Timshel.

What's this? A new post from Emily two days (nights) in a row?


I hear Mumford & Sons has put out a new album. Aside from the first single from said album, which I hear frequently on the radio, I haven't heard it. But I have listened to their last album, Sigh No More, more times than I care to attempt to calculate. (Good thing it's not titled, Listen No More.) So I'm definitely a fan of what they do, even though I have yet to board the Babel bandwagon.

It's funny, though, how many times you can listen to a song and not understand what it means.

It's also funny how two occurrences that look different on the surface can coincide like they were meant to be.

I was just thinking more about life again, and realizing afresh the close correlation between the increase in my faith, and the increase in things like joy and contentment, and even provision. As the former has grown, so too have each of the latter, and then some. Faith has become the proverbial gift that keeps on giving.

Almost immediately after, my thoughts turned to Mumford & Sons' song "Timshel." I began to sing it. "Cold is the water..."

Through the first verse chorus cycle. Then through the second. And then I came to this, and my eyes widened as it sank deep...

"And I will tell the night
And whisper, "Lose your sight"
But I can't move the mountains for you"

I've heard, and can testify, that walking blindly in faith is the better way to live. I've also heard that a minuscule bit of faith is enough to move a mountain. It doesn't take much, but the mountain won't move unless you believe it will.

It's such a joy when what I see and hear, especially when what I'm seeing and hearing is beautiful art, affirms what I know to be true, especially recent revelations of truth.

Nonsense is best.

The gap between my last post and this one is a few weeks longer than I intended. I'm only okay with that because there's a good reason for it.

To get to that, allow me to jump over to and back down someone else's path. Early this year my mom and I paid a visit to our dear friend Amanda who has cut our hair for the past few years. If I wasn't so attached to the crazy dark brown stuff growing on top of my head, I would have made an appointment with her every week just so I could see her. She's that wonderful of a person. Almost immediately after my mom and I made it to the aforementioned appointment, Amanda began catching us up on the happenings of her life, and what she told us was radical. She and her husband had divorced, she moved to a town an hour away, and she had decided to quit her job and start cleaning houses. The one thing she said that has stuck with me most these many months since is, "I've been shocking people all over the place."

I knew she and her husband had their share of struggle, but it always seemed to me that they would fight through it, whatever happened. I think other people had the same impression. She was also extremely connected to her family and her community. Half the people that walked into the salon had either known her her whole life, or had been known by her their whole life. I doubt anyone expected she would ever move away. And if that wasn't dramatic enough, she was dead set on changing vocation. I know she didn't make a killing cutting, coloring, and styling hair, but going from that to cleaning houses almost seemed like a downgrade.

But all that is why what she did was so great, and why I was excited for her. She needed dramatic change and wasn't letting what anyone thought about it stop her from doing what was best for her. The only opinion she cared about was God's, and she was willing to follow him even when it didn't make sense.

My life doesn't make sense. To anyone. Not even me. But I'm living it. And I'm more content and full of joy than I've ever been.

Which brings me back to writing. I've been so busy living that I haven't gotten back around to my blog as quickly as I thought I would after getting this computer. But, Lord willing, I'll wake up to another day tomorrow, then another one after that, and another, and my story won't be over for a long time to come, giving me lots of second chances.

I leave you with a song I only recently began to comprehend. I hope you can experience this at least once in your lifetime.