forgive and forget but remember all the same.

words. just a scramble of letters, right? a few scribbles on a blank page. a breath of air formed by the lips. nothing more, nothing less. but oh, how much joy they can bring, and how much destruction all the same...

>>---------------->

stepping out // the real me.

hello, my darling reader! please, do sit down, have a cup o' tea whilst I tell something that has been needed to say awhile ago... 

I know I have probably bored you to death with all these posts relating to "being authentic" and "showing the real me" and perhaps, some of you don't actually believe my attempts are in fact noble. but let me tell you that these past few weeks have been really eye-opening to me. indeed, there was a bit of hurt and a few tears involved, and a couple of nights that I never thought the sun would rise in the morning; however, thankfully, there were friends who I could shed a few tears on their shoulders, and His faithfulness and promises that encouraged me to continue blogging...something that I had/have seriously considered to stop.

anywho...I'm "stepping out," reavealing the true me {didn't I say that already?}. I'm going to tell you things that I have been too scared to tell to my blogging audience, but now that we are "bosom friends" I suppose I should spill it all out...

{^^disclaimer, not my image} 

{one} I like psych {and Monk}. it's one of my favorite TV shows...a little inappropriate content within, but through Biblical spectacles, we can look past the bad and pick out the good, right?

{two} I really want to include more quirkiness into my blog...I have found myself more than once say, "I am so weird." but I've always been self-conscious about this - yet now I'm stepping out and saying, "yes, yes I am," and I think if I include this more into my aspect of my blog, then it'll show a little more of me.

{three} fashion. alright, here's an iffy subject, wait for iiiiiiiiiiit...I wear pants and shorts {burmudas, not those practically-under clothes-type-of-shorts} and sleeveless tops and dresses. no, I don't have a conviction to wear just skirts and dresses, although I much prefer wearing those because I feel more like a girl. :) but here's the thing...it's hot hot H.O.T. here in the central CA, and as long as the outfit isn't showy, I'm okay with sleeveless tops and shorts.

{four} unedited photos. PicMonkey, doesn't work for me, and I'm attempting to try to figure out Gimp. until then, there's going to be a few unedited photographs, so be patient with me. :)

{five} time. I probably will not update my garden entries as much as I used to. I appreciate the 390 faithful followers who have stuck by me throughout this whole transition, and from the bottom of my heart I give my thanks. you all have been so encouraging and just wonderful really.

the key to good blogging is accepting yourself, and until you can do that, nobody else is going to take you seriously. so that's what I'm going to do...I am truly going to reveal who I am, even if it takes awhile for me to embrace this "new Grace" myself. but I need your help as well...being a true friend to somebody means to accept them for who they are, no matter what. some things I publish in the future you might not see eye-to-eye with, might not like...I mean, 'common, one of my best friend's and I can't agree on ANYTHING {I should write a post on that sometime, Miss J *smile*}, but yet, we are still the best of friends. so, I hope this still means that you and I will always be faithful friends, and you will continue to stop by to linger amongst the wildflowers.

with love,
the girl in the garden.
postscript :: I am starting a new little prayer journal, and I was wondering if you would like to send in prayer requests and I would love to tuck them into my journal. {please e-mail them to me separately}.

  {images via pinterest}

the story that came to be // letters from the past.

each of us has a story. no two are alike. similar, but not the same. some choose to embrace it, some discover it later in life, and some try to live a story that was never theirs to begin with. new roots are planted, old ones are discovered. in the end, roots become deep and no matter where you are, where you go, those roots remain. but sometimes, they intertwine and I would be foolish to call it "fate" that makes it so. sometimes love stories are formed, dry valleys appear, mountaintops are conquered, friendships are restored, new ones are discovered - it's all part of a unique story. and it's yours.

1945. "my dearest Pamela," each letter would begin. lists and drawings, inside jokes, and memories, money matters, scrapbook ideas, all intertwined within words of endearment and love. seventy years ago, they were in love. this was there story.

my grandfather was was an artist. my grandmother, an actress. they lived separate stories that were one day intertwined to create one they both shared. my grandfather became a soldier in World War II, trained at a little army camp outside of my little town I now call home. both my grandparents originated from Los Angeles, the birth place of my mother, yet my grandmother never forgot this little town {having lived here for a few months as my grandfather was being trained, and vacationing here with my mother when she was a little girl}.

who would have known, that as they lived their story, they began a new one. my mother would have never lived here if it weren't for her father being trained in a little camp outside our hometown. my father would have never met my mother, and I would not be typing this story at the moment.

two simple lives intertwined. a chain reaction. and the story that came to be.

that was their story. what's yours?
xoxo,
the keeper of the garden.