This poem always reminds me of springtime. And I love it.


Rainy Day
The day is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
The vine still clings to the moldering wall,
But at every gust the dead leaves fall,
And the day is dark and dreary.

My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
My thoughts still cling to the moldering Past,
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast
And the days are dark and dreary.

Be still, sad heart! and cease repining;
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life some rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary.

Things I'm currently into. . .

• These crazy prophetic moments that everyone's having
• Blue grass (the music, not odd colored grass)
• Candy (that ends tonight)
• Driving around Lakeland, and loving this city very deeply
• Random niche-y antique shops that are hiding all over the place 
• Falling asleep at 4 am in the morning (bad habits, I know) 
• Very large iced coffees 
• Any/everything with a wild west motif, it is rugged and dusty-ish and I love it
• Books circa the 1940's that explain things like how to enjoy literature or what to serve at cocktail parties--they're oddly applicable today 
• Procrastination. 
• This really cool ring I can't seem to take off. It has an owl on it. Enough said? 
• Road trip planning
• The Starbucks on Beacon, which has been seeing more of me than my dorm room
• Sporadic phone calls between my sister and I about life and weddings and singleness 
• Talking to people. Listening is becoming an enjoyment again
• Eating waffles on Saturday mornings. For the community, and the sugary syrup... 
• Andrew Bird, The Weepies and Local Natives are all making their rounds in my playlist more frequently again. Absence and fondness and all that
• Tea with friends, I've missed this for the past month 
• Court Ferracane and her love for pre-teens and deep conversation at erratic times
• And you! If you're reading this then you probably think I'm at least semi-interesting, which I appreciate. So thanks!

Sometimes there's too much to say, keeping you from saying anything at all.

There are quite a few. Writing. Style. Literature. Men. Cities. Music. I have used all of these to heavily dictate who I claim to be. My identifiers that in attempting to pronounce an identity over me completely suck out all signs of my true character. Not one of those things really defines me. I'm not that easily accessible, honestly.
But even despite knowing I can't be contained by an object or idea, I still allow these associations to be made. I still allow myself to be called "this" or "that", for the sake of just knowing who I am. But in this, I never truly figure that out.
Right this second Rebekah Renko is... the answer is in a perpetual state of change. As it should be. But maybe the transition doesn't always need to be so harsh.
I don't often take time to evaluate who I am at any given moment. I'm very easily influenced, and this has been the driving force to many of my identity crises. In relating to others and enjoying certain talents and likes, I allow myself to become boxed in and characterized by things that aren't fully me.
I'm created in God's image, conforming to His likeness.
That's all there should be. Everything else falls subordinate. It's when we forget what our initial image was modeled after that we fail to truly figure out who we are when conformed to the likeness of that thing.

            

The goal was New York City. Growing up, my family would see the Rockettes perform at Radio City Music Hall at Christmastime. I was terrified of the city, actually. I can remember the relief that surged through my veins as our car rolled away from the slums and under the tunnels, enveloping us under the cityscape that Woody Allen described as best being seen in black and white, showcasing a broken horizon with the twin buildings on our right. Something about this terror I felt toward the city grew in me a curiosity for it. Over time I realized my fear was for the mass of dejected denizens we passed, curled up in cardboard boxes with blankets of soggy newspaper. My fear was that these people would never know what life was really about, what it could be. But even more than that, it made me wonder if I knew what life was about, shielded in by the tinted windows of a warm, sans-newspaper vehicle. Through those windows I could see their eyes. They could see mine too. It was the loneliness in those people’s demoralized glances that scared me and constantly tore at me to return. For some reason I just always felt that if I were there with them maybe we’d all understand everything a little bit more. 

{photo credit: Walk In New York}

give it up

Do you ever just wake up in the morning and realize you're alive? I have an incredible life. He has given me everything I've ever wanted--really. And now I'm at a place in life where He's bringing back old desires, renewing them and allowing them to come alive within me.
I'm starting to see that if I don't sacrifice everything I want then He can't perfect these things in His own time, so that I can actually enjoy them one day. He never says, "Sacrifice every want and desire you have to me so I can completely obliterate each one and leave you with nothing." He wants us to enjoy our passions and desires, but in the most perfect way possible. After all, He created us with these desires and dreams. How much more do you think He wants to see them fulfilled?
The things I sacrificed when I was younger in order to gain a better picture of who I am in the Lord are being brought back to me, only now I can fully enjoy them because I have learned to fully enjoy the Hand that is providing them.
It's just a matter of putting our focus on God. We're in love with the good things of this world. But why wouldn't we want to be in love with the Giver of those good things, instead? All He asks is that we trust His sovereignty. And there really isn't any other way. We can't eternally enjoy something that hasn't been marked by His holy goodness.
We need to start realizing that we don't really sacrifice to lose. We sacrifice to gain.

wake up

When we’re young we see adults engaging in lives that seem so elegant and manicured. We place ourselves in their shoes and dream dreamers’ dreams of what it would be like to live within those moments also. But when those things actually begin happening to us we allow them to slip by without a turn of our head. It no longer becomes the fruition of what was once our longing. It simply becomes life.

There’s no resolution in that. There’s no living. Yeah, dreams are important to living, but rather than imaginative dreams, I want an imaginative life.