“A time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a
time to dance” Ecclesiastes 3:4
The last few weeks have felt like a roller coaster-
including lots of weeping, lots of laughing, lots of mourning, and even some
dancing.
Most of my weeping has been a result of watching a movie, or
reading a book, but some of it was an effect of saying bye to my family, not
knowing when we will all be together again. Sometimes I feel like a big baby,
with sensitive floodgates.
Me, Joanne (Sissy), Candace, Joseph
Spending time celebrating Candace's Graduation,
not knowing when we will be together again.
Floodgates are now opened.
On rarer occasions, the weeping has been a result of
laughing so hard I cry. I’m thankful for the people in my life that can me
laugh so hard that my entire body aches from laughing so hard. They have a true
gift.
Weeping and laughing are some of the very few things that I
think I do well. I almost pride myself on my ability to cry like a baby, or laugh
until it feels like I have a six-pack going on, purely from laughter.
Roommates: Rae, Jill, Margo, Me
at a Coldplay concert, you better believe we danced our booties off!
Mourning, however, is something that I am learning to
experience, learning to process and learning to live in. The last few weeks
have been a season of mourning. Mourning the end of an incredible internship.
Mourning the end of season of learning at UCI. Mourning the end of a community
that can only be explained by experiencing it. Mourning the end of
working with incredible people that have laughed with me, cried with me,
g-chatted with me, spoken words of wisdom to me, and extended grace to me.
Mourning has a way of making us look behind us, to the past,
to the things that have been so good, to the things that have made us who we
are today, in this moment. But as I mourn the things of the past, and knowing
that some of them will never be again, or will forever be changed, I am
confident of the new season of life I am about to step into, no matter how
foggy it may seem.
Speaking of being foggy, I was reminded of a time in my
life, when I would drive about 40 minutes to and from my dad’s house to school
or vice versa, sometimes making the long drive to the boonies late at night.
Sometimes at night, the fog would be so thick you could barely see the road,
sometimes just the solid yellow line to the left and the solid white line to
your right, just feet in front of the car. I think that’s how I would describe
my life. There is a fog so thick in front of me, I am almost driving blind, but
I cling to the painted lines on the road to guide me, to direct me. As long as
I continue to follow the painted lines that God has given to me, I know that I will make it home
safely.
Thank you Lord, for the painted lines in life.
Thank you that you have not abandoned me, left me, or let go
of me.
Thank you for the moments of laughter and weeping,
and for
the seasons of mourning and dancing.
Thank you for my family, my crazy, sometime complicated
family.
Thank you that you bring us together long enough to remember
that we are family,
but not too long to drive us all insane.
Thank you that you are eternally, constant, unchanging, and
loving.
Here is a collection of pictures from the past few weeks that have greatly been a part of this season of life.
The Farley's: Brother, Sissy, Candace, Me, Dada, Grandma
Mama, Sissy, Candace, Brother, Mimi, Auntie, Me, Cousin Breanne,
Nat up front
These are some of the people I learned to laugh from.
Laugh with your mouth wide open.
Can you spot the "Mode Mouth"?
This is an older picture, but still the same Staff Team (missing Jodi)
Me, Ash, Rae, Leo, Jon. You guys are seriously the best!
Wise women in my life... teaching me the ways of the Lord, and of the pizookie!
Me, Jodi, Ash dishes up the pizookies!
