call the surgeon

Geez. I just love William Fitzsimmons. I've never been through a situation such as his, but his melodies and lyrics still tug firmly on my heart. I'm idly sitting here, sipping on some cooled down Ethiopian coffee, coming to the realization that life. is. beautiful. Everything about it. Even the pain.

I'm listening to Will serenade me via live youtube video. His acoustic rendition of "If You Would Come Back Home" is raw and brilliant. Here's the link:: (I encourage you to play it whilst reading this...it really adds to the mood. Just sayin'.):: click me now

Keep it on repeat if you have to. 

I'm beginning to realize who and what I want to invest the prime of my life in. And it is simply this: things that are beautiful. Things that have substance. Things that challenge my heart. I'm being reminded of my first love. And HE is so sufficient. So powerful. So faithful.

I feel a mysterious peace and joy this afternoon. And I really like my new Burton beanie.

I feel...like I love myself. Humbly and truly.

I am so blessed. With sincere friends and wisdom. With gifts and a future, God-permitted.

I haven't written in forever, and SO much has happened. But even with that, I struggle to find much to say. And I'm almost positive it's due to this peace.

Throughout all of this shaping and refining, I am discovering and dusting off the inner parts of my sincere being. But it's not just stopping at the discovery-I'm acting it out. I'm a different person, truly and completely. Confident and peaceful. But with a far, far way to travel.

This Friday is my Grandpat's funeral. And unlike any past death or memorial, this time is different. I'm not afraid. Not afraid to express the grief. I miss him.

He's the one who brought us all together. And now he's gone. Just...gone. I miss him terribly. His laugh, his brilliantly timed jokes. His ability to lighten the mood when everyone else appeared ruffled and anxious.

I honestly don't know how Friday will go down. I don't think about these kinds of things too often after the initial occurance. I'm worried it might all hit me at once. One big wave. But maybe that's what needs to happen. Me being quite open to this so-called vulnerability.

Something's different about this one. I don't know what it is, but my heart aches. For him. For my dad who is fighting so fervently to be strong. 

But God is good.

So, so good.

And right now, in this moment, that suffices. Completely.

They'll never take the good years.