why travel

currently listening to: "Fuel to Fire" by Agnes Obel

I love how different people are.
It may seem like a no brainer that people are different, but believe me, it's a lesson I'm learning anew every day.
It's the kind of lesson that creeps up in relationships, finds its way into businesses, and shows itself blatantly in varying cultures and religions.
It's a lesson that, if never learned, can truly cripple you.
It's a lesson that I've continued to learn through the brilliance of travel.

I love travel. 
There are so many reasons I love it, and some of them are hard to put into words that make sense unless you've been there to smell, taste, and know them.

Macaron crumbs scattered on the bed, unnoticed as you drift off to sleep in a warm apartment above the glittery streets of Paris. Fish and chips fresh and drizzly on your lips, a salty warmth on a London day sparkling with snow flurries. Ears are biting, fingertips are clutching the toasty foil.
Climbing the dark stone ruins above Slane, Ireland, breathing deeply and smelling grass, trees, dirt, legends.
Holding in the gasp of terror as the giant stingray approaches, feeling the absolute elation of a desperate fear being conquered. Squinting against the sunshine, feeling it purge your skin of moisture, then diving back into the water for a fresh wave of coolness.

Why travel.

I think wanderlust is a real thing. Once you start, a craving begins, a true longing for new places.
Exploring is addictive, adventures tend to multiply.
I have been blessed to see a tiny glimpse of the world, and I think if I could I would hand it out to everyone I know like candy.
I would give it away because I think everyone needs it, and it would be a thrill to give it.

In America we generally have a very small view of things. Usually it begins with "me" and ends with "me."
What's happening inside my head, my heart, my bubble, that's the end all and be all of life.
Traveling tends to demand a balance of your view of the world. Or it at least demands that you consider it. Your expectations and assumptions of other countries and of humankind in general.
Traveling is a shock to the senses, a learning experience and a joy.

And boy, it shows you how small are you. The intricacies of God's design, the diversity of His people all over the globe. How infinitely miniscule you are in the grand scheme of things, in the vast universe.
Traveling will give you insight to that diversity
As a Christian, traveling takes my breath away. It makes me cry, it stores a piece of eternity in my heart and mind. It shows me how large and varied the Christian church really is.
It will show you faith, in all its forms, sizes, faces and languages.
The world is like a tray of colorful herbs and spices, awaiting to tantalize and educate you.

That's why. It's why I travel, and it's why I want to travel with my future children in tow.
I want to show them the beautiful world, to share with them the many discoveries of traveling, both profound and simple.
To show them in a real way that life goes beyond our living room, our technology, our toys, our me. 



*inspired in part by this post

a cat lady musing

I simply can't resist a cat, particularly a purring one.

They are the cleanest, cunningest, and most intelligent things I know, 

outside of the girl you love, of course.

- Mark Twain

I have a feeling that Mark Twain and I would have gotten along quite fine. Bosom friend status.

There's something about the cat-less population that I find quite sad. The cat-hater is typically a person that is missing something lovely, something like a cuddly spirit, a purity of heart, an affectionate nature. A soul.

The world needs its harshness, of course, but I find it hard to imagine dealing with it without a furry friend to guide the comfort levels of your home. 

A home without a cat -- and a well-fed, well-petted and properly revered cat --

may be a perfect home, perhaps, but how can it prove title?

- Mark Twain

I am sensitive, affectionate, romantic, loyal, devoted, warmhearted, friendly. And I am a cat lover.

Or am I those things as a result of loving cats?

World-changing questions.

I find myself changed by their sweetness, calmed by their presence, soothed by their tired, sleepy grins.

Happy to care for them, happy to be with them. 

I had a friend recently say that if and when we are able to care for them the way we do, vet bills and messes and all, we are good stewards. It made me smile and I think in most cases that's true.

What an odd little gift they are, such strange little creatures, like having my very own pokemon.

I choose you, fluffychoo!

I can never fully put my trust in someone who hates cats. (I am also inconsolably sad for those who are deathly allergic). The cat-loving world is like the best of secret societies, really -- you hide your adoration, knowing in your heart that 1.) others will never truly understand 2.) you have something precious that they cannot have 3.) you're not alone in the world.

 When a man loves cats, I am his friend and comrade,

without further introduction.

- Mark Twain

You pass by cat-related merchandise and point and laugh, or show your friends, secretly knowing if they weren't there you'd probably make it all the way to the cash register with it before realizing you could never wear it in public anyway, because people would shun you.

You are unnaturally thrilled that cat sweaters and graphic Ts have become a somewhat quirky exception in the fashion world, allowing you to partake in the celebration of cattiness in style.

How much is too much? The cat lady will never know.

I do know that my life has been measured by the constant embellishment of animal interaction, by the sweet little souls within beings that make me laugh and cry. 

Every home I've ever lived in has had these treasures, these accessories of life and activity and playfulness. 

It's how I was raised, how I love to live, and how I live to love.

The wide-eyed way in which I take in the world, and come home to the purrs of a day well spent.

Mark loved cats...and pool, or pocket billiards. 

Whenever he played pool, he'd tuck a pet kitten into a corner pocket. The antics of the cat as it pawed at passing balls amused and relaxed Mark Twain...sent him back in high spirits to write the stories that endeared him to all.

Americans today have the same shrewd understanding that one relaxed moment 

helps you work and fight harder.

- Royal Crown Cola ad, 1940s 

the cold summer

I've been a little bit of a bloggy failure as of late.
I've had all sorts of fun mini adventures and have tons of pictures as proof of my activity, and somewhere along the line I got overwhelmed and every day I think I might blog, I end up not blogging, and letting more and more adventures pile up without sharing them.
Sometimes I think it's nice to just let adventures be a secret.
That being said, I still haven't even blogged about our last day in Paris! Like. 4 months ago. Yikes.

Besides that, I need to tell you about Cleveland, about saying bye to my brother, about the drive back and getting back to life in an empty apartment. Funny how two adults and two cats in a teensy apartment can feel "empty" after having the warmth of family there.
I need to tell you about being homesick and going out on date nights to reconnect, about starting the new season of The Bachelorette because we're just those kinds of people.
About starting the fabulous summer tradition of playing beach volleyball with our friends, about Lynchburg Restaurant Week and beer cheese soup and how our life group at church is doing, and about having one of my lifelong friends come and visit for a week.
I certainly need to tell you that my lavender latte is alive and well and that I made a bacon-wrapped, blue-cheese topped grilled peach that changed my life.
I need to tell you about the fourth of july and about the amazing weather and about listening to a book on tape with the windows down, and about our amazing trip this weekend to Richmond that was full of childish glee on roller coasters and dancing to music and eating ice cream and eating a fancy dinner in a movie theater. About how Bread & Wine by Shauna Niequist is lovely and all of you lady loves of my heart need to read it.
I feel far away from you all because you don't know any of this very vital information.

For now all I'll really say is that this summer couldn't be more different than last summer.
Last summer we went home in late June, came back to Virginia and it was stifling hot, we almost died in Washington D.C., we had an endless string of family visitors, we went on an amazing cruise, to Jamaica and the Cayman Islands, and ended with Disney World and Harry Potter world...

This summer, we went home in May, had all of our visitors come and go before July, and it has been steadily rainy/stormy/in the 80's all summer long.
Yesterday it was 84 degrees and I wore a sweater. Today is overcast and 70 degrees and I'm wearing long sleeves and wishing I had worn socks because my office is even chillier.
The weather forecast is cloudy and thunderstormy until further notice.

Dusty and I often refer to last summer as the best summer of our lives. He even had t-shirts made for us at the end of it, because it was one of those rare moments when we actually knew we were living the golden days and cherished it appropriately.

This summer is so different that it's hard not to compare and say, "What the heck are we doing in this cold summer? Get us back to Summer Tweeeeelve!"
It's an oxymoron, really. Cold summer. Psh.
But the grass is always greener, and blah blah cliches, and we've chosen to absolutely enjoy the beautiful weather. Because how can anyone be upset about 70 degrees in July?
We play volleyball with our friends, the gorgeous breezes and sunsets as our natural accessories, and find other ways to cook dinner besides our go-to summer grilling when the week is full of rain.
Summer Treize (every summer has to have a nickname, amiright?) is turning out to be mighty fine.
Now we'll just pray that August doesn't sneak up on us, roasting and killing us with belated heat.

The bottom line is, to bequote my new BFF Bread & Wine, 

It seems like most of the things we try to make profound never are, 

lost in our insistence and fretting and posing. When we want something to be momentous, it rarely is.

Life is disobedient in that way, insisting on surprising us with its magic, 

stubbornly unwilling to be glittery on command. 

I have a love/hate relationship with that quote. It boths speaks to me and slaps me in the face, because I do that all the time. Oh, everybody pose! Everybody look happy! This party has to be the best ever...this summer has to be like Summer Tweeeeelve. Pout, stomp, fist-shake: why isn't this perfectly the way I envisioned?

I'm sure I'm not the only one with control issues. I didn't think I had control issues until recently, so coming to the realization that I have a whole new giant flaw is upsetting in and of itself. 

Let's make a toast to summer, and not just this summer, but every summer, every season. 

Cheers to letting go and enjoying the ruined plans, the bits and pieces, the chaos that makes life all the merrier. 

Life is just better with toasts and cheers.