this one's for you, pops.

My father, my hero.


And the more I get to know him, the more I realize that I am so much like him.  There's no sweeter feeling than being 23, truly financially independent, and perpetually having $19 in the bank, only to find that a surprise $200 deposit has been made. 


Loved.  I am loved.  And I know it because of the presence and actions of my father.


Just now I got a phone call from my dad informing me of the happenings of his television series about Big Foot, and to tell me how glad he is that we talk as much as we do.


I could melt away in the complete sweetness of his words right now.
But it hasn't always been like this.


Somewhere about 2 years ago, I found myself not really knowing him at all.  This is all so ironic given that my earliest memories date back to moments where my dad chose me before anyone else in the world.


I'm not really sure how it happened.  "Life happened", as they say.  And as I grew up, and as my heart got broken, I pushed him away, played the blame game, and burned some of the only bridges I had with him.




Flash Forward: As my heart mended, I started to see things differently.  I started to see him differently. 


I found myself in a place of needing to know my father.  Needing to trust my father.  And as I said before, the more I got to know him, his quirk, his mannerisms, his hopes for the world, what he dreamed of, the more i saw myself in him.


Maybe that's why it was so easy to cut him off in the first place.  Because as someone who can feel so easily misunderstood, it was easy to just assume that he misunderstood me as well.  I'm sure he felt the same way, to an extent.



I'm starting to see with whole, new eyes though.  And that just wasn't the case.




The truth. My dad has given up so much for me.  He has preferred me, he has chosen me before himself. Faithfully. Without me ever really asking for it.  In the times of my most stubborn independence, he's stood by closely.  I've not always understood the methods to his love, and honestly they've driven me crazy more than once, but now I think I'm starting to get it.




My favorite thing that he's given me?


My unruly hair and my tender heart.
No one, no circumstance will ever be able to take that from me.




I find myself proud of my dad.  Proud of his journey, proud of where he's been, proud of where he's going, proud to call him mine. I'd never ever wish for another.  Now that I know his story, I'm convinced it needs to be shared with the world.


My father is a courageous man.











Where am i going with this?


Dads.  We need you.
Children and Friends, we need to be reconciled.






I, for one, couldn't fully love another until I learned to look into the eyes and love the ones closest to me (i.e. my parents, of course). I'm not sure I could fully be a woman until then.  Learning who my father really is, and what he is really like, has changed everything.  




Reconciliation.  To be Reconciled. "To restore friendly relations."



I think that our relationship with our parents give us filters for how we perceive the world, God, and ourselves.


These filters are, of course, redeemable, but they're at least worth examining first.




There is a great reaping of wisdom and life when we can understand how where we come from comprises the person that we are.


Inheritance.



Examine your heart. Examine your dad. Examine your filters.  Whatever you need to do to be reconciled, do it. 



You owe it to yourself. 

Your story probably won't be the same as mine.
But you owe it to yourself, in it's time, in your time, to face those demons. You'll be glad that you did, eventually.  




Courage is always, always, always worth it.  
Take it from my dad. :)

Let's talk.

-b.

23: reflections, hopes, and frosted farts.

Welcome to my world of birthday dreaming.  In case you were curious as to what types of things I think about on my birthday, what you're about to read is a pretty accurate summary.


Today (well, wednesday, november 23, really. when i actually wrote this post) I turn 23.  Birthday! Birthday diva.  This morning I woke up and heard this song singing in my heart. As per birthday tradition, I feel like today is going to be a reflection of really sweet, sweet moments.  And it's my deepest prayer that the Father would feel welcome to be a part of this day.  I want to hear him speak over this next year of my life.


It's 6:30 a.m. and I'm traveling to denver.  As always, I'm accompanied by Real Simple Magazine.  Talking to the lady next to me just now, I suddenly felt deeply this desire that I have to cook for another person.  I mean, cooking for me is cool, but there is something so full in taking care of others.  I love to do so.  It's not even that I want to be married or even dating right now, but i just have this deep desire to be hospitable. To have my own space, and to build a home. Just a thought.


Don't quote me on this, but i'm pretty sure that I'm the age of all of my childhood dreams.  When I was little, it was always "23, 23, 23..."  It was this age of epic beauty, in my small child, fluffy-haired mind, at least.


I don't know.  Maybe it will be a year of epic beauty.  Things can only get better.


I've great hope in this year and great hope in the One who breathed dreams into my chest.


I'm a creator.  And i need to be creating.  I decided that it's time for me to be actively doing the things That i love.  Period. :)


So. Here we go.


Year 23: Brought to you by the letter F. (Seriously, though).


Feasts. Family. Florence + the Machine. Fearlessness. Freedom. Flowers. Foodie-ing. Friends. Footie-pajamas. Frankfurt? Feist. Feistiness. Forts....


This list is going to continue.  But i'm telling you.  It's the one.


Here's to merry, merry, merry days, my friends.

to quench the creative dreams and incomplete thoughts.

october second.


hey fall. hey cold weather. hey endless and obnoxious facebook statuses covering my news feed about fall and warm things and hot tea and michael bublé.


all i really have to say is this:


over the past two months, i've written about three unpublished blog posts and crafted about a thousand other stories that i'd love to tell, however i read this tonight and really just wanted an excuse to blog about it..

"That is why we need to travel.  If we don't offer ourselves to the unknown, our senses dull. 

Our world becomes small and we lose our sense of wonder.  Our eyes don't lift to the horizon; 

our ears don't hear the sounds around us. The edge of off our experience, and we 

pass our days in a routine that is both comfortable and limiting.  We wake up one day 

and find that we have lost our dreams in order to protect our days" Kent Nerburn

pretty much the only thing my conversations have consisted of over the past few weeks have been dreams, creativity, and time. i am now in this big girl world, quickly realizing and desperately searching for a tangible way to sustain this lifestyle i desire--one of creativity, adventure, and of deep love.


so far during my short time as a working woman, i've reached a few conclusions. things are hard. life is hard. i mean, it doesn't have to be...but it becomes challenging the moment you decide to pursue your dreams. dreams don't just come easy, though i'd like to believe that they're well worth the challenge.


hm. and time. i have this funny time frame in my mind that my life is really only good for the next five years. i know, i know. i'm only 22. i have my whole life ahead of me. la la la la. i've heard it. trust me. and it's all true... "my life isn't over it's just beginning.." i know. i hear you. but i've got to find that out for myself.


ohhhh but time. it's so funny. and it's all just bittersweet. the funny thing about time is that you get out of it whatever you put into it.


and for me, i'm spending my time being fully committed to the now. but dreaming all the same.


wait. what?


i don't know if this is a fully completed thought yet. i'm going to stop.






i really just wanted an excuse to publish that quote and that photo. and i should have stopped there and let it stay elusive, kind of indie, and beautiful. i probably could have done without my 250ish words worth of nonsense.


but, that would just be too good, wouldn't it?


anyway. shalom in the home, world.


happy october.
-brooke.

love came down.

hey sweet friends.

So. As it seems, I haven't been as faithful of a blogger as I had once promised you all. This is my public apology. Moving along.

I'm currently starting week three of the post graduate life. Three weeks. Is this adulthood? Maybe. So far, my primary hobbies have consisted of:

1. sunbathing (when it's not raining)

2. coffee consumption

3. being willfully and happily unemployed

4. netflix

5. coffee consumption

6. planning adventures

7. buying dresses

8. learning patriotic songs on my ukulele

9. sunbathing (again, when it's not raining)

10. antics. lots, and lots of antics.

As you can see, I've been way busy. Too busy, in fact, to come up with a meaningful blog post. But my goodness, being done with college has been so great. Two days after I graduated I remember sitting in Espresso News for five hours and fretting over not being in college, being unemployed, lacking vision and passion, and having far too much time to spend. I remember feeling like having that amount of spare time meant that I truly had to deal with myself, and I wasn't quite ready for that. It was, in fact, the last thing I wanted to do. Oh how far I've come.

The last two months of college were really crazy. I had a lot on my plate and a lot of things to think about. So, like I do, I shut down. I refused to say goodbyes to people, I refused to clean my room, and I refused to make any sort of decisions about the future. I decided that I would drag my feet and not deal with reality until after graduation. In the process, I think that I stopped being myself for a while. It was hard for me, and hard for the people around me, I'm sure. So, if you're reading this and you stuck it out with me, thank you! We made it.

Anyway. I say all of the above for this reason. And it's a big reason. After months of practically not existing on this planet, and three weeks into the post graduate world, something in me has [finally] changed.

And I'm finally starting to feel like myself again.

Praise God. It's been months. I don't know what to do with myself. Sometime within the past three weeks my heart and my spirit stopped and took a huge deep breath of air. Fresh air. Just in time.

And guess what else? I'm finally excited about the future. I don't know what it is, but the Lord is doing a new thing. A new, completely necessary thing in me. I feel like I'm about to fall in love with Him all over again..or at least remember why I've fallen in love in the first place. So, it's good. Especially after months of being way tired and burnt out. If I've learned anything over the past few months, it's that the Lord is the only one who can remedy being tired and burnt out.

Again, Praise God. It's been months.

So.

Summer 2011, man. It's the summer of a lot of things. The summer of love, long hair, soul searching, and endless amounts of antics. The willful unemployment will [hopefully] end in July, praise God, so June is my month. What what!

Also, Monique finally moved in with me last night. As you may remember, Mo was my roommate in Spain. AND I went to Spain exactly one year ago today. Ha! Seriously, what a special day. I can't believe it's been a year. It's good to have a roommate again. And I'm so glad it's her. We love and understand each other like no other.

So thankful.

Yep. Viva post-graduate adulthood.

It's going to be good.

until next time, hopefully sooner than later,

-brooke.

ps. in case you need a sincere heart anthem: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ifeJRC5lvhs

also, i think this was a whiney post. sorry. i'm getting old. this is what happens.

Graduated.

Welp, I did it. Four years of college, and I've learned more about living than you'd think could fit into a life time.

But I still feel like I'm five years old.

My family came to visit this weekend to celebrate with me. When I drove away from my mom and dad after a mother's day breakfast, I cried. Despite my best efforts to be cool, I drove myself to church, sat in a corner, and cried.

So now, here I am. It's Monday. I've been sitting in a coffee shop for five hours now, next to the sunshine and an open window, alternating between planning a tropical vacation and writing this blog.

So. In the process I've finally resolved to do something. While I'm waiting on job things and adventures to begin, I'm going to blog again. So here we are. I'm blogging again for a few reasons. First, to keep myself from wallowing in the post-graduate depression that I feel creeping in, ever so slightly, and also because I need a continual reminder that I have something to look forward to. I need to convince and remind myself that ordinary life can be just as beautiful as an exotic adventure if I let it. I believe it to be true, but I need to live it.

So, I'm still the Spanish Romper that I was 12 months ago. I decided to leave the blog name, mostly because it's representative of adventure--whether here or abroad somewhere. So, here's to a summer and a life of adventure, no matter where on the earth I am. And here's to kicking down this door and intentionally starting my life, rather than just letting it happen to me.

And finally, here's to setting the creeping post-graduate depression on fire. I'm way too alive to be hopeless.

thanks for reading. i'll be back soon.

love sincerely,

iva brooke.

ps. Sorry for all of my run-on sentences. I promise that I am an all-A college grad.

for the record.

i am alive.

we didnt have any internet in italy which means no blogging, but that doesn't mean that i haven't been writing. i have, in fact, been writing. and i will share it soon.

i am in spain right now, we leave tomorrow for america. but im trying not to think of such things. for the record. madrid is crazy right now. so proud of my futbol boys.

love love love.

thunder thunder.

it's 5:06am. i leave marias home in about an hour, and i leave madrid in 4. i still haven't been to sleep.

i just said goodbye to periko about 30 minutes ago. it was hard. really hard.

it's thundering outside. it's the perfect sort of thunder, too. gentle but still strong.

instead of sleeping, i'm sitting. reading. waiting. and i read something from a poetry book that i was given last summer at the farm that my friend joy wrote. i want to share it. because it's absolutely perfect.

actually, before i came to spain, and when i was questioning whether or not i should come, we were talking about poetry in my small group. so i made everyone get up on a table and read something. i chose this poem, not even really thinking about it. and by the end of the poem, i was crying..in front of everyone..completely unexpected. but now i understand why. thanks, holy spirit.

under the spanish sun

her heart began to breathe

of legendary fairytales

and wildly tossed blue seas

under the spanish sun

her hope was brought to life

of paths that led through forests

and faintly lit dark nights

under the spanish sun

her dream was rising new

of undetermined footprints

and thoughts that danced in few

under the spanish sun

she loved herself again.

-joy collins.

(thanks joy. love you.)

adiossssss. :)

next time i write to you, i will be italian.

-brooke.