As usual, theres a long story behind this post..
Part A:
Last October I was super sad one night (a dumb boy dumped me pretty ceremoniously and I was devastated (well, my ego was)) and was laying in bed before going to sleep just kind of meditating on what had happened as I was completely blindsided and wondering if I was ever going to not be fooled by ‘love’ (and mortally embarrassed). I was half praying/half falling asleep so I made one last prayer asking for a verse to settle my mind, just something little (literary Xanax) to calm me.
I haphazardly opened my Bible to Jeremiah. 31
I know. Jeremiah.
I was like “ok, whatever God, Jeremiah it is, I guess.
However, I’d opened to chapter 31 and began reading. For some reason, verse 3 struck me. So I woke up a little and read another verse. Soon, I was sitting upright and wide awake.
This chapter was completely speaking to me. Literally, I felt like this was my promise – straight from God himself. I credit that to the quick recovery of my sensitive, naïve, never-gonna-learn-are-ya-? heart.
With a then recent renewed interest in “Godness” I shared this revelation with (well, anyone who would listen, as I was still in shock that this had happened) Ashley in particular. That’d be my sweet baby sister Ashley.
Months went by and life went by: my birthday came and I received a darling painting by her with her interpretation of verse _ which is “She will once again dance”. Because this verse had been one of the ‘stitches’ that mended my heart, I loved the painting, but more importantly, I loved that this was Ashley’s version of it and I liked it better than the verse. The fact that she took into account how precious this chapter was to me and made me a painting was beyond priceless (not possible, thus an oxymoron, sorry)
Part A:
Last October I was super sad one night (a dumb boy dumped me pretty ceremoniously and I was devastated (well, my ego was)) and was laying in bed before going to sleep just kind of meditating on what had happened as I was completely blindsided and wondering if I was ever going to not be fooled by ‘love’ (and mortally embarrassed). I was half praying/half falling asleep so I made one last prayer asking for a verse to settle my mind, just something little (literary Xanax) to calm me.
I haphazardly opened my Bible to Jeremiah. 31
I know. Jeremiah.
I was like “ok, whatever God, Jeremiah it is, I guess.
However, I’d opened to chapter 31 and began reading. For some reason, verse 3 struck me. So I woke up a little and read another verse. Soon, I was sitting upright and wide awake.
This chapter was completely speaking to me. Literally, I felt like this was my promise – straight from God himself. I credit that to the quick recovery of my sensitive, naïve, never-gonna-learn-are-ya-? heart.
With a then recent renewed interest in “Godness” I shared this revelation with (well, anyone who would listen, as I was still in shock that this had happened) Ashley in particular. That’d be my sweet baby sister Ashley.
Months went by and life went by: my birthday came and I received a darling painting by her with her interpretation of verse _ which is “She will once again dance”. Because this verse had been one of the ‘stitches’ that mended my heart, I loved the painting, but more importantly, I loved that this was Ashley’s version of it and I liked it better than the verse. The fact that she took into account how precious this chapter was to me and made me a painting was beyond priceless (not possible, thus an oxymoron, sorry)
Part B:
I’d wanted a tattoo for some time now, but since its foreverness, you have to be pretty sure you want this and pretty sure of what you’re getting inked on your body. Now, in NS, if you have a tattoo, you’re a bit of a bad-ass, a bit edgy and a have a bit of rebellious blood in you. But out here, no tattoo is the new tattoo. Everyone has them. I know a guy that has a verse in Matthew on the inside of his bicep, paired with skulls on the other side of his arm and this guy is salt of the earth, a missionary in Sudan, rebuilding churches that were destroyed by Muslims. Haha – when I first met him and his friends, who are all tatted up with verses and crosses , I was like “wow – christians with tattoos’ groovy!
I’d wanted a tattoo for some time now, but since its foreverness, you have to be pretty sure you want this and pretty sure of what you’re getting inked on your body. Now, in NS, if you have a tattoo, you’re a bit of a bad-ass, a bit edgy and a have a bit of rebellious blood in you. But out here, no tattoo is the new tattoo. Everyone has them. I know a guy that has a verse in Matthew on the inside of his bicep, paired with skulls on the other side of his arm and this guy is salt of the earth, a missionary in Sudan, rebuilding churches that were destroyed by Muslims. Haha – when I first met him and his friends, who are all tatted up with verses and crosses , I was like “wow – christians with tattoos’ groovy!
Last year, I had a consultation with a well known and well respected artist and I was going to get a cross (deep purple) on the inside of my wrist with ‘be still’ written under it. But I lost my job and didn’t think it was wise to get it when I didn’t know my financial future (it was only $100, but still) And over the winter, I became so disillusioned and bitter that I’d been super mad if in my daily fury if I’d have to look at my wrist and see be still! Lol. Like someone telling you to calm down when you’re upset … But since I’ve been looking at the painting everyday all year and through this pain and on the days I wanted to give up, somewhere deep inside I believed God’s promise to me on that late night last October that I was going to be ok and that, indeed, I would once again dance.
So, I decided that now was the time. I’ll be eating in a lot this month, and no dips into Urban Barn to see whats on sale to put on my plain little apt walls. I made the consultation appointment again and this time, I was going to go through with it. So I saddled up on Wednesday and sat through about an hour of the worst pain I’ve ever experienced in my life.
Bony foot bones = stupid pain.
The letters weren’t so bad, but the stem of the flower was b-r-u-t-al. my thighs have little round bruise marks from me digging my hands into them. He told me not to move. So I didn’t. I was sweating like a pig, breathing very (VERY) deep breaths, and almost passed out once. He stopped a few times for me, but was very impressed with how tough I was. (heehee – guess (as Dad would say) he didn’t know he was dealing with a tough MacKinnon gal from Cape Breton??)
It was bandaged for a few hours so I couldn’t see it. Then i was laying in bed that night and I freaking panicked. Full on “WHAT HAVE I DONE”. This is FOREVER. More forever than anything else out there. It only lasted a minute because have wanted this for months, it wasn’t a spontaneous move and I love what it represents. It s a promise straight from upstairs that while I literally dance like a white girl from Nova Scotia, figuratively, I will dance, even though theres going to be times where I’ll be ‘sitting this one out’. And since I won’t always have Ashley’s painting, my promise, on my person, I have this.
Forever. (did I mention that J)
The flower was drawn by me – its my doodle – always and has been for years, and thought it was a good match.
So, I decided that now was the time. I’ll be eating in a lot this month, and no dips into Urban Barn to see whats on sale to put on my plain little apt walls. I made the consultation appointment again and this time, I was going to go through with it. So I saddled up on Wednesday and sat through about an hour of the worst pain I’ve ever experienced in my life.
Bony foot bones = stupid pain.
The letters weren’t so bad, but the stem of the flower was b-r-u-t-al. my thighs have little round bruise marks from me digging my hands into them. He told me not to move. So I didn’t. I was sweating like a pig, breathing very (VERY) deep breaths, and almost passed out once. He stopped a few times for me, but was very impressed with how tough I was. (heehee – guess (as Dad would say) he didn’t know he was dealing with a tough MacKinnon gal from Cape Breton??)
It was bandaged for a few hours so I couldn’t see it. Then i was laying in bed that night and I freaking panicked. Full on “WHAT HAVE I DONE”. This is FOREVER. More forever than anything else out there. It only lasted a minute because have wanted this for months, it wasn’t a spontaneous move and I love what it represents. It s a promise straight from upstairs that while I literally dance like a white girl from Nova Scotia, figuratively, I will dance, even though theres going to be times where I’ll be ‘sitting this one out’. And since I won’t always have Ashley’s painting, my promise, on my person, I have this.
Forever. (did I mention that J)
The flower was drawn by me – its my doodle – always and has been for years, and thought it was a good match.
Moments before:
Shortly after:
Still shortly after:
Finished product - ready to face the world: (pardon the quality - its my blackberry)
And feel free to discuss amongst yourselves the obvious mistake this well known artist made ... i am aware and am presently deciding on how to deal with it.
Peace Out -
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