Firenze {part 2}

"For us to go to Italy and to penetrate into Italy is like a most fascinating act of self-discovery,  back, back down the old ways of time. Strange and wonderful chords awake in us, and vibrate again after many hundreds of years of complete forgetfulness." --D.H. Lawrence 

"Italy is a dream that keeps returning for the rest of your life." --Anna Akhmatova

"It is the city of mirrors, the city of mirages, at once solid and liquid, at once air and stone." --Erica Jong 

 

     "How was Italy!?" is a question people have asked me a numerous times these past few weeks.
     "AMAZING!" is how I usually respond.
     "What was your favorite part?"
     pause. what do I say?
      "Ummmm, well the pasta was fantastic! and so was the artwork......"

In my mind I'm searching for the best way to give them a taste of my Italy, but the words never come out right. What I really want to tell everybody, is how beautiful the roof tops were, how Florence was a palette of earthy tones; a blend of red and browns. I want to tell them about the breath-taking views of lush rolling hills dotted with small villages and castles.

Then there were the masses of people. Tourists, policemen, street vendors, and students all crowded the narrow stone streets of Florence. Chefs stood outside of their restaurants shouting for people to come in, gypsy women followed us around mumbling and rattling their cups, while musicians were at every corner with their battered accordions. I could have spent all day just people watching :)

But in all honesty, my favorite part of Florence was the churches. There was a church on every block; large stone monstrosities with spires and heavy wooden doors. Often times the main chapel was filled with frescoes by Giotto or Michelangelo or statues by Donatello. Always the churches were dark and empty; occasionally there was a tourist walking around, or a man kneeling in prayer, but mostly I had the entire place all to myself. I'd sit in a worn pew and absorb the peaceful silence.

There. That's really what I want to say to everyone, but this blog post will have to suffice.



Someday I will return to Europe. There is more exploring to be done!

ticket book

 

     I am a collector of things; stuff like blue china, scrapbooking paper, books, etc., fills up a huge amount of space in my room. But there is one collection of items which occupies only a small corner of my desk. It is a bundle of ticket stubs from various places and events I've been to over the past few years. Whether it was a movie night with friends, or a visit to Dante's house in Italy, I kept the tickets with some vague idea in mind to display them.

     And so I created a 'ticket book' purely for the purpose of storing away the memories. Kinda cute isn't it? :) Every ticket has a story behind it -- a series of memories from times spent with the most important people in my life. Someday, when I'm an old lady, I'll flip through them and smile at the wonderful experiences I had 'back in the day'.      

Firenze {part 1}

I'm home. I'm back from the tiny world which I came to know so familiarly; the place called Florence, Italy.



     Where do I even begin? How do I describe the vibrant life of crowded city streets? How can I share the excitement of seeing ancient treasures?

          Art was everywhere. Frescoes, statues, bronze doors, chalk art on the sidewalk, inlaid marble -- they were all icons of beauty and legend; stories from the Renaissance brought to life.

     Armed with my trusty camera and journal, I'd walk down the streets observing tiny details and absorbing the sights and sounds, trying to capture the life of each moment.     

     One thing I failed to capture in my pictures was the sound. There were church bells clanging in the distance, pigeons cooing, ambulance sirens, people yelling and talking, the constant hum of mopeds zooming around, and strains of accordion music coming from every corner. All of it mingled together to create the atmosphere of busyness and moving ahead. 

     But sometimes, the bustling noise became too much. So I'd step into a small chiesa. Immediately, the pollution and motion of the streets would fall away to the peaceful silence of a stone church. It was refreshing to enter a safe haven where I could stop and collect my thoughts.

     

     Florence was fast-paced for a Missourian from the countryside, but I caught on quick and fell in love with my small taste of Europe! Don't worry-- I will be back for more. Nothing made me happier than to walk the cobbled streets of Italy and feel the exhilaration of exploring the globe.    

bits of happiness

 

the smell of chainsaws and freshly cut wood

 

teasing the cat with some string

 

listening to words of Truth on Sunday morning

 

getting a compliment on your handwriting even though it is atrocious

 

email conversations that are 75 messages long

 

raising your hands in worship

 

shoving heavy things around and then feeling invincibly strong

 

moonlight on a gravel road

 

sticking your head out the car window like a dog

 

singing as loud as you want because you're at home alone 



homemade apple butter

 

getting hugs from sweet old ladies

 

 the anticipation of preparing to leave for Europe

 

stomping around in the snow with my rubber boots

 

lazy mornings on the couch with a cup of tea

 

life.

noticing miracles

          Some time ago I asked my lovely writer friend Erica to come up with a guest post for my blog.
She willingly agreed and sent me the finished product this morning. I had to read it several times because it is so wonderful and thought provoking and wise. Because of the importance of this message, I believe everyone should take time to read these beautiful words written by one inspiring person!

 

 

I’ve been thinking about the nation of Israel lately.

We read though the Old Testament last year.  And believe me, reading through the entire Old Testament in one year really drives home the point about how good the Jews were at falling away from God.  It’s this endless cycle.  They’re faithful to Him, so He rewards them and makes them prosperous.  And because they’re so prosperous, they get complacent and start worshipping other gods.  So God punishes them.  And then they call out to Him, and he rescues them.  So they’re faithful to him, and he rewards them and makes them prosperous.  And so on.  And on.  And on.

And I must admit, I was tempted to laugh at them sometimes.  Raise your hand if you’ve ever thought something like this while reading the Old Testament: “Seriously?!  They saw God perform a miracle right in front of them.  He led them through the desert in a pillar of fire.  He parted the Red Sea for them.  He defeated Jericho for them.  How in the world could they just turn around and forget all that, and start worshipping other gods?  The nation of Israel was just so silly.”

Raises hand.  Yes, I’m guilty of thinking this, too.

But I’ve been thinking lately, how often do we do the same thing?  How often do we see a miracle from God and then just turn around and continue living life as if it had never happened? 

You may be thinking, but I’ve never seen a miracle from God.  I’ve never had anyone in my life miraculously healed, or been miraculously protected, or anything like that.  That may be true.  I don’t think I ever have either, though I believe those kinds of things do happen. 

But that’s not the kind of miracle I’m talking about.  I’m talking about little everyday miracles, the things we pass over without even thinking about it or don’t even think to notice.  Have you ever had something you’re nervous about go surprisingly well?  Or been somewhere at just the right time to do something you wouldn’t have had the opportunity to do otherwise? 

Have you ever really stopped to notice the miraculous beauty of Autumn?  Or the miracle of new life in the spring?  Or even the miracle of life itself?

You see, we do exactly what the Jews did in Old Testament times.  We see a miracle, and maybe even marvel over it for a little while, then turn around and forget about it.  And we continued living life like we would have if it had never happened. 

So I guess the main point of this whole thing is that I’ve made it my goal lately to try not to forget everything God has done for us, and to try to see His presence in all the little miracles most people miss.  And I’m wondering if you’d like to make that your goal too.

to autumn

             Currently, in British Literature (one of my favoritest school courses this year), I am studying John Keats and his life. Of course the tragedy of his love for Fanny Brawne and his passion for beauty inspired me to dive deeper into his writing. I found this gorgeous bit of loveliness (which you must listen to without further hesitation), and also this:

TO AUTUMN

by John Keats

 Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For summer has o'er-brimm'd their clammy cells.

Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep,
Drowsed with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers:
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
Steady they laden head across a brook;
Or by a cider-press, with patient look,
Thou watchest the last oozings, hours by hours.

Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too, --
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hill bourn;
Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
The redbreast whistles from a garden-croft,

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         Read it aloud, and you will see why I am in love with Keats. The imagery is astoundingly vivid and brings all of your senses to life. 

some thoughts

 

         I live in a city that has a population of 115,276 individuals, and I have a job where I am surrounded by crowds of humans that I've never seen before and will probably never see again.

 

Everyday, when I drive down I-70, I glance at the car passing me and wonder where that person is going and what their story is.

         Who are they thinking about? What worries are pressing against their heart? What joys are flooding their senses? Do they like dogs? Will I ever see them again? What is God's plan for their life?

          People are wonderful creatures. They are capable of both raging passion and tenderness, depthless love and whimsy, appreciating beauty and trying to create it. They can communicate in so many ways--through art, song, and words. They connect with other people to make up this myriad of relationships that we call 'society'.
          Unfortunately, they also make mistakes. They shed tears over the past, destroy things that they don't understand, and march blindly into the future. Communication is not always easy, and relationships can get messy quick.

          But that is the beauty of a person: when one is full of both lovely character, and raw, unfinished emotions.       

           I guess what I'm saying is this: I love people. Their interactions, thoughts, emotions, and behaviors weave in and out to form an intricate tapestry of life. We are fascinating beings -- unlike any other on earth.

          God knew what he was doing when he created us.

persimmon cookies

 

Today was one of those days when one feels like doing a bit of cooking and cleaning, rocking out to Josh Turner while washing the dishes, and hanging up some pictures that have been sitting in the closet.

I made persimmon cookies for the first time ever. It was a laborious process. Pick the berries off the tree, wash them, take out all the seeds (which turns your fingers orange until the end of time), figure out why the blender isn't working, stir it by hand instead, and stick the cookies in the oven. They are even more delectable than I anticipated, so all the hard work was worth it.

I just wish we had remembered to add some black walnuts. Then they would have been Missouri Native Persimmon Cookies.
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In other headlines, Laurel got her passport in the mail! That means she is hoping to go to FLORENCE ITALY IN NOVEMBER!!!!! Dad and I have been spending huge amounts of time pouring over travel guides and maps. If it all works out, we plan to visit several museums and churches as well as the Leaning Tower of Pisa and the Mediterranean Sea.

So yeah. Exciting stuff. Are you kidding? I CAN'T EVEN HOLD STILL BECAUSE THERE'S SO MUCH HAPPINESS IN MY BRAIN!

I will fill you in on all the details later, dear readers.
In the meantime, enjoy life and laugh often. Ta-ta-- Laurel

senior photos

I love horses.

 

I love loyal German Shepherds...

 

...and old John Deere tractors

 

I love greedy horses who try to eat treats straight from your pocket

 
I love my smiling, adventure-loving nieces and nephews.

 

I love my slobbery mustang kisses.

 

I love my Clint Anderson style black saddle.

 

 

not to mention these people right here!

 

 

I  love the country.