You, Husband

To: My Mister
From: Forever Yours
Note: Forgive My Rambles on You

Do you remember the first time you saw me? An actress of a receptionist, I wondered if you’d see anything worthy in me, but I was so jaded, I decided later I didn’t care. Months later, your eyes were still on me, wanting to see my heart. Even when I didn’t recognize you as marriage material, you didn’t miss it. You came after me. You tell me I’m worthy, and I finally believe it. Mister, you are good at seeing people. I’m so grateful for that.

Do you recall our first huge fight? We were both so full up with emotional energy I wondered if we would ever come down from orbit. You ended up in the living room, I ended up in the master closet. But not for long. Why? Because you came after me. Carefully, gently. Willing to be wrong. Willing to be broken with me. Willing to forgive. Willing to work through it. Babe, even when you are right, and I’m wrong and being stubborn about it, you never get haughty or puffed—you reach out with love and grace. Who taught you that? I will always be grateful for how you come after me emotionally.

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My Husband takes pictures of statues of historical figures at the Bible Museum

Do you know the way you do things—simple things, funny things, serious things—it blesses me, all your quirks. How you are a kid with me: my playmate. How you laugh: nerd laugh! How you eat: my man with steak. How you run your fingers through your hair when your mind is a million miles away figuring out the latest puzzle. The way you hold your guitar. How you throw a sheet across the bed to make it: tucking corners in with a vengeance. How you pump the gas, always concerned with if I’m comfortable while you are attending to it. How you can’t stop talking to me when you are excited about something: I’m your closest confidant. How you pet my arm when I’m talking about something and you need to break in and interrupt, but you don’t want to hurt my feelings. Oh, the way you vacuum, load the dishes, throw the trash, sweep a mess! You might as well melt me like butter on a stove.

A thousand special things create you, the real you that I see every day.

I appreciate them all, but I can never seem to say the right thing to convey it. Imagine that. A writer that struggles to find the right words for the one she loves the most.

Maybe that’s the truth of the mess, the heart of the matter?

You are so perfectly suited to being my husband, my best friend, my playmate, that I’m lost in it all.

You’re a dream to me, Mister.

And I value you far beyond all these dreams.

The Creator gave me you, and I freaking love you.

Happy Birthday. 

Here’s to more years for you and I to explore, laugh, love, cry, grow, see, do, and create together.

endkevianaelliot

 

 

Stove-Top Pumpkin Spice Latte Recipe

I posted a pic awhile back on my Insta about homemade pumpkin spice latte, and a dear friend asked for the recipe. Figured a post with all the info would be best for sharing and sharing and sharing… Lol!

Ingredients:

4 c Milk
2 c brewed Sprouts Pumpkin Spice Black Tea; strongly brewed (This tea contains: black tea, rooibos, cinnamon, ginger root, lemon peels, cloves, nutmeg…… If I don’t have the tea on hand, I just put in the above without the rooibos tea, because I much prefer black tea by itself)
4 tbsp Canned Pumpkin (add way more for a heartier pumpkin flavor)
3 tbsp White Sugar (I use straight dark brown sugar)
1 tbsp Brown Sugar (Again, straight dark brown sugar)
2 tsp Vanilla
1 Cinnamon Stick (Powdered cinnamon is fine if you don’t have sticks on hand)
6 Cloves
6 Peppercorns (I smash my peppercorns or add more for more of a kick)

Instructions:

After brewing tea, add tea and milk to large pot.
Begin to warm up to medium heat s-l-o-w-l-y.
Add pumpkin (heat pumpkin in microwave some to make it easier to stir), sugars, and spices to the large pot and stir in using a whisk.
Cover and heat, stirring often often OFTEN until combined and really hot.
Remove any large spices, stir one more time and serve.

This won’t stay good over 6-8 hrs, so drink up!
(And watch for the sludge at the bottom of the cup. That’s the only warning I’ll give you. Lol.)

Yummy pictures can tag me on Instagram or Facebook.
Hope you enjoy!

endkevianaelliot

 

See Forever

Seeing forever would be either wonderful or dreadful.

The Bible teaches I’m an eternal being, and faith in Jesus Christ as the Son of God (the Great Creator) means I will see life beyond what a normal life will afford.

I think if this current world was it, sans people, I could be contented with that. It’d be wonderful. The Great Creator has made a beautiful creation, and I love looking deeply at something until delight in it and Him overwhelms me.

But that’s not the loving Creator says will happen: the current earth is going to pass away.

So will the enemy of our souls (yay, good!) and so will the current way things are (yipee!)

That means I’ll have new things to discover in eternity. New things to discover about the Creator. New things to love and delight over in His Kingdom (Nation? World? Dimension? Not sure what word will fit.)

Yep. Wonderful.

Evil from the enemy and evil from people hurts all of Creation. When I snapped the above picture, I felt like everything was perfect in that moment.

Then I lowered the iPhone and turned around and saw all the people. Oh snap.

Not so wonderful.

If I were to live for eternity on a planet with people who are all and each looking out for themselves… That’d be bad. Awful. Dreadful.

God has a plan for that, too, obviously as outlined in the Bible. Love and light will reign through Him, through King Jesus.

Why? Because God loves people. And why shouldn’t He? He created them.

I want to delight in people like I delighted in that sunset moment. To see people as beautiful. To love them like God does.

Maybe if I could see forever now, loving people would be easier…

I’d not see people based on their actions for the span of my memory, but I’d see them as eternal beings.

Then, maybe then, I’d try to love as many of them as I could into His Kingdom. Introduce as many of them as I can to Jesus (Who is such a neat Person!)

Yes, I will see forever one day.

But for now, I’m going to dwell on this, and keep asking Jesus to help me see like He does.

 

endkevianaelliot

Wanter Poem

My wanter is busted, or maybe it’s fine

But it pushes my feelers to so far behind

My wanter sees problems it desires to fix

Often my soul doesn’t want into that mix

The absurd and the costly, my wanter demands

I cringe at its focus, I drown in these lands

My wanter is busted, surely needs saving

Pushed along by it, my heart is done raving

God, please change my wanter to line up with You

Because it’s stuck with me, and You’re stuck with me, too

Just Don’t

Raw. Real. Reblogged. -KE

Krysten.Ivey

They say

…It is okay

Just Don’t

…that love is here

Just Don’t

…It wasn’t that bad

Just Don’t

…It is easy

Just Don’t

…someone else made it through

Just Don’t

…just move on

Just Don’t

…it is in your past

Just Don’t!!!

Do you even see me???

Hiding,

Hurting,

Ashamed,

Angry,

Dirty,

Damaged,

Broken,

Branded,

Shattered….

Take off the mask

Is it okay to scream?

Is it okay to cry?

Is it safe to trust?

Is it safe to surrender?

Is it okay to just be me?

….to take off the mask?

Dear God, I need your help.

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Skin and the HSP

Being a Highly Sensitive Person (HSP) means I explain sensations to others. A lot. Since I experience sound, taste, touch, smell, and sight-related phenomena at a louder setting than most, everyone who knows me always wants to know just a little more.

Sometimes I try to explain what happens when my skin is maxed out on its ability to feel, but I seem to fall short on it. Many other HSPs agree with me when I use terminology of “static” and “overloaded,” but describing the feeling up-close is… well… hard.

So that’s what I’m trying to do here.

What’s it like to have HSP skin?

Let’s say I start out with skin at “normal 0″—a ground-zero of sorts, where nothing from the day before has upset my nervous system in any way, it was a good night’s sleep, and my skin is well rested and quiet.

More than likely, the process of touching the cold floor, the cold water or hot water to clean up, or cold toilet seat will be the first items of the day to take my resting brain to 90%. (I use percentages to describe to my Husband what amount of my brain is paying attention to the sensation, whatever it may be.) Of course, once I move on to clothing, the 90% will drop down to 10-20%.

Clothing decisions in the morning are always of importance. HSPs fist-bump.

Some days, I really need clothing that will not irritate my skin, i.e. make itself known via “loud” textures in an ever-growing manner. all. day. long. Other days, I’m brave and don’t care. Bring on the areas that are going raw from the stitching. If I’m in rough shape, I’m not so brave, and just about glare at those clothes and pass them over. (God bless my over-soft fluffy hoodies and Lu-La-Rue Leggings of velvety delicate goodness. You rescue my skin organ often!)

From dressing, the day will progress with various surfaces, textures, and people touching my skin. Either my choice or not. And each time, two things will happen:

  1. The surface/ texture/ person will ping in my brain to some percentage and I’ll be aware of it, especially the surfaces and textures higher than 60%, and
  2. Every single surface/ texture/ person will take a little (or a lot) from my “HSP Endurance Tank”

As the day winds down, if my HSP Endurance Tank is above, say, a quarter full, I see the day as a win. It’s usually when my tank is in the last fourth of a tank (or empty) that bad things happen.

Meh. Remind me to post about the HSP Endurance Tank sometime. Thanks.

Descriptions of Sensations

Every HSP is different. So this might not be accurate for other HSPs. Even so, here’s a list of some of the sensations my skin and I have gone through. Usually these sensations occur strongest around the back of my arms and torso. When it’s a really rough time, it will be all over, down to my toes. There you go.

Listed from least obnoxious to most.

  • weightiness
  • tiny debris feeling
  • air hurts “buzz”
  • water/ wet
  • fake burning
  • tingles
  • static
  • cold
  • tickles
  • pins and needles
  • one, solitary hair moving to tickle
  • rash sensation

 

Beyond this, I believe I’ve given you all I know about my skin.

Maybe.

I’ll let you know. 😉

endkevianaelliot

When Shattered – Phones and Other Things

Phone – My I.T. Girl opinion? I was stupid. I loved how the iPhone felt outside of its case. So that’s how I carried it around. One day, I have it on the dryer while I’m messing with laundry. Then I bumped it. Down to the tile it crashes. As soon as it hit: glass crackage. Right around the camera on the back. My soul let out a scream. I knew better and yet I shattered my phone. The only thing I could do was put it in an Otter Box to cover the glass splinters.

Strawberry Jam – My grasp on the small strawberry jam jar slipped. It may not seem like a big deal, but I love strawberry jam. And we were about out of its goodness. Almost out. (Like, all the household toast is about to cry.) BANG! The jar hit the tile on the bottom corner and then… Shatter shards allllll over the kitchen floor. At that point, you can’t eat it, even though part of the jar is sticking together thanks to the last bit of jam. No, no, no, it’s gone. Done. Sorry, toast, you’re left with butter alone.

Relationships – My INFJ ways are to let things sit while they are good. Then, once they aren’t, decide what to remedy and what to let fail. Unfortunately, I’ve always done this with people (and to this day fight to freaking. stop. it.) It starts with a friend going silent. Sometimes maybe I caused that. Then something doesn’t feel right, good, or nice about the relationship. Too late, I see the shattering, between them and I. A delayed gut-punch. All that’s left to wonder is, will friendship glue fix it, or am I too late? Usually, yes. I’m too late.

Feelings – Life happens. Someone dies. Hurt flares. Expectations are dashed. Pain of an argument that goes on and on, stretching the heart pain on for longer than a month. Peace is hard to hold within, because the “owie” overrides everything. Shattered insides much? All have been there. You might be reading this pointing at your own shatteredness in solidarity.

I get you.

A shattering can happen with anything, anytime. Job expectations. Kid expectations. Marriage expectations. Life expectations.

No one gets away unscathed.

My question is:

Who do we take our shattered parts to? Who really cares?

Does anyone really care?

I’m going to whisper this next part, because sometimes blog voices can get tart and snappish, and I’m not wanting that.

*whispers* 

I looked for answers. I really did. But I only found one who really cares.

Also is the only one can fix it: Jesus Christ of Nazareth.

Over and over I take the busted stuff in my life to Him, because I am surrendered to Him being the “fixer” in my life. He stood next to me when it happened, and He isn’t upset or mad.* He just wants to be trusted to help. He wants to be trusted to soothe. And He wants to be trusted as the One who never leaves.

He’s never been unfaithful to me. Because, yeah. Stuff shatters.

 

 

*Theologically, Jesus is in heaven after ascending to the Father and the Holy Spirit replaced Him on the earth, so God can still be lovingly with us, for those that care to invite Him in. Triune God = 3 in 1. If you have questions, first read the Book of John and the Book of Acts. Forgive the people that wear the name “Christian”… we are all busted and need our Savior. But He isn’t human. We mess up this Christian walk. He didn’t fail us. He’s perfect, so yeah. He “stood” next to me by the Holy Spirit within me; the Holy Spirit is my direct line to Jesus and God the Father, so artistic liberties on how I displayed it.

endkevianaelliot

Orchid Photos

Today a friend and I ate together at a luxury grocer cafe. Catching up proved lovely. Then we moved on to shopping.

We bought Rosemary ham from the deli (thin sandwich slices), ogled the baked goods and homemade marshmallows, browsed exotic honey, and smelled 14 specialty bath bombs. Insert huge thank-you to my similarly-bath-loving friend for purchasing the pink bath bomb for me—I can’t wait to use it!

She found kitchen towels that were on sale. I resisted the urge to buy three orchids. Resisted with all my might.

However, I whipped out my camera and had a few moments in the narrow walkway.

The orchids were gorgeous, and I had to stop and stare.

Please enjoy!

Accepted Prompt: Breath of the Wild

The leader of my church group for writers posted the above picture as a “visual word prompt” for us and this was my ensuing drabble. Enjoy.

The pain of the dimensional-jump wore off over the next 48-hours, but the pain of the memories didn’t.

The strange new world he’d been kidnapped to needed saving—per the lengthy explanations of his captors— and he was the prophesied reluctant Hero from the Land of Hyrule. So the sooner they equipped him, the better.

But as the days and weeks went on, his despair deepened, puzzling him.

All he could think of was her. Her golden hair. Her lilty laugh. Her ongoing plan to rebuild Hyrule after Calamity Gannon had been extinguished.

Her crown would allow her to appoint another hero in his absence, but he hadn’t had a chance to tell her good-bye…

Somehow, he felt this would be what tormented her the most of his disappearance. That is, if he never found a way home.

His sleep consisted of repeating dreams of him climbing the steepest cliffs of Hyrule to the sound of the ocarina, his climbing shoes slipping more than usual, nearly falling, again and again. Every night.

His waking hours were divided between fighting monsters for his captors and flashbacks of saving Hyrule by following the clues the Princess left.

Like a broken timepiece, his mind had no direction without the goal of her. Her plan. Her needs. Her ideas. Everything he strove for before, lost in another realm, another timeframe.

The only items that remained with him from home were his trusty knife—excellently balanced— and the seeds Zelda had told him to hold until they returned to their manor. She planned to run experiments with the rare seeds. Now he treated both like the most valuable items he’d ever held; just like…

Her.

Zelda.

He could hear her saying his name still. The way she did when she begged him to remember who he was. That exact same way.

“Link.”

endkevianaelliot

 

Gratitude Series 04

The focus of this Gratitude Series is simple. I’m turning gratefulness and thankfulness over in my mind and heart, seeing what shakes loose. If you start a Gratitude Series, please let me know on my Facebook Author Page so I can visit it. Carry on.

Thoughts have brought me to the starting and ending places I find myself staring at.

I have lived through a lot…

My sisters being born. My Abuela’s death. A college friend taking his life. The aging of respected elders. The death of a writer friend, who left behind books unpublished. Miscarriages, amid a sea friends having children and raising children…

The cycle of life and death never ends. And it shan’t, until the Great Creator deems it will.

But I see it now. I can be grateful and thankful for this cycle.

I express gratitude over life on Earth.

I express gratitude over death portals. (Death portals is just a nice way to say the spirit departing a person, as is the order of things now until the next age.)

I express gratitude that Yeshua* took the keys of Death and Hell in fair exchange.

When I saw him, I fell at his feet like a dead man. He laid his right hand on me and said, “Don’t be afraid. I am the First and the Last, and the Living One. I was dead, but look ​— ​I am alive forever and ever, and I hold the keys of death and Hades.

Revelation 1:17-18 (Bible reference in the Christian Standard Bible version)

I express gratitude that Yeshua* is the Path to Life.

Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me, even if he dies, will live.

John 11:25 (Bible reference in the Christian Standard Bible version)

Jesus told him, “I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.”

John 14:6 (Bible reference in the Christian Standard Bible version)

I express gratitude that in these things, I can rest, I can be at peace. One bigger than myself, bigger than all this, handles these things that I can’t control.

And for that, I can smile and say thank you.

 

 

*Yeshua is Christ Jesus’ Hebrew name.

 

Gratitude Series 03

The focus of this Gratitude Series is simple. I’m turning gratefulness and thankfulness over in my mind and heart, seeing what shakes loose. If you start a Gratitude Series, please let me know on my Facebook Author Page so I can visit it. Carry on.

This isn’t much of a thing, but I think it needs to be addressed… I am in love with our Keurig.

The fact that I’m able to make a hot cup of water or hot cup of coffee almost instantly has revolutionized my Working Day and my home life.

I am so incredibly grateful for this little invention and I’m so glad that it exists at this day, and at this time, in Year 2019.

That is all.