tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16731470181888619662024-03-13T11:34:02.475-04:00This one time...Really, just a journal of thoughts. Just thinking. And trying to sit still sometimes and hang out with those thoughts, making some meaning.Samanthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05688895794286823293noreply@blogger.comBlogger135125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673147018188861966.post-6950449461384838972020-08-02T03:18:00.002-04:002020-08-02T12:21:03.148-04:00Hey Church: What Are We Doing?God is so patient.
When I think about this season the planet is in-- this historic, incredible, too-big-to-comprehend season-- I am filled with conflicting emotions and ideas. Our Creator is perfectly loving and wise in all His ways, and He is absolutely aware and active in this place, and it's an honor to be alive right now: I was chosen, you were chosen, to be part of this crazy chapter in theSamanthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05688895794286823293noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673147018188861966.post-43488311928589300322020-04-21T10:40:00.001-04:002020-04-21T11:22:54.049-04:00The Voice in the TunnelIt's that month.
It's the spring.
It's the time of year when things are blooming and being born and being renewed and my heart always seems to go down into the basement of my memories, shuffles around for the emotions that are kept in a bag down there, and drags it up the stairs to the kitchen table. I rifle through my thoughts about loss and life and the rest of the story, and it always comes Samanthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05688895794286823293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673147018188861966.post-23767427696057708772020-03-21T15:36:00.001-04:002020-03-21T15:36:39.592-04:00WeedingIn the South, and I can only speak to the South because I'm a Southerner, there are so many things we love to have in our yards, but at the top of the list:
Hydrangeas
Azaleas
Jasmine
Gardenias
Magnolia trees
Cherry blossoms...
There are loads more, but these are what I'm thinking about today.
So, there is a little patch beside our back patio, which is made of 100 year old bricks from one of Samanthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05688895794286823293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673147018188861966.post-68900225623316327402019-03-20T11:23:00.000-04:002019-03-20T11:23:03.865-04:00Enough SunlightSo many things change all the time. So much change happening around me.
Apparently, my personality type craves change, and I guess that's true in some ways-- I'm in a calling where my clientele change every nine months and I have some freedom about the way I do things and the materials I work with-- but there are some things I like to stay the same.
One of those things, for me, is my classroom.Samanthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05688895794286823293noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673147018188861966.post-69276656109335677192019-02-25T10:37:00.000-05:002019-03-20T10:38:18.544-04:00Eternally UndefeatedHe is eternally undefeated.
Sunday afternoon, I lit a bunch of candles, made a pot of good (locally roasted) coffee, and sat in the living room with some of my friends. We bundled up in quilts because my beautiful old house always seems to be cold in the living room, but it's always cozy.
As is always the case with these dear ones, we immediately dove into conversation about the center of the Samanthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05688895794286823293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673147018188861966.post-81743621518182725562019-02-12T20:42:00.000-05:002019-02-12T20:42:13.210-05:00MoreHere,
I’ll use the paint you
Handed me and
I’ll use the canvas
You taught me
To cut
And staple.
Here, I’ll
Use the rake you
Handed me
And
I’ll drag it
Along earth
And flesh.
Here, I’ll use
The book you
Opened to me
And I’ll
Knock against
Thoughts and ideas,
Ancient.
But you
Can’t see me from where
You sit now,
Can you?
I sat in your
Basement
And
Toiled in your
Orchard
And
Groped through your
Samanthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05688895794286823293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673147018188861966.post-38935155406887539032019-02-02T07:06:00.003-05:002019-02-02T07:06:44.600-05:00createdyou still think
you created
yourself.
you still believe
you have no
Father.
who kicked
the first ripple in
the ocean?
who tossed
the first seed across
the soil?
your origin
has a face.
is not empty.
hasn't forgotten.
sees.
shs
2/2/18
#hesees #believersSamanthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05688895794286823293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673147018188861966.post-87832568077120838402019-01-28T16:08:00.000-05:002019-01-28T16:14:10.247-05:00Things to Do at Three in the MorningI remember that there was this moment in the emergency room, sitting beside him, holding his shaking hand in mine, a little more than two weeks ago now, when I thought to myself-- just for a second, and not really even a formal thought-- that maybe I could handle him dying if I could just remember the last time I got really mad at him.
It was just a second.
And I realized that I have Samanthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05688895794286823293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673147018188861966.post-80520305972666732442019-01-21T11:09:00.002-05:002019-01-23T14:51:57.595-05:00HimThe poet doesn't tell you
That it's a husband.
Instead she tells you
That he's a porter,
Carrying in groceries
And furniture
And her dreams.
She tells you
that he cares for the flowers
And nurtures them
And waters them
And watches to make sure they
Don't get scorched
And they get rain
And wind
And pretty pots.
She doesn't tell you that
Sometimes she feels like
One of his flowers.
The poet Samanthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05688895794286823293noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673147018188861966.post-45896798597841056162019-01-17T23:35:00.000-05:002019-01-18T08:37:01.160-05:00El Roi: The God Who Sees MeSo he sleeps finally. I reach over and wake him bc I can't hear him hiccuping, which means I can't hear him breathing. He's always been a quiet sleeper but tonight I need him to snore, to make a sound, something so I can hear the breath in his lungs.
There's no one to call in times like these. You could call, text, message a thousand people, but no one has what you need: the solution. No one hasSamanthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05688895794286823293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673147018188861966.post-13652294130441987852019-01-11T10:06:00.001-05:002019-01-11T10:09:50.718-05:00Everyday ChampionsHere is what I tell them:
When you have walked a difficult way, you gain an authority that belies your youth. If you are sixteen years old and you know what it means to resist constant fear, abuse, negativity, and the seemingly constant pronouncement of failure over your world, you have authority to speak. Every time you look at yourself in the mirror and choose to live again, you gain Samanthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05688895794286823293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673147018188861966.post-86331271526276061392019-01-02T16:41:00.002-05:002019-01-02T18:04:35.422-05:00Words MatterIf you know me, you know that the open dictionary in front of me means that I’m in heaven.
There’s this thing about words…
I imagine myself, O-Captain-ing in front of a group of mesmerized young scholars, waxing eloquent in a completely non-ironic way about the importance of words. It’s a great speech.
“Words matter, kids.”
They nod appreciatively. Some lean forward in their seats. But there’sSamanthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05688895794286823293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673147018188861966.post-75086553868940026102018-07-18T16:20:00.001-04:002018-07-18T16:26:45.507-04:00Season of Change!
“By faith Abraham, when called to go to a place he would later receive as his inheritance, obeyed and went, even though he did not know where he was going. By faith he made his home in the promised land like a stranger in a foreign country; he lived in tents, as did I sac and Jacob, who were heirs with him of the same promise. For he was looking forward to the city with foundations, whose Samanthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05688895794286823293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673147018188861966.post-81017372282652125292018-06-16T08:16:00.000-04:002018-06-16T08:16:04.535-04:00New Season: Writing & EditingHi all!
The summer of writing has begun! Thank you for your notes and TRAFFIC! I will update you here periodically, but for now all past content is being edited! Please email me with any questions!
SamSamanthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05688895794286823293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673147018188861966.post-21130437461610741442018-03-20T14:28:00.002-04:002019-01-02T16:57:53.767-05:00first, they gotta have a visionSo, everybody's talking about school lately.
I almost hashtagged school.
#school
And I verbed a noun. Hashtagged.
I've been thinking about school and thinking about my students and about their parents, and about all of my nieces, and the children of my friends, and I wonder how you guys let them walk up and down stairs without worrying about them, much less actually let them get on big Samanthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05688895794286823293noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673147018188861966.post-69566734289563616752016-04-14T22:23:00.002-04:002019-01-11T10:15:11.315-05:00beautynormally, i have a thousand words.
i've used lots of them in the last few days so my brain might have turned into oatmeal in the last half hour.
here's the short list:
a. Amazing police officers stopped by our house on Saturday morning and there is no doubt they were led here-- they were looking for a crib for a family in need. A family whose baby needed a safe bed to sleep inSamanthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05688895794286823293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673147018188861966.post-30031336359298573422012-10-01T23:07:00.000-04:002019-01-11T10:15:10.990-05:00sometimes...
and it’s like we’re living
on the wrong side of a “what if” scenario—
the part of the movie
that would have happened if the main guy
had made a bad decision.
memories of you float across
a quiet, empty part of my heart,
tiny fragments of the beginning of a life
not filled out
unfinished pages from a coloring book
clothes washed only once, then folded and put away.
there is a bagSamanthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05688895794286823293noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673147018188861966.post-75547437698263748222012-09-08T12:55:00.001-04:002019-01-11T10:15:11.337-05:00When you don't get what you want...
You are my portion, O Lord;
I have promised to obey your words.
Psalm 119:57
So here is what I have been struggling with-- and when I say "struggling," you should imagine me wrestling with a giant beast, trying my best to pin it to the ground and make it stay.
Desire. Hope. Things wanted. Hope deferred. Longings unfulfilled.
Don't worry-- my intention is not to depress. I Samanthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05688895794286823293noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673147018188861966.post-21070595788978256162011-11-19T15:53:00.002-05:002019-01-11T10:17:48.138-05:00Some days...So, I've heard so many stories of lost babies in the last couple of weeks. Somehow, my miscarriage of two and a half (has it really only been two and a half?) weeks ago stirred up the old ache for Ben all over again, and hearing other stories of loss has highlighted the loss, too.
On the one hand, I long to reach out to those mothers whose babies have passed on to glory-- I long to do what otherSamanthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05688895794286823293noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673147018188861966.post-34060599249933576642011-11-03T11:07:00.003-04:002019-01-11T10:17:48.169-05:00...but thanks be to GodBut thanks be to God, who always leads us in triumphal procession in Christ, and through us spreads everywhere the fragrance of the knowledge of Him. For we are to God the aroma of Christ among those who are being saved and those who are perishing. To the one, we are the smell of death; to the other, the fragrance of life.
2 Corinthians 2:14-16
Such a short time since my last post, in my mind, Samanthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05688895794286823293noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673147018188861966.post-3682609594215158282011-10-01T09:42:00.001-04:002019-01-11T10:17:48.189-05:00Something new...First, let me tell you about my yard.
Gigantic yellow chrysanthemums and blooming roses and daisies and fluffy ferns and a slow burn just on the maple trees all invite you to stay in the rocking chair just a few minutes more. The wind chimes are finally starting to be stirred on a regular basis and if you scoot just past the planter filled with rosemary and lavender, a cloud of fragrance will Samanthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05688895794286823293noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673147018188861966.post-6441981798670095722011-09-27T17:53:00.002-04:002019-01-11T10:15:11.269-05:00Letting some things go...I can't believe I didn't write about this before. It won't be poetic or lyrical, this re-telling, because I'm trying to remember the details, but I feel like it's important-- I've gotten notes from people who have wondered about when to break down the nursery and how to do it, and I want to address the way I did it. There will be holes, but this is what I remember (I should add that the initial Samanthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05688895794286823293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673147018188861966.post-74556654635959265512011-09-22T13:49:00.001-04:002019-01-11T10:17:48.209-05:00Thankfulness, stillIt seems to always happen to me in the kitchen.
I had just rushed to my house between meetings yesterday and I was standing at the counter, looking into the foyer, when a rush of love for my home just came at me. Thankful. So thankful for the way my Father loves me. So thankful for the way He has blessed Don and me. Longing for so many things, but thankful, still.
I wrote it down on my ipod Samanthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05688895794286823293noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673147018188861966.post-11203084061433872332011-04-29T01:17:00.007-04:002019-01-11T10:15:10.894-05:00730 Days: Still missing you
Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit (John 12:24)
This is a profound mystery.
How many times have I thought those words-- "this is a profound mystery"-- to myself over the last two years?
How many times have I admonished myself with Friar Lawrence's words--
A pack of blessings lights Samanthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05688895794286823293noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673147018188861966.post-10975499411075290462011-03-09T22:51:00.001-05:002019-01-11T10:15:10.858-05:00HopeSince it's been so long since I've written, I should probably introduce myself...
Hi, my name is Samantha and I love Ticonderoga pencils, peppermint tea, and houses whose paint is old and peeling. I live in a small little town in the house of my dreams and I love orange. My husband is the funniest person I know and our families are made up of the nicest, most genuine people either of us has Samanthahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05688895794286823293noreply@blogger.com3