Lover of my soul

when i see the winter, turning into spring,

it speaks to this heart of mine, 

more than anything.

underneath a blanket of snow, 

pure and white,

something is stirring in the still of the night.

and then the sun comes up, slowly with the dawn.

this is the kind of feeling that i hang my hope upon.

there is a love and beauty,

in all that i see,

and no one, nobody,

is explaining You to me.

and maybe my eyes can't see

but You are surrounding me.

here in the wind and rain,

the things that i know

tender and sweet,

and strong as my need.

i know the voice,

i know the touch,

Lover of my soul.

// Lover of my soul by amy grant //

loving lately...

haircuts

pink flowers

tennis matches

flip-flops

warmth

white skirts

princess lunch box

this song

piano music

florals in general

this post

what have you been enjoying recently?

my spot

i ride my vintage bicycle down a forest path, venturing out into the wilderness to find the perfect spot to read and write on this warm spring day.
wildflowers tickle my bare ankles as i roll through an open field.
i am free to go as i wish when i wish without any commitments or time constraints preventing me from going where the wind blows me.
i find my spot: a shady patch of velvety moss and lush grass beneath a tree whose canopy of leaves shields the sun.
a gentle breeze stirs my wild hair as i dance around under a bright yellow sun, my shoes cast off next to my bicycle.
i retrieve my journal and book from my knapsack and settle in for a few hours of dreaming.
as the sun begins its nightly descent, i rummage around in my bag for my hand-knit cardigan complete with intricate cables.
i begin my trek home, eager to visit my spot again tomorrow.

my spot in my mind, that is.
in reality, i rode my modern bike to my church next door across a clear-cut path.
i do have a bag containing a journal and book, but my world is too full of standardized tests, studying, and commitments to spend much time with my dear journal.
because i do not live where i can just ride my bike out into the wilderness, i must content my restless brain with biking to a place in view of my house.
there is, though, a breeze and wildflowers and canopies of leaves that i can enjoy.

even though i want my imaginary spot to become real, i will be content for now. SATs are finally over, even though i must now turn all of my attention to the ap lang test.
but spring is here. this afternoon, anyway, is free.
for now, i will write.

precious memories

{chloe and sadie, also known as funnykins and woo-woo}

Precious memories, unseen angels,
Sent from somewhere to my soul.
How they linger ever near me,
And the sacred past unfolds.

Precious memories how they linger,
How they ever flood my soul.
In the stillness of the midnight.
Precious sacred scenes unfold.

In the stillness of the midnight,
Echoes from the past I hear.
Old time singing, gladness ringing,
From that lovely land somewhere.

Precious memories how they linger,
How they ever flood my soul.
In the stillness of the midnight.
Precious sacred scenes unfold.

As I travel on life's pathway,
I know not what the years may hold.
As I ponder hope grows fonder,
Precious memories flood my soul.

Precious memories how they linger,
How they ever flood my soul.
In the stillness of the midnight.
Precious sacred scenes unfold.

i am happy

spring is coming.

the sat test is over.

sunny days are ahead.

golden hour is my favorite.

journaling keeps me sane.

tennis matches are coming up.

celtic music is wonderful music to fall asleep to.

i am happy.