Pictures, stories, challenge

So, I’ve been trying to figure out what to do with the desolate place I (still) lovingly refer to as my blog (SaigeSerendipity). I always wanted this to be a thriving little corner of my world, but I find that as life moves on, I move away from this. There’s days where there just doesn’t seem like there is anything worth writing about except for maybe the mundane activities of my day.

It’s hard to write about anything from a spiritual standpoint because, well… It’s hard. Maybe I will talk on that more later.

So I was thinking of ways I could ease into the blogosphere again, while growing creativity and showing you those creative bits while sometimes even telling the story behind them. Does that sound ok? (Notice that I like to talk like there is actually someone besides me who Is reading this, in the hopes that someday there actually will be. Fingers crossed!

Alright, so I’ll be doing the 30 day photo challenge beginning on February 1st. I’ll post a blog before I start, that will have the little picture of everything you do each day for your photo.

I hope you all will join me in having so fun taking photos, and having fun getting glimpses into others lives.

PS I hope this all makes sense. I took an ambien and than got this great idea so, not in struggling to think straight and need to sleep.

C’est La Vie

T.I.A

I’m quickly becoming a pinterest snob. I can’t get enough of this amazing creation. I love seeing what other people are loving. I love finding quotes, foods, projects, and amazing ideas. And I love when someone pins something that resonates with me. A friend of mine who shares my heart for Africa, pinned a picture that I can’t help but share on here. It speaks volumes. It speaks the words of my heart. I can’t wait until I can go back to my amazing Africa… It’s been 3 years already, and that’s way too long.

I’m going to go a head and right out what is actually written in the picture. It’s just easier that way.

The real Africa is the one the one they never show you. The real Africa is hidden beneath a veneer of poverty and hunger and death; a cancerous mass on the face of the earth that the rest of the world term homogeneous “Africa.” The real Africa is submerged underneath corruption and greed, underneath tyranny and an ostentatious elite; underneath the faces of the people they cannot feed. The real Africa is buried beneath shanty towns rife with dirt and disease, where children are forced to grow up much too quickly to survive. The real Africa is concealed under a no-man’s land of desert, bare and dry and unable to sustain green and healthy life.

No, that’s not the real Africa. The Africa I know. The Africa that is reflected in the warm sunshine that you can feel burning inside you. The Africa that shines from a warm, spontaneous smile. The Africa that is at the heart of sky-high mountains and  tropical jungle, of golden sand dunes and lush green grassland. The Africa that is at the heart of different peoples, different languages, different cultures, different identities who all call this land their home. The land where moyo muti unomera pauno; where roots take hold and don’t let go, solid as the baobab tree that has always been and will always be there, standing steady and solid against the menaces of time. 

My Africa is where my heart resides even when I am long gone and far away, where my mind drifts to across the distance of a never-ending ocean. The real Africa can be smelt the minute you step off a plan onto African soil and feel the air calling you, beckoning you home. The real Africa is the chaos and the cal that exist side by side as honking cars zoom past on streets that run parallel to cows grazing peacefully in a field. This is the real Africa, the one they never show. This is the place I call home.

The Letter

I’ve recently come across a lot of extra time. So I’m trying to make use of this time by completing lots of things on my to do list. One of the biggest items on that list is to go through my room, and get rid of all the unnecessary junk that I have accumulated over time. I’ve been craving simplicity in my life, and this is one of the biggest areas that I think I’ll be able to find it.

Today I finally made it around to my keepsake trunk. So many special memories in this old rugged trunk, and some really ridiculous stuff as well. Like an old notebook for instance. Nothing special in it, except for random teenage musings, silly notes, and stories I found amusing. As I was going through tearing out pages so that I can either use or sale this notebook, I came across a “letter” that I really loved. It’s a letter from Jesus to his child, and I’d really like to share it with you. Unfortunately, I cannot remember where this letter originally came from, and I never wrote it down in the notebook. I hope you love it as much as I do, and remember: You are cherished and loved by so many people, but especially by your precious creator.

Dear……

You may not know me, but I know everything about you. I know when you sit down and when you rise up. I am familiar with all your ways. Even the very hairs on your head are numbered. In me you live and move and have your being, for you are my offspring. I knew you before you were conceived. I chose you when I planned creation. You were not a mistake, for all your days are written in my book. I determined the exact time of your birth and where you would live. You are fearfully and wonderfully made, and I brought you forth on the day you were born. 

I have been misrepresented by those who do not know me. I am not distant and angry, but am the complete expression of love. And it is my desire to lavish my love upon you, simply because you are my child and I am your Father. I offer you more than your earthly Father ever could, for I am the perfect Father. Every good gift that you receive comes from my hand. For I am your provider and meet all of your needs. 

My plans for your future have always been filled with hope, because I love you with an everlasting love. My thoughts towards you are countless as the sands of the seashore. And I rejoice over you with singing. I will never stop doing good to you, for you are my treasured possession. I desire to establish you with all my heart and all my soul. If you seek me with all of your heart, you will find me. Delight in me and I will give you the desires of your heart. For it is I who gave you those desires. I am able to do more for you than you can possibly imagine, for I am your greatest encourager. I am also the Father who comforts you in all your troubles. When you are broken hearted, I am close to you. As a sheppard carries a lamb, I have carried you close to my heart. One day I will wipe every tear from your eye. And I will take away all the pain you have suffered on this earth. 

I am your Father and I love you even as I love my son, Jesus. For in Jesus, my love for you is revealed. He is the exact representation of my being. He came to demonstrate that I am for you, not against you. And to tell you that I am not counting your sins. Jesus died so that you and I could be reconciled. His death was the ultimate expression of my love for you. I gave up everything that I loved so I might gain your love. If you receive the gift of my son, Jesus, you receive me. And nothing will ever separate you from my love again. Come home and I will throw you the biggest party heave has ever seen. I have always been the Father and will always be the Father.

My question is:  Will you be my child?

I am waiting for you.

Love,

Your Dad, Almighty God.

The Frog

Happy Wednesday! Here’s a joke that I have always found amusing. Enjoy!

A frog goes into a bank and approaches the teller. He can see from her name plate that her name is Patricia Whack. “Miss Whack, I’d like to get a $30,000 loan to take a holiday.”

Patty looks at the frog in disbelief and asks his name. The frog says his name is Kermit Jagger, his dad is Mick Jagger, and that it’s okay, because he knows the bank manager.

Patty explains that he will need to secure the loan with some collateral.

The frog says, “Sure, I have this,” and produces a tiny porcelain elephant, about half an inch tall – bright pink and perfectly formed. Very confused, Patty explains that she’ll have to consult with the bank manager and disappears into a back office.

She finds the manager and says, “There is a frog called Kermit Jagger out there who claims to know you and would like to borrow $30,000, and he would like to use this as collateral!” She holds up the tiny elephant. “I mean, what in the world is this?”

The bank manager looks back at her and says… “It’s a knick knack, Patty Whack. Give the frog a loan. His old man’s a rolling stone.”

Pretty cheesy, but still great.

 

 

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Moving On

Silence.

Reflecting into the gazing mirror, I wonder about my life and look at the image of my parallel.

“Who are you?” the figure echoes back.

“Who am I?” She asks twice while I ponder for a moment as the girl on the other side seems to question her existence as fear crosses her features.

“You were I, as I was you, you were she, but no longer am I.” I riddle the girl into a moment when fear is replaces by confusion.

The image raises her eyes to meet mine, in a moment of fear and doubt she asks, “But where will I go, who will I be now?”

“I believe the truth of time and hearts is your only cell, to the past of a prison to live in a moment of hell.” Not comforting at all. I now hear a second time and chill runs down my spine, but the truth must be told even if it is warming or cold.

“You can’t leave me this way. I thought I was part of you.” Echoes are so needy, without their beginning they have no end.

Softer I speak and the echoes dim, “You won’t be forgotten but rather rejoiced upon in times of quiet reflection. However storms are near and your place is to be taken by the winds with the trees uprooted and old lives tossed asunder, but you will live on if only as a memory of times gone past.”

With yielding voices echoes begin to fade. I find myself closer still to the glass to hear her final words of repetition, “We were friends or so I felt, wrapped together as one, connected but not, minds in unison and thoughts intertwined. It was like music and art to revel in each others instances, but now you decided the path to be torn apart by your destinations. Removing yourself from my voice so I can hear you no further. I will be alone in the dark and alone in my room. Would your choices to no longer speak loud enough to fill my visage cruelly darken my image and cool my soul as easily as you turn away from the warmth of the sun?”

Softer still until only a whisper is returned, as she strains against the glass, holding onto life, to fret upon my final words, “I know you feel betrayed by the truths I word but only the truth can set you and I free. I say not these things to frighten or pain but in loving memory without disdain.”

“A goodbye said is neither untrue or hurtful unless nothing said is merely silence.”

A Valentine, a Cross-stitch, and a Poem.

About a month and a half ago my precious Grandad, Bill Lewis, went to go be with Jesus. A times it seems almost surreal, knowing that he is no longer here. It’s hard at times, knowing that I can’t pick up the phone just to talk to him, and see how he’s doing. Or to get the amazing Godly advice that he always wanted to give. He was an amazing Man of God, and the things he shared, the words of wisdom, and the lessons that me and my family all learned from him won’t soon be forgotten.

There was someone who was always special in my Grandad’s life: My Granny, Mary Jo Lewis. She was his one true love of his life. What they had, and the life they lead, and they made for us all won’t ever be forgotten. They were one of those rare couples who really made it. A true love story. A true fairy tale. One for the story books.

Since Grandad passed away, my Mom, Uncle, and Aunt have been going to New Mexico and going through Granny and Grandad’s house, reliving precious memories, laughing, crying, and loving on each other. It’s been a hard process, but something that is necessary, and something that had to be done. After getting back this evening from another weekend in Lovington, NM, my mom came in and handed me a piece of paper, telling me to read it. Over the weekend, they had come across a Poem that my Grandad had written about two months before he passed away. As I read it tonight, I couldn’t help my shed a few tears in both happiness and sadness. I miss my Grandad so so much, but I find such joy in the fact he is finally, truly home. He’s with his true love, and he’s with his Jesus. And that’s something to be happy about.

Here is the poem that he wrote:

A Valentine, a Cross-stitch, and a Poem

You can never imagine the loneliness

I felt in my heart that day,

You were in the arms of Jesus

But me, I had to stay.

 

God’s mercy was with you

As He took you that day.

Your memory now is perfect

With your knees not hurting, you now can play.

 

My only consolation

Is knowing these things.

That you are no happy

And again you can sing.

 

I could never have known

As I wrote your valentine that day

That those words would be used soon

In your memorial service not far down the way.

 

At the foot of our bed on the wall,

Beneath the valentine framed in blue,

Are the words you stitched

That happiness is being married to your best friend.

 

Beneath that, framed in brown

Are the footprints in the sand.

I know God has carried us

Many times before in His loving hand.

 

When your memory was fading

And we didn’t know what to do,

God’s loving arms held us

As now He is holding you.

 

At times when my grief overwhelms me with pain

I think of those memories I had with you.

I think of the laughter we shared with each other.

I think of when death was far removed

In our plans for the future.

 

Yet knowing that someday the time would come

when we must part.

But still living each moment

With love in our hearts.

 

As I look on the wall

At a valentine, a cross-stitch, and a poem,

I think of how closely they are tied

To this joy and this pain in my soul.

 

And now as I see only one set of footprints in the sand

And the grief I am feeling seems more than I can stand.

I know He is carrying me and holding me in His loving hand

And in my heart there will always be

A Valentine, a Cross-stitch, and a Poem,

Because in each of these three, are you.

Raw

This last year has been a rough one for the ol’ heart of mine. I’ve experienced a heavy amount of joys, and an even heavier amount of sorrows. I’ve dealt with emotions this year than I’ve ever had to before; Confusion, frustration, loneliness, happiness, deep in your soul sorrow…the works.In the end, I could sum up the major emotions in one word: Rough.

I hate the feeling that those “rough” emotions bring in me. You know that feeling…that deep in your chest, terribly painful, not-sure-you-want-to-go-on-because-it-hurts-to-much feeling that you get because of situations or people? I hate that feeling a lot. I also really appreciate it. I appreciate it, because it tells me I’m still alive, even when I feel like I shouldn’t be. It tells me that my heart is still working. And that even though it really, really, hurts – eventually I will get out of it. Eventually it won’t hurt quite so much, and than after a while I won’t even feel it at all. Of course, that feeling will always come back because of something…it never fails. But I’ll keep on being thankful for it. I can’t not… It means I’m alive.

C’est La Vie

The Whistle go WHOO WHOO!

That might be the most ridiculous youtube video; I won’t say ever, ’cause I haven’t seen them all. But man, is it ridiculous!

So I’m very excited… My MISSOURI best friend Mallory will be flapping her wings all the way down to Texas at the end of the month. We have big plans!

And in November I get to go to Pennsylvania to see my Floridian BFF Stephanie, and my favorite Maine girl, Megan!

This next month and a half should be a good one.

C’est La Vie

FAIL

I’m the red headed step-child of the blogging world.

C’est La Vie