pour me a tall glass.

i have this treasure chest. it is filled to the brim. with dreams. with stars. with laughter. with memories. with moonlight. with love. some days i like to go deep into my closet and unlock it. to have it completely overwhelm my senses. to where all i can do is plunge my hands into it. washing my being and drinking it up until my heart and soul are fully satisfied.

there are times when i take this treasure into my hands and put it on. each ingredient forms and fits exactly as it should. it shows me off completely. it looks best, though, when i dance. outfitted in glory like that always looks best in movement. in dance. so that's what i do. i twirl around all alone in my room. no one can see it, but that's ok. i'm shining in that moment, and i know it. it's all for me and God, alone, to see it.

one of my favorite things to do with this treasure is grab a handful and paint. feel it all within me again, working through my hands. i've never seen anything so beautiful. artwork like that just dazzles--no matter what.

but you know what makes the contents of that treasure chest so special and so wonderful? it's a secret ingredient. not many know it actually creates true beauty. there's something lethal about mascara stained tears. what they can do with some one's life--my life--is something absolutely amazing. i think only God understands how it works. but my treasure wouldn't be anything without those tears. depth lies within that chest. no matter how many times i go back to take a handful, it will never run dry because of the tears. anger. hurt. pain. heartbreak. they all build a person. you just have to know what to mix it with. if my life left out the mascara and tears, i would be two dimensional. that treasure chest would be a trash bin instead. forgetful things to be replaced with more forgetful things. who would really care?

it isn't though. it is three dimensional. with a lot to explore and to save. to treasure. i love that. i love that God gave me that.

happy thanksgiving.

this animal is ridiculous. it freaks me out every time i see this. i love it. it is absolutely amazing.

yes.

my journal is back, guys. everything is good again.

i think i'm getting it.

but really. i'm beginning to get it. God is tangible. He is through the people that love you. why? because they love you because he first loved them. so really. your mom loving you...that's God. your best friend fran loving you...that's God. He is tangible. you just have to recognize the people that have this love.

brilliant.

i lost my journal. it's driving me crazy.

remember that time

when you tucked me in at night

when we played pretty pretty princess

remember that time

when the only tears i cried came from a scraped knee

you would kiss it, and it'd feel better

remember that time

you'd read me stories before bed

you weren't too tired to pray with me

remember that time

you'd tell me everything was alright, and it was

when i could tell you everything

and not be afraid

not be afraid of burdening you.

i miss that time.

i miss it so much.

haunted

i'd like it if you could tell me that i can get rid of it. maybe that's why my hand is before me proffering crumpled confusion to any passer-by. i wish i could leave it be like a forgotten term paper. but as each stranger walks by, it's melting into my hand, melding into me, tattooing my existence. it is as much a part of me as the curl in my eyelashes and the freckle above my lip. unavoidable.

there are days when my body takes a dousing of questions from anyone and anything. they could be as simple as inquiring the sum of 6+5 or as forbearing as asking how i am. those days confusion creeps in, and hangs around my neck, a locket. opened, it is empty. it contains no answers.

that is dissatisfying to you--most of you. as it becomes a part of me, i am learning this is not so. braided with contentedness and curiosity, it becomes natural. maybe a little haphazard. maybe a little complicated at first. but as i learn, the simpler it becomes. no more trying to rip any vestiges off my hand.