11.27.17 Come Boutique With Me!

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Tis the season … you know the one – BLACK FRIDAY, CYBER MONDAY, and every other ridiculous Christmas sale in the world! But you know what? A small part of me kind of loves it. I realize that this might seem inauthentic coming from someone who usually posts pictures of nature and family, but I’m just being honest, and a little bit girlie … shopping is fun.

Marcelene Cox once said that, “The quickest way to know a woman is to go shopping with her.” I’d say that is true half of the time. To shop for necessity is very different than shopping for fun, and this is the season of fun. This is the season of long layers, of high boots, and cute (not functional) hats. This is the season where stores present their A-Game, trying to entice, impress, and woo you – and who doesn’t like to be wooed? I love that this is the time of year when someone is hired just to say hello to me when I walk in. I love the displays that obviously took weeks to install and set right. I love the familiar melodies, the dash-of-pine and cinnamon scents, and the feel of warmth in every article of clothing artfully displayed for me to try on.

Shallow though it may seem, shopping actually holds some pretty precious memories for me. I remember being a kid and having my dad take my sister and I out to the mall at just about this time of year. Every store was literally bursting with colors and sights, sounds and smells; I’m pretty sure my dad couldn’t wait to get out of there, but he came anyway – for mom.

“Alright girls,” he’d say, “you need to help me find something special for your mom because she’s one special lady.”

One holiday season, I stopped at a jeweler and pointed to a matching pearl earrings and necklace set. Though my memory has faded out the pristine details, my dad tells me that I absolutely refused to accept any gift for my mother besides that set. Now, twenty-something years later, she still wears it.

Another milestone of holiday shopping was with my mom, sister, and grandmother. While they’d be scanning the aisles for deals, I would sometimes look right along with them and just as often ride the cart down those same aisles (regardless of the furtive glances tossed my way) just so I’d not have to walk another step. My mother always teared up a little when she saw the “generations” just being girls together.

Regardless of whether you love it or hate it, shopping is an intimate gesture, and usually done with those we love and trust the most. Sadly, though I have an abundant blessing of friends and family, I often find that they are scattered across the country and I am left to shop alone. My mom always says, “I don’t mind being alone, I like my company.” Most of the time (for myself) I agree, but sometimes my own company simply isn’t enough. That is when I find a great opportunity to make what I call “insta-friends,” random-strangers that I call on to tell me their honest opinions about whatever it is that I’m considering purchasing. You’d be surprised how many people are willing to be a friend in a pinch!

Speaking of friends, I want you to know that this is what you have been to me – all of you. You, my readers, are my silent company … my writing support system … my team, and I thank you for that. The realization of this, that you are my confidants, has made me realize that I wish I could shop with all of you! While that is practically impossible, I was inspired to start a mini-boutique on my site. THIS QUOTABLE LIFE BOUTIQUE is my attempt to put words into gifts. If there is an interest, I plan to grow the baby business with PayPal and an increased product line, including collaboration with other witty, wordy artisans, jewelers, and crafters. We shall see, and time will tell, but I am so excited for you to take a peek, share with your friends, and express your desires and wishes for what you’d like this to be.

Some come boutique with me! Let’s make this moment, this itty-bitty start our own holiday shopping memory. If you have interest in a product, simply contact me through the CONTACT ME PAGE, or on the THIS QUOTABLE LIFE BOUTIQUE page!

Love you darlings, and as always, thank you for your love and support,

Elle

11.20.17 Somewhere

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“Imagination often carry us to worlds that never were, but without it, we go nowhere.”   C. Sagan

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It is often that I find myself longing to return to a place that I don’t even physically travel to … but whenever my mind hasn’t wandered there for too long, back to that sacred, holy place of peace – I am sure to be less than the whole of myself. This Thanksgiving, I am grateful for God’s having given me such a strong imagination. I’d love to know your thoughts, and your thanks this season. Enjoy your “Somewhere,”… here’s how to get to mine. 

Somewhere

Somewhere between the here

and now

and the now

and then

there is another place

a place where there is room

to breathe

to pray

to imagine

and to wonder

wondrously

It is sometimes a secret

sometimes a lost place

seemingly far away

just barely on the fringes of our memories

and yet

intrinsically

we cannot forget

our desire to find it again

To follow the invisible compass

back to the song

of the spirit

that makes sense

it is there

quietly

but sure

placed in a place

we could never truly lose

without losing ourselves

completely

So somewhere between the here

and now

and the now

and then

find the beat of the heart

the pulse of the mind

the light of the soul

and return

Somehow

(I promise)

you already

know the way

I hope that you take a moment to nourish your ability to imagine. Be thankful as I am so thankful for you.

Elle 

11.13.17 New Creation

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Today was a little tough. Okay … a lot tough. There was nothing particularly awful, no singular tragic event or definitively difficult set of problems. It was just the sort of day that left me feeling defeated, deflated, and a little worse for wear. Scrolling through my Instagram feed, I came across the passage in 2 Corinthians 5:17 which says, “You are a new creation.” What a beautiful thought – a new creation. After days like today, after strings of monotonous moments that didn’t go according to plan, I wonder, at times, what God designed me for and if I’m very far off from his original blueprints. 

Was I really created for deleting a string of unwanted emails? For buffering stress-inducing conversations and scenarios? Is my purpose to have less time than I’ve ever had before to be instead of do? For some reason, I don’t think so. I don’t think that was meant for anyone. In his infinite wisdom I don’t believe that God handcrafted us with unique talents just so we could waste them in the pursuit of mediocre days where one is indistinguishable from the next. 

So how do we downshift? How do we recycle and reclaim our spent hours? Honestly? I have no idea. But I think it has something to do with attitude. In her infinite wisdom at ninety-five, my grandmother said, “It’s just so easy to be happy.” And you know what? She’s right. No one, not one single person on this earth has it easy. We are all struggling with past pains, present dangers, and future fears. There is not one among us who is unscathed or scarless. We each have crosses to bear and burdens we cannot share. Still, I agree with my grandmother. Even with the weight of your own small world on your shoulders, it is possible to be happy. Happiness is an action, a state of being, and a calling on your life. So. Be. It.

Right now, right here, writing to you … the hour is much too close to tomorrow. My blinks are drawing themselves out, my eyes burn beneath sleepy, lavender lids, and my body has begun that tingly stage of quiet revolt against another long day that isn’t done. Still – I decide, here and now, to be that “new creation” I think I was designed to be.

She is confident, this version of myself, and her smiles are given freely. She is stronger than she looks, but sensitive enough to know when to be real. She is creative and caring, and she never lets the opportunity to make someone’s day go by, even if it costs her the most precious gift she has – time.

She is happy, this girl in the blueprints. And even now, so am I.

Be a new creation, and introduce me to who you were designed to be! I can’t wait to meet you. Can you?

Elle 

 

 

11.3.17 “Wordless” a Bella Grace Post

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There are some experiences in your life that absolutely change you. This post, “Wordless” on Bella Grace Magazine’s blog Grace Notes is just such an experience. I would argue that it was one of the most significant journeys my writing has taken me on, and has bloomed into one of the most precious friendships I’ve ever had. Please read. Please share. For myself … for Michelle … and most especially, for the memory of Katrina.

Some stories have the power to change the world. This story changed mine.  I pray it will inspire yours.

Sparkle dear ones, and let your presence of light hang heavy over the sky like fireworks.

Elle Harris

10.13.17 “Team Moccasin” Give Away

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“I think perhaps love thrives on chance and unlikely circumstance. Life also thrives on these principles – and is life not love? And love not life?” – Brandon Boyd

Lately I’ve felt like there aren’t enough love stories in the world. We hear plenty of hate, and an overabundance of greed, anarchy, and discontent – but love? Well, she’s been a bit quiet recently. It seems as though anger has the loudest voice, but that doesn’t seem like a good enough reason to listen to it.

Do you know what would be utterly magical? Giving voice to love. Sharing stories that imbue delight, inspire the heart, and focus our minds back to their intended settings. My mom and dad just so happen to be such a love story, and although it may not be my tale to tell, I don’t think they’d mind, just this once, if passed along their unconventional narrative, for the sake of putting out a little more endearment into the world.

It all began when she was a teenager. Like any girl of her age, she loved to frequent the local mall with her friends, and there, was besotted by a boy with shoulder-length hair and playful blue eyes. He worked for an upscale men’s clothing store, and was “dressed to the nines,” so-to-speak. She found a way to make conversation, and she liked what she heard as well as saw. They talked and dated for a few weeks, and that was that. Smitten.

Fast forward another week or so, and to her surprise, who came off the bus but her handsome (who she thought was older but now realized was not) young man. Only he was not her young man at all. This kid had on a t-shirt and jeans with moccasins of all things! She was devastated that he was not the polished guy from the shop, but a local, every-day high schooler who had succumbed to the fad of wearing sleepwear out of doors! Regrettably, his charms were no match for the vanity of fashion.

And that was it. Their brief infatuation was crushed by a wardrobe malfunction.

If the story had ended there, (as most assumed it had) neither myself or my sister would’ve been born. As it is, God has a sense of humor, and He often uses fate to deliver it. A handful of  years later, that same girl happened to be at a party with the moccasin boy she’d all-but-forgotten.

That night (thankfully) he was fully dressed with socks and proper shoes, and his charms once again tempted her interest. Only her honor prevented her from accepting his number, as she had been seeing someone else for some time. Gratefully, her best friend also happened to be at the party, and she had no qualms about compromising my mother’s reputation. She promptly gave my father mom’s number, and a few days later, he called.

I’m thankful for the days without caller ID, because my mom, unknowingly, answered the phone that night, and talked to my dad for hours early into the morning. And just like that, within half a day, they’d both taken the first step into falling in love.

I happen to love their love story. Though my mom feigns embarrassment, it’s nice to know that even she wasn’t perfect once upon a time. My dad uses this beginning to win us all over every time he tells it. About a year ago, I told my own children, and they declared they were “Team Moccasin” from the get-go. We like to think it is a little bit of cosmic karma that we’re still able to tease about this story every time any of us wears our slipper feet out-of-doors.

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Mom and dad have been married over forty-years now, and whether in heels or sandals, Converse or construction boots, they’ve remained grounded in following the path of love worn in by a lifetime of walking in the same direction.

It would be an honor to hear your generational love stories. As an incentive to share, I will write a poem based on your shared love story for the commenter that my family votes “most swoon-worthy!” It will be my next post and (if you share your address through my contact me page) I will send you a personalized print of it.

I will also link all of the shared love stories to my next blog post so that everyone will get to read your precious words, thus spreading love exponentially around the world.

LOVE WELL …  for it is all that amounts to any value in this life.

Elle

9.30.17 Let Me Be Aware

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About ten or so years ago, I came across a poem that said everything I should say to my husband on a daily basis. I printed it out, and put it somewhere “safe” and then we moved and I lost it. All I remembered of it was a line … “Someday I shall wish … more than all the world, for your return.” And I remembered thinking that I never wanted to have that feeling, that relentless ache of NOT saying what I should have. 

Fast forward ten years, and miraculously, a friend gave me a stack of quotes as a gift. One of the quotes, as you might serendipitously guess, was the one I’d been searching and combing the internet for for all of these past years. I immediately looked it up, and this week, I was so very, very glad to have it, so I could read it to the man who not only has my heart, but has fiercely protected it since we met. 

Please share this video message, this poem, and this life with someone you hold just as dear. 

9.18.17 At Least We Get to See Tuesday

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“Being entirely honest with oneself is a good exercise.” – Sigmund Freud

I feel like honesty is one of those things that people say they want, but shy away from when people give too much of it. They want to know things, but only enough to stay in the know. Well honestly … I think I’d rather really know you, really understand what you’re going through, than pretend to know the version of you that you pretend to be.

It is this very reason that I find teenagers are such good company. Having taught and mentored middle and high schoolers for most of my career, I find this stage of humanity so inspiring. Teenagers are too fresh with their feelings to know how to tamper them. They cannot quell their emotions because their emotions are too new to be tamed. When they’re happy, they are positively overflowing with it. When they’re angry, you can feel the heat roll off of their auras. When they’re scared, when they love, when they celebrate, when they’re sad – every emotion comes in tandem waves of give and receive. Teenagers cannot be near anyone for long without imparting some of what they feel into the surrounding atmosphere. 

And what a relief. 

What a relief to be near the unguarded reality of raw emotion. It is so much more appealing than so often trying to read between the lines of what you think someone said, versus what they meant, or deciphering between one placating smile and the next. Can I be honest? Sometimes I am sick of the dance. I am exhausted at the effort of sincerity directed at the insincere. I wish that people, like those precious teenagers, would just feel a little more, and let feelings, instead of pragmatism decide their course of action. 

I found out tonight that one of the best of these … these hearts that are ruled by feelings and not neutrality, passed away. She was a music teacher and would literally giggle, dance, laugh, and fume at her students in turn. She was wonder-filled and real; cancer, unfortunately, didn’t know her as well as those it took her from. Non-distriminant to the end, that disease – but if cancer had a heart, it wouldn’t exist.  

Thinking about her, though it might seem like the most insignificant of details, I realize that I have written her a Christmas card for the last twelve years. Somehow the reality that this year I will not immediately dimmed my spirit. It is as if a small bulb has burst, and now my string of lights will never be quite as bright as it was before. 

Honestly? I’m sad. I’m sad that a husband who loved his wife beyond the ability of most marriages is now alone. I’m devastated at the thought of children who have to grow up even more now that their mother is gone. I’m angry that anyone, including me, has the right to be anything other than grateful for this mundane, exhausting Monday – because at least we get to see Tuesday. 

I know that these words aren’t the sweetest. Like Mary Poppins I like to believe that if I had a spoonful of sugar to spin I would share it, but sometimes I think honestly might actually be the best medicine. I wish the world would try at it just a little bit harder. Whether it is happy or sad, angry or enlightened, easy or difficult to swallow … I wish truth and transparency for you today and always. 

Where are you? Honestly? I’d love to know your thoughts, and I will surely add you, my readers, to my prayers … because if I’m being honest, I am ever-so-grateful for you.

Elle

9.4.17 Just a Little Like Audrey

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“As you grow older, you will discover that you have two hands, one for helping yourself, the other for helping others.” – Audrey Hepburn

This Friday I will be turning thirty-five. I am not ashamed to admit it (though in my math mind I readily recognize it is half way to seventy). I am happy! If you’ve followed me for any length of time then you know that I adore birthdays, mostly because I believe in the power of wishes, of goodwill, and of love – all of these things happen on birthdays, and somehow leave me feeling infused with positivity.

Somehow, this year, both my mother and mother-in-law, have bought me gifts that revolve around the one and only, fabulous, Audrey Hepburn. One of the presents my mother sent me early was a boutique book about style, featuring Audrey on the cover. A day earlier, my mother-in-law had given me an Audrey-inspired lace dress, high-necked and sleeveless with a silk bow in the back. How both of these women knew I’d need to feel “Just a little like Audrey” on this key birthday, I’ll never know, but I’m certainly glad they did.

Inspired by their gifts, I’ve been watching my favorite Hepburn film, How to Steal a Million, reading about her iconic fashion sense, and skimming her best quotes. But do you know what made her best of all, worthy of praise and recognition? She had a true heart for love, for showing emotion to those who needed it, and for giving genuinely. Dedicating much of her life toward being a UNICEF Ambassador, Audrey replaced her film career with volunteerism. She is noted as having said, “Success is like reaching an important birthday, and realizing you’re exactly the same.” She was humble. She was gracious. She was a classy, intelligent lady.

More than any other year, in this last I have pushed myself as a writer. I have blogged, guest blogged for others, published poetry in magazines, went to conferences, submitted novels to agents, and began more than my fair share of new endeavors. And yet, here I sit … waiting. My son asked me today, “Hey mom, you have one book published and a bunch of magazine stuff, but when are you going to get another book published?” When indeed my dear!?! How is it that we humans are SO good at doing, and SO bad at being? Ambitious and restless, I find that I revert so quickly back to, “Where am I going?” that I rarely look back and appreciate where I have been.

And this is why I think this year’s birthday wish is to be a little more like Audrey. She reminds us that, “The beauty of a woman is not in a facial mode, but the true beauty in a woman is reflected in her soul. It is the caring that she lovingly gives – the passion that she shows. The beauty of a woman grows with the passing years.” Just now, I’m going to believe that she was right, and this is true. I may or may not get published again in the coming year, but I know my passion will continue to light the path of my words. I most certainly will earn myself a few more smile lines (wrinkles) and a few more strands of silver in my hair, (that I will promptly highlight, thank you very much) but I will also take time for long conversations and lingering hugs just because.

This year, I will nurture my best-self. I will polish my soul to shining. I will guard my faith. I will raise my head high and smile at the “what ifs” to come. I will laugh. I will wear dresses. I will step (in heels) toward those who need me. I will wear my heart on my sleeve, and hold the hand of whoever needs mine. I will be, just a little, like Audrey.

All my love darlings,

Elle

8.28.17 Through My Eyes or Yours

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“Let all that you do be done in love.” 1 Corinthians 16:18

As much as I believe in love, I have to admit that this is not the easiest command. I hope you take a moment to laugh with me at this sometimes awesome, sometimes awful, always amazing life. Please take a minute to watch and share your own love stories! Through my eyes, or yours, our perspectives should always be focused on what matters most … one another.

Carry each other through!

Elle

 

8.21.17 Analog Heart

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A really good friend of mine is getting divorced. It is both as blunt and pointed as that. I think one of the hardest things is that this person is not one to whom anyone could say they, “saw it coming.” And every time I think about the hurt – I hurt. What’s more is that I’ve seen this fragile, tender soul fall in waves of believing what writer Tonya Hurley once said, “If you expect nothing, you can never be disappointed.”

But that’s no way to live – and it’s not the identity one is meant to claim. It is not what any of us should be made to deal with. We should have expectations. We should believe that love is what it says it is, and will stay simply because it promised it would.

As I’m learning, this is not so. Apparently, some love, when it is unrequited and given up on, does end. Leaning into this friendship in ways of support, and listening to broken stories I don’t understand, this poem came to me.

An analog relates to a mechanism that requires a voltage or pressure to perform; it seemed a weakened, but still beating heart applied. So this is for my friend, who knows above all things the proverbial truth that, “Hope dies last.” Let your heart beat on – weak, but steady. For someday it will be filled again. It will rise to the point of a great crescendo. It, like you, will carry on.

Analog Heart

You – now equal parts ash and ice

who stumbles between the

purity of being tested in fire –

and the bitterest chill of indifference

You – beating fiercely as your

gears remain locked …

who feels the minutes pass –

hears every tick that slowly

grinds,

yet sees no discernible change

You – built to race,

built to fill and turn keys of

crimson and scarlet –

doors closed long enough

for filaments of light to become dull

You – filled to fracture with

memory – this moment –

even if it is all you’re capable of –

… stay …

… endure …

beat one time,

and let the echo of once

remind you how to carry on again

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Please share this with anyone whose heart is, or has been near to breaking. Remember that your strength only needs to last you this day, and somehow, miraculously, tomorrow you will find another way, another day, to carry on.

From my heart to yours,

Elle