pumpkins, mums, and…snow?

Today marks the first official snowfall. How can this be? “It is November, Liz,” is what Emily tells me this morning.  It’s that time of year again, where the season starts to change.  It’s time to bring out the mittens and sweaters, the tank tops can officially be put into storage.  Can I just take a moment to bow to the glory of a new season.  I mentioned a few weeks ago that I am excited to walk into the next phase…well in twenty minutes I register for next semester’s classes.  I can finally see the light at the end of the tunnel!

the joy of the lord is my strength.

today was not an easy day to say the least, i felt like a zombie for most of the first half, falling asleep on benches in between class, barely able to answer the questions on my psych exam, my head was starting to swell, and my nose feeling more and more plugged up…i debated whether i would go to my last class.  i went.  i always do.  and boy was i sassy.  i answered my professor’s questions, nobody else ever does, and i wasn’t holding back today.  that class makes me so frustrated and today i just didn’t even have the energy to let it bug me.  slow at work this weekend, i came home early both days, and jumped into reading this book called ghostwritten for good books.  i am anxious for this class to be over, seeing as it is taking over my social life, and exhausting me.  i have been trying to keep my heart in check this week, being sure that i act with a righteous heart.  a heart that is living to serve God in everything i do, in rest and joy.  saturday night randi sang a song with the words the joy of the Lord is my strength, the joy of the Lord…and i have repeated those words the last forty eight hours pretty consistently. i have also been making sure i’m not carrying anyone else’s garbage or baggage.  i have been paying even closer attention because my body is so very exhausted.  i tried to take a nap today to rid my body of the migraine that it wouldn’t kick out, and i couldn’t sleep, just laid here with my eyes closed, i read and closed my eyes. turned over and read some more before closing the book and my eyes once more.  finally as my eyes led my body into a deeper place of rest, my phone buzzed and buzzed on my nightstand, flashing paulie’s name.  i answered.  then i tried to explain that he hadn’t really woken me up, i was just laying here trying to. i explained the whole, thing, reading, eyes closing, reading…and then i ended with get the picture? yep i do liz, is how he responded with a chuckle.  the conversation was supposed to be about the couch that resides in our home, that he has expressed possible interest in adopting and my feelings towards it leaving out house…it has to go. and then before we hung up i had another random story to tell him. so i did. i came home today with my friend zach hanging out of the neighbors window that he was replacing. (it’s a rundown house they are fixing up) see the story had nothing to do with anyone or anything him an di had discussed, i just felt like telling him…and that’s when he said it….my favorite quote for the day. “conversations with you are always entertaining. never dull.”

(paulie…please correct me if you remember the quote to be any different than that, i want to get it right!)

and then i made zucchini (from my garden) pancakes with fresh applesauce (from momma char) and sausage (from papa danko) for supper…yum! there you have it folks. now back to the homework and hopefully soon real sleep…goodnight little loved ones.

a periodic sentence.

My mom says that back in the day a sentence like this was called a run-on sentence. Quite frankly this is simply a glorified run-on with a punchline at the end.  It is another assignment for my writing class. Enjoy.

Bowls crusted with cereal and empty cottage cheese containers, plates sticky with mostacholi sauce, knives coated in peanut butter, and gooey orange juice glasses are accompanied by pots whose insides glow of artificially colored macaroni and cheese and spatulas stuck with the remains of scrambled eggs, as they tower and teeter, abandoned by their user, their job complete, and are left to be struck with a magic wand of some sort that must exist, or maybe they are expected to take care of themselves, anyone might take responsibility for them–anyone but my roommates.

–Elizabeth Danko

my favorite things-pt. 4

A successful shopping trip with friends at Target and resale stores. And a neatly organized house that feels like a home.

at rest.

This was a paper I wrote this week for my Non-Fiction Writing class.  The assignment was to write about a place.  This paper was easy.  I think it’s because I’ve been learning so much in my Good Books class about why writers include certain words, or themes in their work and probably being inspired by words in Non-Fiction.  And I’ve been writing a lot more in my blog lately.  The practice helps, that’s for sure.  But mostly I think it was because Johanna prayed that the words would flow out of me with ease.  God is good all the time.

As I sit under the glow of a single lamp, and the dull sunlight sneaks in from the windows, I hear the gentle dripping of raindrops on the windowsill.  I am not alone in the house as I am accompanied by the family’s two cats, one older and calm, the other younger and feisty.  This morning I had pumpkin pancakes with homemade whipped cream and a cup of steaming homemade apple cider.  I slept here last night in my attempt to escape the weekend commotion of town. While it is merely late morning my eyes are heavy, calling me to set aside my homework and enjoy a short nap.  This house has that affect on most people when they visit.  It has become my home away from home.  Living 1200 miles away from home, I often suffer from homesickness, but the feeling is easily cured by a night or two spent here at the Boettcher’s house.

The ceiling is covered in wood paneling and various types of fish are mounted on the walls.  Different shades of yarn ready to be knitted into mittens, hats, sweaters and scarves are tucked into baskets in every empty corner.  Candles that smell of pinecones and spices rest on every surface and the bookshelves are scattered with little handmade fairies.  The last of the summer’s purple sweet pea flowers diffuse a gentle fragrance in the air around the clever little vase they reside in.  A giant clock hangs on the kitchen wall with roman numerals dictating the time past and the time remaining to spend in this place. The pantry is filled with maple syrup we made in the wintery spring.  When the snow was still falling, we tapped the maple trees that line the long driveway and tromped the trail to collect the sap dripping from the veins of the trunks.  I prayed with each step that my foot would be steady, as the snow would sometimes give out beneath my weight.  I’d find myself with one leg buried to my knee and my bucket of nature’s liquid gold that I’d have to protect from spilling.

I look down at my side now where Kitty is sitting at the kitchen table, her nose up against the cold window.  Her eyes are darting from one spot to the next, following the chipmunks and birds at the feeders, just outside.  The leaves are fading from the bold green of a lush summer, to a faint yellow that with time will increase in its own intensity.

There is a sweet spirit that fills this home.  Not only are the arms of those who live here open, ready to embrace with love, but also there is a comfort that seeps from their words they speak of truth.  They claim me to be their fourth daughter, and I claim them to be my adopted parents, calling them Momma Lisa and Papa B.  After graduating high school in the piedmont of the Carolinas, I moved to the Upper Peninsula of Michigan for college.  I was anxious for close friends and I prayed for someone to take me under their wing, someone I could connect with.  The first week back from Christmas break, I met a girl named Amy in my photography class.  Her sister, Steph invited me to their home to sit on her couch, to experience her family.  My prayers were answered.  I began spending as much time as I could at this house, escaping from the chaos of the dorms to a family’s home.

Now Amy lives in California while she goes to school, Steph is in Indiana with her husband, and their parents are empty nesters.  My weekdays are strategically occupied getting as much homework and chores done, so that my weekend can be spent playing at this getaway with them.  The fall season has us busy like ants, bringing in the crops from the summer garden, preparing for a long cold winter.  We pick green beans and snow peas, red cabbage and broccoli.  We freeze corn and can tomato sauces.  We gather blackberries for jam and cobbler and collect baskets full of pears and plums.  Apples come in by the bucket full.  We cook them down into applesauce, bake them into a crumble or pie, slice and dehydrate them for snacks and juice them into cider.  It’s that time of year to start hauling in the firewood to fill the stove.  I especially love to sit in one of the two rocking chairs bundled with my fingers wrapped around my pumpkin spice latte, allowing my toes to be warmed by the fire.

Saturday night after church, all the college kids come out to the house.  Sometimes we make peanut butter s’mores around the bonfire, play a couple hands of Euchre, or just sit on the couch allowing our laughter to become contagious.  We make ourselves sick off the popcorn we call “crack corn” after its addictive quality and take second helpings of the homemade lemonade.  Sometimes I bake chocolate chip cookies from scratch with Momma Lisa’s bright red kitchen mixer.  The cookies barely make it out of the oven before everyone begins reaching for them.  Every time the guys burn their mouths in anticipation of the sweet gooeyness.  They inhale deeply through their mouths in attempt to cool down their tongues.

At night I lie in bed with the window cracked just enough to hear the wind provoke waves on the great lake just down the road.  It carries the sound of each crash on the shoreline through the tops of the trees, and sends its notes in a swirl around the room.  I experience a genuine peace here.  Here I breathe deeper.  Here I think clearer.  Here I can slow down and rest.  Sunday mornings come always after a heavy sleep and I know it is time to get up when I hear worship music come gliding up the stairs from the living room speakers.

Last night when I walked in the door Papa was peeling tomatoes for spaghetti sauce and Momma Lisa was sitting with the cat on the couch beside her knitting, watching the newest episode of Grey’s Anatomy, waiting for the next commercial break to vacuum.

“There’s our girl!” exclaimed Papa looking up from the tomato in his hand, “we’ve been wondering if you forgot about us.”

“No”, I answered. “It’s just that school keeps me so dang busy, and work exhausts me.”

“I know it does, but we miss having you here.”

I set down my bags and made my way into the kitchen where I found myself luke-warm pizza that they’d left out awaiting my arrival.  I told Papa about my classes and shared my relief of the school week being finished.  Then I carried myself to the couch to join Momma Lisa as her shows finished.  My muscles ached and I realized for the first time this week how exhausted I’d worn myself.

This morning was the first time in weeks I allowed my body to wake up on its own, with no startled awakening of an alarm clock.  I hoped I could store up the extra hours of slumber for my upcoming week.  Now I sit listening to the rain patter on the window pain.  I turn around to glance up at the large hands on the clock, which I decide have no say over me and allow the heaviness of my eyes to take over my thoughts…just for a minute.

i’ve been doing alot of thinking lately…a new kind of thinking.

I mostly just like resting.  I don’t mean being lazy, but allowing myself to enjoy where I am.  There is no point in getting stressed over things that have to get done, because they always get taken care of. This season is a season. Season- an indefinite or unspecified period of time. I am scheduled to work Sunday after Sunday, preventing me from going to church. Every Monday I spend answering questions for Good Books. Every other Tuesday I sit in the art studio editing my film projects. Every Wednesday night I go to the gym.Every Thursday I do laundry and clean my room. Every other Friday I spend the day taking my online exam. Every Saturday afternoon I am exhausted from an eight hour work day and every Sunday afternoon I take a nap after work before reading for school.Every night before I turn off my lamp, I read my word, my daily Proverb. Every morning before I roll out of bed, I read my word, my daily Psalm. This is a season. I’m finally settled in this season.  I am anxious for something new, but I am comfortable for the time I have left remaining in this season.  Though I am comfortable I have not grown stagnant, I never stop being hungry.  I just feel like I have overcome the newness of this season.  Soon, I will be thrown off my trail, and handed a new season. A new season to grow in.  A new season to face with a strong spirit, in excitement of change.  I am making up my mind to walk into the new season in optimistic eyes.  I will not drag my feet.  I will not be caught off guard.  I am accepting that change is inevitable, and is the thing in life that encourages growth. What I struggle with in this season will not be an issue in my next season.  What I love about this season will forever remain as a memory in my mind, an experience I could never trade or throw away. I am grateful for this season, even though it has not been an easy one.  It has tested my patience, and my endurance, that one thing is for sure. It has challenged me to live passed my boundaries, in a realm of greater authority, with more nobility than my last.  It has prepared me even more for the life that seasons that lie ahead.  It has prepared my heart even more for my future husband.  It has taught me to give control to my Heavenly Papa, so as to trust him with my time.  It has grown my heart more fond of children, making me even more eager for my own.  It has made my spirit more passionate of the gifts God has sewn in me.  I am excited for my next season.

For now, I will continue soaking up all that there is left of this season.  I going to keep learning.  I’m going to keep asking for more. I’m going to look up at the vibrant leaves still hanging on the trees and smile at his beauty.  I’m going to take another sip of my fresh apple cider and let it warm my stomach. I’m going to go to sleep in a new kind of rest…a deeper one, one consumed in heavenly peace.

a change of silence…

As I stepped out of my house this morning to open at work, I quickly recognized the silence of the morning. Mist left over from the night’s rainfall, filled the chilly air.  I climbed in my car and begged the heat to kick in faster.  I drove down third street to with the gold streetlights surrounding me, reflecting on the wet pavement.  I was on the road by myself. I pulled into Third Street Bagel to pick up an assortment of bagels and the first of the season’s pumpkin cream cheese for my coworkers.  As much as I hat the idea of working on a Sunday, I thoroughly enjoy doing so, there i a much lighter spirit on Sunday mornings at Coco’s restaurant.  I arrived in the parking lot early…almost twenty minutes early.  Good thing I thought to throw my Bible in my purse before I left my house.  With the dim overhead light in my car , I read.  Only good and righteous words of truth.  Recently God has been showing me parallels in his word, between different verses, how they overlap and connect with each other. Recently he’s been lighting up his word to me.  I desire to read it everyday in anticipation of what new nugget he wants to feed me with.  I began my morning with the feeling that I was the only one in the stillness of the morning, the only one…the apple of his eye. That’s a concept I’ve only barely tasted of.  It’s hard when you feel the chaos around you, to even feel the calm steady beat of his heart, to recognize that you are his favorite. That mystery of heaven, how we can all be his favorite. This morning I tasted more of that reality.  And now as I sit here studying for my exam tomorrow, in my favorite chair, I look out the window and feel the same peace I felt this morning. The trees are still outside the window and the only light is the glow of the street lamps.  The air is quite.  The hum of the refrigerator is all my ears can catch.  Have you listened to the air lately?  It’s quite a nice change.

my favorite things- pt. 3

A long distance phone call with a dear sister, giggling like us girls do about boys and realizing how much easier it is than what we make it to be…you know having crushes.

oh october!

October is one of my favorite months to welcome. Why? Well let us reflect. October is the month when the leaves finish changing.  It’s the time of the year to buy pumpkins and make apple cider and pancakes.  It’s the time of the year to start making holiday crafts.  To start bundling up in woven mittens and scarves.

When a steaming cup of tea is almost essential for keeping my fingers warm and the coziest place to be is snuggled in my favorite blanket.

The air gets crisp and kind burns a little as it moves through my lungs. The bright green hue of the grass starts to fade and the fallen leaves crunch under each step.  The temperature drops but the sun warms my skin.

It is the time of year to taste test all the varieties of fresh apples at Farmer Q’s. When I can finally ask for pumpkin cream cheese on my bagel at Third Street Bagel. October is the half way point in my fall semester, hope for my Christmas break in sight.

The guys start spending more time in the woods, coming home with meat for the freezer and stories of their hunting adventures.  October is the month that night sneaks up on me, and the mornings come so much later.

In the past I’ve claimed myself to be a summer girl, loving the south for it’s humidity and forever tan worthy sun.  But Marquette is one place that can celebrate the fall season like no other place on earth.  We do it the right way here, embracing the season.  Thank God he placed me here.

—–

My favorite quote from today:

“I still look pretty while I eat muffins.”-Erin

my favorite things-pt. 2

Morning coffee with a good friend.