4 Thoughts on Cultivating an Appetite for God

We (Christians) often talk about desiring God’s Word and God’s will and God’s glory and God’s blessings and God’s work and bunch of other things of God, and all those are good things, the best things, actually. Yet frankly, wanting the things of God is meaningless without wanting God Himself.

So let’s talk about cultivating an appetite for God Himself because so often I’m too distracted to chase, not the things He does or says, but simply (yet not at all simply) Him, God, Yahweh.

 

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Why crave God?

What’s the difference between yearning for the things of God and yearning for God Himself? Is there a difference?

They’re entangled, feeding into each other at different times, but they are not the same. God is a Person, not a thing, and the things of God are just that—things, not God. And the things of God do not satisfy the soul. They don’t fill up the cracks and crannies and canyons of the soul. They do not fill the soul to overflowing, to bursting; God does that. God satisfies and floods to the point of brimming and spilling over, and it is God, who crafted the soul, who can truly meet all its needs and longings. So that’s why we must go after an appetite for God—because in Him is the fullness of joy.

The appetite.

Perhaps it goes without saying, but I’m going to say it just to be clear: you and I cannot make ourselves hungry for God. There’s nothing we can do on our own to work ourselves into a true, salivating, soul-rumbling hunger for God. As it is with all things, we must first ask God to open us up to it, ask Him to give us what we cannot get on our own: an appetite for Himself.

This is not a “step” to breeze over because of its plainness or elementary nature; without this, the rest falls to pieces. Appetite is not based solely on craving, but instead craving and simple need are knotted together, and out of that comes the hunger. Thus, recognizing the base need and bringing it before God in spirit and in truth is where this all begins. So don’t skip this part.

Second, I think we need to return to wonder. I’ve been in church since the womb, and I get quite comfortable with God, used to Him (or, at least, I’m used to my idea of Him). God can seem stale to me, and I don’t think I’m alone in this. I’m hardly amazed by God, not because He isn’t amazing but because I’ve lost wonder.

Let’s take something that seems so simple, something I’ve sung since before I can remember, something I careen past unthinking, unfeeling every day: “Jesus loves me this I know.”

Take a moment and think. Jesus loves me. Jesus loves you. Consider who, what Jesus is—the image of the invisible God; the One by whom, for whom, and through whom the universe was created and is held together; the second person in the triune Godhead; the One so holy that it’s shouted back and forth in heaven and again and again and again, “Holy, holy, holy!”; the One who is so much beyond us, before us, that we can’t hope to express it. And this is a short, basic version.

Now, consider who you are, what you are—dust on a pale blue dot suspended in a universe wider and wilder than our minds can fathom. Now, not paying any attention to the things you and I have said and done, let’s go straight for the jugular: the things we think and feel. Varying degrees of indifference to God because He isn’t us. Varying degrees of disgust for others because they aren’t us. Not-really-varying-degrees of love for ourselves because we are us.

I’m an incredibly self-absorbed creature; so much of the time, I think of the world (and scarier yet—God) in relation to me, how I think things should be done, how it affects me, how other people make me feel, everyone else’s flaws, all my virtues. My world is me. My universe is me. (And remember, this is the short, blurry version because I can hardly bear to think about, much less write about, the seemingly endless, excruciatingly specific list of ugly things in me.)

Now, let’s put the two together. Jesus loves me. And since He’s the omniscient God, He knows all about that seemingly endless list of ugly things with more clarity than I can dream of and shudder to think of. And since He’s the Most Holy One, in my twisted, fallen, hideous state, I am an affront to Him, an offense to His awesome purity. Yet, He has decided to love me, has swept all that away, has given me His purity, His goodness, His righteousness, His holiness so that I might regain what was lost in Eden—the chance to come spotless before God and offer worship.

So that’s what I mean when I say that an appetite for God means recapturing wonder, and wonder is found in stillness and thinking. It’s been said that when you think about something for any lengthy bit of time, you can’t help but find wonder in it. So take time to wonder at and in God, to be broken and weeping at what you see in yourself and to be trembling and gasping at what you see of God. Seeing God with wonder, seeing Him as He really is, cuts open this profound need to see Him more. So we ask Him to graciously show us Himself, and then we take time to be wonderstruck.

Third, look for someone(s)—living or dead—whose appetite for God is/was worth emulating. And then emulate it.

For me, that’s the Psalmists (especially David), my brothers (Caleb and Luke), and A.W. Tozer.  See what they’ve done (or are doing) that compels them to want God so badly, and do it yourself. For me, it’s been reading Scripture, talking with my brothers, watching my brothers in their lives, reading good books, reading the Psalms aloud, and hearty, honest prayer.

Lastly, we have to eradicate the things—anything—that dulls our appetite for God, remove anything else that would slake our hunger and thirst (because we’re always hungry and thirsty for something; it just varies on what we fill up on). Locate the junk food in your life and cut it out. This can really be anything. Some will be sin, the obvious ones to get the axe. Slander. Fits of anger. Pornography. Gluttony. Lying. Slothfulness. Whatever it is, it needs to go. And then there are the less obvious ones, the ones that aren’t wrong per ce, but they also aren’t helpful (the whole lawful vs. helpful business). If it’s not increasing your appetite for God, it’s curbing your craving for Him. Whatever it/they is/are, we have to ruthlessly cut it/them out.

The paradox of it all.

God fulfills us, yet we can never get enough of Him. A voraciously hungry soul is fed beyond all contentment, yet is never satisfied. It’s absurd, enigmatic, too puzzling for me to actually understand, but I’ve found it to be true myself. A. W. Tozer puts it like this: “To have found God and still pursue Him is the soul’s paradox of love.”

The end of the matter (or rather, the end of this post).

An appetite for God doesn’t come about overnight (much to my dismay), but when it comes, it comes in intense hunger pangs because once the living God reveals Himself to a craving soul, even just a sliver of who He is, all that can be done is to lurch after Him, gasping, searching, crying out “More!”.

 “O God, You are my God; earnestly I seek You; my soul thirsts for You; my flesh faints for You, as in a dry and weary land where there is no water.” – Psalm 63:1-2.

What do you think? Any suggestions to add for cultivating an appetite for God? Where is your appetite?

With love,

Rosalie

P.S. – the topic of this post was decided by the lovely people over on Twitter. Thanks for voting for your favorite topic, Twitter peeps! I could not decide for the life of me.

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Mastered by Nothing [a beginner’s guide to self-control] [written by a beginner]

A couple weeks ago in my post about writing and its negative potency in my life, I talked very briefly on the idea of being mastered by everything but Jesus. Well, today, I’m digging into the idea and worthy goal of being mastered by nothing but Jesus.

So let’s roll up our sleeves and get going.

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“All things are lawful for me,” but not all things are helpful. “All things are lawful for me,” but I will not be dominated by anything. – 1 Corinthians 6:12

At the core of this post is I Corinthians 6:12, and at the heart of 1 Corinthians 6:12 is self-control. Originally, this verse was specifically about self-control in the area of sexual sin, which is important to remember, however, I think there is much to be gleaned here regarding self-control in all areas of life.

As Christians, we have great freedom because of the liberty Christ bought for us with His blood (literally, He paid for every angle of our freedom as Christians with His blood; the more I think about it the wilder and more wondrous I realize it is. So don’t breeze over the truth of the high cost of our freedom.).

Not only are we free from bondage to sin and spiritual death in this life and the next (a thrilling and freeing truth by itself), we are also free from the need of a temple to offer sacrifice in because Jesus was the last sacrifice. We are free from the need of a priest to mediate between us and God because Jesus is our high priest. We’re free from every rule and ritual of the Law because Jesus fulfilled the Law.

We are free to do anything, but not everything will help us be like Christ. We are free to do anything, but we are not to be slaves to anything but Christ. What I mean when I say that we’re free to do anything is that we are able to do anything because the grace of God doesn’t ever end and will never be used up, so we are “allowed” to do anything. However, doing absolutely anything is an abuse of grace. Paul says in Romans 6: “What shall we say then? Are we to continue in sin that grace may abound? By no means! How can we who died to sin still live in it?”

So, let me say it again: under grace, all things are lawful because the Law is fulfilled and ended in Christ, but just because we can do it doesn’t mean we should. Under grace, all things are lawful because Christ set us free from the rule of the Law, but we are not to be controlled by anything. I think that’s the gist of 1 Corinthians 6:12.

Yet we so easily abuse our incredibly expensive, blood-bought freedom.

I misuse my liberty in a lot of different ways. I do things that are “allowed” but aren’t all that helpful, things that don’t spur me to be like Christ. I have habits and mindsets that aren’t forbidden but they’ve grown to a place where they rule me instead of living under my control. We can be mastered by host of different things, but I’ll just give a few examples.

I am mastered by my body when my alarm goes off and I hit snooze five times because I want more sleep and don’t have enough control to just get up (it’s a simple yet telling practice of the state of my self-discipline).

I am controlled by my cell phone when every little ding and blip and whistle has me tugging my phone out of my pocket and scrolling through notifications instead of devoting myself fully to the task at hand.

I am enslaved to my cravings and emotions when I breeze into the kitchen because my story just got rejected and I need some comfort food instead of dealing with rejection in a healthy, godly way.

I am dominated by my body when my hormones are on a warpath, and my anger comes lashing off my tongue.

I am mastered by my emotions when depression creeps up and drags me down into the mud, and instead of doing the work to haul through it, I wallow in it.

I am controlled by my aspirations when writing fills my thoughts, whips my emotions, and dictates my time use (see the post from a couple weeks ago).

And there are so many other things that so often end up controlling us: anxiety, money, sex, body-image, hobbies, possessions, ambitions, etc.; the list goes on and on.

And here’s the deal: sleep is necessary; sleep is good. But my body and however sleepy or tired it is should not rule me. My cell phone is good, but my cell phone should not control my attention. Food is necessary; food is good. Food is to be enjoyed and savored! But my desire for food for any reason should not master me. I have been created with hormones and emotions, and they do need to be processed. But that’s the things: I need to process my feelings, but my feelings should never process me.

I am free to sleep in and have a cell phone and eat yummy food and experience a full range of emotions, but not all those things are always helping my new nature slay my old one. I am free to sleep in and have a cell phone and eat yummy food and experience a full range of emotions, but none of them should ever control me.

So that leaves us with the problem of self-control. Self-control (or self-disciple or self-restraint) is one of those annoying things that’s far easier said (or written or read) than it is lived. So how can we make our bodies and emotions our servants instead of our masters?

Well, we can’t. This is the part that gets my pride all fluffed up, offended, and territorial because what in the world do you mean I can’t control myself?

Self-control isn’t a matter of self; it’s a matter of Spirit. Either we are controlled by whatever our personal vices are, or we are controlled by the Holy Spirit. There is no in between or part where we actually hold the reigns; we only get to decide who/what we’re going to pass the reigns to.

Self-control is one of the nine fruits of the Spirit mentioned in Galatians 5, and it’s one of eight attributes listed in 2 Peter 1. Both lists are like the process of sanctification in a nutshell. True believers will grow in these ways, but true growth is not a matter of willpower or work. Self-control is something to strive for, but we don’t get it overnight. It’s a process. And just like every other part of sanctification, it takes humility and time and intentionality and Spirit-reliance and daily, hourly, minutely gracious refillings of the Holy Spirit.

Recognizing that we can’t do it ourselves, that we’re still so weak, is the first step, and the next is faithful pursuit of knowing Christ and being like Christ. And then it’s a cycle of choosing to take those steps again and again and again.

In the everyday life, it looks like praying, “God, I can’t do this, but I want to because I want to be like You. I will run as hard and fast as I can to You, and I will trust that Your Holy Spirit will supply everything I lack to carve me into a better likeness of Your Son.” It looks like then asking in faith and expectation for opportunities to exercise self-control, to be shown where you need self-control, and prepare to be given lots of chances to practice self-control.

So, it is in being mastered by Jesus that we become mastered by nothing else.

Let’s drop a swanky bookend on this post.

As the title of states, this is only a beginner’s guide, and since it’s been written by a beginner, take it with a grain of salt and realize that this is barely even an introduction to self-control. For further reading on grace, sin, and self-control, I recommend Romans, 1 Corinthians, Proverbs, Ephesians, and this sermon from John Piper. (I’m recommending the whole books instead of specific verses because the fullness of the text is captured within its context, and the sermon from John Piper helped me write this post. Also, there’s a lot more to be found in Scripture about self-control; these are just the books I’ve been reading and ruminating over recently which spurred the writing of this post.)

Let’s chat it up. Anything to add? Do you struggle with self-control, or is there a different fruit of the Spirit/quality that you’re working on? What do you do to grow into the likeness of Christ?

With love,

Rosalie

P.S. – so, about the clickbait feature image of the Lego Loki in the tiny birdcage… well, I was racking my little brain about what I could photograph to capture the idea of self-control. I decided on the birdcage, and I was going to run with it and contrive some sort of decent explanation (like, we have to “cage our old nature” type thing; so brilliant, I know). But then I saw my little Lego Loki (curtesy of my Aunt Lis!), and then I was like: “Forget trying to make this picture relevant to the post or anything in life really. Some silliness is in order.”

And that’s how Lego Loki ended up in the tiny birdcage on Penprints.

I’m a cat, but no one believes me [a guest post by my golden retriever]

Rosalie’s been unable to think of a blog post, so she’s recruited me to write one for her instead. I would be honored if I actually thought that anyone was reading this piece of crud blog, but no one wants to read the ramblings of a eighteen-going-on-nineteen angsty writer. I know this to be true since she inflicts her angst in soliloquy form on me at least daily.

 

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My name is Levi.

The truth is, I’m a cat, and no one believes me.

By birth, I’m a full-blooded golden retriever, and everyone expects me to be happy and gushy and drooly and lovey just like all the other idiot dogs. But I’m a cat. I don’t do happy. I don’t do gushy. I only sometimes do drooly. And without a doubt, I don’t love anyone.

(Except Mom. Sometimes I love Mom. And my rubber duckie. My rubber duckie’s pretty amazing, as far as that sort of thing goes.)

My fellow inmates—the German shepherds—wake at 4:00 every morning with their stupid bat ears up and rotating like they think they have some sort of sonar while they prance and dance. Indie’s not so bad. I would murder Bear, if I could.

The family makes me go outside when they first wake me up at 8:00 and then again sometime in the afternoon and then again before bed, even in the winter. I don’t know why they don’t just get me a litter box so that I never have to set paw outside again in my life. The German shepherds, of course, are fanatics about the out of doors and insist on being let out at least five times a day. If I lay still enough, I can pretend to still be asleep or blend in with the floor to avoid being made to go outside. The family sometimes makes me go outside anyway; they don’t love me.

The family itself is a trial.

They talk to me as if I would actually care to listen in that witless baby voice. They only feed me twice a day and inflict a wild-caught salmon food on me because they’re certain I have skin allergies that make all my hair fall out if I eat anything else. At first, I thought a simple hunger strike would break them of this foolish thinking, but after four days of refusing to eat, I nearly lost my sanity and realized that the bipeds are stupid or heartless or both.

As mentioned before, they force me outside when I don’t want to go outside. My ideal time for going out of doors is between In Your Dreams and Never. I have communicated this time and time again by employing the I-Hate-You Glare whenever they speak of the out of doors. Yet they make me go outside anyway.

When I’ve shoved a toy somewhere I can’t reach, I’m forced to bark for sometimes up to three minutes before one of the bipeds will haul their carcass over to fetch me my toy. And then they have the gall—THE GALL—to ask me to sit and take the toy gently.

And if I want to lick all the fur off my front legs, I sure as a rubber duckie better be allowed to lick myself bald.

My primary modes of expressing my displeasure to the family are: the Glare, the Side-long Glare, the I-Hate-You Glare, the I-Hate-You-ALL Glare, the Stupid Bipeds Glare, and the I-Refuse-To-Even-Look-At-You-Right-Now Glare.

The only blip of light in this wasteland is the other cat, the Grahamling, who I can occasionally interact with. However, the Grahamling is a barn cat, and thus, I must venture out of doors if I wish to see him.

Life as a cat trapped in the body of a golden retriever is difficult. I “fake it” for the visitors that come to the house because I hope they will rescue me from this intolerable existence, but, alas, they do not. I hope to one day soon escape and find a home where I will be treated like the cat I am.

If there is anyone reading this piece of crud blog, hear my plea.

With extreme moodiness,

Levi, the-golden-retriever-but-actually-I’m-a-cat


Well.

So that was Levi.  Thank you, Levi….?

Do you have any pets? Do they have any funky quirks?

With love,

Rosalie

P.S. – who here wants to bet that I couldn’t figure out what to blog about yesterday?

P.P.S. – I promise “serious” posts will return to Penprints sometime in the future. Or maybe they won’t, I just can’t say.

A Tour of My Bullet Journal [the epic conclusion]

First, some housekeeping.

To those of you who have been wondering where I’ve been the last two weeks, you should give my Facebook page a like because that’s where all the Penprints PSA stuff goes up.

NOW. My Bullet Journal.

In past posts, I’ve spoken of why I love The Way of the Bullet Journal. Then, I showed you The Way of the Bullet Journal so you could begin life anew start your own Bullet Journal. And today, at long last, I’m taking you on an ultra secret (okay, this is the internet, so it’s not a secret, but whatevs) picture tour of my own Bullet Journal to conclude this thrilling Bullet Journal trilogy.

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So, let’s begin.

My Bullet Journal is a chunky little dude I picked up at Staples at the end of last year. It’s split into three sections: lined, grid, and blank. I used up the lined part for January to May and tried to use the grid but HATED THE GRID WITH A PASSION. So I migrated my essential collections and such to the third, blank section at the start of June and have been there ever since.

The Basics: Index & Key.

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my little index

My poor little index is still pretty bare because I don’t log my daily/weekly spreads in it. I just put those in a lump of with all the other logs from that month (e.g. June logs: 7-33). Also, I haven’t added all my collections to it yet because… there’s actually no good reason I haven’t logged all my collections in my index.

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my little key

My key is also kind of bare, but I liked the idea of having a legend for all my little Bullet Journal signifiers (and I want to put a skeleton key doodle at the top of the page so it’s extra swanky).

(Also, these pages are kind of thin, so everything just looooooooooves to bleed through. So, be aware, there is some pretty awful bleeding in this tour. I’ll try to get a journal with thicker pages next time.)

Collections.

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2017 Goals

Goals for 2017 is my first collection, and I like to have it right after my key so that I can flip straight to it and review my goals for the year. A lot of purple exploded on this page because purple is sublime.

(Also, I have no delusions about my Bullet Journal–some of the pages look nice, and sometimes things go very very wrong with my handwriting, especially when I’m trying out new styles.)

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Summer Bucketlist and June welcome page

My summer bucketlist (aka: In Summer) is my only other collection at the front of my journal (that’s the welcome page for June adjacent to it, btw).

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elements of a monthly spread collection

The rest of my collections are in the very back of my journal so that they don’t get lost in the monthly logs. This over-the-top, flowy-arrow-thing collection is just a little reminder of what I like to put in my monthly spreads. I don’t use every element every month, but I like having a place to flip back to when I’m starting the month to consider my options.

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blogging “schedule”

I’m including this collection in this tour so that we can all be honest about the fact that I hardly plan for this blog except that if it’s gonna happen, by sweet goodness, it’s gonna happen on a Monday.

And it’s also a little heads up that November’s gonna be a postless month. Guys, please, don’t cry. It’s a long way off, and I’ll be posting every Monday (maybe) until then. I’ll probably start using pencil in this collection just because I change my plans seven hundred and twenty-two times every Sunday night.

As for other collections, I have a collection of children’s book ideas, birthdays of friends and families, flash fiction ideas, blog post ideas, reasons I love my Bullet Journal (is anyone here surprised?), and one of 30 day challenges.

Monthly Spreads.

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July welcome and writing logs

The first 3-6 pages of each month is where I set up my monthly spreads. Here, we have my welcome page on the left with a mini-calendar so that I can just see what days of the week fall on what dates, and after a day is over, I cross it off. Also, I record any momentous events that occur in the month in my welcome page (e.g. – when I signed a contract with Splickety Publishing Group for my flash fiction The Necklace, I logged that on my welcome page for March).

On the right, we have my writing logs for July (those are supposed to be little ink pots with little quill pens if anyone was wondering).

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July to-dos and habit former

Here are the other two pages of my July spread. On the left, there’s just events and tasks for the month.

On the right, it’s my version of a habit tracker; I call it a habit former (I’m so clever, guys). This is where I look back to my goals for 2017 and divide them into bite-sized chunks for the month. Each tiny box represents something; in Savings, each box is $50 put into my savings accounts; in Food Diary, each box represents a day I keep my food diary; under Herbs, each box represents one watering of my herbs; and so on and so forth. My monthly habit former is the main thing that keeps me (semi) on-track for my yearly goals.

Week-at-a-glance (aka: weekly spread).

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week-at-a-glance, feat: a Dutch door page yet to be turned

So here’s my week-at-a-glance spread. I start each week off with one of these. That little half page there, that’s my new love (we’ve only been together for about two weeks, but we’re going strong; I could see this turning into a long-term relationship). It’s called a Dutch door, and I use to list alllll my major tasks/unusual tasks for the week in the middle of my week-at-a-glance so that ALLLLLLLLLLLL my weekly stuffs are within a half page turn.

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week-at-a-glance, feat: a Dutch door page turning

Basically, to make a Dutch door, you just have to cut out half a page from your journal, and it’s kind of scary at first (you know who you are, sensitive, bookish, stationary people). But I love it.

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week-at-a-glance, feat: a Dutch door page having been turned

And here’s the other side of my week-at-a-glance. Basically, Dutch door = pure genius. ANYWAY, my week-at-a-glance is where I sort my tasks and events into their appropriate days and still have everything necessary for the week in one place.

Daily Spreads.

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The daily spread is where my Bullet Journal loses all its color and turns into a lean, mean, scheduling machine. This is where I sort out my daily tasks into a schedule that is completely flexible. Usually, I put the next day’s schedule together the night before, but if I can, I try to put the tasks into each day at the beginning of the week. SO, at the end of each day, I mark each box accordingly: completed (yay!), started/in process (eh), migrated to another day (there’s still hope!), or cancelled (*weeping*).

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I only do daily spreads for Monday through Friday because Sunday and Saturday are usually very fluid. And then under my Friday spread, I have a mini future log where I input tasks for the next week and beyond.

And that’s it, kids! That’s my Bullet Journal as of July 2017!


Do you have a Bullet Journal? If not, are you going to start one??? If so, what does your Bullet Journal look like?

With love,

Rosalie

P.S. – So this is the end of the thrilling Bullet Journal trilogy, but I’m pretty sure we all know that prequels and spin-offs and sequel series will be happening because it’s the Bullet Journal.

P.P.S. – We’re all going to really casually ignore the fact that the lovely pen vanished after the first two pictures. #oops

P.P.P.S. – I took these pictures at my favorite coffee shop while sipping some yummy chai.

Summer Bucket List 2017

By this time next week, it will be June. And June means summer. And summer means hot and sweat and sunburn and mosquitoes and also a bunch of other unsavory things. But it is also a time of magic and rest and blah, blah, blah (or so I’ve heard).

Full disclosure, I kind of really dislike summer, guys. I’m very partial to winter, in case you’d forgotten. In comparison to the pristine cold of winter, summer is a sweaty sock (read: no bueno). But, being the extremely mature human that I am (because it’s not childish at all to abhor a season) I have decided to make the most of summer and try to enjoy myself a little. So, I’ve put together a bucket list for Summer 2017.

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In no particular order….

– finish Draft Four of Beasts *internal screaming*.

– submit Beasts for its editorial review (lol, kill me now).

– reread The Out of Time Series by Nadine Brandes (shocker).

– submit another piece of flash fiction in hopes of publication.

– finish my study of the book of Isaiah (I’ve got 21 out of 66 chapters done).

– purge some of my things in an attempt to have less things and live more simply/less tied to this world.

– launch my newsletter *cue the applause*.

– stay up through one night to see the sunrise.

– take advantage of all the daylight by getting up earlier and making use of long days yet still get my body enough rest to function healthily (doing this well is like trying to bring balance to the force: it may only work in theory).

– keep a vegetable garden (I will be taking full advantage of all the garden-wisdom of my friend, Amanda–she’s like a garden ninja-queen who can grow thyme from seed, and also she introduced me to bullet journaling, and so there’s that too).

– make decisions on the Penprints redesign and implement them (yeah, we’re all just going to ignore that I mentioned this like two months ago and still haven’t done it).

– drink allllllllll the water because I love water and I love drinking water because water is life and water keeps me from totally dying in awful summer.

– reread Embracing Obscurity by Anonymous (this is a book I think I’ll have to reread every year).

– go the month of July without listening to music (this one may kill me, but I want to rediscover the beauty in silence and the sounds of life).

– submit a devotional somewhere (um, wut?).

– go a day without technology of any kind.

– get a hammock; nap and read and write in said hammock.

– wear henna.

– visit two different farmers’ markets.

– wear face paint (because I can).

– get a skateboard and try to skateboard without colliding with the ground or cars or other people.

– go on a retreat.

– try to make a Nepali dish (Nepali food = so. good.).

– make soap (also with my friend, Amanda).

– own my pale skin. (I’ve got some very strong European lines on both sides of the family, and the little bit of Cherokee that’s in the mix all seems to have gone to my brother, Luke, who can tan in three minutes flat. I, on the other hand, have all the pale, European genes that just burn. This year, though, I’m not going to try to get tan in any way–no sprays or lotions or unprotected time in the sun. This year, I’m owning that I’m pale and choosing be happy that super light skin is healthier for me than burned or slightly tanned skin. *overly long spiel ended*)

– wear sunscreen like it’s my job (^^ refer to the previous item^^).

And that’s all I’ve got for today, kids.

What about you? Any fun summer plans? Do you have a summer bucket list?

With love,

Rosalie <3

P.S. – there is no post script for this post *collective gasp*.