Unanswered Questions and Unspoken Answers: Vol. 2

Round 2 of UqUa. The legacy continues…

Q: Do you want a hug?

A: Yes.

Advertisements

Snip.

It started with scissors.

I hate going to a hair salon because I feel like all the ladies there have all this secret knowledge acquired through dark rituals (probably). They even speak another language – with words like layering and ratting and texture. Unless I speak the secret code words, I’ll identify myself as a non-hair person and they’ll probably give me a purple mohawk.

You might scoff, but something similar happened at my brother’s wedding. My soon-to-be sister-in-law was getting her hair done gorgeously, and all the other bridesmaids (and me) made a pact that we would just have out hair done simply, ‘pinned out of the way,’ so as to keep all the attention on her.

So I sat down awkwardly in the hairdresser’s chair and declared that I wanted my hair simply ‘pinned back’.

She looked at me like I was a Martian, straightened my hair, stuck a couple of bobby pins in my hair and said, “Like that?”

Not knowing any better, I shrugged and said, “Sure.”

I hopped out of the chair and turned around to see ALL of the other ladies with their hair twisted and braided and curled in ways I didn’t know possible. And my sister-in-law had this magnificently complicated bun with stray curls framing her face and flowers interwoven between the strands and her veil magically attached to the back of her neck.

And me with my bobby pins.

See what I mean about code words? Continue reading

Real Street

(What follows is a huge dump of what’s been on my brain these past like 10 days and lurking for five months before that. Detour down heartbreakingly Real Street. And followed by a huge image dump. Post shortened for convenience.)

Sometimes I look at all the things I say I want to do and get overwhelmed by how very

very

very much I don’t even measure up to my own standard. Let alone God’s.

Grace, come find me in my moment of need. I feel like a failure sometimes (read: often) and though I know all-too well how very much is demanded of me, I can’t help but try to push those thoughts from my mind because I’m afraid of failure, of what other people think of me, of living at my full potential.

God help me, I am so afraid. I know what I’m called to and when I think about it my heart soars.. but when I see how little I have now and how much I fail with this little scrap I’ve been entrusted with.. my hopes come crashing down to earth once more. Continue reading