Things Keep Breaking

I seriously love this old, ramshackle apartment. It’s cozy and vintage and it feels exactly like home. But the downside to all that vintage is the way things seem to keep falling apart. The sink is leaky, the cabinet is crooked, and a couple days ago, one of the legs on the bathroom vanity came off. A little part of me went, Ugh! When will things just be perfect so that I can finally enjoy living here?

You know how much I love a good metaphor. This one is hitting me hard today. Things break. Things fall apart. That’s what they do. The car will break. The car will be fixed. It will break again. School will get harder and then easier and then harder again. Money will flow and get tighter and flow again. We’ll get sick again and well again. I could spend the rest of my life waiting for things to stop breaking and start being perfect. And I’ll be waiting a long time.

I keep breaking and am bound up again. Maybe this is what they mean when they say you should live in the moment. I am looking for the joy in the broken. It’s here. Can you see it? 

love, elizabeth

Breakfast is an Occasion

Sunday made me long for luxurious mornings every day when one might rise and set the table and light candles and serve fresh blackberries and eggs on toast instead of what usually happens (I wake up late and stuff a handful of Life cereal in my purse.

These little guys were a gift from Sarah courtesy of Paulova Ceramics, available on Etsy here. They make me happy.

Fresh blackberries…

And a pot of my new favorite coffee, the Starbucks blonde roast, Veranda Blend. One of the many perks of being married to a barista.

The point is…breakfast should be an occasion and I just rush over it to all the rest of the stuff in my day. Maybe this will be the motivation I need to wake up earlier?

What about you? What’s your favorite meal of the day?

love, elizabeth

I Forget All the Time

Someone told me recently that we're all just steps away from our selves as children. We are all so fragile, so breakable and I think we forget that. Sometimes I make eye contact with a stranger and think, "You are seconds away from shattering."

And I want to reach out and take your hands and say, "I am so sorry."

Because for a second, I forgot. I forgot you were a human heart, pumping blood through a human chest, and I forgot.

God forgive me, I forget all the time.

love,

elizabeth