A little egg, spinach and feta wrap to start the day #breakfastofchampions (at klomp haus)
If you know me and you know my crush on John Krasinski - you know why this was an amazing eight minutes for me.
Classic.
so perfect.
So good and fun to make with my baby purple artichokes from the farmers market. #thankspioneerwoman (at klomp haus)
(via floralls)
Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel
via Common Prayer
A little reminder from some Nepali beauties. I miss them and their country so much.
Daydreaming (at klomp haus)
So excited to eat these yummy buys from last night’s farmer’s market! Hooray for eating like a grown-up! #healthyshmelthy (at klomp haus)
So we’ve moved. So I changed the name of this thing- it seemed overdue (the last name was just a filler until I thought of a new one).
We’ve been in California for about two weeks now. Matt and I moved to the Central Coast and it has been so good to be on the mainland again. Right now I’m watching Full House, making a menu for the upcoming week, and Matt’s outside changing the oil in the car. SO domestic. It’s a nice change though, plenty of time to practice my ukelele.
Matt got a job right away at a shop in Atascadero, called Jobella’s. It’s exciting! Our good friend, Jeremy, is the roaster there, so Matt will be able to learn the ropes as he’s working there. I’m still looking for a job at a coffee shop too. I’m so looking forward to working again and getting to know some new people!
It has been really good hanging out at the house too, while Matt’s at work (only one car). God was showing me this morning on my run that my time not working has been a blessing. I didn’t realize that I needed this rest. Even though I feel a bit bored or stuck at home some days, it has been so good to just be and not need to do anything. Through the day, God moves so sweetly on my spirit. It’s been so refreshing after such a difficult season in Hawaii. Thank you Jesus, for knowing all of me. You know my motives and I have to prove nothing to you. You love me and remember when you created me. You’re familiar with my frailty and weakness.
I was reminded of this when I read this in the morning:
Psalm 103:13
“As a father shows compassion to his children, so the Lord shows compassion to those who fear him. For He knows our frame; He remembers that we are dust.”
I love Jesus.
After learning my flight was detained 4 hours,
I heard the announcement:
If anyone in the vicinity of gate 4-A understands any Arabic,
Please come to the gate immediately.
Well—one pauses these days. Gate 4-A was my own gate. I went there.
An older woman in full traditional Palestinian dress,
Just like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor, wailing loudly.
Help, said the flight service person. Talk to her. What is her
Problem? we told her the flight was going to be four hours late and she
Did this.
I put my arm around her and spoke to her haltingly.
Shu dow-a, shu- biduck habibti, stani stani schway, min fadlick,
Sho bit se-wee?
The minute she heard any words she knew—however poorly used—
She stopped crying.
She thought our flight had been canceled entirely.
She needed to be in El Paso for some major medical treatment the
Following day. I said no, no, we’re fine, you’ll get there, just late,
Who is picking you up? Let’s call him and tell him.
We called her son and I spoke with him in English.
I told him I would stay with his mother till we got on the plane and
Would ride next to her—Southwest.
She talked to him. Then we called her other sons just for the fun of it.
Then we called my dad and he and she spoke for a while in Arabic and
Found out of course they had ten shared friends.
Then I thought just for the heck of it why not call some Palestinian
Poets I know and let them chat with her. This all took up about 2 hours.
She was laughing a lot by then. Telling about her life. Answering
Questions.
She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool cookies—little powdered
Sugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and nuts—out of her bag—
And was offering them to all the women at the gate.
To my amazement, not a single woman declined one. It was like a
Sacrament. The traveler from Argentina, the traveler from California,
The lovely woman from Laredo—we were all covered with the same
Powdered sugar. And smiling. There are no better cookies.
And then the airline broke out the free beverages from huge coolers—
Non-alcoholic—and the two little girls for our flight, one African
American, one Mexican American—ran around serving us all apple juice
And lemonade and they were covered with powdered sugar too.
And I noticed my new best friend—by now we were holding hands—
Had a potted plant poking out of her bag, some medicinal thing,
With green furry leaves. Such an old country traveling tradition. Always
Carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere.
And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and thought,
This is the world I want to live in. The shared world.
Not a single person in this gate—once the crying of confusion stopped
—has seemed apprehensive about any other person.
They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other women too.
This can still happen anywhere.
Not everything is lost.
”(via awelltraveledwoman)
“We are always falling in love or quarreling, looking for jobs or fearing to lose them, getting ill and recovering, following public affairs. If we let ourselves, we shall always be waiting for some distraction or other to end before we can really get down to our work. The only people who achieve much are those who want knowledge so badly that they seek it while the conditions are still unfavorable. Favorable conditions never come.”
― C.S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory
