Hatteras Island has kind of become our place. We're tent campers, Trev and I, partly because it's fun and partly (mostly) because it's cheap, and what better place to pitch a tent than in a little grove of trees overlooking the Sound of the Outer Banks? This time, however, we were lucky enough to stay in a gorgeous seafoam-green house with Trevor's parents, where we could look out just about any window and watch as lightning flashed behind the waves.
It rained almost the entire week, even before the threat of the hurricane approached. We managed to kayak some, and lay on the beach for an afternoon, but otherwise it was all candles and books and redbox movies. I gathered some flowers and whipped up a flower crown because I realized, away from my business and everyday routine, how much I need to create even the simplest thing.
I'm not a great person, really. I get easily agitated and I can be passive-aggressive and sometimes say "shit" just for the satisfaction of feeling those harsh consonants behind my teeth. But I believe I'm still being made new; I trust God's process. And no matter how frustrated I get with myself, I can't help but like the girl who takes self-portraits with a ridiculous halo of weeds and flowers falling all over her sunburnt face.