Maps stretched out-
Too many miles to count.
Let’s just say we’re inches apart,
Even closer at heart,
And we’ll be just fine.

Another pin pushed in
To remind us where we’ve been.
And every mile adds up
And leaves a mark on us.
And sometimes our compass breaks
And our steady true north fades.
We’ll be just fine.

West // Sleeping At Last (via kadie-jo)

(via tblaberge)

72 notes
The sun is perfect and you woke this morning. You have enough language in your mouth to be understood. You have a name, and someone wants to call it. Five fingers on your hand and someone wants to hold it. If we just start there, every beautiful thing that has and will ever exist is possible. If we start there, everything, for a moment, is right in the world. Warsan Shire (via wordsnquotes)

(via applesandowls)

77 notes
Have nothing in your home that you do not know to be to be useful or believe to be beautiful. William Morris (via theriverjordyn)

(Source: explore-everywhere, via ayoungwomanslight)

3,104 notes
If you tell me Christian commitment is a kind of thing that has happened to you once and for all like some kind of spiritual plastic surgery, I say go to, go to, you’re either pulling the wool over your own eyes or trying to pull it over mine. Every morning you should wake up in your bed and ask yourself: “Can I believe it all again today?” No, better still, don’t ask it till after you’ve read The New York Times, till after you’ve studied that daily record of the world’s brokenness and corruption, which should always stand side by side with your Bible. Then ask yourself if you can believe in the Gospel of Jesus Christ again for that particular day. If your answer’s always Yes, then you probably don’t know what believing means. At least five times out of ten the answer should be No because the No is as important as the Yes, maybe more so. The No is what proves you’re human in case you should ever doubt it. And then if some morning the answer happens to be really Yes, it should be a Yes that’s choked with confession and tears and great laughter. Frederick Buechner (via yesdarlingido)

(via applesandowls)

74 notes

I want to be the widow in Luke 21. She’s the perfect portrayal of a follower of Christ. I have absolutely nothing to offer Him except “all (of the time) I have to live on.” I am an impoverished and dry soul without the abundance of Christ. But like the “rich” in the passage, I so often believe that my “gifts”-my creativity, my inquisitive heart, my courageous and adventurous spirit- are so incredibly valuable that they can be placed before the Lord as an offering. I fall, believing that only when I’m writing, or only when I’m on stage, do I have anything of worth to offer as a gift. Who am I to think that that is enough? Who am I to say that those gifts are even mine to give away? I have literally nothing that He needs, but everything He desires.

Sweet Abba, thank You for waking me up today even though You didn’t have to. Thank You for giving me this day as a gift of life, but Father, I don’t want it. I lay this day at the foot of Your throne, trusting that You will do more with this one day than I could my entire lifetime. Please, Father, just use me in whatever way brings glory to who You are. Whatever it takes, Father; I’m Yours to move. 

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I looked at him and thought. I would not mind sunday mornings with him.

(Source: viveaux, via allthetreesofthefield)

19,769 notes

Attempting to write a psych paper:

What do you think symbolizes adolescence in all of it’s peer-pressure, insecure, self-discovering glory?

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“One who really loves another is not merely moved by the desire to see him contented and healthy and prosperous in this world. Love cannot be satisfied with anything so incomplete. If I am to love my brother, I must somehow enter deep into the mystery of God’s…
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One of Those Wondering, Falling Folks