east coast chronicles: maryland.

16.5.16


we drove over one mile of metal suspended in the air while thoughts of tidal waves and plummeting to my death filled my head.  and when the wheels of the great white beast, i mean van, touched the island i swear i could hear it give a sigh of relief.

and then it was 5 days of talking, running, eating, chasing babies, wondering about the future with my fellow graduate and butchering a goat.  because those are just the kind of things we do when our families get together :)

wonderful unknown.

13.5.16





everyone's got those cliff moments.  the ones where you are standing on the edge, inching your way towards the precipice until boom.
you're there.
and the cavern stares you in the face with smiles + tears and worry + fear;  the wonderful unknown.

life's full of them, and every time i think that i've gotten past it, i start the climb towards another:
high school, graduation, moving overseas, moving back from overseas, bible school, monday.

its the click, click, clack of the rickety roller coaster with the 90 degree seats and the lap bars that hold on too loose for everybody's liking, as we crest the top.
heart racing, head pounding, palms sweating, breath stuck in our chest for the moment.
the moment when our life flashes before our eyes as we plummet, wind racing, teeth flashing, lungs aching.
just as much as we can't bear it, off we stumble with head spinning and get in line to do it again.
a little kid sprawled on the ground dizzy, begging "again, again!"
as much as we fear it, avoid it, dream it, plan it, there is an wonder element of it.  the wide-eyed two year old that gets handed ice cream for the first time, the perfect picture of sticky emotion.

realizing that we are the book with the pretty cover.  fresh, new and exciting with the smell of printing press and the pages waiting to be opened.  we are yet to see the plot twists, the characters entering + exiting, the climax and the long trek towards the finale.
we are the book that has been written by a loving Author, who not only shed tears but His blood in writing our story.  who has washed the pages white with crimson, leaving His fingerprint on the loved, creased pages.

up the mountain, over the cliff, repeat.
the wonderful unknown…  that only He knows.