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  • 13 hours ago

it’s one week. and I want to remember how it feels, etched into my heart, imprinted in my mind. certain hope and preparation and the busy always of waiting and counting down the time until then - whether waking or sleeping or doing or being or still. boxes half-packed and unpacked. empty cupboards and uneasy rooms. a house that is almost, but not quite.

i know it will soon brim with nics and nacs, that books will line the shelves. there will be pitter-patters and the smell of home-cooked meals and mulled wine and words will trace the air. and life and love and steps of coming and going will tread the doormat bare.

but this next seven days will be all the days and everyday, until that day dawns on no more night.

although my groom is wonderful, our Groom is better. and this week’s almost song - all the impatience and jubilation and in-between - is one to be sung until He calls us Home.

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  • 3 weeks ago
  • 2

nine days, seventeen hours, thirty-two minutes, forty-five seconds.

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  • 4 weeks ago
  • 2

Almost. It’s a big word for me. I feel it everywhere. Almost home. Almost happy. Almost changed. Almost, but not quite. Not yet. Soon, maybe.

Joan Bauer  (via thatkindofwoman)
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  • 1 month ago
  • 66582

there’s not much that’s worth doing that’s not simultaneously terrifying and wonderful.

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  • 1 month ago

Lord, thank you for adding to your Kingdom!

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  • 2 months ago
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  • 2 months ago
  • 19882

altiusaltius:

I was a street away from your house and I didn’t text you. Small victory.

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  • 2 months ago
  • 9

Have enough courage to trust love one more time and always one more time.

Maya Angelou   (via ajna-aakhu)
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  • 2 months ago
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  • 2 months ago
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  • 2 months ago
  • 144

fernweh.

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  • 2 months ago

once: once is the time there is.

there is no doing things over, turning back the clocks, no real trial in trial and error. whether we are wishing it away or wishing it might stand still for us, it ticks the seconds over, ruthlessly constant, never rushing, never yielding, always stepping forward, never back - the inertia of life and breath and whatever else.

once is, all at once, joy and hurt and precious moments running like an art installation in the back of your head.

when toast was burnt or coffee brewed, smiles were the first bright thing in the morning or tears the twinkling stars of deep, dark night. when they spoke or didn’t, called or couldn’t, shouldn’t have shouted and wouldn’t let you be or drove away and didn’t stay to say it will be ok.

once upon a time…' - open now until always; an impressive feat of moving technicolour daily living and dying to the way the things could have been or should have been but were instead.

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  • 2 months ago
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