Monday, December 31, 2012

things I'm grateful for

because now, more than ever, I need this list

chamomile tea with honey
dutch baby pancakes in the oven
classical music on pandora
our nice new TV to watch movies on
sweet packages from wonderful friends in the mail
being able to clean (after weeks on the couch, it was wonderful)
the beauty of Chloe's new kitchen aid on the counter
candles flickering like Christmas on the ledge
our Christmas tree trunks on the table, all the way back to 2006
watching silly and wonderful chick flicks with chloe and grace yesterday (& quoting almost every line)
that samuel is NOT in the hospital for something celiac disease related
chloe being able to rest up and do fun things at grandma's
encouraging emails and messages (I can't tell you how much they bless me)
thinking about next year
The Message Bible (& the Bible in general)
grace
Jesus
heartbreak and grief (because it makes you stronger, helps to shape who you are. and in my weakness, He is perfect strength)
joy
playing Just Dance 4 with Grace and Chloe (& looking like idiots while dancing, no doubt)
warm sweatshirts
a clean room
starting resolutions to eat healthy...tomorrow :)
hot water
my moleskine, almost filled
my family

and so we pray.

two weeks of sickness.
brennan, caleb, grace, eli, and I are recovering...slowly.
samuel has influenza A and is going down to Children's hospital right now.
the doctors don't know what's wrong with Chloe and it's possible (most likely) she'll be staying overnight at the hospital.
my parents are both sick but not down and out.
and so we pray.

for healing, for strenght, for peace.

please be praying for our family. this has been one of the hardest Decembers yet.
it hurts my heart so bad that Sam is going to the hospital.

"and so the story goes..." : a year that was full, my word for 2013, and where my heart is.

























Oof. Where do I even begin? 2012 was so full.

Full of beauty. Full of newness. Full of grace. Full of hard things. Full of joy. Full of tears (I cried a lot). Full of laughter (I laughed a lot). Full of traveling. Full of goodbyes and hellos. Full of new things. Full of beginnings and endings. Full of dreams. Full of disappointments. Full of excitement. Full of plans. Full of food (so much food). Full of early mornings and late nights and sunrises. Full of bittersweet moments and sweet memories. Full of heartbreak (yes). Full of healing. Full of redemption. Full of wonder.

2012 was also a year of firsts.

First wedding I shot.
First "official" year of business.
First time flying by myself.
First time in seven years without ballet.
First summer trips by myself.
First website.
First "big" camera purchase.
First time making a short film.
First blog meet-ups with people who are now some of my dearest friends.
First year as an official member of the worship team.
First summer I felt a little bit "grown-up."

I tried to write down resolutions, but I kept coming back to three things. Throughout this sickness for the past few weeks, God has been doing good things in my heart and I've been extremely blessed by the truths and promises He's given me. One of the nice things of being sick is having ample quiet time to read and reflect. I've read through Ephesians and Galatians and journaled truths that have been on my heart not only in the past weeks, but this entire year. Some of my favorite words from Ephesians (in the Message translation)...

"...He takes us to the high places to blessing in Him."

"He wanted us to enter into the celebration of His lavish gift-giving by the Word of His beloved Son."

"It's in Christ that we find out who we are and what we are living for."

"He creates each of us by Christ Jesus to join Him in the work He does, the good work He has gotten ready for us to do, work we had better be doing."

"Live full lives, full in the fullness of God."

"I want you to get out there and walk -- better yet, run! -- on the road God called you to travel!...And mark that you do this in the humility and discipline -- not in fits and starts but steadily, pouring yourselves out for each in acts of love, alert at noticing differences and quick at mending fences."

"Watch what God does, and then you do it, like children who learn proper behavior from their parents. Mostly, what God does is love you. Keep company with Him and learn a life of love. Observe how Christ loved us. His love was not cautious but extravagant. He didn't love in order to get something from us, but to give everything of Himself to us. Love like that."

"So watch you step. Use your head. Make the most of every chance you get!"


2012 has been a year that God has shown His faithfulness. I have tasted His goodness and have been overwhelmed with who He is. I look back through my journals from this year and I love seeing how the Lord used instances that were so difficult and painful to walk through to deepen my faith, change my heart, and strengthen who I am. Beauty from brokenness, making my wilderness like Eden. (there is such comfort for my heart in that truth!)

"For the Lord comforts Zion; he comforts all her waste places and makes her wilderness like Eden, her desert like the garden of the Lord; joy and gladness will be found in her, thanksgiving and the voice of song." - Isaiah 51:3

This year has been a year of rawness. Of honesty, of changes, of finding out what makes my heart tick. And there has been so much joy, but there has also been grief. And like every year, every day, this year has been a lesson in learning to let go. Not only just letting go, but in the discovery that when do, we can live with open hands to receive greater things.

John 10:10 has been on my heart daily for the past few months. "The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I [Jesus] came that they may have life and have it abundantly." And 2012 has been an example of that. I have not only tasted God's goodness, but I have experienced it and have experienced a fullness of life that comes only from Christ. I love that Jesus says He came to not just give life, but abundant life.

This past year, I've done more than I could have imagined, I've traveled farther than I could have dreamed, and I've met so many people who have become some of my closest and dearest friends. Some of my favorite memories include night swimming at Bemidji, that one time on the dock with the sky so blue and so wide at Woodland, the first sight of Texas on the plane, seeing Caleb's joy at Duluth, the crazy wonderful days in Fargo, singing with two wonderful friends, picking apples come autumn at grandma and grandpa's, the freezing retreat with my youth group in February, sitting in the theater at midnight with some of my best friends, buying my camera at MOA with my mom, all the many coffee dates with sweet drinks and sweeter friends, going to the zoo with my whole family, and all of the wonderful people I was blessed to come alongside and take photos for.

And so, it's a little bittersweet, partially because nostalgia is my second language, but I'm ready to say goodbye to 2012 and welcome 2013. And with that comes resolutions, goals, and dreams for the new year.

My heart for 2013 is to love and know God deeper, to love others like Jesus (extravagantly, unconditionally, intentionally) and to bless people. I have goals and dreams, but those are the three things I want to focus on. Not in a sense of a checklist, but just where I want my heart to be.

This year, my word was Be. And it was something that I needed to focus on, needed to remind myself of, almost daily. I had such a difficult time finding a word for 2012, but 2013 has been impressed upon me for the past few months. In 2011, I mused on rooted. 2012, I mulled over Be. And in 2013 (ah! I'm having a hard time wrapping my head around that date!), my word is Steadfast.

Steadfast.
fixed in direction; firm in purpose, resolution, faith, attachment, etc., as a person: a steadfast friend. unwavering, as resolution, faith, adherence, etc.

I'm good at starting things, not so much at finishing things. This year, I want to truly be steadfast -- in my time, in my faith, in my relationships, in my art, in my words, in my life. I want to be known as someone who is dependable, and I want to be firm in purpose, unwavering in who I am and what I'm called to do. I want to be a woman who is steadfast. I pray that more and more, every day, my heart would be steadfast, firm in truth, fixed in direction, and consistent in purpose.

While I have a review of the year coming in the next few weeks, and some more specific goals for 2013, this is what has been on my heart and what today, as I sit here with a cup of tea and some cough drops, I really wanted to share. :) If you've made it this far, thank you for taking some time out of your day to read. And thank you so much to all of you who have followed along in 2012. I have been so blessed by all the kind comments and messages and encouraged and challenged by all of you.

So many blessings to you, dear friends, on 2013! Here's to hoping that it's a fuller, richer, and deeper year than you could have ever imagined.

Much love,
Hannah

some photos in this post taken by the lovely danae moran, janelle putrich, madeline hunt, kiley marissa, jessica shae, and allix b.

Sunday, December 30, 2012

who me?

& so I guess i've always been an artist
sometimes with paper, sometimes with words
sometimes with pictures but always telling
stories
///
learning to see the gold in the gritty
there's always shine. the trick is seeing,
not just looking.
///
open your eyes and keep your head up,
see how wonderful the world is.
open your heart and be
bold and brave.

(sick, so I write rambles and bad poetry and cheesy prose and stuff like that. also, I made this space pretty, because I can)

Friday, December 28, 2012

a short story.

been sick the past 9-10 days. not even sure how long it's been now, honestly. but I've had an idea in my head that I might do something with (or maybe not), so that's exciting. rough and unedited like always, but that's okay. :)


"Did you ever love him?" I scoot closer to her and put my chin in my knees. She sighs and runs a hand through her hair. I wince noticing the grey strands and the subtle threading in her face.

"I don't know." She smiles sadly, generously at me. "But I was so young and he was safe. I wanted out, you know. All around me, death. So many people died." Her voice trails off and she shakes he her head. I see the death in the way her hands shake and her voice breaks. "But your papa was safe. He was so safe to me. And he was a way out."

I catch my laugh before it comes and it turns into a cough. "Papa? Safe?" A snort I can't suppress. I shouldn't be this cruel.

Mama smiles again. She grips my face in her hands, strokes my cheek with her thumb. "I know. It seems so ironic, especially now," another trail and break and I watch as she protects us, "but he was so safe. And there was a time I thought he loved me. Just a little. It was in the snatches of summer and we picked peaches in an abandoned grove."

All at once, I see her as the mama in the photograph, slim with eyes bright and curly hair gathered into a messy braid, her feet bare and dress flowing and bracelets jangling. I hear the laughter in the dusty corners of the room and I see the smiles folded onto her face. I can't see his face, but I feel the corners of his grin and I know he must have loved mama.

"It was barely a grove," she confesses. Mama laughs again and leans back, remembering. "Just a few dilapidated trees. Most of them had been ravaged by the militia. They were mostly wormy -- peaches melting into mush under your fingers. But there was this one tree," her hands move rapidly as she paints a picture with her movements. I sit back and watch as she describes the afternoon.

"The leaves were thick and green like leaves are supposed to be. And the tree was heavy with fruit. I don't know how it escaped notice, and likely, it was tended, which is why we took so few. But your papa and I ate that fruit and I felt like life would be good." She laughs again, this time disparagingly. "Isn't it silly and sad all at once when we put such hope in the little things?" It wasn't a question. But I answered it.

"I think it's foolish."

"Put your stock in the small moments, Alya." She thumbs my cheek again, scoots closer and plants a small kiss in my hair. "Those are the minutes we can count as truly counting. And sometimes," she waves a hand at the grey outside. "the taste of peaches in the summer can give you hope, even long after they're gone."

She puts her hands on her knees and stands up, staring out the window.

I peek up and see that it's snowing. I don't need to see the flakes to know -- I can feel it in my bones. There's a wet chill that won't go away. But all I can think of is peaches and my momma and how things could have been. It's sad and hateful at once, but I'm jealous that I've never had peaches and angry that I never knew the laughing man she talks about as my father.

"Mama?" I venture one more question. She turns to look at me and waits. She waits and waits for what seems like an hour but is truly only a few minutes. She knows I need the moments to taste the question, to chew it. In that sense, she and I are alike.
"Yes?" Her question breaks the silence.

I look down at my hands. I'm afraid to ask but cannot not. "Did papa ever love you?" The words spill out in a tumble, a rush I can't stop. Now that I've said them, I can't look away from her face.

She is careful. She looks away from me, her expression guarded. Her words are steady, but she blinks more than usual and I'm afraid I've hurt her. And again, they are the words I've come to hate more than anything uttered. "I don't know."

It's apologetic, but not for me. She's sorry for the man who is a stranger still.
"Okay. I'm sorry." I stand and rub the dust from the back of my dress. She reaches a hand over to squeeze my own.

"There is nothing to be sorry about." Her voice is soft and I wish desperately that what she says is true.

the past week and a rainbow on the stairs.










I'm tired.

And I think it's okay to say that.

I have emails to reply to, designs to finish, a room to clean, gifts to mail, laundry to wash, shoots to blog, preparations to make for 2013. And I'm exhausted.

The past nine days my family has been battling the worst cold / sore throat you've ever seen. In the midst of Christmas, miraculously, it looked as if we were getting better, sniffly noses and frequent sneezing and all. But after the tinsel was packed away and the presents put in piles in the Living Room after coming home late from grandpa and grandma's house, round two of sickness sucker-punched us in the jaw. And as you can imagine, it's rather difficult to recuperate after you've been fighting the same cold.

In the midst of it, I'm learning to be grateful for rest. I'm thankful for understanding and grace. I'm grateful that we were able to pull together into some sort of semblance of normal come Christmas Eve and Day, and that even though we're not better yet, we're healing. I'm thankful for new Christmas games, books, and toys to occupy our time, and for all the wonderful gingerbread cookies that I've consumed. My grandma gave me a pack of Chai for Christmas and I'm grateful for being able to make cups of it, hot and steaming sweet in my holiday mug. Mostly, I'm thankful that even though we're sick, it's nothing too serious or alarming. (edit: my second-to-the-littlest brother is in the emergency room right now with a high fever and severe dehydration...prayers for health for him would be such a blessing. thank you so much, friends!)

So, while I have oodles to share with you, a yearly-wrap up to post, shoots to be blogged, and fun + exciting business / personal stuff for 2013 coming up...it will have to wait, just a little bit. Chicken soup is calling my name and I'm learning that there is beauty and grace in the midst of this. And there's a whole lot of joy in the middle, even though it's hard and tiring and trying. Learning to be thankful.

One more thing. I can't count how many times I've ran up and down those stairs, traced patterns in the railing, sat pulling on boots or slipping on flip-flops in the entryway. Christmas Day and the house was quiet and I caught a rainbow from three o'clock light that is a daily beauty. Something about it, I love. It's my grandparents house and the walls that make up the rooms are like home. I love that the sign says Welcome.

Welcome to our home, to our family, to the imperfections that make up the perfect day, for the traditions that are passed down and well-worn yet fit like a favorite sweater. Welcome to the noise and yells and laughter, welcome to all the many broken and missing pieces from games played to pieces. Welcome to homemade meals and staying up too late and movie nights with popcorn in the brown bowl. Welcome to sleepovers at grandma and grandpa's with bacon and eggs for breakfast, the piano tucked in the corner, movies stacked high. Welcome to the familiar, the quiet, the simple, the wonderful.

Welcome.

Happy New Year, friends. Hoping you all have a full and blessed 2013.

Thursday, December 20, 2012

word.

“And so my prayer is that your story will have involved some leaving and some coming home, some summer and some winter, some roses blooming out like children in a play. My hope is your story will be about changing, about getting something beautiful born inside of you about learning to love a woman or a man, about learning to love a child, about moving yourself around water, around mountains, around friends, about learning to love others more than we love ourselves, about learning oneness as a way of understanding God. We get one story, you and I, and one story alone. God has established the elements, the setting and the climax and the resolution. It would be a crime not to venture out, wouldn’t it?
It might be time for you to go. It might be time to change, to shine out.
I want to repeat one word for you:
Leave.
Roll the word around on your tongue for a bit. It is a beautiful word, isn’t it? So strong and forceful, the way you have always wanted to be. And you will not be alone. You have never been alone. Don’t worry. Everything will still be here when you get back. It is you who will have changed.”
— Donald Miller, Through Painted Deserts

cookie dough, life, and all that good stuff.

Echinacea tea with lemon and honey has been my staple the past few days, as I'm suffering from a nasty cold that has made it all but impossible to get up from the couch. As a result, I've been watching oodles of old episodes of Full House (guilty pleasure right there, folks) and eating dark chocolate peppermint bark. Being sick has messed up my plans the past few days, but I'm learning to see the good in the midst of the gritty and not so glamorous. Good things like my brother coming up to pray for me, having time to daydream and write and plan for 2013, much hot tea, taking a breather, and catching up on sleep. Little things matter.

We're all a bit under the weather right now, but I'm thankful that we've caught a bug this week and not next. Thankful that it's nothing so serious. Thankful for hot drinks, silly old TV shows, and flannel blankets. And thankful for ample bags of gluten free flour for Christmas cookies.

Merry almost Christmas!