giving all my secrets away...

for everything there is a season, and a time for everything under the heaven...

time to break down and a time to build up; a time to weep and a time to laugh; a time to mourn; and a time to dance; a time to cast stones and a time to gather stones; a time to embrace, a time to refrain from embracing; a time to gain, a time to lose... ecclesiastes 3:1-6

i read this verse this morning, praying that the Lord would speak to me through His living Word. it never will cease to amaze me how he answers the simplest of requests...nor do i ever hope it will ever cease to amaze me. if there is one thing that this life has impressed upon me thus far is that it is always fluctuating. always. it never stops for a moment's rest. no matter how much we should like to find consistence - no matter how much solace we find in the consistence we manage to "persuade" ourselves is genuine - everything will eventually change. sometime overnight. sometimes little by little. but no matter how, when, where, or why eventually when we turn around we will peer at a world so different than the one in which we are living at present and stare at an even different one if we should look ahead at the future...

---- scribbles from my journal ----

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between so much sadness and busyness and feeling as though people don't have the time to listen, i have felt lonelier that ever; and  i must admit that this past week has been one of the hardest i have ever experienced in a very long while. i hold fast to the idea that things will change and usually, at the very zenith of giving up, something always better turns up. i am always given that hope just when I can run this race no more. and everyday i have bitten my lip to hold back the tears and waiting. everyday that passes, there is always that hope. everyday, hope slips away. honestly, it's only by His grace, do I keep marching on. but isn't that always the case? 

-the girl in her garden.

 1 //  2 // 3 // 4 // 5 // 6 

i wish plant life would grow all around me, so i don't feel dead anymore...

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ALL THAT IS GOLD DOES NOT GLITTER

NOT ALL WHO WANDER ARE LOST, 

THE OLD THAT IS STRONG SHALL NOT WHITHER

DEEP ROOTS ARE NOT REACHED BY THE FROST.

J. R. R. Tolkien 

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'tis only a vegetable garden. no plants of vivid, photogenic beauty grow there from the soil scattered with bits of unseemly pebbles, but 'tis the only plot of land that I can completely claim as my own.

at least once in the day, I swing open the old gate into the vegetable garden. 'tis just a little habit I need to make time for during the spring and summer months. fingering the delicate tendrils of the little seedlings jocundly springing up with vernal life, while always uncovering another little sprout every visit or so has a way in moving me, you see.

I've learned many lessons from just a simple plot of dirt: the cliche, "one's always closer to God's heart in the garden," from where tears fall, up springs life; and hard work and patience is indeed always rewarded by those who exercise such - but the most rewarding is the feeling of being surrounded by plant life.
perhaps, it gives me hope that just as plant life struggles from the darkened beds of nothingness, so will go the loneliest and the dustiest corners of my soul. 

and even if we don't harvest bushels of vegetables this year, I know I have uprooted gold.
xx

The Girl in her Garden

in which I tell you the story of the girl who waited & fell in love...

we are all stories in the end - just make it a good one, eh? - eleven

once upon a time there was a girl who fell in love... 
with the handsomest of the handsome, the most dashing of the dashing, and the last of his kind. the first time she laid eyes upon his docile face, she knew within her heart he was the one. and although he was a bit quirky and ran into quite a bit of trouble {there was a lot of running involved}, he hummed one of the most delicious tunes in the whole world over - a melody no one in the whole entire universe could ever mimic. 
once upon a time there was a girl who waited...
and fell head over heels in love and ran away with someone - one of the very last of his kind - and they've been running ever since.   

say 'ello in your best british accent, m'dears, to my dearest sweetest little fellow:

Mr. Rory Williams Pond: Rory the ROYAL typewriter.

happy may day, dearies! 

I think i just may have perhaps fallen slightly in love,

The Girl typing away in Her Garden

postscript: i've been watching a lot of doctor who of late. but isn't that obvious?