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Psalm 27

I find that I get scared really easily. I’m terrified of flying creatures, moving things with no legs and thoughts of drowning. I also cry instantly at the thought of losing things I love. These things scare the shit out of me. 

But there’s also a lot of little things that get me really scared. Quiet, seemingly harmless thoughts throughout the day can get me caught up in myself. It’s the little things that trigger me into fear. 

And if I’m brave enough to dig deep down to the why’s of my fear, it probably has something to do with me not being in control. Why do I get scared of conflict? Why do I get scared of someone else making the wrong decision? Why do I get scared of losing someone? Because it just proves, time and time again, that I am not in control. That there are things bigger than me, stronger than me, outside of my reach that I can never grasp. I am not the god of this world. 

Last night, I was scared. The night was dark, it rained. I was emotional, things were changing, life was moving. I found myself concentrating on the dark. I lost sight of the light that was to come. 

Today, though, today I found comfort. The sun rose, yet the clouds still loomed overhead. A new day to remember the darkness of the night, the rain of the past, but light, Light, that overcomes (overcame).

The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The Lord is the stronghold of my life; of whom shall I be afraid? 

Unbelief is gripping. It puts you in a place of unknowing. A dark corner, if you will. But I believe that I shall look upon the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living! Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord! 

One thing have I asked of the Lord that will I seek after: that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to gaze upon the beauty of the Lord and to inquire in his temple. 

Lord, let this be my prayer. 

"I wash my hands in innocence
and go around your altar, O Lord,
proclaiming thanksgiving aloud,
and telling all your wondrous deeds.
O Lord, I love the habitation of your house
and the place where your glory dwells."

~ Psalm 26: 6-8

(via wetheurban)


SPOTLIGHT: Food That Looks Like Iggy Azalea

Well Tumblr… you win once again. Can’t say we saw this one coming. 

One aesthetic-savvy Tumblr user has created a whole blog dedicated solely to matching images of Iggy Azalea to corresponding food. Because #art, right?

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(Source: suprchnk)

(via nbaoffseason)



Dmitry GombergAkrak Vazha (The Shepherd’s Way)

Artist’s statement: 

"This is a story about Tusheti - mountain region in the Republic of Georgia. Tusheti lies near the Chechen border and it is culturally closer to Chechens than to Georgians.

The story is about shepherds who travel every summer to their ancestors’ land Tusheti and than return to spend the winter at the bottom of the mountain. Twice a year they travel with their sheep through the pass in the Caucasus which is 3,000 meters high. 

I was staying and documenting life of the Shepherds in the Caucasus mountains for 5 years. These people have been cheese makers since before Christ. Their life is simple and harsh, but beautiful.”

(via 5centsapound)

The best photos you’ll see today.

And yes, I’m including my own.

Endswell | Fashion, beauty, technology and great, great aesthetics. Mind blown. 


The Day Her Horse Died

Martha grew up a country girl. As an adult, she saved up and bought her own horse, Riley. He adored her, and before she met me, he was how she spent all her time. She (and then we) kept him at a stable outside of town. A few years ago, on Christmas Eve, we got a horrible phone call: Riley had walked out of his front left foot, breaking his leg. Riley would have to be put down within half an hour. Martha and I raced out to the stables. I drove while she wept. It was dusk when we arrived. Martha made herself stop crying before we got out of the car. Way off in the distance, far from the barn, Riley stood in a snow-covered pasture. The stable owner and vet were already with him, ready with the syringe. Riley kept upright, despite his mortal lameness. I could see, even from afar, the misery on his face. I shouted loudly across the pasture to the vet, who waved back, knowing to wait for us. Riley made no move at my voice.

Then, my wife, at my side, looking at her beloved animal 200 yards away, spoke his nickname—”Ry”—under her breath. From as far off as he was, Riley heard her immediately. I saw the pain on his face lighten. He reared, whinnying to her a call of love more resounding than I’d ever heard from him before, raising his crippled leg to signal her. He stood out against the dying sky like that, and for a moment I felt what he felt, the same thing I’d felt on that beach in Kauai when Martha appeared across all that distance from me and hailed me out of my fear. She is here. She is with me, always. I will be all right.


~ David Schickler, “The Five Days I Fell Hardest For My Wife


(via wetheurban)


DESIGN: Alessandro Isola Reinvents the Coffee Table

Alessandro Isola’s vision of a coffee table is sure to baffle quite a few as he reinterprets it in comparison to the irritating corner of a carpet or rug that refuses to straighten out.

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I will refresh the weary and satisfy the faint.


Something I’ve come to realize over the years is that life is all about a season of waiting. You wait for the next day, the next hour, the next big thing to come about, then you wait again. Again for the next day, the next hour, the next big thing. It never ends. 

I want to selfishly say that the past year of my life I’ve learned quite a bit about patience. No, I’m not perfect. No, I don’t have it all down. But I tasted it (patience that is, not perfection). There comes a time when you’re stuck in the depth of it, blinded by all your insecurities and unbelief that you can’t seem to even imagine a way out. Then, out of nowhere, you’re here. You’re where you’ve been waiting to be. You didn’t even think you were progressing, better yet moving at all, yet somehow, from some miraculous series of events, you’re here. 

Except you’re still stuck with the question, where is here? I find myself at a continual place of waiting - God’s teaching me, sanctifying me, towards a new face of patience, one that I would have never thought to pray for. One that lets me see the hope that is to come, the ever-so-clear Point B of union with Him, yet patience in my walk, in our walk, in life. We might have hit a clearing in the woods, but we’re not quite There yet. 

And although a greater Hope, a future Hope, might not be what I need now, He promises to awaken the soul. He gives us glimmers in our daily lives, in relationships, in flowers - digging down to the deepest parts of my soul and giving me life. 

Who can love with such grandeur and such specificity? All praise, honor and glory to You alone. 

Jeremiah 31. Read it.