Michigan Update

Well, we are settling nicely in Michigan, and the transition, I am happy to report, has been smooth and fairly pleasant.

I love our sweet little 1940s house and tree-lined street.  When Matt and I were dating I told him that one of my favorite things in the world is a tree-lined street where the tree branches reach over the road and touch. Life's simple joys.

Our past four out-of-state moves have all been sight unseen.  It's always worked out and is actually kind of exciting pulling up to a place for the first time to "meet" your new home.  I squealed with delight when I pulled onto our tree-lined street 3 week ago.  The homes are small and older and charming, and there's lots of green, which I anticipate will become lots of white in a few months.

Normally this time of year, I would be setting up my classroom, writing desk name tags, and lesson planning, but the school year in Michigan doesn't start until after Labor Day so I still have a few weeks before hitting the ground running in late August.  It's such a gift, this extra time.

So while Matt is at work, I've just been a busy little bee - unpacking, organizing, and decorating our nest. There is something so satisfying about hanging curtains and staining shelves - doing something productive with your hands and seeing results.  I have become reacquainted with our power drill and level and hammer and completed these open shelves the other day.  I'm pretty proud of myself for not screwing it up.  I love how they turned out!

Ta Da!

I have decided too that unpacking boxes is much more fun than packing boxes. It feels kind of like Christmas.

When Matt came home from work and casually walked right through the previously-crammed-and-messy-but-now-box-free hallway and didn't seem to notice (!) the difference from when he left that morning, I told him in no uncertain terms that I need him to gush when he comes home and sees the progress I've made.  He learned that lesson fast.  Only now, he's hyper-aware.

The next day's conversation:

Matt:  "Did you move that plant to this table?  It looks great!"

Me:  "No, honey.  That's been there for 2 weeks.  But thanks for trying more to notice my progress!"

Matt:  "That candle.  That candle's new."

Me:  "Nope."


He's so sweet.


Here's a sneak peek of our little Michigan nest!  More pics to come later!

Our little home

Hi! My name is Liane, and I'm broken.

"We're to minister through our brokenness."

My mom shared that with me the other day, and I think I'm starting to get it.

I was used to being the outgoing one, the friendly one, optimistic and fairly confident.

But when we moved to Florida 5 months ago, I arrived as...the broken one. The scatterbrained one, the tired one, the one who doesn't want to make small talk with strangers, the one trying to hold herself together.  I was weepy.  My brain was foggy.  I was distractible and forgetful.  Sometimes grief (ah, blasted unpredictable grief), would come upon me without warning, without my permission, and at the most inconvenient times it seemed. Why is grief like that?  It lingers.  And pounces.

I felt like I had nothing to offer my potential new friendships here other than broken pieces of myself. And that felt horribly inconsiderate on my part.

I had just enough to offer my new job, but it was far from my best, and I knew it - and I hated that.  I felt clumsy.

Outside of my work acquaintances, I mostly avoided people for the first couple months we lived here.  We would get invited to a social get-together, and I would send Matt to represent us but would choose to stay home.  Church felt hard, not because I was angry at God, but because it exhausted me to answer people's well-intended questions about who we were, where we had moved from, what our summer was like, if we had kids, etc.  I didn't have pleasantries to exchange.  Just baggage to dump.  And I refused to dump baggage on some poor, unsuspecting, new acquaintance.

Can you imagine?

"Hey! We don't know anyone and just moved here right after having a miscarriage, and my dad was diagnosed with a spinal cord tumor the other day.  Our rental house is still partially unpacked because of a discovered roach problem which is really causing added stress.  We're on our last leg and feeling pretty raw but in desperate need of community.  Wanna grab lunch?"

I just wanted a friend who knew me, really knew me, to sit with me on my couch and let me be my worst self.  One Sunday morning at a church we were visiting, I had to excuse myself and quietly cry in a stall in the bathroom.  I just felt so...sad. And unknown. And lonely.  So I asked Matt if we could take a hiatus from church-hunting for a month.

Who is this girl I had become??  She was a drag.  I didn't like her very much.  I'd think, "When's the old Liane coming back?  Will she come back?  I miss her."

Are you ungracious with yourself sometimes too?  Matt pointed out to me I am far more gracious with other people's brokenness and mistakes than I am with my own.  It's true, but I don't know why. Probably something having to do with pride and sin and not receiving God's grace fully and needing a counselor.

I felt like two people.  There was the me who needed to be handled gently - the broken one, the hurting one, the one who was forgetful and was having trouble focusing and needed a lot of reassurance and was embarrassed about that.

And then there was the other me - the one telling the broken one to get herself together, to buck up, to soldier on.  The one with some dignity who was still competent and self-assured. The one who remembered that everybody struggles.  The one who thought that now was not the time to wallow.  There was a new grade level to learn, a work team to contribute to, a house to unpack, a city to explore, a church to find, a grocery store to locate, a bank account to set up, a DMV to wait at, a community to assimilate into, new friends to make.  And I'd think, "You can't afford to be broken right now. There's too much to do. Get on with it.  Nobody likes someone who makes excuses."

And the other one would whimper in shame, feeling defeated, wanting just a little bit of coddling.

I was convinced that it was not a good idea for the new girl in town to share her brokenness.
How on earth would it promote friendship?  I was hesitant to put this rawer, weaker, vulnerable version of myself out there.  Better to let the broken season run its course in private.

But, then, something wholly unexpected happened.

My guard came down after school one day when a coworker must have asked me the right question at the right moment with the right expression on her face.  Because before I knew what was happening, I was bearing my soul and crying with her in her office.  In my 11 years of teaching, I have never done this at work.  I barely knew this woman.  What was I doing??  I'm the new girl in town.  I need to be proving my competence and composure! And yet, there I was. Softly crying, then ugly crying.  Sharing sadness, stress, and concerns I hadn't shared with anyone here.  It was kind of embarrassing, but it mostly felt very relieving. To finally share my heart with a real person.  To be honest.  To feel known in this new place.

She shared a little bit too and cried with me and prayed with me.  And the next day, I found this book on my desk with a sweet note inside:  

(pleasant gasp) What's this??

How thoughtful!

And I was struck by the fact that my brokenness didn't deter this new acquaintance.  She responded in love.  Christ's love.  Huh, Christ's love is down here in Florida too? ;)


The next week, a different coworker (one I didn't know and rarely see) quickly ducked into the nearest classroom because she felt tears forming and didn't want to cry in the hallway in front of people.  The classroom she happened to duck into?  Mine.  Coincidence? I think not.

She was quick to apologize and simply said she just needed to gather herself for a minute, she was having a stressful week.  I gently asked her what was going on.  She proceeded to share very honestly.  And my heart felt great sympathy for her.  Over the next hour, we talked in my empty classroom about real pain.  I asked questions, she shared.  She asked questions, I shared.  And, by the end of the conversation, a friendship was formed.  Another friendship that started not with jokes or even common interests, but simply with ... honesty. Honesty about brokenness.

Five names are coming to mind of people here who, after I shared my story, in turn, shared some really hard and painful stuff in their lives - some things that I can't imagine having to bear.  It was an honor to be entrusted with their hearts. Is that how they felt when listening to me share about my pain?  Was it not a burden after all?

I found that I could empathize in a different way than I had been able to before.  I felt myself actually feeling more deeply for them.  I knew what it was like to have recently cried hard about something.

An old friend's wise words have come back to my mind with clearer understanding.  She used to say, "Vulnerability breeds vulnerability."  Who wants to share her pain with someone she thinks has it all together?

I'm learning something here.  I'm learning that brokenness in fact can help create bonds.  It has acted as a relational catalyst of sorts, not a hinderance as I had feared.  And I'm not talking about a trite "misery loves company" sort of thing.  Nor an unhealthy codependence. No, this feels hopeful.  And good. A reminder that I'm pilgrimaging through this life alongside others who know longing and pain and have learned to cling to Jesus.  I love these new and few, but real, friendships God has provided here so far.  May He receive much glory through us sharing our brokenness with each other and looking to Him.  Together.

We're moving

again.

Some friends and family have asked what our medical path looks like.

It may be best to start from the beginning:

Matt graduated from college with a biology degree...spent a year in India.....moved back stateside.....worked as a salesman.....then a financial advisor for 6 years.....didn't love it.....talked about pursuing medicine.

He wondered if he was too old to pursue a medical career (him being the ripe age of 29 at the time).  Too old? I assured him that he was not too old and thought he should go for it.

So for the next year, he retook a couple classes....studied for and took the MCAT..... maintained his finance job.....applied to schools....and waited... 

studying for the MCAT

It made the least immediate financial sense for us to go this route, but we were on the same page and both at peace.  I could just totally see Matt practicing medicine.  It suits him and his interests.  He loves science, a good challenge, and genuinely cares for people.

I'll always remember the day Matt got his acceptance letter.  He opened it slowly, the two of us standing in the living room, holding our breath.  I saw that the first word of the letter was "Congratulations" and flung my arms around him saying, "You're a doctor!"  to which he laughed and replied, "No,...I'm not."  Because he wasn't.

He had just worked so hard to get in, and I was excited for him.

I tried to imagine our life as a teacher and a med student....accumulating student loans....living off my little teacher's salary.  And the Lord kept bringing me back to Matthew 6:25-34 which led us, a year and a half ago, to move with confidence from Colorado Springs to Kansas City.

Gosh, it looks so nearby on this map.  And a year and a half has zoomed by!

And so our medical journey began...

Matt's Medical Journey

Med school:

• 2 yrs. lectures/studying/taking tests (which we're now finishing up)
• 2 yrs. hands-on training in hospitals (graduate as "official doctor" after this)

Residency:

• 3-5 yrs. required graduate medical training (like being an "apprentice doctor")

Fellowship:

• 1-2 yrs. optional extra training (only if you want to "subspecialize")

Matt's med school assigns students to various U.S. cities for the second 2 years (the hospital training years), based on what everyone submits as their top 3 city preferences, taken from a list of options.

The students and students' families eagerly await results of this "Clerkship Match", curious where they will be living for the next 2 years.  *This Clerkship Match is not to be confused with the big residency match in a couple years.

We put Kansas City as our #1 choice.  We have community here now - good friends....church family....purposeful and fulfilling job for me....  And moving is expensive.

It would be simpler to stay.

After hearing that students who wanted to stay in Kansas City historically got matched here, we were pretty confident we'd get our first choice.

Needless to say, we were caught a little off guard when Matt received the phone call that he didn't match to any of the 3 cities he submitted, meaning he would have to choose from a list of cities that still had openings available.  Whatever those cities were.

Up until this point, things have been going pretty smoothly for Matt in med school.  While it's certainly not cake for him, he has experienced success, making me want to to shout from the rooftops how proud I am of him!  But this match isn't based on student performance, I learned.  It's random.  And that right there is the rub (I've always wanted a reason to say, "Ah, there's the rub.")

21 students out of a class of 240+ didn't match to one of their choices.

Still, I know it's not a fluke that we were among them and have a firm confidence that, for reasons now unknown to us, God is sovereignly moving us away from Kansas City to a city that He has matched us to.  Nothing thwarts His plans.

So, we're moving in July.

That's weird to write, because I feel like we just moved to Kansas City.  But such is our med school journey.

One concern I do have is that my new Kansas City friends, coworkers, and students' families will perhaps think me blasé about leaving.  Breeze in/breeze out.  But that's not how it is. This place and my job have become special to me.  (And I was just starting to get the hang of 2nd grade, to gain traction and vision!)  I'm a stay-er.  I don't know if I would have ever left my previous CO teaching position, had we not been forced to move for med school. I hate leaving my school in a lurch to find another teacher, but I have no delusions that I'm irreplaceable and know that God will meet their needs as He will meet mine. He's efficient that way.

So, to the Kansas City folk I've had the pleasure of befriending and working with:  I'll miss you.  Thank you for welcoming me and showing Christ's love to this newcomer.  I've loved our conversations.

And to our med school friends staying in KC:  we'll sure miss you and are looking forward to reuniting for graduation in a couple years.  Won't that be a happy day?

While we didn't expect this early of a move and haven't a clue where we will live in our new city....where I will work....who our friends will be....what our finances will look like...., I know Jesus is going with us and will take care of us.  And that really does alleviate worry for me.

My friend and mentor Christin gave me this book when I was in college, and I've since reread it several times.  It's a little book, easy to read in a sitting or two, but opened my eyes in a life-shaping way to what Jesus being my Good Shepherd actually means.

A Shepherd Looks at Psalm 23

On my last job application, I had to write about a book that impacted me.  I wrote about this book.

The author, a former shepherd, led me through Psalm 23, line by line, sharing stories of his own shepherding experiences.  I never before understood the depth of my Shepherd’s love and detailed care for me as I have since reading this book.

One of my favorite lines from the book is:

“I know of nothing which so stimulates my faith in my heavenly Father as to look back and reflect on His faithfulness to me...Over and over He has proved his care and concern for my welfare.”

It's true!  When I look back over my life, I see Him.  I see Him when I think about how He moved some anonymous person's heart to pay for me and my brother's school registration when my parents were out of work......I see Him when He gave me undeniable renewed strength to handle a troubled student with grace and peace when I was at my wit's end.....I see Him when he led Matt and me, blind as we were in a new place, to a cozy apartment in Kansas City that, though not fancy, is perfectly suited to us.  I see His care.

Residency will probably move us again.  Then after residency, we'll likely move again. That comes to about 4 potential out-of-state moves in 9 years.

Someone recently said to me, "Moving all the time for med school would be hard for me." But, it's really not that hard.  I know this Earth isn't my home, so moving around on it doesn't feel like a huge deal.  And God's promised presence makes me excited to follow Him to the next place.

And too, we're moving within the continental U.S., so really, is there that big of a life change to get used to?

I'll still admit I'm glad we're not moving to Warren, Ohio - a possibility.  Matt asked how I felt about moving there, and the first word that came to my mind was "depressed" (I know that's unfair because I haven't been there, but that's the word that came to my mind.)

Still, if we had been sent to Warren, Ohio, I took comfort in trusting that Jesus would be with me and would satisfy me even there.  But for now, we won't be moving to Warren, Ohio.

So what city are we moving to, you ask?

I'll give you a hint:  It's south, and Mickey and Minnie will be our new neighbors.

We are moving to Orlando, Florida.

After the initial surprise of the moving news, we started to get excited for a few reasons:

Not the least of which is that we'll be only 7 hours from my family in Atlanta, Georgia which will be the closest (geographically) I have been to them in 10 years.

my family

After embracing my adventurous-move-to-Colorado-far-away-from-home season in my 20's, I'm excited to be near family again.  I foresee the occasional weekend trip to visit them or maybe a Disney World get-together, who knows?

On cold days, when our snow shovel is broken and our car remains buried, I get excited thinking about the warm weather.  In my heart-of-hearts, I'm a warm weather girl.  And I love the beach. Even though Orlando is not on the beach, it's the closest I will have ever lived to a beach.

Also, coincidentally, we found out some dear and personally influential friends of ours may be moving there too.  Huh.

And of course we're excited and ready for Matt to start his hospital rotations and to see what interests him.

All in all, I'm very grateful for our time in Kansas City.  While I'm not looking forward to packing boxes and saying goodbyes, I am looking forward to this next season, seeing how God provides for us and makes a way for us, as He always does.  We'll have new stories to tell about his faithfulness.

We have a little over 4 months until the big move.  If anyone wants to give us big boxes, we'll take em.  We'll also take prayer...and monetary gifts;)  Just kidding.  But seriously.

Friends traveling to Orlando, contact us!  We love visitors.

So there's our news.  Here we come, Florida!

Decorating on a dime

The good thing about moving is that it forces you to go. through. your. stuff. and purge and reorganize.

My parents had driven out to CO in 2010 to visit and kindly brought all my junk to give me.  This junk remained in boxes, unopened and blissfully ignored until recently.  We were moving, and I had to decide what was and was not going with us.

So down to our garage I went to sort through those boxes that had been taunting me for 2 years.

I found among other things: my art portfolio from 2nd grade, boxes of letters I had kept, a paper-mache school project from my elem ed college days, books and binders galore, cassette tapes, shoeboxes filled with pictures (before digital, I of course developed every single picture taken on every disposable camera I had since teenagehood.)

My sentiment apparently used to outweigh my practicality. For instance, I found my English Lit binder from high school that I had kept as a momento of my favorite subject.  I must have thought that one day I may want to curl up and re-read my essays and that Shakespeare paper from 11th grade??

Into the trash bag.  I heard the binder calling out to me, "et tu, Brute?"

And what am I going to do with those childhood swim team trophies?  Display them on my mantle?  Into the trash bag.

After designating a pile for trash and a pile for Goodwill, I was left with a modest amount of keep-worthy items:  yearbooks, a few photo albums, some books, and that art portfolio.

Now the big stuff  - Matt and I sold and donated furniture that we would not have room to use or store in "Our Little Tree House" apartment in our new city. One of our pieces that we bid adieu to was our bedframe.  I loved it but knew it wouldn't work with our new room dimensions.

When we arrived in KC, we had a few weeks to settle and set up our new nest before Matt started school and I started work.

Which leads me to a segment I like to call:

Decorating on a dime

Three little letters that make a big difference - diy.

After I got over my initial "I can't do that" thinking, I attempted to tackle my first big diy project: 

Making a headboard

Two appealing reasons that helped me conquer my fear:  It's cheap.  And it doesn't take up valuable floor space.

Bonus reason:  After searching the web and watching various youtube videos, I found that it's surprisingly not complicated, which really is great news.

Supplies:

3/4 inch-thick plywood (whatever's on sale) from HomeDepot (cut to 80"x48" for our kingsize bed).

Spray adhesive from JoAnn (optional)

1" foam padding from JoAnn

batting from JoAnn

fabric from JoAnn

staple gun from HomeDepot

cleat picture hanger from HomeDepot

* I got the foam padding, batting, and fabric to be cut a couple inches larger than the plywood so that they could wrap around the plywood.  About 84"x52" each.

Process:

1. Spray one side of upright plywood with adhesive.  Press foam padding on with a couple inches hanging off each side.
2. Lay plywood flat (with help) onto foam padding and, pulling taut, staple foam padding to back of plywood along each side and corner with staple gun.  Be generous with staples.
3. Repeat same process with batting: position it against foam-covered wood, pull taut and staple around the back.
4. Finally, cover with fabric, pulling taut, stapling to backside of wood.  Make sure corners are folded down smoothly.

Here I am in process, getting acquainted with the staple gun.  Pardon the unsightly strap.

It was hot outside. 105 degrees hot.  The satisfying sound of the staple gun helped me push through the heat.

The finished product:

I felt priit-ty handy and proud of myself, until I did this a few hours later:

That's our colander melted into the pot of noodles.  I forgot to turn the stove off.  woopsie!

Pride comes before a fall.

Next up:
Homemade art
Art is expensive, so instead, some items already on hand have become our living room art (some photos, an old greeting card, some scrapbook paper - voila!)  These Ribba frames were a belated bday present to myself from Ikea (love me some Ikea).  Matt says that bday money burns a hole in his pocket.  Not me.  I like to wait and wait and wait some more until I have decided on something I truly love, even if it's months after my birthday.

Each piece is meaningful to us in some way: anniversary date, first apartment key, picture of our first hike, little painting we picked up on our honeymoon...

Even the butterfly print carries sentimental value for us.  Long story short (or medium-sized) - a few years ago, we hatched our own yellow swallowtail butterfly.  Matt, animal lover and nature enthusiast that he is, brought home a puffy green caterpillar he found on the sidewalk.  The next day it spun a cocoon and remained in this state for months in a  small terrarium on our porch where I totally forgot about it.  In fact, when I rediscovered it out there months later, I was sure it was dead - brown and dry.  Surely, I thought, no life can come from that.  I almost threw it out but didn't bother with it that day, then again forgot about it for awhile.

Then, one spring day, I happened to be out on the porch again and noticed the cocoon quivering.  I brought it inside, and Matt and I watched as before our eyes the most beautiful yellow swallowtail emerged.  We actually gasped at its brilliance.

The Good News of Christ came flooding into my mind - How He turns death into life!  How he makes all things new!  How He miraculously transforms us!

We watched our little butterfly hang upside-down on our orchid plant, drying its wings for 2 HOURS.  It was awesome - this word being appropriately used here.  I was in true awe.

Then, when it was ready, we released her (him?) out into the wild (off our back porch).  We stood, arms wrapped round each other, watching it fly away.  We felt like proud parents, sending our baby off to college.

Aaannyway...so that's the story behind our butterfly print.

Tasteful sentiment - 1 point.  Clutter sentiment - zero.

Wall decals
These words put me out a mere $6.50.  And I love eating our meals literally under this sweet truth.

A couple months ago, when we were looking at moving to KC, I asked the Lord if He would provide us a home that was cozy and safe.  And I'm so grateful for what He has provided.

I remember my mom once saying that it's important to be thankful to the Lord for what He provides and that discontentment or lack of thankfulness is equivalent to telling Him, "what You have provided is not good enough for me."  I shudder to think about having that attitude before my God.  When I consciously look through the lens of genuine gratefulness for anything He gives me- big or small-, I find that I enjoy His provision and gifts even more.

So there's a peek into "Our Little Tree House."

Farewell dear Colorado (part 2)

Matt loves animals.  So one of our favorite places in Colorado Springs was the zoo.  The best part about this zoo is that you can feed the giraffes.  Here are some memories from our last outing there before we moved.

The next best part, besides feeding the giraffes, is watching the Grizzlies play.  Right about now, I was wondering how thick that pane of glass is.

Peacocks just roam free in this zoo.  This one decided to give us a little show!

A couple other Colorado Springs "Matt and Liane favorites" worth a shout out are:

Montague's Coffee Shop

Thai Basil - our favorite little hole in the wall Thai restaurant

9 times out of 10, date night meant Thai Basil.  And that was just fine with me.  They have the best green curry.  And we could share one big bowl for 8 dollars!  Can't beat that.

But more precious to us than any of these places is our Colorado friends.

Before we moved, they had a going away picnic for us at the park.

It was a group effort; Jenni (on the left) planned most of the details.  Thanks, Jenni!

Caitlin (above) made this fantastic photo book for us that everyone signed.  So special!  It is now sitting by my reading chair so that I can look through it and reminisce whenever I please.  I'm such a sucker for sentiment.  I love that Caitlin thought to do this.

It's true, I think, that people you encounter leave an impression on you - some kind of impression.  Each of these people have left an impression on me.  I have learned from their different life experiences, observed skills they have been granted, taken note as they share their views.  I appreciate their idiosyncrasies and smile to myself when thinking about them.  We have shared laughs and tears, life's frustrations and joys, with each other. I am forever grateful to the Lord for crossing my path with these, my dear Colorado friends.

And here we are a couple of days later, standing in our empty apartment, about to head into the unknown of Kansas City.

As we were driving away, the Lord brought these promises to mind:

"'For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the Lord, 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.'"

- Jeremiah 29:11

"I will guide you along the best pathway for your life.  I will advise you and watch over you."

- Psalm 32:8

There is nothing like being His and having promises made to you that you know are going to be fulfilled.

So as we say goodbye to our dear Colorado, we say hello to this new place where our Good Shepherd has led us.  I look forward to sharing some "Hello, Kansas City" moments in the weeks to come.

Farewell dear Colorado

When people here started to ask where I'm from, I had to pause and think - because originally I'm from Georgia, but I just moved here from Colorado where I've lived for the past 8 years.  So, I decided to say I'm from Colorado.  I must say that I do feel a twinge of guilt, like I'm breaking an allegiance to the South and denying my Georgia roots.  But let's be honest, nobody here cares about my Georgia roots, so I just figure I'll tell em where we last came from because it's less confusing. 

Which leads me to reflect on some of our favorite places in Colorado Springs:

Pikes Peak and Garden of the Gods.

We could see Pikes from our living room window, and it was such a SPECTACULAR daily reminder of God's majesty.

The Incline.  Workout of champions.  It's a mile straight up of stairs
- steep stairs if you're short like me.

Some people RAN this.  My strategy? - one foot in front of the other, slow and steady.  I learned the hard way that it really is best to eat breakfast beforehand.

Sante Fe Trail.  My kind of place to go bike riding (scenic and mostly flat)

Catamount Resevoir (just outside of the Springs)

When I say we're from Colorado, here are some of the responses I have gotten:

- "Oh, I'm sorry.  Kansas City is nice, but it's not Colorado."

- "Why did you move here?"

- "I've always wanted to live in Colorado."

Sigh.

Before Matt and I moved here, I lamented leaving the beauty of Colorado behind and would dangerously try to capture some last pictures of the mountains while driving.

One day the Lord comforted me with "For though the mountains should depart and the hills be removed, my love and kindness shall not depart from you, nor shall my covenant of peace and completeness be removed, says the Lord who has compassion on you." - Isaiah 54:10

And my heart heard Him say, "Liane, I, the God who created beauty in Colorado, have created beauty in other places too.  Look for it.  And if you don't find it, gaze upon MY beauty."

Matt and I visited IHOP (International House of Prayer) here in KC a few weeks back, and on that Sunday, a group sang with perfect and angelic-like harmony "Oh Lord, You're Beautiful" by Keith Green.  It was the most beautiful song I can remember hearing sung at church.  I sat there and let the words of the chorus wash over me, tears streaming down my face. 

Oh lord, you're beautiful, 

Your face is all I see, 
For when your eyes are on this child, 
Your grace abounds to me.