And grace is amazing.

I was talking to a friend the other day who is struggling with something in his life. He had made some mistakes and now was left with the broken pieces, I had warned him of the consequences many times, but until now he didn't believe me. 

At the beginning of our conversation, I wasn't being sensitive to his feelings at all. I was judging him. It wasn't until near the end that it hit me. We all do things that we aren't proud of. I've done things I'm not proud of. I've been left to pick up the pieces, knowing full well that it was entirely my fault. I had been warned by loving family and friends and I had not listen. And who was there to fix my broken heart/life? CHRIST. Christ. Because His grace is amazing. Right then, I wrote to him, Yeah, we all make mistakes, we all say/do things we aren't proud of. We all hurt each other. But guess what? If you can forgive, you can live. And grace, grace is amazing. 

Christ having grace on us, should compell us to give grace to others. I gave grace to him that day. I showed him the grace of God. He has a long way left to go. He needs to ask many for forgiveness. He needs to forgive himself. And through the grace of Christ he can do it, because grace is amazing. 

God makes great things out of broken people. 

June 29th, 2013

Today, my sister Jennaea married her fiancé Benjamin. I have a new brother, I am so excited! The wedding was loads of work but also loads of fun. I was a bridesmaid. The wedding was absolutely beautiful. The photographer took much better pictures but I want to share a few of my own. :) 

My beautiful sister in her lovely dress. I am so glad I got this shot of her laughing. :) 

The groom and I waiting for our turn for pictures. My new bro!

One of my best friends and I cleaning up after the wedding. :) she was also a bridesmaid. 

The bride and I! 

My favorite picture of the two of them. The silly dorks are so happy with each other. :D 

These are the words.

Reminiscing tonight... Thinking on words said and words left unsaid. 

I'm grateful for those words left unsaid. 

Have you ever looked back on a memory and realized that's where things fell apart? Where, when one thing was said that changed your whole point of view? Realizing that what they left unsaid, really is what they meant. 

These are the words that change you. 

These are the words that shape you. 

These are the words that save you. 

It's hard to say words when you need to say them. It's hard to say words when you know that they will change the way that person looks at you. It's hard to say words when you really mean them. 

"The flower is perfect and you are perfect. The timing just isn't perfect." 

-- May 27th, 2012 

Even an offhanded comment can change the way you see things. 

Why I love Summer.

I love summer because it brings people together. Everyone is better friends in the summer. I love to go to baseball games with friends on summer nights. I love to hang out at Sonic and laugh a lot, listening to the crickets sing. I love playing volleyball in the sand. I love driving in the car with the windows rolled down. I love staying in the pool all day. I love eating Popsicles for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I love summer group Sunday school class. I love summer sunsets. I love VBS. I love summer nights on the radio, singing as loud as I can. I love church on the lawn. 

That's why I love summer. 

My mom.

I have a lot of moms. 

But this one is special.

Mostly because she had me. 

But partly because I'm named after her and was born a day before her birthday. 

She gave me her strange sense of humor.

She gave me her insomnia. 

She gave me her need for words.

She gave me her middle name.

She gave me her impatience.

She gave me her love of people.

We don't always get along.

Because we both like to think that we're right.

But we both really love each other.

She always reminds me of how special I am and how much she wanted me. 

She is my best friend. 

I know that I can always trust her. 

Happy Birthday, Mom, I love you. 

So I have this dad.

So I have this dad.

He is thirty-four years older than me.

His favorite color is blue.

He was born on November 15th.

He loves Kelly Clarkson's music. 

We like to go to the store together, 

Especially when it's two am. 

He lets me tell him lame jokes, 

and he always laughs. 

He lets me tell him all my problems.

And asks whose parents he needs to call.

When I was little:

He tell me funny stories and sing me silly songs.

He'd tuck me in at night and whisper goodnight prayers.

I'm a lot like my dad.

We both have great music taste.

We both are crazy weird. 

We both like meeting new people.

We both talk a lot. 

I like my dad. 

I hope someday to find a man just like him.

Because he is an amazing man to be like.

Happy Father's Day daddy.

I love you.

I'll always be your little girl. 

I like how much God loves.

I like how God loves us even when we don't trust in His love.

I like how He keeps holding our hand after we've already let go.

I like how when He's there, it's safe to say that you aren't okay. 

How it's safe to break. 

How it's safe to be scared.

Cuz you know how much He loves you.

I like how God gives us promises in His word, so we know that we'll survive this.

I like how God sent His Son to die for our sins. 

I like how God forgives our oh, so stupid mistakes. 

I like how God lets us make our own bad choices, but helps us pick up the pieces.

I like how much God loves. 

I like how much God loves the world. 

I like how much God loves ME. 

I like how much God loves. 

YOU ARE THE BEST FATHER. 

I don't love you nearly enough. 

Grief is a house.

Grief is a house.

Where the chairs have forgotten how to hold us, 

The mirrors how to reflect us, 

The walls how to contain us.

Grief is a house.

That disappears each time someone knocks at the door or rings the bell. 

A house that blows into the air at the slightest gust,

That buried itself deep in the ground while everyone is sleeping. 

Grief is a house.

Where no one can protect you,

Where the younger sister will grow older than the older one,

Where the doors no longer let you in or out. 

Grief is a house. 

  

Kelly Leigh Weber: 

1-15-79 -- 6-2-13