“home is home.”

brooklyn-poster01.jpg

a lovely movie.  that could probably be the only words i use for this post, but i will elaborate.  what a great story to watch unfold on the screen.

i sat down in my seat, way too close to the front.  the day after christmas, i thought everyone would be shopping.  the small theatre, an indie movie, “i’ll be able to watch and enjoy this film (relatively) all by myself…in peace and quiet,” i thought.  that was before the room filled, and suddenly i was surrounded by old white women and the middle aged daughters that had brought them.  seriously.  like i have never seen so many wheelchairs in one place (other than that time we volunteered at the nursing home).  almost every seat was taken.  not sure if it was because the theatre was older, but the whole time, i could hear the booming of the movie next to us (star wars, i could only assume).  there were movie lines that everyone laughed at in which i didn’t understand why they were funny (italian men have big thighs?).  i felt so out of place.

but i suppose that’s the beauty of story.  that regardless of how different you are from the people in it, there are human emotions and experiences that are so universal.  and even if the actors and actresses and the people seated around you in the theatre look nothing like you, you can still relate, you soul can still be stirred and moved.

 

“One day you’ll catch yourself thinking about something or someone who has no connection with the past, and you’ll realize that this is where your life is.”

 

 

“tomorrow is always fresh, with no mistakes in it.”

Screen Shot 2015-10-05 at 9.11.08 PM

James Abbott McNeill Whistler (American, 1834-1903), Nocturne in Black and Gold: The Falling Rocket, 1875

 

i am a creature of habit; i crave and thrive on consistency.  but there are times when the itch of change beckons.  i gave away all but a few of my ministry books last week.  and just like that triggered melancholy memories, this blog was started as an extension of connecting to my students.

picking up and starting fresh.

 

old pine. 

there are days that are planned out, far in advance.  we wait for them, dream about what will unfold with great anticipation and excitement.  and then there are those times that are spontaneous.  they are like the twenty dollar bill that you find in the pocket of your coat from the last time you wore it, or that perfect gift you stumble upon for that person that delights your life, or the restaurant that tells you they’ve run out of their specialty lemon ricotta beignets only to tell you moments later that they found some extras just for you to order.  sometimes all the planning in the world can’t beat a jaunt to the beach, on a whim.  because we’re californians.  and we are afforded that luxury.

to cap off a long weekend, we made a quick trip to davenport.  and it was so lovely.

i listened to a ben howard song on the way home, with the window down just a crack.  the sun had set but had not disappeared — it still lingered.  i glanced out my window and stopped to remember just how much i love dusk.  the way the sky lights up in dimmed colors, brilliantly.  reminds me of those brisk summer nights when i was little, playing outside until i felt the cold damp grass beneath my feet and heard the crickets chirping.  simpler times.

and as i drove and ben sang, i couldn’t help but feel so hopeful.  that maybe not an hour ago or an hour from now, but in this singular moment, my soul was still and not restless.  mistakes i made and mulled over were just that–in the past and not present in my today.  anticipation that joy was ahead of me, and that it was possible.  and that this moment here, the one right in front of me was plain and ordinary…but just perfection.

“happiness is a gift and the trick is not to expect it, but to delight in it when it comes.”  (–charles dickens)