Monday, April 30, 2012


There's a lot to love about going home. You've heard it all before. I know, I know.
But here's the photo that most perfectly captures "there".

It's the radio, man. 

It's the big, clunky cd player/radio on the bathroom counter. It would almost be enough that the shower head is so tall that I don't have to hunch. It's a bonus that I can LOCK THE BATHROOM DOOR and shower without interruption and/or the hazy notion that the house might be burning down around me while I shower. But the fact that I can also blare the radio whilst showering? It's revolutionary. It's a unique kind of awesome. It's home.

We've musical-chaired around with sleeping arrangements, over the years. But I've decided that I am happiest in my little sister Keisha's room. She's in Africa right now, training in high risk midwifery.

I miss her. (Isn't she pretty?)

I hugged her on New Year's Day and cried into her hair, refusing (like I always do) to tell her goodbye. I stink at goodbyes. I'm the worst ever. I should be used to not telling her goodbye, but this time felt different. I wanted to protect her and just keep being her big sister. I didn't want her to go.

But also? I really wanted her to go. I wanted her to embrace the call and quiet the haters who tell her she needs to just stay home and find a husband. (fyi, I used to be one of the haters)  It embarrasses me that it took my own bumpy journey to see the true beauty of hers. So I petted her hair and promised her she was doing the right thing. I told her I was proud of her.

But I definitely didn't tell her goodbye.

I haven't heard her voice since that night and it's hard. It would be nice if God cared more about our earthly, American comfort than he did about the lostness and the ache of the world...

So I cozied up in her bed and read Isaiah from one of her Bibles. I slept well, surrounded by these faces, these members of her family (yours and mine, too).

Keisha has played such a role in inspiring where we are in life right now. She's taught me much. She's encouraged us every step of the way.

My mom took this picture with the big camera. That's always an adventure. I think you're catching on, Mama! This is one of my favorite pictures ever.

 She also took this one, which is interesting, because it so closely resembles...

 This one.

This is Angie's arm. Angie is the one who made my bar-stool dreams come true. We had never met, but Saturday changed everything.

Two words: La Fiesta.

She hauled in a big box of pastries for dessert, and I knew I was in love. She didn't bat an eye that most of the salsa was gone when she arrived a mere 5 minutes after I did.

My excuse? "I can't be trusted with this."

But you already knew that.
We almost shut the place down. We camped out.  

 We were twins, in our gingham shirts and our Farmgirl Paints cuffs.

After we rolled each other out of the booth, we hit up Midwest Memories - my favorite Ohio antiques store in the history of the world. All I know is, I need Angie to quit her life and sign on as my personal junk-shopping assistant. She truly seemed to understand my vision of crazy. She practically forced me to buy the yellow-orange baskets that will hopefully light the kitchen of my future.

All that, and my 3rd bar-stool, too.

God bless the internet!

God bless us, every one.