? Perhaps a fleeting entertainment could be derived from it, but half the joke is twenty years in the making. No, I don't think that's where I'll go. At least not today. The food was delicious, but I didn't make it, so there was no adventure there to write about, as I'm no critic. (It was delicious though, dear Aunt.) I stayed strong and didn't smoke my beloved nicotine nor indulge in any drama numbing Slivovitz. But again, I draw no inspiration from these things today. Which made me think. Where does my inspiration come from?

That's when I knew what I had to write about today; my very own Sparkly Marshmallows. The people that inspire me, every day, have made me who I am, and who have inspired this movement. The list is massive, so in the spirit of what this blog is about, I'll focus on those in the present. I'm sure those from the past will come up sometime in the next thousand days, and get their individual shout outs.

First, there is my family. Let me quickly define, this is the family of blood, the family that I had no hand in deciding or forming, the family that I'm stuck with through all eternity. The family I very often rant about and curse under my breath. That family is my heart and soul. They are in the deepest part of me. They taught me the depths of love.

To my mother, brother, father, sister-in-law, and all six of my nieces and nephews, I love you. Without you, my world would be empty. You're part of me, and always will be. You push me to become more than I even dreamed I could be, and let me know when I'm being ridiculous. My little ones, you taught me love. The first day I held you, I knew what love was, because though you could do nothing for me other than breathe, I would give my everything for you. I cannot wait to see you grow, to see you change, to see you become everything you're capable of.

Then there is my second family, the one I chose. My friends. I will never understand why they love me. Never. But they still do, those silly people. And I love them, so much more than they know.

Of course there is Linz, and she is easily the most sparkly friend on this list. She daily teaches me about joy in the little things, and how to be strong for the big things. She is a huge inspiration to me, and I want to be so much more like her in so many ways. If you are blessed enough to know her, thank God. For she is His gift to mankind.

 Then there is Mike, the original Sparkly Marshmallow. In him I found this crazy theory of life; in him I found how much it can inspire those around you; in him I found a passion for life that nothing could dull, and a softness of heart that the world couldn't harden. I hope, over time, he will inspire all of you as much as he inspires me.

There are so many others, my life is so blessed to be so full of so many awesome people. Erica keeps me grounded and always pulls me back to God. She shines so brightly. Petey always pushes me to be better than I am, and run farther than I thought I could, and do more than I dreamed. She has so much passion and determination. Honky is my brother from another mother, and he loves unconditionally. I so often wish I was more like him. Phil, who is my buddy for life and taught me how to lay down in the rain and feel the pain until I'm ready to get up again. Marcus, who taught me how to fight and never back down. DJ, for being the quiet comfort I need when the darkness creeps inside. Tina, my sister from another mister, who keeps me sane no matter who or what is attempting to steal it, and keeping me believing that the future is bright.

They are what I am thankful for today. They are what I am thankful for everyday. They are the reason I am here, doing this crazy thing and trying to change the world in my own way. They are the most amazing people I have ever met, and for some truly unknown reason, they love me, and pour into me. They teach me to be soft, and they teach me how to sparkle.

If you know them, give them a shout out here, in the comments. If you don't, tell me about the people that inspire you.

Talk to you tomorrow!

Name Change - Blog Change

So I had this idea.

Lets be honest. My blog entries are sporadic and accomplish very little other than letting me vent. Which, while cathartic, isn't exactly great blog material. So with all of the radical life changes I've been making lately (new job, no more smoking, no more alcohol) which has led to even more, non planned changes (loss of smoking, drinking friends, and a much quieter, hermit like lifestyle, and a renewed love for video games) I figure its time to change my blog too.

Let me explain. The new blog is 1,000 days in the Rabbit Hole AKA the sparkly marshmallow theory of life. The Rabbit Hole is my metaphor for living a truly satisfying, meaningful, full life of faith.

“If you love Me, you will keep My commandments. And I will ask the Father, and He will give you another Helper, to be with you forever, even the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive, because it neither sees Him nor knows Him. You know Him, for He dwells with you and will be in you.
“I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to you. Yet a little while and the world will see Me no more, but you will see Me. Because I live, you also will live. In that day you will know that I am in My Father, and you in Me, and I in you. Whoever has My commandments and keeps them, he it is who loves Me. And he who loves Me will be loved by My Father, and I will love him and manifest Myself to him.”
(John 14:15-21 ESV)

To me that says that there is a whole life, a life created by the Holy Spirit, directed by the Holy Spirit, and lived by the power of the Holy Spirit that the world cannot understand, because it cannot see, and it cannot know. To me it says that we are to live a life that looks foolish, but that is full of wonder and wisdom. I equate it to the Rabbit Hole of Lewis Carroll. A place of wonderment. A place made of fractals. A place where reality begins to take on different meanings beyond what you can see, taste, and touch. A place no one really believes in, let alone understands, until they endeavor to enter it themselves.

To choose to live in the Rabbit Hole is an endeavor that testifies to a belief that there is more to life that what is on the surface.


Deep calls to deep
at the roar of your waterfalls;
all your breakers and your waves
have gone over me.
By day the LORD commands his steadfast love,
and at night his song is with me,
a prayer to the God of my life.
        (Psalm 42:7-8 ESV)


This verse has always spoken to me as well, and in the Rabbit Hole I found its true meaning. The depth of my soul, the depth of my experiences, the depth of my emotions, calls for the depth of God to give them, to give me, meaning. Not just, "Why am I here?" Meaning. But "I believe that through Your wonder, awesome God, even in the depth of my despair You are beautiful, and can transform me into something beautiful as well. Through You, every single thing has meaning and purpose and beauty, even if I am too small to comprehend it." This verse is a call from the depth of my soul to the depth of God's heart for nothing more and nothing less than ALL of God. It is my hunger, it is my thirst, it is my truest desire. It is why I went into the Rabbit Hole to begin with, even if I couldn't put words to it.

Which leads us neatly into the Sparkly Marshmallow Theory of Life.  Sparkly Marshmallow is a term I use to describe people; it is a category of person, but one that shatters conventional categories. It bridges all others. Christian or not, male or female, straight or gay, black or white or anything in between, young or old, rich or poor, none of that matters. A Sparkly Marshmallow is a person who "sparkles" by continuing to see the wonderment in life, no matter what the world has done to steal their innocence and blind their sight. They fight for beauty. They fight for awe. They fight to stay "Marshmallow" soft, despite what the world has done to harden their hearts. They stay soft, sensitive to both pain and joy, aware that numbness, hardness, robs the feeler of both. Sparkly Marshmallows inspire me, and I hope they inspire you too.

The Sparkly Marshmallow Theory of Life then, is an attempt, not to merge the Rabbit Hole with conventional reality, but to be aware of and on the lookout for where the Rabbit Hole bleeds into conventional reality. For me its crunchy leaves, a freshly baked pie, the feel of puppy ears, a good book, a homemade scarf, a perfect hug, rocking out in the car to songs that have notes that I know I can't hit, the smell of freshly laundered anything, and pretty much ANYTHING that glitters. You now know how I feel about Christmas. Gleeful doesn't even begin to describe.

This new blog is my attempt to chronicle all of these changes in my new life, and to only look back on them at the end of 1,000 days and see how far I've come. It is a commitment to look forward every day. It is a commitment to look for Sparkles and stay a Marshmallow. It a commitment to share this journey honestly with you, the reader, every day. It is a commitment to stay open to whatever comes. It is a commitment to live in the Rabbit Hole.

My hope is that as I go along, I will ever find more sparkles, I will ever get softer, and maybe, just maybe, I will convince some of you to join me.