The Past, Latched Windows, and Forgiveness

I used to be so vulnerable to my past being a stumbling block in my every day. I was like a tiny little house, sitting on the prettiest lot, painted a crisp white with a vibrant blue door, with wildflowers growing along the path leading up to it, sunshine warming its exterior, visitors knocking and leaving treats on the front stoop--yet, I couldn't see it. With the windows latched shut, the door unanswered, my past hung around inside its sturdy walls--that, the only view to be seen. I didn't fully know of the beauty to be had in the every day. I might wander out, outside of this little house I created within me, see the delicate blooms, feel the warmth of the sun, and look like I fully knew of these simple joys; but what a sad picture of my heart one would truly see. All of these life giving things, the view outside, and the people who loved me: all of that juxtaposed blurry and in the background, while the collection of hurt, and guilt, and those heavy past burdens stood all so clearly in focus at the front of my heart.

And so, I'd wander out, but I'd always go back to my tiny little house, or remember what was stored up inside while I was away, behind those closed doors: pressing against latched windows, fogging my mind and tying up my ability to live freely, fully in the moment, openly to forgiveness, all stealing my ability to know joy as it truly truly is. I'd wander out, but at the end of the day, the tiny little house that I created within me was still there just filled with the collection of hurt from others, lies I created about myself, and anxiety from my past. It was there, and that house stayed, and I could not shake it.

The building blocks of this tiny little house in my heart appeared in those days when teenage awareness transitioned to young adulthood, and life slowly switched from the simplicity of childhood and the wild and free feeling of being a young girl (what my childhood was) to a jig saw puzzle of love and heartbreak, adolescent regrets, the pain and longing of wanting to feel fully wanted as a my father's daughter, self-criticism, and changes in acceptance: so many of which are tied to body, and image, and success (or what we label it as). As I navigated all of this: relationships with boys, awareness of my self, stark realities of life and sin, absence of what I wanted in my relationship with my dad, the changing of friendships, trying to fit in, and even stretching into self criticism as a newly married woman, those lies staring back in the mirror, the battle of the mind (I could go on), and all the muck that comes with that package--I learned how to hold on to it all. I learned how to take even the most subtle detail of my past and allow it to stay in my tiny little house. I allowed it to stay in and control how I felt about myself in the present moments of my life. And, of course, as those years from teenager to young adult became more and more, my house only filled, and I became better at not letting anything out. I locked the doors, sealed up the windows, and the light outside became harder and harder to see. Because when you fill your life with so much from the past, even the good, there is no room for anything but that, and you miss out on the present.

My past used to be a stumbling block. I allowed it to be this way. You see, I laid the brick work. I built up those walls. I closed those windows. I locked the door. It was me who didn't allow the sunshine and breeze to come in and freshen up my life, melt it like spring to winter, like a clean slate or canvas for a new painting and story to be written about the present.

I allowed my past to linger in my thoughts, be my crutch, hold me back. Until one day, a loud knock was at the locked front door. A light showed up so bright that even a latched window with curtains pulled tight couldn't keep dark. Like the early morning sun that wakes the slumbering, stirring those first moments of the day, rays kissing the air and singing "wake up! wake up! it's time to live!" And I couldn't resist it. I couldn't leave the door unanswered. I had to pull the curtains. I had to wake up, I had to give it up, I couldn't keep my collection of hurt and guilt away from that light any longer. I couldn't let the past hold cactive my present, and my future. So I didn't.

That pounding, that bright light, in a literal sense: that was the moment where I finally realized my role in it all. That is when I realized I had to give up everything I was holding onto: to give it up to God, to tell others about my anxiety in dealing with my past, through steadfast prayer, and to open up and air it all out in a sense to begin the process of forgiving others and forgiving myself. And to keep my little tiny house from being filled up, I have to do this daily. Because, really, I'll always be vulnerable to neglecting this place in my heart, and allowing the doors and window to bolt up. This is how I do it: Forgive daily. Choose to keep the windows open and the breeze coming in. Choose to clean up house if you will, for me through prayer and mindfulness, or a vulnerable conversation with a close friend, with Matt, or with myself, each and every day.

Everyone has a past. Everyone has hurt, let downs, stumblings, loss, and things they regret. And everyone has to deal with them in a real way. For me, it took years of prayer and true blindness to it all until I really understood how my past held me captive. I fell victim to my own default, to dwell on the collection of bad rather open the windows and see the good of the present. And that's when I realized my role in it all. God was always knocking, and I chose not to answer the door. The light was always peering in through the tightly closed windows of my heart, and I chose to never truly notice.

My past used to be a stumbling block, a hinderance to how I enjoyed my everyday, blinding me from opportunity and beauty that was right there waiting for me to see it, to grab it, to take it as what life is about--and I realize that now. I have learned how to keep that tiny little house bright, and it is a choice that I have to make daily.

What about you? Are your windows latched shut or wide open? Either way, the warmth of the sun and crispness of that air will always be right outside that door to your heart. If anything, know that. And know that someone will always be knocking. Are you choosing to let the present day in and air out what you are holding inside? Are you choosing to answer the door?

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This post is part of a series of 25 bloggers over 25 days sharing as part of the Skinny Dip Society Blog Tour, hosted by Katie Den Ouden. Be sure to check out Stephanie's post from yesterday, on Falling Back in Love With Yourself, and Caroline's post tomorrow. Katie is also doing a 21-Day Freedom challenge, which may be the perfect little addition for you to live a bit more freely and wildly each day. She is a total inspiration, and an amazing woman cultivating a community of people who want to live life wholly. You can read catch up on the past few week of the blog tour--over here. 

Brooklyn | House of Small Wonder

Perhaps my favorite part of traveling is stumbling upon the unexpected. One morning, we hopped on the L train to Brooklyn, where we spent the morning walking the streets of Brooklyn Heights, then weaved up and down streets in DUMBO, before we eventually planned to cross back into Manhattan via the Brooklyn Bridge. Before the bridge, though, hunger called. 

Yelp was the best tool ever, while in New York. We hadn't really made plans to stop for lunch in Brooklyn, and thought we'd find a market where we could quickly buy granola bars and waters. But when Yelp suggested a place called House of Small Wonder, I literally couldn't help but wonder. We had to go there. And so, we found this tiny little cafe, which felt more like the green house of Ernest Hemingway, and enjoyed lattes, soup, and sandwiches.

Everything from the little pink pigs placed in the terrariums, to the typewriters and hand lettering on signs and menus--this cafe was the embodiment of adorable. Brooklyn was a favorite of mine in New York, for reasons like this restaurant, and there are still so many more places we just loved that I'll be photo-logueing in this mini-series of our travels. So far we've been to Coney Island, Grand Central Station, and The Brooklyn Flea. What about you? Any favorite NY stops?

Mid-Century Cane Back Chair

The other day, on a whim, I stopped in my local Goodwill. I have an exciting decorating project coming up, so I've had this urge to thrift during my free time. The trick to thrifting is frequency. It's always hit or miss, but when you do it frequent enough, you gain a keen eye and increase your chances of stumbling upon gold. And sometimes, all you do it walk in and walk right out, so it really isn't too much of a time suck. But when you walk in and its a good day, oh man. Its so worth it. This on a whim day, it was a gold diggers paradise. I was only in the store for five minutes, and left with six items.  Quality vintage items. When I thrift, I always head to the furniture section first, and then scan the art next. If those two areas don't steal my attention, I might wander down the aisles, but usually its the bigger items, the ones that can be repurposed or a diamond in the rough, for a dirt cheap price: that's what I'm looking for. Finding furniture and art for a steal are my favorite items to find. And this on a whim stop, the first thing I laid eyes on was this mid-century cane back chair.

After cleaning off the dirt, its basically in perfect condition. The curve of the back! The details on the legs! When I first stumbled upon the chair I wanted to rip off the cushion and replace it. But now after taking it out of the thrift store environment--the chair shines in a different light. The cushion is a velvety soft pink, and really isn't that bad even if I decided to wait on redoing the chair. I've never reupholstered before, believe it or not. The cushion on this chair looks simple enough to remove and redo, so I am thinking it may be the perfect first reupholster job that I do. Originally I planned to paint the wood white, but after cleaning it up, I really like the natural wood. Its nearly perfect with no scratches, and the cane back has no snags or holes or anything. Seriously, thrifted gold. I spent $18 on this bad-jackson, and found the same chair on eBay and others like it for $150 and then some. Mid century finds are hard to come by because of how popular they've become in that modern vintage design thats flooding Pinterest right now. So, yes, I feel like a lucky thrifter!

A Me Update

It has been a little quieter around here since New York, and I wanted to say thank you for being patient as my writing and projects have been mostly been on pause (let's be honest, projects have been on pause for awhile now). Lately I've turned to quick photo-logues of our New York adventures (which I am loving sharing with you!) to keep this blog rolling. You see, with two jobs and some other news that I can't wait to tell you about, free time has pretty much amounted to the size of a freckle. 

So thanks for hanging tight. And thank you for being okay with a bit of quiet. I'm still here, but have had to make sure to balance work with the personal, and part of that has been letting go of blog planning, post line ups, and all of that editing piece that keeps things happening here. It'll be back though--promise. And it'll be worth the wait. In the meantime, its a go with the flow mentality to this little blog, so be sure to still pop in.

Exposed Bulbs

I've had light fixtures on the mind, and of course the simple and do it myself options are the most appealing when I look at prices and style. But right now, West Elm is having a lighting sale, so I illuminated my morning with some browsing. Yet, still, my favorite looks even when browsing West Elm's sale are the simple and bare bulbs mixed with metallic cords. The simple just draws me in! If it looks like it could have been around in the 1920's, or on the set of Downton Abbey in the maids quarters, I will probably like it. 

I am a huge fan of mixing the elements, especially when it comes to light fixtures. What about you? Seeing as my decorating style is a bit more matte, its nice to have a copper pop in a light fixture, when I dream of future light fixtures in my future home full of simple vintage-modern styling. 

The great thing is, there are so many do it yourself ways to get this look from the most basic to adding in up cycled wiring and branches even (like HERE, HERE and HERE) or you can just hop on with West Elm's Lighting Sale and stock up for future projects (top photo HERE, copper cord HERE).

Cold Brings Snow

"It's negative 13 degrees outside right now, you might have a snow day" are words that I never imagined waking up to on a regular weekday morning. Forever used to the default of California warmth, what a jolting reality of winter it has been. 

But you know what? Cold brings snow. The snow! Oh the snow is amazingly beautiful. Beauty doesn't even really begin to describe the view when you're on a ski lift peering down to the slopes and valleys below. Tree tops reaching up to touch the crisp blue layer just beyond reach--stretching, peering, almost grazing clouds as they pass by with the whisking winter wind.

Matt and I made a trip up to Keystone together for a morning of skiing, and how quick my breath was taken away. Yes, literally, because it was so dry and cold--but figuratively speaking too, as the sight of the mountains captivated my heart like that of a child on Christmas morning. The snow is different here. Not sticky and wet, or icy and hard, like what I found myself learning to navigate as a beginning snowboarder in California's limited winter landscape, but dry and just waiting to be fluffed up, waiting to be swiftly passed through, making turns and edges not as scary to take--a snow that builds my confidence as I take to it strapped in a board, bundled up head to toe, racing down the mountain.

"Its negative thirteen," is never what I thought I'd hear right before I had to get out of bed, and drive to work. But never did I imagine I'd live just an hour away from mountain top beauty with a white layer of winter that dares me to race down its slopes. I'll take negative numbers any day, if it means views above pine trees reaching towards cotton candy strands of white and snow that goes fluff.

Grand Central Station

This post is part of a series, where I photo-logue the nooks and crannies we adventured through while in New York...One morning, we took the subway straight from grey and cold, but beautifully eerie, Coney Island to Grand Central Station--where golden hues and turquoise ceiling tops danced with black silhouettes darting against time, and magic whisper tunnels awaited traveling secrets.

Doesn't it feel like a whimsical place? Like something big and important is going to happen at any moment, especially with the light of the windows and the ceiling constellations, and the nod to Winter's Tale? It might not be a little known secret anymore, but right next to the Oyster Bar (which our friends say is ah-mazing, by the way) there is a whisper gallery. If one person stands on the opposite side of the arch from you, and you turn and talk into the wall, you can so clearly hear the other person. If you're in New York, and in need of whimsy and warmth (and have secrets to tell) get on your way to Grand Central Station.