the condnundrum

leaving a place i considered home was a formidable task.
even the consideration of leaving made me shudder.

looking back, six months back i can see that the shuddering was fear.
violent, robust.
there was this feeling that i would be the only one grieving the fallout. perhaps i would be the only one experiencing this goodbye as an eruption of reality. as a complete debacle. perhaps the chalky dust-filled air and accumulation of rubble only meant ruin for me. and for them, well, it was life as usual: people come and go and it becomes easier each time because life goes on.
there was this feeling that my absence would not be felt. i cringed at the likelihood of my replacement.* and how that meant i would soon be forgot, or worse remembered. and to be relegated to a memory felt like failure. specifically, being a memory without impact. i wondered if i had made an impact, one enough to miss.

approximately two months ago i began to get messages.
imissyou messages.
and i wrestled with the conundrum of imissyou.

what does it even mean?
that i've passed your mind like the fact that you need gas in your tank or like the test you need to study for? that i was, to quote the infamous juno macgruff, "a piece of furniture in your weird life" and you miss that old chair or coat rack? that you realized that we haven't talked in months and decided to make mention that you finally noticed?

i expect a follow up to imissyou.
because the words, though i love them - need them at times - are insufficient. it seems so imprudent to do nothing that corresponds with longing. if you miss someone, you do something about it. right? and when you say you are going to make plans, you follow up. right? and if you can't meet up because you're busy, you make it happen because you miss that person and they are worth shifting a schedule or working out a day to meet. right?

i am grieved that imissyou has become a courtesy rather than a true expression of desire.
i want to matter.
miss my smile.

miss my laugh.

miss my conversation.

miss my presence.
miss my ideas.
miss my kindness.
miss my silliness.

when you don't express that you are still there and haven't forgotten, i will assume you have moved onto bigger and better things. and that my being gone had something to with that. i need to know that you would still be there, even though we don't see each other often. or at all.

i just want you to acknowledge that i was important to you, at one point at least. that a text message, facebook comment isn't enough to satisfy the relationship. that you want relationship with me.
(this is by no means saying that i am unhappy with the ones i have here and now. in fact, there is so much more room to engage in deep relationships because [lots of changes] took place inside me and outside me).

then and there, i said hello and how are you to many but not much more. i had other concerns. what a terrible waste of opportunity. i took advantage of the four years i had to build relationships and develop into myself. and i spit on them and chose to stay. stuck. i failed to be present for people and was preoccupied with self-preservation, manipulation, control, and the desperation to be loved by a single person - nobody else mattered. perhaps that is why these imissyou messages seem so empty. i never gave people something they could miss enough to do something about it.

so when you say imissyou, i don't really know what it means.

and it makes my heart hurt because

i know

i know

i know

you won't follow up (with me at least).

*replacement is a funny thing. i know in function i can be replaced. but i refuse to believe that i can be replaced as person. the qualities of another may be similar to mine but they are not mine. i am an altogether unique being, in the sense that the combination of knowledge, experience, fears, etc. are mine alone. i am not unique in the sense that at the end of the day i am human and we are not as isolated from each other as we like to believe. the human experience is a shared one. but who i am, the person of stacey is largely unique. i suspect i've been replaced in many ways. and i see it in pictures and the way people don't talk to me anymore. didn't we hang out three days a week for four years? and i think it shocked me at first. i resented them. and sometimes, in all honesty, i wonder why i wasted time with people who don't find me valuable enough to keep talking to me, to keep hanging out with me, etc. and upon seeing [the replacement] i just kept thinking, over and over again, "get your own friends. get your own life. go. away. they. are. mine. and we would all be better off without you. take that daft smile. that flowy hair. that genuine personality. that ever-so-likable quality that has people swarming around you. and go. away. because you are living the life i wanted for so long but was too unhealthy to live. because you are making this harder than it needs to be." and that may be rude. but nobody likes to be replaced. and nobody likes to fall into the hole of comparison. and come up with a pile of reasons why they have been replaced. nobody. and even though i am convinced that the person of stacey is largely unique, wonderfully unique and special. it is hard to live that out. even after six months.

on the inside.

thanksgiving was wonderful.

it is too much to describe.

but there was

time at the park with the feller and the nephews before everyone arrived.

jungle gym. slides. swings. football.

food. glorious food.

far too much food.

ham. mashed potatoes. carrots. pea salad. turkey. rolls. potato/cheese/unfrosted flakes/sour cream goodness. many cheeses mac n' cheese with bacon. cranberry sauce. stuffing. pumpkin pie. apple pie.

an unfitting dessert contest. unfitting because thanksgiving is about savory, creamy, warm foods. not decadent, luxurious chocolate. six entries. six chocolate entries. cake. pie. cookies. you name it. an unlikely winner. but not really because as much as mikey gets down on himself for not being all that great - we all know he really is that great.

seventeen people total.

new additions. additions that surprise us all. little children. (this means coloring and toys and paint and a reminder to be playful always.)

i love my family. we are loud. we are fun. we are crazy. and they are so worth sticking around for. they are worth my investment. and the way the feller interacts with them reminds me of this. to not escape the craziness of my family by becoming so preoccupied with my own life. oh yes, they are worth my time and appreciation.

and when everything wound down it was time to leave. and share thanksgiving with the feller's family. a car ride with tension. of course. some arguing and laughter. figuring things out. which is not about being right or wrong but learning eachother. i want to learn this young man and know the details. i want him to learn me and know the details.

a fancy home. fancy plates. white, square. less food. (not that i needed more). candles, glass tables, expensive decor the little one couldn't run around. a fire place. my head being scratched. step-grandparents who live luxuriously. the feller says it comes with age - their taste, that is. the view was jaw-dropping. san diego lit up. electricity running underneath the sidewalks and streets, running into homes and stores and stoplights. feeling that same electricity on the inside - joy and belonging.

driving home. the feller drinking a rockstar as i shook my head. we talked. it is good to share life with him. and play the "guess what?" game. it is my favorite. i never want to not play it. (i love double negatives.) i fell asleep and am thankful he didn't wake me.

and at the end of the day, tired.

coming home to family still at the table and in the living room.

but too tired to hang out much longer, knowing i would be sucked into staying up until four like the rest of them.

with thanks in my heart i went upstairs and slept.

as admitted by

i wear my boyfriends clothes.
and they look better on me.*

i am so down with shopping in the men's section.
and pairing said pieces with feminine ones.


today i am thankful for...

his good taste.
his strong opinions.
his eloquent speech.
his adventurous spirit.
the times he thinks he is funny.
the times he "lets me" borrow his clothes.

*as admitted by the feller himself
(including friends, strangers, family... the list goes on.)

rich.

today was rich.

rain.

rain.

rain.

choir concert. early but rested. two services. power outage. singing, still.

almost done painted living room. mom and dad (out of the bedroom and not watching tv). mikey and carolyn. working together. painting. laughing. (yesterday was a lot like this too. it's good to feel togetherness.)

sisters acting like sisters. the oldest standing up for me. and defending me. the other, always a joy. advice. more than a sister, a friend. brother-in-law and nephew and the feller playing modern warfare three (because they can).

belated burgers for moms birthday. laughs. so much joy. she's vibrant.

mini naps because i'm tired.

the feller and i doing homework. kisses. squeezes. being silly. we are professionals at this. bugging eachother on purpose. for the fun of it. because we take it light heartedly. doing homework. and succeeding! understanding eachother. learning eachother. him being close and a part. him fitting into this crazy crazy family.

me, being thankful. thankful.

and better at not fighting for my preferences, way, and "rights."

selflessness. consideration for others.

this is what living is like.

i feel like i'm living for the first time in a long while.

it is so so good.

and

saturdays are good news.

quiet light and easy silence.

trapped

i want to move away and start fresh.

these streets are too close.

the freeway. the parks. the stores.

i feel trapped by memories.

i want a life that has no reminders.

about anything i experienced prior to this past may.

and the moments of foolishness between then and now.

i want to forget forget forget the people and places.

and the pain they brought me.

the insecurity they engrained in me.

right now i do not care for the good things anymore.

they are overshadowed by the hurt.

what good is remembering when all i see and feel and experience now is aching?

what good is remembering when it leaves me so disorientated?

i can choose to not dwell on things.

and i have been. and will continue to.

i can choose to stay away from things and sources that will remind me.

but a familiar area will always be familiar area.

yes, i want to move away, need to, desperately.

let us

this song is a deep inhalation and a relaxed exhalation.

it gives me time to breathe.

let us become more aware of Your presence.

let us experience the glory of Your goodness.

yes.

because He is here.

and sometimes i don't notice.

yes.

because He is good.

and i forget that this moment is a product of it.

let love

sometimes letting love grow means saying no to things that
prohibit
stunt
terminate
growth.

i commit myself to this.
to saying no.
as often as growth requires.
because growth isn't as bad as i used to think.

today i am eager for growth.
and am thankful for the growth that has occurred.

handle the hiccups

sometimes i absent-mindedly overcommit myself.

this is what happens when i don't check my planner with shocking regularity.

one day i will learn. but until then i will stay up late and wake up early and maybe skip a class or two to write a paper because i chose to cover a morning shift tomorrow (leaving my last minute paper writing time slot somewhere down the toilet).

when i realized this i laughed.

laughed at how often i find myself in this situation.

laughed at the impossibility of a perfectly executed planned life.

laughed at how the unplanned things usurp power and control from the planned things. as well as the security and peace we derive (or should i say, i derive) from said planned things. (why do we insist on putting so much stock into our plans?)

this is a small, insignificant occurance.

the paper will get done.

the notes from my skipped classes will be retrieved.

the timecard will be stamped at six forty-five am.

i truly have nothing to worry about.

but how i handle this unexpected interference says much about how i handle the other larger, significant ones.

i want to handle the hiccups of life well.

this laughable moment makes me so appreciate the nap i took earlier.

i knew i would need it.

i've said too much

i haven't the chance to write something well thought out right now.

but i am thrilled for the next time i do.

is it strange that i am eagerly looking forward to forming sentences and working out ideas?

i am.

life has been good lately. good talks with friends and the feller and the counselor. some with tears on my end. but i do so enjoy a good cry. i register for my last semester of college tomorrow. what? how did that all happen so fast? i have two papers to write. my school load has been heavy. felt heavy. but i have made time to watch movies periodically. to occassionaly share hummus and lavash and carve pumpkins. to have impromptu sleep overs. to eat ice cream. to talk even when i'd rather be on vocal rest. because people are important. and all the details of my schoolwork will be accomplished. simple as that.

i need not be overwhelmed. i just must do what needs to be done, without distraction.

and be. i must be as often as possible.

my life depends on it.

the quality of my life depends on it.

and in that being i must laugh and cry and cherish cherish cherish those moments.

ah, i've said too much already.

time to type well into the evening.

p.s. i'm trying to listen to music that i wouldn't naturally go looking for. but i am disciplining myself to consider what effect different genres (of all sorts) might have on my appreciation for beauty, life, creativity, and excellence.

p.s.s. i could not find any appropriate picture for this blog entry. my sincerest apologies. (hah! as if i have to apologize. ::wink::)

a handful

this weekend was wonderful.

productive and comical.

sometimes i just need people who i can be myself with.
and i am thankful to have had a handful (yes, i am learning to be thankful for the handful. ) that have allowed me to do so.
what a pleasant thing.

life delights in

yes, yes, yes.

come above the surface.

today i did not use an alarm but i chose to let my body do its thing and rest as long as it wanted. nine hours. a glorious nine hours of rest. miracle of miracles, i did not have any frustrating dreams, i did not wrestle with my sheets because of restlessness. sweet sleep. and a quiet house. the phone rings occasionally but i refuse to answer when it is only a telemarketer. everyone is at work or school. i cannot imagine who my father, my mother, my niece, my nephew, and my sister are when they are not here. when their mother or brother or aunt or sister or grandparents aren't giving them a role to slip into. we are all separate people living separate lives. but i do love when our lives intersect (sometimes chaotically).

i stretched.

my body creaks in the morning. like a rusted door hinge. like popcorn in the microwave. is it strange to say i look forward to the creaking of my body? perhaps, "look forward" is not the right phrase. perhaps, anticipate would be better? either way. it is something i can always count on. it is something i expect. the creaking of my body is business as usual.

i read.

about a whole life affected by the faithfulness of God. about confidence and hope in a Rock, in a Refuge, to which i can always go. about things i know not the measure of. and i pondered how i have relied on Him in ways i cannot articulate. and how i have relied on Him in ways that i have usually been unaware of. and i pondered how such a dependable God is deserving of praise. more and more and more.

(and at the same time)

i ate.

my mother purchased english muffins last week. i have not had these in ages. toasted and spackled with butter and strawberry jam, they were delightful. accompanied by a tall glass of milk, they were, indeed, the perfect morning snack.

i stilled myself.

after reading a quote from evelyn underhill:

"For a spiritual life is simply a life in which all that we do comes from the centre, where we are anchored in God: a life soaked through and through by a sense of His reality and claim, and self given to the great movement of His will."

the first phrase gave me reason enough to pause.

from the centre.

and i closed my eyes imagining how it could be so.

such imagining was overpowered by a scene that materialized from the blackness behind my eyes. a scene that i did not witness in real time and space but have conjured in dreams and in wake. it is a scene fabricated from a place of fear, of wanting to know what really happened those times i wasn't holding your hand. it took me a minute or so to realize how terribly off course my train of thought had gone. frustrated by my lack of concentration and unsettled by how the scene, the most offensive of fantasies could appear out of nowhere and interrupt my well-intentioned imagining.

from the centre.

what was in the center was flowing out.

the fear and realization of betrayal has burrowed itself deep.

and for that brief moment of stillness there was an opportunity for it to, gasping for breath, come above the surface.

lord, in those still moments draw from me the most brilliant and hideous thoughts, emotions, dreams. as i give them chance to come up for air, take take take what is harmful to my soul (transform it - if it is possible - into light) and nurture what is good.

one that i hold dear.

my list of "almost published posts" (aka drafts) are accumulating on this thing.
some are not worth finishing, emaciated ideas left wanting. ravenous for substance. uninterested in superfluous language - an amateurs guise alleging they have something with body to say.
many were impulsive. times have been hard and writing is helpful. but those posts, full of swift judgments and inundating uncertainty, can be buried by the passing of time.

the latter suggest, as can be proven on multiple accounts, that i am quickly and deeply agitated by small disturbances. granted, these disturbances, usually in the form of memories, are linked to occasions that required much of me. much that i initially declined. after time and mistakes (oh, how time supplies ample opportunity to ruminate and wander in thought then action.) staving off the summoning of change and the proposition for a different life took their toll. i consented to both. glady, i should add. this is not to say i don't have hard days. i am glad for my decisions. they were precisely what i needed to do.

my temperament, my inclination towards behaving in certain ways, reacts with hesitancy and hostility towards change. usually seen as optimistic, i realize this is only concerning others. when something disrupts my day, my plans, my wants, my needs, my life i am undone. ask those who know me best. i am working to remedy this. (with help, of course.)

so here is a reflection on this, one that i hold dear.
it is an image and idea i touched the day i was caught in a lie.
one of a string of lies. truth, this is something i am working on as well.
but honesty is hard.
i digress.

the reflection:

there is a monster without footprints or perceivable expressions. flighty and rash. a monster, i say! he pays little regard to the order, the precise-ness of things. he is skinny, no!, he is a contortionist, squeezing effortlessly through the knitting in your sweater. he is fat, no!, he has a bumbling frame, tearing off roof shingles in one fell swoop. his whistle is chilling. his roar will swallow you. he is not always so monstrous (i concede, he can be kind. gentle, even.), but the unfortunate truth is: he is marred with animosity.

humble winged creatures tied to mildly strong branches

quiver, quiver, quiver.

he has come. is coming. will come.

they flutter. they quake. bellies exposed and backs breaking.

light and fragile creatures: representatives of the ephemeral and ambassadors of life, change, and death. follow the courage in their veins to thick and thicker and thickest limbs, to thin and thinner and thinnest fingers. fingers with a steady hold. underground and unaffected by the tremoring above.

the mass of it's body may be swayed but it shan't be moved.

...

i want to be like this tree.

simply like this tree.

grounded. rooted. established.

i see frenzied movement at the leaves but the whole is unbent by every gust and blow.

yes, i want to be like this.

grounded. rooted. established.

luxurious

i want a pillow from here.

my wish list is growing.

( brown eyeliner, 4-color palette of eyeshadows, boots, etc.)

and at the same time i am learning that

i do not need more.

what i have is enough.

let's be real,

more than enough.

feeling warm water on my bare back

every morning

is

luxurious.

today i am thankful for the things that won't always be there.

the things i take for granted.

like this computer.

like a bed.

like a toothbrush.

like socks.

uneasy about abandonment.

it's like a child, sweet but lonely, with salt rivers on the inside.

it's like a child postured territorially around her play things.

oh, and her family too.

oh, and her friends as well.

it's like a child uneasy about abandonment.

it's like a child grabbing and clinging,

all the time seized by, governed by the repetitious stubborn refrain:

mine, mine, mine.

if another child makes advances they will be met by a break in the dam.

let the rivers flow.

it's like a child who, after protecting her possessions from the sticky fingers and passing glances of other children (yes, even glances!), finds out they are not hers to begin with.

and finds that she has been a recepient of great gifts.

ah, but the refrain still murmurs beneath her thankfulness at times.

it's like a child who fights the murmuring and chooses gratitude that does not grab or cling, but holds loosely.

critical, potetent, fertile

"After nearly two years, I had absolutely nothing tangible to show for two whole years of my life.....I wanted my new life to start yesterday. So why was it taking so long?.....Have I mentioned that I'm really bad at waiting? I wanted to fast forward through the whole process and find out where I was going to BE. Which means (you guessed it), I was definitely not living in the moment.....I've since realized that those two years were critical, potent, fertile years of development, during which I planted all the seeds that are now blossoming.
I now call those two years my Waiting and Becoming years."

dr. lissa rankin

stolen from this lady.

sadly,

today feels like a friday.

sadly, it is a tuesday.

right now i lift my proverbial glass to the assignments, exams, essays pressing on all sides and to the moments amid and among busyness where i meet the familiar bursting eyes of companions.

yes, i am that girl on the freeway.

my ipod is headed to its deathbed.

and can only be used when plugged in.

and my course of action is most definitely turning on the radio.

even though i cannot stand interjections from radio hosts or commercials.

(although sometimes i opt for silence.)

sidenote: i love dance music.

i may not go clubbing but i love to move around.

purpose of this post: i love this song.

whenever it comes on i smile.

and sing along.

and try and do that ridiculous run in the middle of the song.

and whether or not i can do it, i keep singing.

loudly.

and i keep dancing in my seat.

unashamedly.

yes, i am that girl on the freeway.

this song may not be musically intricate.

david guetta and usher may have accomplished no creative feat.

but it sure is catchy.

and that's enough sometimes.

so please turn your speakers up and join with me in my love for

fun, simple, listener-friendly music.

celebrate

after a long week i was able to celebrate life in all of it's ordinariness this weekend with my family, with friends, with the feller. i was able to appreciate the moments that are quite different from routine because of new life stages or anniversaries.

i celebrated working with children with a friend.

tag. four corners. coloring. popcorn. loud children. know-it-all children.

i celebrated an almost-bride.

sweet and bitter, young and old ladies present. people from everywhere together for a lady of simplicity and faith. languages: asl. spanish. english. laughter. panties. cupcake contests. decor that will make you salivate. mom stealing my lipstick.

(for the second time this week) i celebrated the one year mark with the feller.

food, always. orange circle, always. faces in yellow light. the original bowtie. lots of kisses. round two? remembering the year. how things began and almost ended. being so thankful for the way things have turned out. enjoying him for him.

i celebrated Christ our Redeemer, our Living Hope.

dancing. jumping. singing even though my voice is tired. truth. reminded of His power sans the kooky, weird, sensationalist tricks. (even though sometimes His power working in our lives looks strange.) reminded that i need only be myself walking in that power. silly pastors. really silly pastors. free lunch. mexican food. tv. naptime with the feller and friends. homework. and now taking a break from homework to recount and take stock of the many things i have to be thankful for.

i have so many reasons to celebrate Him.

He is so good.

cheers

today is our one year.

perhaps this would be a better picture.

so cheers to this feller.

to his character.

to his patience.

to his intelligence.

to his humour.

to his talents.

to his kindness.

to his strangeness.

to his good looks.

to his facial hair.

to his vulnerability.

to his dreams.

to his faithfulness.

and cheers to us.

to working through it all.

thank you, dear.

to the easiness we have right now.

to the difficulties we have right now.

and to the hope we have for many tomorrows.

i am so fortunate to do this with him.

i am so proud to partner with him.

all is muddy water sometimes.

and if everything to this point has been about me, how disheartening.

what does it to mean to give up my life?

not loving it so much that i lose it. not clinging. not trying to preserve myself and what i want and what i want others to think of me. offering it up. giving it up. living sacrifice. painful. suffering. testing. costly.

whoever loses his life for my sake will lose it,

and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.

matthew 10:39

new international version

if your first concern is to look after yourself, you'll never find youreslf.

but if you forget about youreslf and look to me,

you'll find both yourself and me.

matthew 10:39

the message

i am receiving my life back.

i am being trusted with my life.

but this opportunity offers up cumbersome questions and formidable tasks.

i, on most accounts, have been so paralyzed and chained by the fear of things not turning out how i planned, of not getting precisely what i want, of letting others down. fear has kept me from saying yes to freedom for so long. anxious to preserve the temporal. the comfort, the security. not trusting God to come through, to provide or satisfy me. not trusting His generous love for me and His good thoughts towards me.

i am receiving my life back.

little by little.

and motives for every interaction with you and yours and them and theirs are surfacing. all is muddy water sometimes. but i know, am assured, am completely convinced that He is faithful to finish the good work He has begun in me. and i will submit to the process He deems best to accomplish this. even though it is scary to think of the many options that i can be made more His, more myself.

now i am just talking.

rambling.

forgive me, because i could go on.

p.s. this isn't perfectly said, i know. but i am forsaking the lure of polished language because i am not all that refined, flawless, or excellent right now.

even if

sometimes fear persuades me otherwise.

but not today.

i have resolved to live truthfully.

to live exposed.

even if i feel just that.

(naked, without covering)

even if i have done a destestable job thus far.

today i know that i can choose other than

what is easy or what i am used to.

and today i will do just that.

p.s. sometimes other people say it better than i ever could.

if we will only

i need to be reminded that love can be at the center of all things,

if we will only keep it there.

-kathleen norris

courage

story of my life right now.

so easy

today i woke up at four-thirty am.

went to the gym.

opened at work. (called in).

and am about write a paper.

it has been a brilliant morning thus far.

today i will have a test.

a fitting for my choir dress.

my second counseling appointment.

attempt to accomplish homework.

and class later.

the tears came easy last night.

they always come so easy.

throwing it out

i feel guilty being in the library and reading/writing blogs.
i also feel guilty about being on facebook while in the library.
ergo to avoid this guilty feeling i will most resolutely get dinner.

and i will write more about this later,
but filling myself with beautiful words and pictures is good for my soul.

and i still would like to become a master of water colors.
just throwing it out there.

more here.

goodbye

this is beautifully written.

the kind of stuff movies are made of.

decisively idealized and heavily romanticized but true enough to touch upon reality.

found at dear meg's blog.

so as a discipline

every good and perfect gift comes from You.

i shall not be in want.

so as a discipline when i begin to want for and reach for:

thank You, Lord, for what i have right now,

where i find myself this hour, this day.

You are kind. You are gracious.

thank You, Lord, for Your leading and Your nearness.

Your words are life to me.

i fix my ears and eyes on You.

You are beautiful and burn with love for me.

You know what's best. You have given me what's best.

You are forming me like i asked.

You are restoring me like i asked.

and here in the breaking of an old life,

You are building in me a new one.

thank You.

agree with me.

some days beg for ingrid michaelson.

her voice is soft, inviting.

the rounds in this song remind me of childhood.

row, row, row your boat... anyone?

and i know it goes without saying but rounds are circular. each line coincides without clashing or distracting from the others. they don't ask for your attention. they show each other off. they work together. the spiral of a round and their indefinite end agree with me.

repetition is possibly my most favored rhetorical device.

i love ethereal voices and easy singing.

i love songs in triple meter. (six/eight?)

fact: i also walk in triple meter. one, two, three. one, two, three.

i know this is not the most cheerful song,

but it is catchy and i smile when the voices move to unison at the end.

p.s. i actually don't own any of her music. i use grooveshark to supply all those needs. but i am finding myself lacking sweet music in my car. (my ipod dies if it isn't plugged in). point being, i need to purchase said sweet music. or someone can give it to me.... ::wink wink::

p.s.s. i also want to learn how to watercolor.

the gain

today i am reminded of a friend who so plainly told me that i am not missing out on anything. that i haven't lost anything in this transition. i am reminded to love the life i have. to say thank you for my life and not be filled with anxiety about a life i did have or could have had but do not have.

but whatever was to my profit I now

consider loss for the sake of Christ.

What is more, I consider everything a loss

compared to the surpassing greatness of

knowing Christ Jesus my Lord,

for whose sake I have lost all things.

I consider them rubbish, that I may gain Christ

and be found in him, but that which is through

faith in Christ -

the righteousness that comes from God and is by faith.

I want to know Christ

and the power of his resurrection

and the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings,

becoming like him in his death,

and so, somehow, to attain to the resurrection from the dead.

philippians 3:7-11

today i am reminded of a joy that goes deep. a steady joy.

a quiet joy that bubbles up and over.

today i am reminded that i have to choose this joy,

even in what feels like loss.

and that joy, the gain of knowing Christ, makes me want to dance.

maybe he will.

dear girl i was avoiding,

last night we spoke.

you took the initiative and that makes me respect you.

about two hours before we spoke i was filled with anxiety. rushes of distress made me physically uncomfortable in class. my stomach began to twist itself in knots, the kind of tension that only voice recitals give me. i could not focus on my professors stories. i was apprhensive. i was full of angst. because i have known you through the years. and we have confided in eachother over time. definitely not best friends, but enough to share the deep hard stuff if we wanted. and now things are different. and the circumstances under which we would speak were unforeseeable seven years ago.

it was all so bizarre.

i had practiced what i would say. i played out conversations in my head. questions you might ask, how i would answer.

and the most curious thing was the trust in your voice, the security in your eyes. you trust him fully. you have a peace about this all, about his character and you did not ask one single question about the past. it was as if you didn't need to. you were sure things wouldn't pan out the way they did before. i could not fathom it. how could you be so sure? why weren't you reaching for information? he will not tell you. you will never know the extent of his wandering. i cautioned you. no details. just don't be so trusting. don't be naive. ask about hard things. if there is no commitment, there is a reason. and i told you the truth about yourself. you are beautiful. you are beloved. you are worth faithfulness. you are worth honesty.

there was a time when i was just as believing as you were, just as hopeful. my certainty and confidence were dashed. completely. i could never speak so surely about this man that has charmed you like he had charmed me.

but maybe it is your belief in him that will help him make better decisions. maybe your faith in him, maybe the audacity of your trust will move him to live in the light and stay there.

i used to be afraid of freedom. of walking away and living my life separate from his.

but if you are a means by which the Father restores him, i am thankful.

because we all need restoration. even those who have hurt us.

because we are all broken and need someone to believe in us and root for us.

i want to believe he will tell you. but i can't.

i think this means that part of me believes people cannot change or maybe my experience has taught me that patterns are terribly hard to break. but they are harder to break when hidden.

i want to believe he will tell you everything. maybe he will.

either way, it's not my business. it is not my life anymore.

i have no right worrying about it.

it has no right renting space in my head.

anyways, i am glad i don't have to avoid you.

and that saying hello isn't awkward.

sincerely,

a girl who is baffled by the conviction (or is it foolishness?) in your smile.

the implications

dear girl who i have been avoiding,

we could have been friends, you know? if things did not turn out the way they have i might be grabbing lunch with you tomorrow.

i think you are a beautiful person. truly, i do. but i think you are naive jumping into this all so blindly. (not that you would have any way of knowing, some things have been hidden so well and for so long.) and it pains me to see you because you remind me of wounds. wounds. and it grieves me to see you because you are worth more. because you, like so many girls before you, deserve to know the truth. and i cannot tell you unless you ask. do you understand that? it is not my job to expose or uncover. because what is done in darkness will be brought into light. that is not my job.

if you ask for the truth, i will give it to you. but i will not go out of my way and make it my business to tell you what i have learned over the years.

i am not sure you will ever ask. people rarely want to know the truth. especially if it is opposite, contradictory to what they already believe.

i hope things are different for you.

i used to be you, or rather in your shoes.

you should remember it.

you were there on the outside when it all started and when it all ended.

isn't that strange?

it is for me.

even though i am happy with my lot in life, it is.

i hope you are not hurt or deceived.

i hope you are treated well, loved well.

i wish you no ill.

i wish you only the truth, and the courage to explore the implications of the truth.

sincerely,

the girl who keeps avoiding you but secretly wants to bump into you to let it all spill out.

uprising of unbelief.

as of late, the past two weeks or so, i have been feeling the effects of old wounds, deep wounds. the result of which has been this post. who i am has largely been defined by who i am not (or who i have supposed myself not to be). the list is as follows: i am not beautiful. i am not worth love - pure, selfless, protecting, persevering love. i am not worth faithfulness. i am not worth truth. i am not a good singer. i am not as smart or successful as i should be. i am not the kind of person people are drawn to. i am not a good leader.

lies, all of them.
lies, which are the products of hurt.
lies, which can be easily stirred. (and believed).

i have spent many moments redirecting my thoughts from lies to truth. it is a vexing business, accepting the truth when all you want to do is shake your head at it, salty rivers at the corners of your eyes, unbelief burning in your throat.

tuesday evening on my indian red front porch and in the sun and shadows of dusk i sat with a friend i never planned on having. and after sharing the details of a new school year, new jobs, and stories about daily occurrences i pondered disclosing this uprising of unbelief. she knows my story well enough. she has sat with me in dark places. and listened generously. she has placed her hand on my knee, exhibiting one of the most tender display of empathy i have experienced, as i sobbed. she has been there. and poured courage into me. i am thankful for the gift she is. i never planned on knowing her. what a wonderful surprise. as we stood in silence for a moment, i wondered if my story would make her late to her previous engagement or if she would ever get sick of hearing about my journey. but assured that she loved me, i pushed forward.

i am over feeling this way.
i want to come out of this.
i am ready to come out of this.

you see, wounds have a way of making themselves known.
my brokenness, the parts of me that are still in shambles, will show.
every tear

cut

puncture

trauma

will affect how i understand and treat myself and you.

and upon seeing a picture or two, upon seeing the change and progress (if one can call it that) in the lives of another, the wounds and the lies that those wounds produce in me made. themselves. known. there i was driving or eating or holding conversation with friends and simultaneously being confronted with pain. entangled. overwhelmed. snared. distressed. for two weeks. unceasing anxiety. even in prayer. even in song.

this is what i shared through vehement tears:
the frustration at still being affected by wounds.
the difficulty of knowing the truth and not being able to believe it.

and as i finished, two ladies and a young girl walked up my steps asking if either of us needed prayer. i must interject here that i do not believe in coincidence. i do not explain away miracles. i do not use my smarts or my skepticism to deduce the goodness of God to mere happenstance. the combination of receiving ministry rather than giving it and the exactness of their prayers (how they lined up with my own, word-for-word) left me in awe. a wonder i have not felt in a very long time.

He is so good.

He is so loving.

i am fascinated by the God i serve. the One who goes out of His way to make His kindness known. the One who rescues me because He delights in me. the One who vows to be my refuge, my rock, my fortress... and delivers on His promises. for His attentiveness to my cries and especially for His powerful, detailed response, i am thankful. filled with gratitude for His ways and character.

i am thankful for a very real and significant encounter but i, knowing this experience must be walked out daily, am even more thankful for His grace and strength to continue to serve Him and love Him rightly.

to enable us

"O God, our Father, we remember at this time... how the eternal Word became flesh and dwelt among us.

We thank you that Jesus took our human body upon him, so that we can never again dare to despise or neglect or misuse the body, since you made it your dwelling-place.

We thank you that Jesus did a day's work like any working-man, that he knew the problem of living together in a family, that he knew the frustration and irritation of serving the public, that he had to earn a living, and to face all the wearing routine of everyday work and life and living, and so clothed each common task with glory.

We thank you that he shared in all happy social occassions, that he was at home at weddings and at dinners and at festivals in the homes of simple ordinary people like ourselves. Grant that we may ever remember that in his unseen risen presence he is a guest in every home.

We thank you that he knew what freindship means, that he had his own circle of men whom he wanted to be with him, that he knew too what it means to be let down, to suffer from disloyalty and from the failure of love.

We thank you that he too had to bear unfair criticism, prejudiced opposition, malicious and deliberate misunderstanding.

We thank you that whatever happens to us, he has been there before, and that, because he himself has gone through things, he is able to help those who are going through them.

Help us never to forget that he knows life, because he lived life, and that he is with us at all times to enable us to live victoriously.

This we ask for your love's sake. Amen."

william barclay

prayers for the christian year

orchestrate

thankful for

words of life and assurance

from a dear friend,

from two strangers and the little girl with them,

from my mother,

from my father.

a God who is deeply concerned with my life,

who will orchestrate the most unlikely occurances

just to show me He cares.

a smart movie.

yesterday i saw this movie with my feller.

it was such a smart movie.

it's characters playful and witty with language.

it's truthfulness - the sting of loss and joy of love - refreshing.

the lighting was perfect. the casting was perfect.

i laughed and tried to remember quotes.

it made me want to read the book so badly.

being strong with joy.

recent circumstances have challenged me to excavate and explore the vicious, constricting thing we call insecurity.

here is my working thesis on the beauty of the self.

ahem. the beauty of myself.

doesn't that sound wonderful?

(indulge me, please?)

i promise the actual thesis itself is not impressive.

and is far from an actual thesis.

it is more of a ramble. stream of consciousness stuff, you know.

i have some idea of what beauty is, some faint insight into what it means to call something beautiful but i have never known myself to be beautiful (on a consistent basis) apart from physical intimacy which objectifies me and at times the other. i have never known myself to be beautiful (on a consistent basis) unless i was being devoured by the eyes of hungry men and my hips were pressed against his. what a tragic life to lead. what a wretched way to waste one's youth. it may certainly be an exaggeration, but it is not far from the truth. not at all.

we are up for grabs.

and what most are grabbing has nothing to do with personality, intelligence, grace, integrity, gentleness, elegance, etc.

we are up for grabs.

and we allow this.

i allowed it.

i allowed another -

not just one person but many -

to transform my vision of beauty.

to the subjective and fleeting.

all flesh is grass fading away,

only You last.

only You remain.

reference:

1 peter 1:24-25

isaiah 40:6-8

and i know it is not profound or new to say that the media shaped how i understood beauty, but it has and did so at such a young age. i inextricably linked beauty, the shifting standards of culture, with worth. if i did not meet or follow the pervasive, unfair and twisted code that says one is only beautiful when one is perfect, when one is sexy then i was worthless, unwanted. i believed people would not want to know me, that people would leave if i did not adhere to this code, if i did not embody the pinnacle of this. i wanted to be the most beautiful to hold the attention of others. desperate for someone to stick around long enough to notice my worth. to speak worth over me with their actions. and i would prove i was worth something even if it meant allowing myself to be disrespected and lied to. enter competition. enter false perceptions of reality. enter disillusionment. enter comparison. might i add, comparison to the unattainable, which can only lead to disappointment. mix in betrayal and the subtle deteriorating significance of phrases like "you are beautiful" and "i love you" and you have got one seriously toxic tonic.

for years i exchanged the truth of God for a lie.

sometimes i still do.

most of the time i am not sure how to combat the lies, how to take every thought captive. it is hard work and requires perseverance. oh, how i've learned about that - perseverance.

i fight with laughter and sillinesss. it is not escape through playful diversions or a repression of unhealthy feelings. it is me, resurfacing. being strong with joy.

do not grieve,

for the joy of the LORD is your strength.

nehemiah 8:10b

i fight with conversation that points to the truth. i am begining to know myself to be beautiful as i walk out my life with those who love me.

no man is an island.

john donne

and in the resurfacing, especially in safe places, perfect love is casting out fear and self-loathing.

there you go.

shorter and not all-encompassing at all.

but it is what i have.

and i will hold onto it until the truth of my beauty,

my belovedness,

of His love for me

becomes a reality i walk in.

leap in.

dance in.

rejoice in.

consistently.

and knowing.

thankful for

days when i am most myself

and less controlled by the opinions of others.

[you know, when you take the liberty of carrying on a conversation with others (in your head, of course), which always leaves you as feeling less. or when you get ahead of yourself and use the incredible gift of imagination to make conjectures about what they think as opposed to what they say. here i often infer, quite irrationally, that they are sizing me up, calling my bluff, analyzing my language, appearance, and disapproving. always, disapproving. people are tricky and i am skeptical of them. but they aren't as interested in me as i suppose. at least, they aren't absorbed in sifting through my faults. (in other words, they aren't as consumed by critiquing myself as i am.) and what is so self-revealing about those above mentioned internal dialogues is that they are all about managing an image of myself, an impression of who i am or who i am not...

rather than being gracious to myself - the yet to be untangled mess of weakness and strength that i am - and with much bravery and strength stop comparing who i am to others. ]

here.

it is wonderful, becoming oneself.

and knowing with

certainty that cannot be tossed easily like the waves of the sea

that i am beautiful and beloved.

precisely who He intended me to be.

not mine to allocate

give me my mornings and i will love you well. all i ask for is an hour. without the sighs and cracks and morning stories and voices of others. these all will serve as an annoyance as i wake and walk. know that i need this hour above all else to warm to life, to pull back the curtains and blinds window by window, door by door. it is sacred, the sounds of heavy curtain fabric gathering and thin plastic blinds tapping. click. click. tap. like crackling incense. these traditions are my hello to the world. the sensations of morning beg my devotion. wood floor, frigid from the night, kiss my feet and cool my body. the railing on the stairs, chipped paint and all, greets my hands that are too wrinkled in a similar fashion. an empty house is ideal for such tradition but if you are there, you will be peripheral to the movements and motions of my morning.

give me my mornings to pull a small handful of almonds sans shell, smooth and pale on the inside, from the water-stained glass container with orange trimming on the kitchen counter. the outer layer, brown with many grooves like unsanded bark, will soon get stuck in my molars. the only cure for such a predicament is watered down orange mango juice that is too sweet on its own and an uncut banana. cold. hard. mushy. textural juxtapositioning.

and even though time is not mine to allocate, give me my mornings.

and if you cannot give me my mornings give me my nights.

one day, some day my request for alonedom may change.

but if it does not.

be gracious. and honor small petitions for silence.

dumbledore

leave it to dumbledore.

wrestled my own snugness

press play.

it was morning. and though i was mindful of the morning and its call to lift the covers and stretch my well-rested body, i lay in bed. underneath a watercolor comforter. above white sheets and a blanket soft as sleep. above a matress that creeks like damaged floor boards - the kind that creek louder when you are alone and the sun has set and you have watched too much csi to ignore fear of the highly improbable - and while it is not always comfortable, it is my bed. and how fortunate i am to have a bed.

it was morning. and i lay in bed because my day was relatively unscheduled, the time i rolled out of bed insignificant. i lay in bed well-situated between dreams and conciousness, snug. i lay in bed aware of a familiar sound. unsure of where to place this sound, being between sleep and awake, i wrestled my own snugness and opened my eyes. the sound kept sounding. soft splashing. on leaves. on roofs. sheets of rain. in july. i pulled back one of my curtains, forgetting to tie it back with yellow ribbon, surprised by the spontaneity of rain, by its outright disruption of clear skies. i slid my window open enough to rest my forearms on the window sill.

it was morning. and i could smell the rain. i could appreciate its albiet unexpected arrival. it was not cold. the heat of summer would not retreat so easily. it reminded me of costa rica. of the drive from one school to another. and the sheer pleasure of sticking my head out the window. the warm rain on my tan face and in my soiled hair. the wonder. the whole earth is full of Your glory.

it was morning. and in my room i experienced wonder again.

, you know?

last week i had words. and i spoke them. and shared them.

i let them bounce on the inside of me. fill me.

beautiful words and expressions.

but i did not write them. though i wanted to.

tonight i have no words.

except that i waste too much time.

and that it is hard to live a well-ordered life.

i must make it a point to write words when i have them, you know?

even the weakest of attempts matter. the smallest of efforts.

so i will publish posts that are meek.

i will write when the words are malnourished, anemic, barely there.

shadow words.

words like shells without substance.

because i am learning the power of doing.

of following through.

in smallsmallsmall ways.

in weakweakweak ways.

free to let go

i don't need to hold on anymore.

what? really?

that means this change is real.

and the past is the past.

and memories are memories.

good. bad. beautiful. ugly.

memories.

and goodbye is goodbye.

i don't need to hold on anymore.

this statement gives me permission to leave.

and all i needed was a nudge.

an okay.

to stop looking back anxiously.

to stop reaching back apprehensively.

this statement changes things.

and i have to remind myself of it.

i am free to let go.

trying.

i am sure.

and so unsure.

i am courageous.

and so afraid.

i am trying to understand the years.

i am trying to make sense of them.

i am trying to see things as they were.

not just as i wished or thought.

i am trying to see things as they were.

and am finding that we knew better.

but we didn't.

we offered what we had.

it was broken. it was desperate.

it was the product of loneliness and needing to be loved.

and so many other things.

horrible things.

smell. skin. taste. skin. feel. skin.

none of this was intimacy.

because nearness is more than skin and heavy breathing.

it was the only way we knew how to hold on.

and oh, we held on.

it was the only way we knew how to love.

i think.

how difficult this is to explain.

to come to terms with.

it makes me so so so sad.

i am telling the truth.

i am telling the truth

knowing it will lead me far from you.

get acquainted

one of the greatest moments in anybody's developing expeirience is when he no longer tries to hide from himself but determines to get acquainted with himself as he really is.

norman vincent peale.

poison is poison.

last night i sat in the heaviness of it all.

with a friend.

and we talked and cried. about the past few years. years, can you believe it? can you believe how long we drag things on? with hope. with desperation. because we need life to be a certain way to function. i can't really articulate this all. we fool ourselves. convince ourselves that life really is okay. that we are okay with all that has happened. (how can any of what had happened have been okay?) and if we can just hold onto some things for just a bit longer we can fix them. we can ask questions and people will change. miraculously. but i cannot change you or fix you. we are all broken. we are all lost. we all do things we don't want to do. we all don't do things we want to do. when we try and do good, evil is right by our side. persuading us. rationalizing wrongdoing. poison is honey. sweet. thick. and when we are choking. sputtering blood. half-alive. hyperventaliting. we realize poison is poison. and sin leads to death. years.

but i know now, this very moment, that i want life.

i want to live, really live.

wounds are deep.

oh, they are deep.

ties are strong.

strong, but killing us.

but i have the opportunity to live.

to explore the height and depth of life.

this morning i am awakened by the courage to live.

and as impossible as it all felt yesterday.

this morning, and in the heaviness of last night,

i know it is possible.

knee deep

i am strong.

i am strong.

i am stronger than i think or know.

that is what she said.

that is what she prayed.

that is what she spoke over me.

she is not the only one.

and i see myself as weak. so weak.

a mouse not a lion.

and i see everything around me as so impossible.

this all feels impossible.

it feels like crap.

like i am knee deep in defacation.

gosh, what a horrible image.

wandering wandering.

circling about.

familiar sounds.

steady now.

truth ignored.

strange alien foreign.

shut up.

go away.

turning.

indulge.

war. waging it.

against

myself.

against

you.

against

the world.

fight fight fight.

not what i want.

hate truth.

conflicting realities.

struggle.

mess.

winding paths.

our writhing hearts: the wailing dark.

far from where i was sitting.

yesterday was hard. fun, beautiful, teary.... hard.

it was a wedding. downtime. a reception.

two realities crashing into eachother.

one seemed better than the other.

home was far from where i was sitting.

because home was with you. and others.

it was across the aisle. it was on the dancefloor.

it was in the photobooth.

but i had said goodbye to home nineteen days ago.

hard.

today i am sad and i want to control things.

i want to choose other than what i know is right.

i want to take back every promise.

and i want things to be different.

not as they were. but as i always wished them to be.

because my wishes seem so much better than reality.

today i am reminded of my weakness and His strength.

i am convinced that i need Him.

i am sure that becoming like Him means tears, suffering, loss, etc. etc. etc.

today i understand that we are separate people living separate lives

more than i did nineteen days ago.

we are men and women with lives apart, severed.

we are men and women with ties broken.

and even though we both wish wish wish things could be different.

i know that this is better.

if not for you, for me.

but i pray it is better for you soon.

and i pray it will make sense - for both of us.

today i can't get over how plans and wishes can be shattered.

and i don't know how to deal with all of the shards, all of the pieces.

and my heart still aches some.

today i am not afraid.

i am baffled.

i am far from home.

i am sad and i want to control things.

stoked.

this evening i will enjoy the civil wars.

stoked.

abba, father.

For those who are led by the Spirit of God are the children of God.

For you did not reveice a spirit that makes you a slave again to fear, but you received the Spirit of sonship. And by him we cry, "Abba, Father." The Spirit himself testifies with our spirit that we are God's children. Now if we are children, then we are heirs - heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ, if indeed we share in his sufferings, we may also share in his glory.

romans 8:14-17

here

truth:

you are father.

i am your dear dear daughter.

and in you i have a beautiful inheritance with your son.

both suffering and glory.

and in you i have no reason to fear.

more than a life of comfort, i ask for a heart that is transformed by you.

yup.

it starts with truth.

it starts with light.

for admiting it so recklessly.

there are so many good things happening.

the discovering of myself and of others. letting people in. understanding that i do have friends if i make time for them. they want in. i need to let them in. fun times at plays. at lunch. at dinner. on the couch. watching without a trace. even though my dad gets mad that the dvr is 46% full of them. reading a book for book club. laughing unrestrained. crying unrestrained, mostly with people. it's harder to cry by myself. it never used to be this way. but more recently it has been. i don't know what this means. but my heart is aching.

we are separate people living separate lives now.

and even though there are good good things happening. friday night was filled with me missing you. and places. and the plans we had. i will never dance that dance holding your hand or smelling your shampoo that i think smells weird. and i can't describe the realness. the rawness. how it overcame me. how it filled every cell. how i could explode with longing. how i wanted to say something. but shouldn't and didn't and won't. mostly because i said i wouldn't. because i have to learn how to keep my word. always. yes be yes. no be no. i cannot confuse things. i cannot reentangle myself. even though i am desperate with yearning. friday. yesterday. today. you are the funniest man in the world and i miss the way i laugh with you. a laugh uncontrollable. a smile inconceivable. i miss it desperately. desperately. i miss the understanding. i miss the confidence. i miss the frozen pizzas. i miss round eyes and big teeth. i miss knowing you will always respond. i miss always being together. even though it means that we were unhealthy. unhealthy for so long. so long. even though it means that we did not know who we were without eachother. i miss security. even though trust was broken many times. even though i had reason to be insecure. i was always secure. because you were my safe place. i miss car fresheners and talking about jesus. i miss worshipping with you. connection. knowing without saying. leading eachother. mutual submission. trusting eachother up there. releasing each other up there. planning and unity. i miss seeing you grow. i love seeing you grow and discovering gifts. i miss encouraging you and telling you it's going to be okay. i miss having a place with you. always having a place with you. i do i do i do. and part of me feels horrible for this. for even typing it. for admiting it so recklessly. but it is so true. and sometimes writing it, more specifically typing it, is the only way i can make myself feel. is the way i can make what is being repressed surface.

it pries open the cellars of my heart.

the basements with secrets and pain and wounds that are too deep.

far deeper than we know they are.

last night it took an hour and a half of restlessness to fall asleep. it took putting my head where the feet go. it took reciting words over and over in my head. knowing they are true.

He is kind. and in His kindness He has brought me to this place, this aching place of desperation. i have to trust this. if i believe He is kind and good and true - the truest realest person i could ever know- then i must trust. i must call to mind His tender mercies. i must remember remember His faithfulness. His deep deep love. even though lately i have not felt anything. not one drip of it. i want more than knowledge, i want experience. i want a knowing.

it feels good to cry. to feel. to lean into the sorrow and the loss. as well as the good good things that are happening. even if it means i need to do my makeup again.

i can't do anything about this desire. this eagerness to be with you.

i wonder if it will ever go away. i wonder if a few months from now i will feel this. i wonder if i will ever see you again after friends have weddings and events cause us to haphazardly bump into eachother. i want to see you whole. healed. delivered. free. i do i do i do. i wish i could help with it. but i can't. instead i am trusting you to the One who can. the only One who can. sometimes i get afraid you won't run to Him. that you will run to other things. things that are destructive. things that sabatoge intimacy with yourself, others, and Him. i release you to the One who is strong. who is enough.

i know that the decisions that have been made are right. are the right ones.

but they hurt. this all hurts.

hallelujah, come.

everything about this song is perfect.

it fills a space.

on repeat.

i love that it is led by both a male and a female. unexpected. beautiful. ebb and flow.

i thoroughly enjoy worship songs that integrate scripture or obvious themes from scripture in them. the word of God fuels the song, drives the song. we are lifting up words written by others and sung by others, thousands of years before our parents planned us (or didn't).

steffany frizzel, your vibrato - the gentle spinning in your voice - and slight scooping here and there carries weight. there is a whine, a soft cry between your words. it is not thin. it is natural. it is almost as if it could arise from the silence without distracting anyone. like a bird. that kind of natural.

jeremy riddle, there is sweetness in all of this. a sweet reverence and desperation. thank you for writing this song. thank you for joining the team at bethel.

today, i will not run.

today, i will seek.

when You said, "seek my face,"

my heart said to You, "Your face, O LORD, I shall seek."

psalm 27:8

fascinating.

thankful for

china, because they were the first ones to use kites.

they used them in war.

at least, that is what answers.com says.

and now i can use them with friends.

fascinating.

me, getting fancy flying kites.

bubbles and dogs.

lounging in the sun.

waterballoons for a game.

some beach time.

and this lady.

i am thankful for

the above lady.

and friendship.

honesty, vulnerability, laughter.

as to not forget

if i do not write things down, it is inevitable that i will forget them.

but when you write things down you remember. and relive.

if you want to remember them just as they were, you write down details.

details that make you leap. and sobb.

i will be writing things down in the next few days, as to not forget

you.

them.

the me that is experiencing this all.

and i write them down so in a month or in a year i can see how God has been working in and through it all. His hand always upon me. His leading evident. His presence there.

because He is here. He is.

like loss

today is june the first.

today feels like loss.

after so much peace.

and crying.

and prayer.

and the smell of anointing oil on my face as i sleep.

today still feels like loss.

that doesn't mean the peace wasn't real. or the prayers are unfulfilled, unheard. it just means that this morning i woke up to a new reality. where we would not talk. not even to say hello or how are you. and i would not see some faces as much as i want. and i would not sit in black chairs three times a week. and i would not have to think about bringing a jacket with me because the air conditioner is blasting. now, i will be pulling into new parking lots. meeting new people. cultivating friendships i never could yesterday. because of entanglement and control and insecurity. but i can do this all today. i can do this because i said yes to change and freedom and discovering myself and Him.

there is loss, yes.

some days will be worse than others, yes.

but some days will be good and full.

i am not looking forward to either right now...

they both mean change has taken place.

and today, june the first, this very moment, i am not sure about much.

i shake my head at change.

many things seem daunting, i am afraid.

untangled

yesterday i flew kites. mine cost twelve dollars. an investment. it has two tails. one yellow, one orange. and looks like a prism of color. a rainbow. a promise.

and was mezmerized by how, once caught up by a current of wind, they were weightless.

they were suspended in the air. the only thing keeping them from flying away was the string - taut between my fingers. it was a beautiful day. and i have no words to convey my thankfulness for the people that were there. the calm that was bittersweet. knowing all will be okay, doesn't mean it will be how you expected. and with that, there is always some loss. some emptiness. some sadness. and goodbyes to people and places.

how unfortunate that paths must part.

how unfortunate that some things can only be untangled by distance and silence.

how unfortunate that this is all so indefinite. but final.

listening

i've been listening to this for the past five to six months.

what reassurance. what refreshment.

i love to turn off everything. to feel the quiet on the inside.

and begin to fill it with truth.

daycare kids.

dear children-who-i-will-send-off-to-school-one-day,

psst.

i have my first real job since fall of senior year in high school. and i work with children. daycare kids. you might be one. i was one. waiting for grandma to show up as i make bracelets and play mancala. ahem. beat everyone at mancala.

i've actually had this job for nine months now and i love these children. even when they have attitude and would rather watch Matilda for the hundreth time than make crafts or build towers out of legos. we play freeze tag, four corners. Jenga is a hit. so is soccer, now that it is warmer out. so is painting, but the paint is strong and opening the doors for ventilation is a must. snack time consists of dry cereal, chips, pretzels, or popcorn. we've had smores once or twice. and we did have Little Debbie Oatmeal Creme Pies. your grandfather bought sweets all the time. i ate these growing up. you might have never eaten them. i don't want you to eat ice cream three times out of the week. or have Little Debbie snacks at lunchtime. i want to make you food. or try at least. pack you good things. and always give you extras for after school. well, if you stay after school.

i haven't written to you for a while. life has been like a teetertotter.

one day we will talk about change.

and how this particular time in my life required courage.

i have to be brave.

for myself. for others. and as time will tell, for you.

i have to choose life. a different sort of life than i ever imagined.

and it is scary.

but when you are scared. we can be brave together, yes?

sincerely,

a twenty-one year old almost grown-up

heave lashes and eyeliner

this almost-summer sunday afternoon i am filling my airspace with one of my favorite voices.

adele.

rich and thick. soulful. so full.

her voice is

like a recollection penned in the blackest of inks.

like her heavy lashes and eyeliner.

like smooth calligraphy, delicate art.

above a hush, below a cry.

i love listening to the subtle differences in language, the way vowels are formed, the way consonants are not sounded. i love the way voices travel up and down registers. the breaking point between chest and head. and the way a slight whine in a phrase can pull me into that fullness.

thank you adele for writing music. and for singing it so beautifully. thank you for never performing like britney spears did. your voice can stand on its own. its fullness pouring into empty space: sinking into carpet and dripping down walls.

oh, the truth in this.

the passing

the cloudiness, the deep tumultuous storm must soon pass.
crying is the passing of such sadness.
perhaps only to be followed by a sadness closer to ones core. one so enveloping it halts all thinking, all logic.
i've never known such lasting darkness. such complete aimlessness. such unfeeling. such nonpresence.
it is as if the day has been swallowed and along with it the nerve, the courage, the motivation to do, to be.
hollow, hanging above the brink of ones own life.

and the crying and perhaps the laughter which sometimes follows is a reminder of what the sky might look like if it were not so grey.

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