~*~ A DIFFERENT KIND OF DREAM TO MAKE YOU SMILE ... ~*~

Do you ever feel like you are on the outside looking in, dear Reader?  You spend your time searching, yearning, praying for a change.  You think 'maybe today' and you hold on to hope because, honestly, what else can you do at this point?  Yet that hope seems so distant, not quite tangible, as if the practicality of holding on to it has already expired.  You find yourself shelf-ing that hope, allowing it to gather dust and age much like the other aspirations that this thing called LIFE has told you cannot happen now... or maybe ever.



And not to quote a Justin Bieber song - but yet to quote a Justin Bieber song - never say never.






And now to quote the most important source....

"Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand. And we rejoice in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, HOPE.  And hope does not disappoint, because God has poured out His love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom He has given us." (Romans 5:1-5 NIV)




And hope does NOT disappoint.  It may well be the most beautiful line, the one that can remind someone that there is a power beyond, above, and over us all that sees us through.  It gives us reason enough to truly believe in that hope.  Reason to brush off the dust bunnies, pull it off the shelf, and continue to reach for something may not be as intangible as it first appeared. 


The scene below depicts just that, a boy who had hope.  This boy could be any of us.  Looking from the outside in, hearing a call, and following the sound just to satisfy curiosity.  Yet when we stop to listen, we often find someone who truly sees into our soul and breaks down our walls, finally giving us the opportunity to stop standing on the outside.  You spend your time thinking that you too are on the outside, dear Reader, but in reality there is someone - or Someone - who is looking at you, and more importantly fixating on you, who so blindly thinks you're on the outside, welcoming you and saying... 


'I see you. Come in.'


                                                      

                 A reminder that 'sometimes we need another helping hand to show the way'.
                              
  
                 
~*~ Candidly Candidas ~*~

~*~... IF I EVER GET THE NERVE IN THIS CAFE ...~*~

There is something about the moment before falling asleep that lends itself not to the dreams that will be dreamt throughout the night, but to the soft lull of magic that happens before the actual falling into slumber.  It's that moment where you are still aware that you are actively thinking, but are also relaxed enough to simply let your mind wander into whatever crevice it sees fit.  Tonight, I should be sleeping because I know in four hours I will be watching a very active baby, and that takes energy.  But instead, that lull was intensified by looping the song 'Marry Me' on my iTunes.  The raw honesty of these lyrics led my mind to wander into the crevice of new beginnings and the chance encounters that precipitate them.  I have had my fair share of amazing moments, both in and out of love, but I have to admit that I somehow continue to daydream about the beginning of a love story.  Not mine necessarily, but just a beginning in general.

Granted, there is nothing more wonderful to the reality of being in love.  But there is something so absolutely perfect in that first flitter of emotions, in those first stumbled words, in the heat that you can feel in your cheeks as your whole self turns a bit crimson and your laugh begins sounding a bit nervous and your words start tumbling out of your mouth at such a speed that you aren't sure the last four words even needed to be added to that sentence because you're absolutely sure it didn't make sense.  The perfection lies within all of these imperfections.  You know what I'm talking about, we've all had those moments.  They may last a finite minute, but somehow that minute will be the story you tell infinitely.  It's that moment that you revisit a hundred more times in that next hour and more than that as you tell your closest girlfriend.  You find yourself telling the story to even more people because you so desperately want to go back to that encounter just to feel that ALIVE again.  You relish the intensity, and perhaps even the awkwardness, of that moment because you LIVED every second of it.  And I mean really really lived it.  You were acutely aware of how your legs were crossed and where that piece of hair kept falling in your eyes, and even that split second where the knuckle of his pinky finger just happened to ever so slightly graze your hand.  And you knew the second that he looked over at you, or maybe it was the double-take that he did, that he - could he? is it possible? just maybe? - felt that spark, too.


And in that brief moment where you feel that magic for the first time, you somehow begin to build the story in your head.  You see not only that brief encounter, but you start seeing your first date.  You can almost hear that phone ring with his anxious voice as unsteady as your laugh.  You start picturing just how your dad would greet him the first time and how your mom might gush about him after dinner.  You let your mind go to a place where a chance meeting becomes your first kiss, your first date, your first picnic in the park, your first proposal, your future husband.

And then you pull yourself back together, shyly smile as you become aware of the fact that he is still in front of you, smiling and asking for your number.  You recite those ten digits (because who really ever has the same area code any more) while silently shuffling through your mental rolodex of smooth ways to end this moment just in case he needs reassurance of how spontaneously charming you are.  And then, as the moment ends, you do the last thing in the world you want to do... you walk away.  And you wait, hoping that he felt it, too.

As I fall asleep tonight, I will be praying for that magical beginning for someone.  Hoping that tomorrow, my phone rings and it's her on the other line saying, "Candidas, I think I found him."

                       ... a beautiful picture of who could be the next girl in the cafe ...


Sleep sweet, Dear Reader.

~*~ Candidly Candidas ~*~

...open the door, it's gonna make you love me...

After many mentions of blogging by a dear friend of mine and much avoidance by one Candidas... I would like to say simply this: Hello World, I am Candidas.  And this is my blog.

Wow, one sentence down... or I guess two technically (and at this point, Dear Reader, you are saying it is three, are you not?  The game should continue if I allowed it).  Kind of a weird feeling, right?  You sign on, you choose your template design after much indecisiveness - of course questioning will the Reader like this background or will it offend his or her delicate taste-, and then you sit down with this empty white box.  It's begging for you to say something, anything really, in hopes that what is produced out of the tap-tap-tapping on the keyboard is something profound, proverbial, eye-opening.  Something that pops out to those scanning blogs, something that makes a person stop and read.  Something that says 'hi Dear Reader, what I have written is so beautiful that you will inevitably want to come back for my next entry... and what a good one it will be.'  But you find yourself with this blank white screen, and you realize that all you know to say is a simple hello.  And until you find the right words, you hope that is enough.

Which leads me to my title.  I think it captures the truth by which we are all captivated and catapulted.  Do we not all stand at one side of a closed door hoping that once that barrier is removed we will ultimately be loved?  That we will not only be accepted and warmly received, but that we will 'be Somebody'.  We will be somebody loved, somebody wanted, somebody special.  It does not matter so much what 'somebody' in which we take form, but that we ARE somebody... so this is me, opening the door, hoping that it makes you love me...

~*~be somebody~*~

You may ask who is Candidly Candidas.  Or better yet, how in the world do you say Candidas.  With my best attempt at phonetic  spelling: can- dee - dus.  Blame my mom... she always sang this old Frank Orlando song with her interpretation to make it closer to my own name 'Oh Candidas, you took my heart and left me'... and that is the only line I know of that song.  Is that strange when you consider it is my nickname and quite possibly my fondest term of endearment?  The few who call me by that are some of my dearest loved ones, and the word alone makes me feel at home.  I think that is, in part, why I am using it on here.  I am hoping to be fair to you, Reader.  I am hoping to be so candid ...

      ----- candid: indicating or suggesting sincere honesty and absence of deception ----

... that through this journey you see me as less of a stranger, more of a friend, and forever someone you would want to call by her fondest of names.

As for now, Dear Reader - who I can only presume would be but my own mother and my lovely friend Lauren who dangled this entire scrumptious idea in front of me - that is enough.  May there be many more posts by me that are written while losing myself in the wistful music of The Script, many more reads by the two of you, and even more random people who stop to read this, deciding by the end of it that I am worth their read, worth their following, and lastly that I, too, could 'be somebody.'

To a door that is now open, Hello World.  And goodbye for now.



~*~ Candidly Candidas ~*~