please and thank you

one more test.

one more test until i am officially done with my first semester at johns hopkins.

to make a laboriously long story short, i have to make a 90 on this test, or i'm out thousands of dollars and a year's worth of weekly eight-hour drives.

so prayers are requested. or happy thoughts. well wishes. just good vibes, please.

and thank you all for your sweet words on yesterday's post. i laid my insecurities on the table, bared them for you to see, and the kindness i received back was more than humbling. you are such beautiful souls.

have a spectacular weekend. go frolic in the sunshine, lay on the  bare grass, and thank the good Lord above that spring has arrived. and with it, new beginnings. and also, chapters closed.

as the storm brewed and my soul stirred

around these parts, the air is pregnant with humidity and the threat of a downpour. the elms dance in the eight o'clock twilight and as the sun sets, the road quiets. lamps turn on and the blue glow of television streaming from old ranch houses is seen from sidewalk vantage points. and i shut down. change into something that doesn't involve a tight, high waist or skinny stilettos. something with elastic and give and cotton. and i sit and wait. for the drops to sprinkle on the roof and feel again God's promise, that He will wash all things new. even this little old house and the people in it.

and the songbirds keep singing like they know the score

xxxxxx

this summer, i did not need an early alarm.

every day, at 6:30 in the morning, like clockwork. i was sweetly, softly, pulled awake.


by a singsong. a melody unlike any other. a little falsetto followed by a short lived baritone. a songbird.


our bed is right beside a window. a big, old window that faces a meadow and a clothesline. blueberry bushes and apple trees.


and when the weather was just warm enough, little birds. i kept the blinds closed to keep out the blinding sun, so i never saw firsthand this delightful alternative to my timex, but it knew exactly, precisely, how much time i would need to wake up, prepare myself for the day, and head out in my honda in time for work.


i named him roger. i presumed him to be male, but in reality, it might have been a lovely lady bird.


yesterday morning, with  hours left to sleep before church, my heating pad on a delicious full blast, and pablo curled at my toes, i heard a familiar, albeit all but forgotten chorus.


roger was back. the brief reprieve of warmth that came with the weekend was enough to draw him out of winter hiding and back to my windowsill.


they're calling for more snow in north carolina this weekend, and inevitably, roger will return to where he came from. storing up those sweet vibratos for springtime.


but at 6:30 on a sunday morning, i was reminded.


that every day brings new surprises. new beginnings. new blessings.


and yes, 


new chances to puff up our chests, look toward the heavens, and sing a song of joy toward a Creator who listens, and who always knew we'd come back. no matter how long we've been away.