it seems too simple,

saturday night the feller and i doubled with a couple i wasn't well-acquainted with. and before i could think about their kindness or their humor or appreciate their uniqueness, i assumed. and based on assumptions, which were (probably) true i tried to correct everything they (might) have been told about me.  because well, when people are angry with a situation they talk - a lot - and to a lot of people. i worried they were measuring me up against the picture sketched with the frustrations of another. i, the young woman who was sure of herself weeks ago, was confident she could hold her own weeks ago, was worried. while twirling my linguini around my four pronged fork and making swirls in the marinara sauce, i thought. thinking, in my case, can lead to devasting conclusions. i am a class one, self-diagnosed (appropriate, yes?) hypochondriac. and i worry about red eyes and slightly bulging veins and tight breathing. my hypochondria isn't limited to medical emergencies. no, i look behind me when i walk to my house from the street at night. i check my back seat before i enter my car lest a murderer or rapist be lurking (or contorted) in the back seat somewhere. and when it comes to relationships and friendships it might be worse. sometimes i conclude it's better to leave everyone (because they secretly want to leave me but won't out of pity), to suffer the losses, and prepare for the next time i'm forced to leave (because they secretly want to leave me but won't out of pity). i worry. my thoughts tend towards the worst outcomes. saturday night i thought of things they might have been told. i thought of how their opinions of me have been swayed. i wondered if they were comparing me to you. i wondered if they could see you at the table rather than me. i was less myself because of these worries. i laughed less and couldn't think of the right things to say.  it was still a good night. my sheepishness likely went unnoticed since they don't know me well. the feller knew. he knows. i love that.
early sunday morning, God reminded me who i am. daughter. strong. silly. wise. beautiful. and who He is. anchor. rock. truth. He reminded to keep my gaze steady. you see, i do look to the left and to the right. i look. and i worry. i assume. and i worry. i think. and i worry. a steady gaze sheds worry.  a steady gaze requires i not overanalyze, twirling thoughts like i do linguini. it is good to be reminded that, at the end of the day, one persons sketch of me as this or that holds no water like His does. but until i lock my eyes with His, i will torment myself with the what-ifs of that sketch endlessly.  the former is just a better way to live. sunday night, in an attempt to escape my easy-bake-oven of a house, the feller and i went to in-n-out and our faithful gelato supplier. i was honest with him about our double. he assured me that proving myself benefits nobody, achieves nothing. that he loves me and that the sketch isn't worry-worthy. vulnerability is great, friends. it builds trust. it increases intimacy. it gives space to bleed. it gives space to heal.

a note on this post:
i penned the above yesterday morning. but on my bed last night, after a bout of anxiety that only preys on the sleepy and sensitive, i opened my bible of ten years. (because sometimes you know you aren't strong enough to pass up the good words of a good God). the leather cover isn't attached to the pages anymore but i still stuff the bound pages between the cover like a pita.
john 5. jesus asked "do you want to be made well?"there was not even a "yes" or a "no" but a reason as to why he hasn't been able to be well. he is an invalid. he needs the assistance of another. no one will help. other people are made well. he is overlooked. and i'm sure he is used to this. perhaps even looks pessimistically towards getting better. perhaps even looks bitterly at passerbys. jesus didn't need a "yes" to know. and He wasn't off-put by the mans pessimism or bitterness. apathetic as the man may have been, He made him well. last night i was reminded that jesus asks me if i am through with sitting on my mat, crippled and despising my condition. he asks me if wellness is my hearts desire. am i through with being a victim of sickness and mistreatment? well, yes. but i have been walked over lord. i have been dragged through shit. and there are people who help me (the feller, lex, sister, jackie, etc.) but sometimes i don't let them. i am understandably jaded, lord. and at the end of the day, it is hard to shake the familiarity i have with the titles invalid, victim, and (because of these things) worried skeptic. despite my condition and my titles He still asks. and i say yes. it seems too simple, but i say yes. and he says "stand up, pick up your mat, and walk!"

it reminds me of isaiah 1: "stop doing wrong, learn to do right." or in john 8: "go and sin no more." these are unnervingly direct commands. there are no prefaces or buts or ands or ifs. there are certainly no explanations, which usually stave off change and quiet courage. sometimes they come after His kindness or healing. even so, they say we have a part in being made well. so i recognize my weakness and i say it. i describe it. i learn it. i do this so i can spot it from afar. i do this so i can articulate situations to loved ones in the most true way i can. it equips them to help. or to tell me to help myself! i do this so i know where i need Him most. so i can make specific requests of Him. so i can invite Him into these areas to do as He desires. i stop worry in its tracks. and i don't, out of boredom or stress, navigate social media sites such as facebook and blogger and twitter. i kill the beast. i redirect my thoughts. i replace them with the current state of affairs, which are lovely. i exercise confession and honesty. i present myself bare before loved ones. i rejoice in vulnerability. and i celebrate the ones who make vulnerability possible.