Dead End

I work on a dead end. Does that mean I have a dead end job?

Didn't I just say I was tired of cliches?

I'm tired now. Literally.

I'll write more tomorrow.

Autumn's Atonement

I step out of my car. The rich, earthy smell envelops me. I inhale slowly, savoring the musky aroma of fallen leaves and acorns. Tentatively, yet with growing boldness, the late October sun struggles to raise its sleepy head above the majestic maples and prickly pines. I seemed to have had a similar dilemma just an hour earlier.

Fall.

Leaves swish at my feet and the mild morning breeze swirls around my brown shoes. I want nothing more than to close my eyes and let the autumn wind whisk me around in a slow waltz. I wish to tip my head back and let my arms swing freely at my sides, lost in the rhythmic melody of blowing debris. I used to think Fall could be described in cups of hot chocolate and coffee, warm sweatshirts, bonfires, and pumpkin pies. I was so wrong.

Fall is much more than the cliche associations we unimaginative humans define it with. But isn't that true of so much in life? I'm tired of cliches. The word cliche is. . .well, cliche. Overused.

I would like some magic in my life. I'm not talking about pulling rabbits out of a hat. I want to discover the simple things that make each moment I live and breathe special. Why should I content myself with the cliche when I could encounter the unique and unnoticed? I won't.

Fall, let me dance a moment more in your enchanting song. As you atone for the departure of my dear Summer, I will lose myself in the splendor of your color and fragrance.

My thoughts are thousands of miles away. If only the song would never end. If only it would transport me into the arms of another continent and season. There my magic waits.

Breathe

I have to change my ticket to Honduras. $150. Two extra days off of work, which I still don't know if my bosses will approve.

They changed the date of the graduation. A day after I am scheduled to leave. It's ridiculous. I was so upset. However, I made a promise to a girl I call my little sister. I just can't let her down.

Last week I paid $617 to get my car fixed.

You know, I am so blessed. My parents are often quick to help me. My heavenly Father is even faster to help me (sorry Mom and Dad). I want to be really angry right now. I want to stomp my feet. I want to scream really loudly and wake up the neighbors.

God, it doesn't always seem fair, but that's without a little perspective. I have SO much to be thankful for. I have a job, a home, a car. . . family, friends.

Lord, great is thy faithfulness. May I continue to grow. May the positive outweigh the negative. May I learn to give thanks, even when things don't go my way.

Chlorine Clean

I've never been a talented or driven swimmer.

Just recently I started swimming twice a week. It's amazing to feel your legs kicking behind you, to stare down at the white and dark blue tiles and follow the thick line from one side of the pool to the other. It's empowering to touch the side of the pool and feel your heart pumping strongly in your chest and the blood rushing through your legs. I like to know my body is growing stronger each time I swim. To know that potential energy oozes out of my pores, my muscles yearning to be stretched and used.

I don't relish exercising, but swimming seems to be an enjoyable way to do it.

Un Dia Especial

I have a filmy plastic bag on my dresser. Inside are cards; a memory game I've never played. It was given to me by a little boy who stole my heart. He shoved it into my hands as I spent my last few minutes with him, before I hugged him tightly and watched him walk away into a sea of maroon and white uniforms.

The day I said goodbye is a vivid pang of painful recollection. The cards say on one side "Un Dia Especial." There was nothing special about that day.

What am I doing? Where am I going? I've given part of my heart away to special children in Honduras. Almost everyday I spend a few minutes looking at pictures and videos, and my heart aches for their hugs, their smiles. I realize most of my blogs seem to center around my time away, even after I've come back.

You know, the experience doesn't stop. If you allow it, it burns in your soul, a secret desire for more, to keep helping and loving. I'm not doing enough. . .

Just about six more weeks. . . I will see them again!

Wordless

Have you ever heard the expression You leave me speechless?

I heard a speech yesterday. Alina Fernandez, Fidel Castro's daughter.

I often find myself at a lack for words. . . I'm not speechless, but wordless. Speech can be so many things: rigid, boring, superfluous, flowery, long, tiresome. . .
Speech is an art form, readily molded or changed by emotion or choice of words.

It's easy to open the mouth to speak, yet to find the right words, now that is difficult.