sigh.

Yesterday, I was at work, dodging cars in the parking lot, as I took out the trash. It was crisp and windy. I thought the clouds looked like snow clouds, but then I realized, I have no idea what snow clouds look like. But they looked like I'd imagine snow clouds would look, gray and billowy. In that moment, I wished a fluffy snow would fall, and wisp me straightaway to Christmas morning. I caught a glimpse of somebody taking a smoke break. It seemed like they were enjoying their solitude. My thoughts drifted away to memaw...always with the cigarette- always shining in my eyes. I missed her so bad it stung my throat. Tomorrow is 9 years since she died. I've thought about her seven billion times since then. I've told her I miss her, and how much I still needed her. She was my vision of perfection, although I knew she had flaws. She was my favorite place. She was Christmas.

Music was playing loudly, I assume for the marathon taking place across the street. Suddenly, "give it away" from red hot chili peppers came on. At first, I thought that was an odd song to hear in a public setting. And then I remembered, I'm 35. Pretty much everything caters to my age group. We generation X-ers are all grown up. We're the soccer moms, and the engineers. The nurses, and bankers.

Fighting the urge to break out a few dance moves, I closed the door on one of my favorite songs from the past...I had nothing more to do outside. I felt so sad in that moment. I felt like the chili peppers were mocking me. I felt like they knew they were hitting a nerve. I wanted to shout. I wanted to dance all over the monotony of my life. I want to take everything back that I've lost. I want to feel like I have a purpose. I want a farm house, without the farm. I want to help women have babies.

I want another Christmas with Memaw.

marked.

So, I'm 35 now.
Everyone tells me I don't look it.
What does a 35 year old look like, anyway?
I guess it just kinda depends.
I don't drink, smoke, or chew (or go with boys that do.)
I get enough sleep, I'm happy. Sure, I'm a little bigger than I wish I was...but I work a crazy retail schedule and spend 35ish hours a week making versions of things you'd find at dairy queen, and within 3 steps to a pastry case...so...

Overall, I think life is just getting better.
I'm a little more wise, a lot more compassionate, and I'm still me.
I regress to a 17 year old at the first chime of a REM or Cure song, so as long as I'm still in touch with those emotions, I can handle this gettin' older stuff.

I wanted to document something in my life, I wanted to mark the date of December 4, 2009.
It was the day before I was officially in my mid-30's and I didn't want to forget it. Every day leading up to it had compiled, and layered, and left me confident in the never ending faithfulness of God. I have for a long time, thought of myself as a bird. After all, I am free. I am taken care of. I am loved by my heavenly father. God has used his creation to inspire and remind me...his eyes are on the sparrow, and I know He's watching me.

So, I documented the day by getting a sparrow permanently embedded on my foot. It is my mark. I am a bird, and He is my home.

Even the sparrow finds a home,
and the swallow builds her nest
and raises her young at a place near your altar...Psalms 84:3

precious.

"i've been working on my cursive." -abraham
my 1st grader wrote this.

so precious.

world, I have overcome you.

If you work with the public, you might just understand what I'm talking about when I say that certain days play out like scenes from a bad movie. Certain interactions are the stuff that science fiction movies are made of. Like when someone sips a drink, right in front of you, (that they insisted be heated to 200 degrees) to test it and make sure it's "hot enough" and they don't even flinch. You just have to assume that they're either the devil or they're an alien who's esophagus is really a metal staircase that leads to the mothership, or something. Or a person will tell you something over and over, except each time it's slightly different, and it's just so confusing. And you just have to assume they're crazy, or really book-smart.

The overbearing ones are my least favorite, because they will ask you if it's nonfat, or a triple, or whatever it is, 37 times. And by the 24th time of saying yes m'aam/sir my voice does a squeaky, high pitch, I-REALLY-WANT- TO-SCREAM-BUT-I'M-KEEPING-MY-COOL- thing. Sometimes I think I'm being punked-but it's always for real.

Often, things that happen at my job are like some exaggerated version of things that happen at home, it's just usually messier and more annoying. Today, it was the plumbing backing up. Major nightmare.

I helped clean it. I wanted to cry. I thanked God that I'm not a janitor. I was infuriated. But I just cleaned it. And a coworker had made me soo mad. And I wanted to kick him in the face. But I didn't.

20 minutes latter, I was engaging corporate bigwigs in a coffee tasting.

An hour later I was eating french fries, even though I had brought a healthy lunch. argg.

On my way home, I listened to this song on repeat.

I feel better.

And, I'm not going back till Friday morning.

the way we were.

Thanksgiving 2009 went off without a hitch.
It was delightful and joyous. I really enjoyed little Miss Vaida Rose, who had the indecency of growing up since I've seen her last. She's freakin' adorable!
You're just going to have to take my word for it, because I didn't get any pictures. In fact, I only I only managed to get two pictures at all.
I have a really vivid memory, and I think that's why I don't bother with picture taking.
I just cant seem to capture the glistening beauty of it all, in a way that does it any kind of justice.
I think that would be different if I had a super expensive camera.
Maybe it's time for another letter to Santa? Although my mother told me I used to make cranberry necklaces when I was a kid, this is the first one I actually remember. My children found it odd that I was making a necklace for something without a neck. I told them it was in honor of the neck it once had. They think I'm pretty weird sometimes.

Jon Duke.

There is something so special about this man.
I've feel such pride about him.
Being his older sister was a part of my training for raising boys.
He's been teaching me things since the day he was born.
I'm watching as his purpose unfolds, and anxious to see all that he can accomplish.
I love you jonnybug.

And a special thanks to my mom for extending her trip to spend more time with us kids, and for all the food & beverage... by the way, this was my contribution...

(Carlos ate his before we even left town.)

Well, Autumn has been everything I thought it should be, and more.
We had an intensely gorgeous color display around town. It was breathtaking. People gettin' all excited about leaves was one of those things I never understood until I moved here. In Florida we have brown and green...and that always seemed like enough. It just goes to show, there's so much more to life outside of our little sphere.

I've been a little sad seeing all the trees bare, or almost bare. I've enjoyed the glow. Now it's time for a few moths of bleakness... o' seasons, how you keep us on our toes.

Next week we get to go to Atlanta to spend Thanksgiving with my mom and Jon's family. This feels like a dream since we rarely get to see any family on Thanksgiving. Anyone who works retail knows what a miracle it is to get "black Friday" off work...yay for miracles!

I've been thinking about this year, and it's been pretty amazing. I got a new car, went to Brazil, went home to Jacksonville, saw a U2 concert, Nashville to see James, had a visit form mom & Kelly, next week is Thanksgiving, and if it works out-a Duke family Christmas! We have been so healthy, and we haven't missed a meal. God has met us at every turn, he had provided beyond what I could have imagined. I just can't get over how blessed I am. Thank you Jesus!

Mr. Henry Martin

I was thinking today about my great- grandfather.
He was the only war hero I've ever personally known.
He lived to be 97.
I remember so specifically what visits with him were like.
I can remember everything- even the smell of his house.
And my great-grandmother Viola-what a beauty.
She's one of the queens that has gone before us.

When they were engaged to be married, they got into a car accident,
which chipped her diamond ring, and landed them in the hospital (where they were later married.)
Yeah, they got married in a hospital.

He had the ability to add dry wit to just about everything he said.
And their life was full of great stories.
They were homesteaders.
Had two boys & two girls.
He was a lawyer.
They were spectacular.

At his funeral, they read a letter that he wrote to his mother-telling her about Viola.
I had never heard anything so charming in life...I will have to see about getting a copy of it.

I was telling Abraham about him today. He was transfixed.
I wish I knew more.

Moral of the story...don't let your moments with your grandparents go by too quickly.
I remind my husband every time he gets a card or a call from his grandmother how blessed he is. Every year, her handwriting gets a little more squiggly- and it breaks my heart.

This is my advice, for anyone blessed enough to still have their grandparents around...
Close you're eyes tight and take in the sound of their voice.
Look deeply into their eyes.
Listen to their stories-write them down.
Keep their handwritten notes or letters.
Take pictures.
Tell them how you feel about them.
Ask them questions.
Pray that you will inherit their virtues, and are free from their vices.
And enjoy every minute.

Some of the greatest talks I've ever had were with my grandparents.

So my mom and sister-in-law visited me last week.
I loved showing them around, to all my favorite parts of the city.
And the evenings at home- just being family.
Once they left, I braced myself for the adrenaline crash.
I waited for the sinking feeling of missing them- and it came.
I realize there isn't some big explanation needed, although sometimes, I find myself thinking that maybe I'd somehow feel better, if people just knew how hard its been for me to have no family around.

I just really love my family.

But I'm making it-
and I'm happy.

After a few very hard years, I feel like I can do anything.
I guess that's kinda the point, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right?
I really hate that saying-because when you feel like your dying, stupid expressions are really annoying.
I also feel-
Traumatized and blessed.
Vulnerable and confident.
Very, very thankful.
I'm not sure if I ever had entitlement issues, but I don't anymore.
I'm pretty sure i will never assume that anything will be a certain way.
I don't think I will ever take things for granted.

Oh God, please don't let me lose sight of what I've leaned in this valley.

Back to me feeling like I can do anything-

I could write a manual on how to make something out of nothing (in your heart, at least.) I really just want to encourage people...because as it turns out- He really does give us beauty for ashes.

Hello, my name is Holly- and I'm a chronic overcomer- seriously y'all it's bad.

j/k.


I've written my goodbye letter to Huntsville a thousand times in my head.
But I think, if the day ever comes, it will be more like a thank you letter.
This time has been about so much more than just a change of location.
It's been a change of everything.
And as I've said before- change feels a lot like loss.
But change is really just change.
And change is good.

I thought I deserved a magical rescue, prayed for a miracle, cried out for mercy.
I got all of these things- just not in the way I expected.

I'm walking this out.
I'm staying the course.
I'm going to better in the end.

Dear Valley- thank you for absorbing my tears without flooding.
Dear Box- thank you for not letting me fit in you.
Dear Death- thank you for not taking me.
Dear Brokenness- there are no words.
Dear Mountains- thank you for lifting my eyes up.

Dear Purpose- I'm going to find you. I swear.

funny kids.

I realize, that probably most everybody thinks their kids are funny. But I've really gotta' tell you- my kids are super hilarious. Aiya with the quick wit, Abraham with the outrageous imagination, and Matthew with the dry humor.

I stole this story from Carlos' blog. I think it's great.

"So tonight I heard my kids laughing hysterically. When I asked what was going on, they said "we are making signs to protest". I asked "what are you guys protesting?" the answer was, "we are protesting signs!"
Huh!?!?

Here are some of the slogans written down on the signage:
"peace will be restored!"
"free all signs!"
"sign labor NO MORE!"
and my favorite...
"make signs, not war!"

Anyways."