Here’s the thing about finding the beauty in the ordinary: you’ve got to fight for it. You have to truly seek it- past the distractions, past the pain, past the rush of this hurried life. Beauty in the midst of the ugliness of the world can be easily overlooked when we hold to our horizontal perspectives. You have to fight for it, because anything beautiful is worth the fight.
There are many reasons to get a tattoo. One is because you want to remember something, one is you want to be cool, one is everyone else is doing it, and one is because no one else is doing it. I’m sure there are many others, but those are the ones I can think of. But they aren’t mine.
I went to urgent care today for a very intense headache. It’s been something I’ve been dealing with for a long time, and I really wanted some answers. I was diagnosed with migraines a few months back and given a medication to assist when they happened again. The problem was that it wasn’t helping this round- hence the urgent care visit.
I have a roommate that works the floral counter in a grocery store. Naturally, there is an obvious bonus that comes from living with her (aside from the fact that she is a lovely human): It seems like almost every other day she comes home with a bouquet of flowers to brighten up our home.
The biggest barrier to living into a full relationship with God isn’t understanding Him, it’s understanding ourselves. Why? Because we change our minds like the winds change direction / we fall apart at the slightest indication of a rumble.
Prayer should be called “hugs from dad.” A space of complete comfort, complete wholeness. While some of us don’t have the best memories of our earthly Dad’s, those fatherly missteps are redeemed in the time spent with our ABBA, the one who made each part of us, and who wouldn’t change a thing.
For as long back as I can remember, if you asked me, “Who are you?”, I would answer back with a response fitting with the life I was currently living at that time, but always the thing that portrayed me in the best light. The earliest I can think back to this was in middle school- who I was was consistently defined by my accomplishments and positive attributes of the time.