Spring!

My poor little bloglet.

I've just brought it to life, and already I've had to neglect it! Not by choice, mind you. The end of this semester is approaching a little too quickly, and I'm starting to feel the heat. My teachers are holding a magnifying glass up to the sun, if you will, and I'm just a pitiful ant at the mercy of their good will and fast-approaching deadlines.

Perhaps I'm over-exaggerating, you say. Perhaps (and only perhaps) you're right. Still, though, it's been a crazy couple of weeks.

I'm part of an absolutely awesome church here in Colorado called Flatirons. We used to meet in an old feed store, but we got just a little too big for it. And by that, I mean that we were holding six services on a weekend (2 Saturday, 4 Sunday) with a total of between 12,000 and 14,000 attendees showing up during those services. Several months ago, then, our church bought an old Albertson's and WalMart and started to remodel. Thus our new building, fondly dubbed "Walbertson's" by the masses, was born. This weekend was the first one in this new place, and it was phenomenal. A little chaotic, a little stressful... but simply phenomenal.

Flatirons isn't your typical church.

•  Example #1: We have a tattoo wall prominently displayed in our lobby. 

• Example #2: You can hear (and feel) the woofers in our new sound system when you're three blocks away. 
• (My thought process the first time I heard it: "Who's stupid enough to have the bass in their car turned up that loud?" ...five minutes later... "Oh. That's my church.")

The thing that I love most about it, though, is that the new building really isn't about just having a cool new building. It's about providing a place for people to come and see what God is doing in this place, a place to bump into Jesus. It's a place that people who are following Jesus can OUT from and build community within. It's not about us. It's not about the awesome sound system. It's about making Jesus famous and carrying His name, which is precisely what the church (not just Flatirons, but the church as a whole) is supposed to be about. LOVE IT.

Everything with Flatirons, then, has definitely been a huge thing in my life over the last few weeks! I love that that is all happening at the same time that spring is really beginning to show itself: out with the old, in with the new! I know that it's "technically" been spring for a while now, but spring never seems to really be here until trees are budding, flowers are peeking their faces shyly into the dewy air, and the infinite blades of grass begin to blush their jewel-toned color once again.

Spring sneaked up on me this year. Some years, it seems to unfold itself slowly, like a slumbering giant reawakening, gently stretching itself out against the pale pastel world. This year, though, the weather was, in Colorado fashion, entirely bipolar. Who knew whether any given day would be 80 degrees or 20? A few days ago, though, we had a little day-long snowstorm... and that set everything into motion. As soon as the white vanished from the ground, everything began easing into its chlorophyllic complexion.

As beautiful and fresh as the new growth is, though, I can't help but see (and feel, to some extent) the melancholy of the situation. On a day like today, the sky is gray and overcast, and the atmosphere feels almost heavy. Still, though, the new buds and blooms are gorgeous -- almost more so than they would be if the surrounding world were bright and cheery. They're still in transition, and so is this Colorado springtime, but that transition is the very thing that makes today simply stunning.

Perhaps I'm overly metaphorical, but I can't help but look at nature and at the beautiful community I'm part of and think, "That's me." There are times -- sometimes hours, sometimes days, sometimes weeks -- that I feel heavy, oppressed, stressed, and of little consequence... but as long as I'm running after Jesus, I am radiating his glory, often when I least feel like it or expect it. I don't understand any part of that, but I know that it's true, and I know that I feel so incredibly, indescribably loved when I get a glimpse of that.

I keep learning is that change is beautiful, even if it's painful or heavy at times. Change is essential to becoming the person I want to be -- the person that Jesus created me to be.

That doesn't mean that I don't appreciate the moment. On the contrary: I'm in transition, and the transition is exactly what is so stunning. I can't always see that from my perspective, but why do I need to when I can stare at the Creator of beauty, and the one who's making me bloom?

Musings

It's funny how the weather can become an embodiment of your mood. Or perhaps it's the other way around...

Today is what I think of as a London day: grey, overcast, and misty, but not in a depressing sort of way. Today is the sort of day that demands strong, hot Earl Grey Tea and woodsmoke-scented air. I myself have neither of these warming comforts at the moment, but the day itself seems to be shrouded in them. Today just feels foggy, and this invisible fog has pressed me into the realm of rainy-day daydreams and musings...

My imagination's current residence:

A weathered cast-iron spiral staircase winds its way up to a warm, simple but plush room. Beautifully inset skylights allow the sun's muted rays to enter the quarters. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, each filled with myriad novellas, dictionaries, and ledgers occupy three of the room's four walls. A blazing fireplace and carved white mantelpiece claim the fourth wall. These simply must revolve to reveal a second "hidden" room.

This second room holds another great wonder: a glossy black baby grand piano. An open sonata graces the piano bench, and pieces of sheet music, though scattered, seem to be arranged in orderly fashion. The wall opposite the fireplace houses two impressive picture windows, allowing a view of untouched fields and stunning, cloud-encapsulated mountain peaks. More bookshelves both behind and across the ebony and ivory holds a treasure trove of music: Hanon, Bach, and Haydn; Tchaikovsky, Vivaldi, and Mozart; and oh, on a day like today, what else but the meandering, other-worldly themes of Debussy, Chopin, and Ives?

My present reality:

I would love to spend my afternoon sorting weathered books, deeply inhaling their musty, wonderful scent; I would love to scratch newly-thought words and music onto yellowing parchment; I would love to tuck myself away in a room of music and literature and worship and warmth -- not just physically, but mentally.

Unfortunately, I have neither the time nor this imagined space to do so today. Perhaps this isn't so very unfortunate, though...

How else would I admire the azure lupine and ruby tulips which so adamantly flaunt their brilliant colors against the haze in the outdoor gardens? How else could I see the beauty of gray tree branches interweaving themselves with the sky? How else could I revel in the beauty that such an unassuming day provides?

I suppose that there are multiple ways to appreciate a rainy day. All I know is that at the moment, I am more than content to sip my freshly brewed cup of Earl Grey and watch the ashy, rose-colored twilight melt away into another evening...

And so it begins...

Yes, folks. I have finally entered the blogging world.

This has actually been a while coming, but it takes some time to ease into actually writing a blog. First comes the process of creating the account, choosing a title that I'll probably want to change in a week, looking through the myriad pictures and backgrounds and fonts and layouts, and.... what's missing?

Oh, yes. The verbiage.

So with this post (drum roll, please!), I actually begin my blogging journey. I make no promises as to the frequency of my posts, nor do I guarantee that every post will contain nuggets of brilliance -- or sanity, for that matter. Heck, most of what I write might just bore you to death. Then again, some of it -- hopefully more than some! -- might not. I'm simply starting this little online journal of sorts to put my thoughts onto paper (er... into pixels?) and share them with the world, or at least a microcosm of it. I doubt that my blog will be even remotely coherent from post to post, but that's not really my intent. I simply want to create art out of words, turning the mundane into something beautiful. 

See, I'm a writer. At least, I'd like to be a writer. As one of my friends so poignantly states, "Writers write. If you're not writing, you're not a writer."

Well, yes. There is that, isn't there? I've written intermittently for much of my life, but my production of poetry, essays, short stories, and random jottings of thoughts has been sadly lacking as of late, and I want to remedy that. Blogging may not be the highest form of writing, but it's something, anyway. If nothing else, it sure is a great way to procrastinate! Ah, the sweet college life...

On that note, my Language Acquisition Mid-Assessment paper awaits me. Sounds fascinating, doesn't it? (Ha. Ha. Please note the dry sarcasm.) Chances are that I'll stare at the pitiful little cursor blinking away on my computer screen for about thirty seconds before decidedly not doing homework tonight, but I can pretend that I'm attempting to be productive, can't I?

In any case, I hope that you follow my bloglet as it accompanies me through this phase of my tortuous, wonderful life. Time to let the creative juices flow! I will be writing again soon - and that's as much of a promise to myself as anyone else!

Until we meet again... =)

~Lizzie