letter to a graduated friend

dear dear friend,

today you looked much different than you ever have before.
(dareisay you even looked a tad ridiculous
wearing that all-black ensemble
on an 80-degree day)

your high heels: cunning.
your eyes: focused.
your tassel tickled the right side 
of your young and weary face.

and yet, the joy was unmistakable.

contagious, even. 

i caught the joy as you walked past
following two bagpipes and a tall flag
that waved your academic allegiance to Education
                                                                    or Sociology
                                                                    or Something Else.

i caught the joy when a voice of authority pronounced your name
-maybe for the very first time-
and some part of that enormous crowd erupted
into proud and jubilant clamor. 

i caught the joy when i heard a battle-worn President Emeritus
stand to say: "it takes faith to fail."

[he is right, you know.
you will fail. i did too.
and-glory of glories-
when the failing happens,
(when. not if.)
faith will find you.]

i caught the joy when your eyes met mine
and for a moment we both knew
that our paths had not crossed
but bled
one into the other
until your strength and my strength became

our strength.

today you looked so much different.
only a little like the bright-eyed freshman i met four years ago.
but tomorrow, i am certain i will recognize you.

i will reach out from the other side-
the one they call "real life"
(as if your life has not already been made the realest thing of all).

i will listen as you wrestle with the parts of yourself
that a college cannot educate

i will understand when you try to explain
why it feels like you've been roused from a sweet dream

i will reach out
and i will offer you our strength. 

congratulations, my dear graduate and friend.
i will see you on the other side very soon.

with love,
lacy blaine

when life gives you oranges...

make these!

an inkling of motherhood

Usually when someone dares to insert my name and the word "mother" in the same sentence, I feel a cold wash of something like fear come over me.

Mother means labor pains.
Mother means bad odor and baby-proof locks.
Mother means saying "no" again and again and again and...
Mother means angry preteen entries scrawled in magenta journals.
Mother means the closest brush with the job of creator I'll ever have.

But then,

a new mother brings the effort of her hardest work 

to a lunch date at my house

and the heartbeat of someone who's just been introduced to the world,

snuggles right up against my own....

...and I wonder.

home

ever since i moved to massachusetts,

"home" has been less about the place i live in

and more about the people i live with.

i find myself thinking about the concept of "home" often,

not just in terms of where i am most myself,

but how to create home-how to create that feeling

of warmth and welcome

that allows friends and strangers alike

to come and rest.

today i realized that i've yet to mention in this space

what home has looked like for me

post-graduation.

hard to believe i've waited this long, given what an impact

my first post-college home has had on my life.

in the spirit of "the people i live with"definition,

the best way to show my home,

is through my home-mates! :)

This is Hannah. She shares my interest in dreams, teaches me again and again about the wonder of grace, and makes THE best chocolate chip cookies this side of the Mississippi.

The one and only Judi. :) This funny lady loves cows, cleaning the kitchen (my kind of woman!) and tearin' up the dance floor.

Rose is the newest addition to Nazorean House. Don't let her quiet demeanor fool you-this girl can belt Disney tunes and Adele tracks louder than anyone I know!

Ariana made me feel right at home as soon as I moved in. She lives 5 minutes away, but she still manages to be an essential part of Naz.

By some miracle, I am this lady's accompanier. In L'arche, this means we have a more intentional assistant-to-core member relationship. I knew Fran would be a friend for life the day she reached over and wrapped her arms around me as tears rolled down my cheeks during a bus ride headed for downtown Portland.

Katie lives with her heart right on her sleeve. I remember being taken aback by the question "do you like me?" that she'd ask nearly everyday, until it struck me how often I ask the very same thing, in a thousand hidden ways. I thank God for the lessons Katie has taught me about vulnerability, gratefulness, and real beauty.

And this is Faryn, another burst of California sunshine at Naz (Hannah also hails from the Golden State). Faryn is the kind of friend you can sing with, fish with, and dance in the rain with. I love the adventures that she's inspired during my time here.

And this is the whole gang! :)
They have become a sort of family to me over this past year-a place 
where I am fully known and yet loved. 
We've struggled and celebrated and spent our lives 
in one another's company, and my heart is forever grateful for our time together. 
God knows these were the women I needed to be at home with. 

fishtail victory

ever since i taught myself 

how to french braid my American Girl doll's hair 

in the 2nd grade, i've been trying 

(and failing) to make a fishtail braid.

15 years and one helpful online tutorial later,

 and i've finally figured it out!

you can too! :)

much love, lacy blaine

the left hand

photo courtesy of Kristen Albert Scott

that's me. 

well, that's my hand.

and, as of november 2nd, 2011

i haven't really known how to talk about it.

(the hand, that is.)

because before that beautiful november afternoon, 

that left hand was just a pair to my right,

helpful primarily for holding sort-of important things

so that my dominant hand would stay free to write, wave, 

gesture during conversation, 

etc.

but then, someone i loved very much

got down on his knee

(at which point i believe i screamed, "Get up!")

and asked if i'd wear a ring

on that hand

and if, by so doing, i would say "yes"

to him
and to making a life
together.

how does one speak of such things?

of moments that only seemed possible

in movies and magazines and make-believe?

i'll never forget the feeling that flooded my veins

the morning after...

when i woke to brilliant morning light,
remembered what had happened,

looked down at that ring,

and felt as if nothing had changed at all. 

i was still waking up with me:

me with baggage from the past.

me with trust issues.

me with a fear of failure and of the dark. 

it was the weirdest beginning of the weirdest day of my life.

but time
(God's faithful vehicle)
has done us well,
and i'm learning a couple things:
1. that the same Grace which brought me to him,
will bring me all that i need
again and again
each and every day.
 2. that marriage-like every good gift-
isn't meant to be grasped for once and for all,
but grappled. processed. undertaken. savored.
again and again
each and every day.

and thus, to serve both #1 and #2,
thejungleofmarriage.blogspot.com
was born!

at first i wondered...
made a list of pros and cons...
hypothesized about the outcomes of a "marriage blog"...
the same familiar question (how does one speak of such things?)
threatened it's beginning,
but i think i need it.

i need it's space and it's focus and it's intention

 much like i needed that sparkly ring.

enough

"the internet, if i were to summarize the way it makes me feel, 

i don't feel full of life. 

it makes me feel like i'm never enough. "

-sara groves

this isn't an excuse, or a cry for empathy. 

this is just my attempt to understand why social networking
and online expression

be it in the form of a post, a pin, a status, a twitter,
or some other means of communicating,

so often leads me down a road of self-deprecation and isolation

instead of openness...connectedness...or illumination...

all the things for which the Internet is famous.

my beef with the world wide web

isn't it's propensity to steal precious time

or to offer more information than one mind could ever hope to contain.

my beef is with that whisper of a lie i hear over and over again 

as i scroll through tidy stories and pristine photos

reminding me in a thousand ways

that my life isn't 

quite as cool

quite as academic

quite as courageous

quite as mature

quite as poetic

quite as _____

as my friend (or perfect stranger), So-And-So.

Advent is here, 

perhaps i should take the space it offers

to step away from this strange, bright-white world

and step back into an ancient, holy, messy story

about the entrance of the only One 

Who was, Who is, and Who always will be

enough.