maybe it can't.

fact: freedom is scary.

it offers a sleu of possibilities. for you, for others. and these possibilities can tear apart the single thing you wish to keep, that treasure. and no matter how tattered and obsolete it has become, you wish to keep it. even if it means saying no to the freedom you need. because inside, you believe it can be whole and beneficial with time. maybe it can. but maybe it can't. you are left with maybes and possibilities. and the safest, least courageous thing to do is to keep this thing. this thing that is dear to you. this thing that has captured your attention. if you walk away freely, you allow this thing to walk away freely. and you may never be able to keep it or look on it again. and that is scary. this thing might find a better keeper. might be whole in the hands of another. might be beneficial to the life of another. and you will weep. and you will regret the day you chose to be free. because life without this thing is unbearable. you might be free. but you are alone. replaced. forgotten.

at least, that is what you fear.

sometimes, life is exceptionally difficult.

that makes it fiction.

dear you,

today was rainy outside. and my umbrella broke. my mother told me to use it anyways. we don't have the money for another, not right now. not for a while. so with wires bent out of shape i trudged along. no, i skipped along. because today it was rainy outside. and i love the rain. and you love the rain. remember when we were children? you would hop around the playground on one foot. you dared me to beat you. i never did. well, not fair and square. you were always a gentleman. even when you were ten. one day we were at the playground. and it began to pour. the kind of pouring when it hurts to be outside. to feel the tempestuous drops  that smack your face pink and tangle your hair so that it must be combed again. we hid underneath the big slide. and found a refuge that ive not known since. we were older then. into our teens. and we were sure that things would be as we wished. that we would go to the same schools. and eat lunch together always. you liked my moms peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. and i liked your dad's chocolate chip cookies. so we would trade. and we wanted to never stop trading. we were sure that things would be as we wished. the reality of your leaving to a different school never truly hit me. i would not let it. that you were far away. i would accept. but that you were creating a new life, without me. i would not. you were coming back. well, that was a dream. the finest dream i dreamt. i learned how to make my moms peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. i may be biased, but mine are better. i promise. and i promise i will make them for you everyday if you wish. because thats what you wished all along, right? 

this will be my last letter. if you don't respond, i understand. but i have a broken umbrella. and only you to share it with. and only you i want to share it with. we are grown-ups now and can't duck underneath big slides without a questionable glare darting our way. the truth is that you are too much for me to give up. and this truth mocks my naivete in trusting you, dreaming of a life together. and my unparalleled aloneness in losing you.

sincerely,

me

i wrote this just because. and it isn't factual. so that makes it fiction. i really had you going, huh? :)

live that way

forgive the nonsensical (but brief) ramble that is about to ensue in...

five.

four.

three.

two.

one.

sometimes things happen. ya know? and it makes us hold on tighter to our insecurities even though we know they are debilitating us - tearing apart our souls quite literally, stripping us of confidence and crippling us. fear. deeply rooted and bossy. it is so bossy. we are slaves to fear. fear of not being enough. fear of not being worthy. fear of failure. of never taming that temptation. of not knowing the certainties that give us temporal security. yea. that fear. fear that has no place in me. but that i allow to live in me nonetheless. yep. i just let it make eggs and bacon every morning. i let it sit on my couch and flip through the channels. i let it tag along wherever i go. how ridiculous. it has a list of arguments against me. and i bend my ear to this beastial creature, whose logic seems accurate. accurate and lethal. because i believe it. and operate out of fear rather than grace. i do not love effectively because i am concerned about past offenses and the what ifs that accompany them. i do not love effectively because my fear takes the shape of hellish insecurity. and my security in relationships. ministry. education. etc. is something i protect at all costs. even if it means not loving someone as a daughter and son of the Most High. ah but this security, these things i try and define myself with and by are ephemeral. this i know full well. i need to operate out of grace. and love others as they truly are: redeemed, forgiven and made alive and beautiful by transformative grace. life is crazy. legitimately crazy. but it will be interesting to see how everything will smooth out. how the water will look when it isn't agitated and quickened by our messiness. we are so messy. we are so messy. we mess up and lie. and hide. and gossip. and pretend. and criticize. and forget. and cheat. people are so messy. thank the lord he accepts our mess. even our messy prayers. and our messy songs to him. gosh! its great that he does that. he sifts through all the mess and knows us. and loves us. whoaaa. it's just who he is. it's his nature. and i am so thankful. death is defeated. every kind of death. words kill. they kill. anywhere in me that fear or lust or bitterness takes hold, death is present. it is in those areas that i've not allowed the marvelous light and life that Jesus has given me to penetrate. it is in those areas that i've not stood in the authority that Christ has given me, to say death where is they sting? fact: death is defeated.

and i need to live that way. and guard against any form of death that leeches onto the indestructable life i've been given through Christ. he has given me the keys to the kingdom. he has called me a co-heir and a conqueror. he has me seated in heavenly places. and he calls me his own, his daughter, his beloved. i need to live that way.

ps. i really love peonies. are they "in season"? is that even the right terminology? oh well. they are just so pretty.

dance party on my roof

i love driving in the rain. the jittery drivers i can do without. the spike in accidents isn't favorable, i admit. let's face it, most people can't drive in the rain.

but when it's raining really hard and i'm in traffic, i turn off my windshield wipers and wait until it gets blurry and the brake lights blur together. i only do that for a second because i don't want to contribute to those accidents. but i have a secret.* a child-sized smile spreads across my face each time i drive underneath an overpass and the sound of rain stops for a brief moment. and then it starts up again. it is ever so enchanting.

the rain is a million pixies having a dance party on my roof.

doing the mashed potato and the twist.

*i actually have two.** when i drive home late i don't use my gas pedal. the street is a shadow. the incandescent green lights wait. sometimes i go as slow as five miles per hour. and the whole world is silent.

**i lied. i have three. when i feel especially contemplative. or that the sun is setting on a day that i've not been "present" with others and myself. i deliberately drive behind a slow car or big eighteen wheeler. because i am training myself to live an unhurried, unanxious life. to decelerate my life in the hopes of living abudantly. to still the need to get ahead (in the quickest way possible). to enjoy traffic, because i am fully alive. to enjoy every mundane, ordinary thing, because i am fully alive. because they are not as mundane and ordinary as i think.

fact: only a handful of people knew all that. now all of blogdom (who deems this post worth reading) does. silly me. i do hope that all made sense.

pointless

school starts tomorrow.

what?

twenty units.

what?

so.

pretty much pointless post.

but.

i'm okay with that.

because.

i love school.

and.

i always have.

intend to follow

intentionality will characterize this new year, however formidable it may be. wantings and wishings aside. they are beautiful but they lack the purposed steps necessary.

i intend to follow Him.

with bright and fiery steps. with c0ld and hesitant steps. with steps that will draw me closer to His hands and feet in adoration and obedience. with steps that will draw me closer to His smile, exulting His generous outpouring of grace. with steps that will draw me closer to His eyes - those abysmal eyes, which are congnizant of my profoundest sorrow and delight. yes, those eyes that lovelovelove.

i intend to follow Him.

here and now, in this life that is tailor made to form me into His likeness. and instead of wishing i were this or that or them. i will get hold of my own life, this one He breathed into. for i will never meet God in someone elses life, regardless its glitter or glow. and those moments drenched with lament, that wretched wail in my belly, will be offered up to Him. for He can do with it more than i can. i will lean into the pain. the loneliness. the tears. and find Him there. always. though He may be silent and invisible to my eye, He is there. aha! and those moments explosive with irrepressible joy. yes, i will find Him undoubtedly jumping. laughing. singing. dancing. with me. always.

i intend to follow this King,

this Lover,

this Savior,

this Counselor,

this Friend,

this Creator,

this Father,

this God - the God, my God, my everything.

unreality

“But God is present in reality no matter what unreality our practices and our ponderings i m p l y. He is forever trying to establish communication; forever aware of the wrong directions we are taking and wishing to warn us; forever offering solutions for the problems that baffle us; forever standing at the door of our loneliness, eager to bring us such comradeship as the most intelligent living mortal could not supply; forever clinging to our indifference in the hope that someday our needs, or at least our tagedies will waken us to respond to his advances. The Real Presence is just that, real and life transforming.”

-From The Captivating Presence by Albert Edward Day

this quote will be for now and the new year.

knowing stops there

winter lasted two weeks out here. the sun is promenading round the sky now, proud with triumph. there is chill breeze, but the suns heat can quench any chill. i've been in the snow twice. the first time doesn't really count because it was fake snow, renewed every four hours. i was in the mountains, but it wasn't really snow. the second time - or the first time? - was at a winter camp. (where i also lost my phone in the snow - one of my many phone mishaps) it was breathtaking. we almost got snowed in. the whole weekend i said "it's snowing," in awe, in reverence, in excitement. i said this often. and everyone responded the same way: "yes, we know." sometimes you know things so deep inside. you identify with them as true and real. sometimes you witness these things you know - how fortunate you are if this is the case. you see them. you touch them. but your knowing stops there. you fail to don the curiousity of an explorer and go beyond the vesture of knowing, into the infinitesimel wonder that lies behind and below and between. yes, it was snowing. but it was snowing. each time as startling and as divine as birth.

but i digress? heh, i do love saying that.

when it is cold enough, i slip into my fathers sock drawer and wear his socks to bed. because his are the warmest socks in the house. they go up to my knees and the space for my heel is inevitably by my ankle. they are big, but warm. i wish winter lasted longer out here. and was more than a heavy rain. if it were, i'd have to stash a great portion of his socks in my sock drawer. i think he'd be okay with that.

and christmas was wonderful. my family is crazy. and though i use that term loosely, some of my family members are quite foolish, bizarre, and mad. some of my family members are in desperate need of affection - unadultated generosity of love. and though they need it, they cannot receive it because their hearts are stiff with hurt. soften their hearts. we do our celebrating on christmas eve. and at twelve am precisely, we begin to open gifts. christmas day is reserved for lounging. we've mastered this. you would be foolish to challenge my siblings and nieces and nephews in this arena. they can out lounge any couch potatoe. and we eat tamales the following days (weeks?) until they are gone.

one day i will make tamales for my parents. first, i've got to learn how.

how good of Him

i am so glad that He came.

i am delivered. saved. freed. befriended. healed. adopted. redeemed. forgiven. beloved. made alive. made strong. made patient. made joyous. made compassionate. filled with grace.

because He came.

He came and expressed love unthinkable for me.

that is enough.

Rejoice, Rejoice

Emmanuel shall come to thee, O Israel

how good of Him to provide for us a way into His heart.

how good of Him to fling wide the gates of heaven.

how good of Him to invite us into the depths of His love unthinkable.

how good of Him to come.

just a habit

this year has been really really hard. le sigh. really hard. i'm not sure how things are supposed to look or feel anymore. and i love being sure. i'm really good at planning. the planner i bought was 13.99 at staples. it has birds on it, which won't help me be more organized. but anything with a bird or a flower print makes me weak in the knees - thus, the rather impulsive and indulgent purchase. i've got a knack for making lists. you see, i have this white board and a green-smells-like-mint expo thin tip marker. lists look so good on it (especially when they are all crossed off). but there's this problem now. besides crossing off little things like: deposit checks, fill out health insurance form, etc. i've no long term list for things like friendships or... well, we'll just leave it at that.

life is a free flowing river. and it's so scary to dip my toe in and back stroke in spontaneity. life is an uncharted forest. and it's so scary to venture forth and press through the thick unknown.

it's all so unknown.

yea. i used to have a pretty good grip on a lot of things. and now, i know that it wasn't a healthy sort of grip. it was a controlling-leave-no-room-for-what-He-has-in-mind kind of grip. what He has in mind is exceeds every dream or hope or desire i could ever think or imagine. even now, my hands instinctively clench onto people and things that i've no business clenching onto. but it's just a habit. that has got to be broken. that is being broken.

and, gosh, it's hard.

*this is sort of a repitition of what some of my other posts have said. it's just that this is where i am at right now, in this season. and i might be here for a while.

green again

finals are this week.

three papers due: two down, one to go.

aural theory exam: wednesday

voice jury: wednesday

music theory exam: thursday

i can do it.

the leaves are whirling 'round tenderly on the crisp breath of autumn.

they are dancing 'bout each other, a dance of sweet death. together they fall on cracked sidewalks where children will collect the reddest ones. where old women will listen for the crunch beneath their feet. the leaves will congregate and assemble in acceptance of their great fall. they will be tossed and blown about. soon enough they will be gone.

they know this.

the tree is barren because it is time for release and change.

this season will not highlight it's strength or beauty.

but it will make the tree both strong and beautiful.

it will be cold. it will be harsh.

the tree is barren because it is autumn and it will soon be winter.

but it will be green again.

it always turns green again.

even when it is hard

you know, i do this to myself.

and i am completely aware at each moment that i am doing this to myself.i am thinking and considering things over and over again. analyzing them from each angle.and it's blurry. and it's foggy. and it's harder to decipher what is really going on inbetween and around and inside. and the lies i tell myself become easier to believe. i circulate them through my emotions and speech. and what i think upon becomes how i live.

my mind roams wild, runs free. and i let it. i'm hardwiring myself in self-destructive patterns. and i see it. these thoughts reign over me. and i bend my knee in submission. and in these moments, reality is hard to grab a hold of. because these thoughts have stacked brick upon brick and hammered nail after nail. and there is this barrier, this wall. and it separates me from the life i was created to live and the love i was created to encounter. and His truth is far off. and i am disabled by the restlessness inside me.and it takes intentionality. deliberately getting my thoughts in alignment with His word, declaring it over myself.

"there is no miracle drug. there is no quick solution. there is only crying in the arms of the Father."

i am starting there. i have to. even when it is hard to cry because it means i am still broken. when i wish i was whole. but wholeness takes a long time. and it only happens in His arms.

thought i knew

dear children-who-i-can't-even-put-a-face-to,

when you read this, know that i didn't always expect to have children. especially right now at this moment. right now must be spent falling head over heels in love with my Beloved who is fairer than ten thousand. when you read this, know that i didn't always want to make you grilled cheese sandwiches or ice cream sundaes. when you read this, know that i didn't always anticipate your "how come's" and "why not's." when you read this, know that thinking about you so far in advance is painful. because there was a time when i had everything planned out. the library i want for you. the dimples i hope you inherit. the music room i will sing with you in. the nightmares that i can kiss away. the colorful finger paintings i will proudly stick on the fridge. the squeals of excitement as i push you higher and higher on the swings. the picnics we will have on freshly cut grass. and right now i don't have any of that planned out. and it's scary. because for so long i thought i knew. but that thought slipped through my fingers like the ribbon of balloons. and now i am unsure.

but when you read this, know that the most important thing to me at age nineteen is getting a hold of who God says i am - and believing it. and living it.

and when you read this, know that i am so thankful that you are reading this.

sincerely,

your mother who at nineteen is so unsure of the future but is rooting herself in a high, wide, deep, long everlasting love.

picking and choosing

i am a sucker for school supplies. and one week ago i absentmindedly forgot my pencilbox, my beloved pencilbox, around campus. thursday it returned in all its glory. and i am entirely relieved that i won't have to purchase a new one. however, there is an unexpected twinge of sorrow because i do wish, quite desperately, to have a reason - any reason - to drop some money on new school supplies. to saunter throughout staples picking and choosing. there is nothing like fresh inky pens or newly sharpened pencils.

but all that is trivial. yes?

you know, i don't want to write because there is a world of words that can be fashioned into sentences. one of those writers who spews each emotion. passing thought. whose words are many but meaningless. one of those writers who gorges themselves with words. is plump with words. is obese, in the worst way possible. i resolve to edit. and edit some more. i want my words to carry weight. which means speaking sparingly. which means concise explanations. which means losing the excess.

but i love the excess. the nuances that sheer words can suggest. i must saunter throughout the dictionaries of cultures and times gone by, going by picking and choosing. there is nothing like the right word or sentence.

nada. zip. zilch. nothing.

bear no claim

no thing or person bears claim upon my time, my decisions, my emotions, my thoughts, or my body.

i am claimed by the blood of Christ. claimed by His display of violent, immutable love. it is freeing to sit in His lap, kneel before His throne knowing that i need not feel obligated by the expectations or calendar of others. and it is only freeing because He reminds me that i am His. i am His. not defined by commitments or relationships. defined by His love.

and i can bear no claim upon others time, decisions, emotions, thoughts, or body.

this is hard. we deceive ourselves quickly, telling ourselves that we are just concerned about so-and-so. we just want to know how they are doing. want to keep them accountable. and each time it gets easier to do this. but our concern is never about them. we have lost our nerve about who we are. we are insecure. we are afraid. of being alone. vulnerable. replaced. and we have fallen into patterns of manipulation to make sure at any given moment we hold the reins. it is none of my business who you speak to. hang out with. etc. and i have no say in it. i must have no say in it if i want to move away from this tendency to control. it is difficult to release these well-worn reins. our grip is strong. and our hands are stiff.

but there is a more excellent way.

His way of relinquishment.

abandonment.

i am n o t abandoned. but am abandoning all to Him.

t r y i n g&s t r u g g l i n g.

but abandoning nonetheless. because His love makes it worth it. and His love is better than yellow wheat fields and saturated skies. better than a thousand birds soaring in perfect unision. and His love is sweet. and pure. and faithful. and all things unexplainable.

this belonging, this belovedness

and my break could be longer. maybe it should be longer.

but would i sound childish or strange if i said i've missed this blog?

well, i have.

and all of the beautiful things that people write.

and all of the beautiful pictures that people share.

there are things i will write one day but cannot write now.

i belong to You, Abba, i belong to You.

each moment is moving quickly. each person is passing by.

i belong to You, Abba, i belong to You.

this is what i'm learning. and i don't even get it yet. not fully. i remind myself incessantly. especially before i sleep. when lies collide with truth. when memories are too real. and breathe down my neck into my head and heart. and my insides ache.

i am defined by my belonging. my belovedness.

it is the core truth of my existence.

i am His. and He is mine.

what does that even mean?

what does that even look like?

teach me, Abba, to live out of this belonging, this belovedness.

a little longer.

so i'll be taking a break from this blog.

just to declutter my mind. my life. and allow Him to fill those places.

all of them.

i'm going to rummage through cardboard boxes, dressed in dusty robes. and those secrets i've kept. and lies i've believed. and questions that haunt. will be adressed. confronted.

and i will be loved into wholeness by my Father.

wholeness. gosh, what a great thought. and not just a thought, a reality that He wants for me.

and you.

and it doesn't require striving. or performance. or checking things off. it requires my silence. my submission to His gentle, transformative love.

my being washed and restored by buckets of His pure, authentic love.

my staying with Him, just a little longer.

so that He can do what He needs to do. what He longs to do. with me. in me.

i cannot map out.

looking through my twelvth grade musings i came across many that i was proud of.

but i found one i was very proud of. even if it is old. and isn't written as well as it should be.

reading through this is so strange. because i don't remember writing it. it came from some place i cannot map out. that i venture into each time i write. it is strange, indeed.

and we drive on.

it's been too long since i've seen you: three days and two hours and twenty-eight minutes.. and fourteen seconds. you must think i'm crazy that i remember that, but remember that i am in love and you have been gone.

you smell like your grandmother- old and stale, but only because you kept her company after papa's funeral. she never spent an ounce of money or time on you unless she needed something done. this time she needed her house cleaned out and a shoulder to cry on. lucky for her you are tenderhearted and don't hold onto bitterness like you hold onto me - tightly, with a firm grasp. with fiery eyes.

you kiss me gently on the cheek and i laugh quietly; you say i am beautiful. you take me by my hand and shout: you are beautiful! my face flushes with embarrassment and joy - not too loud, people will hear.

shifty uncertain eyes look into yours - but i'm glad you said it loud enough for that man in the black blazer to hear, he had been eyeing me, and i might have just gone over and..

i am silenced by your warm lips and closed eyes. i was joking, but now i'm just enjoying your embrace.

we walk to your car and you speak of veiled faces and a crowd dressed in black paying respect to papa. the sun was shining like suns shine in children's drawings, smiley face and all. there were no flowers at the funearl. he had written the only flowers he ever needed were the ones in his backyard, in his garden. he loved poppies, the cherry-colored kind, the kind that bewitched dorothy and her friends, had bewitched him. he carried a grace that your grandmother never possessed, never could possess. he kept her tantrums at bay. i'm afraid she'll have to be put away now, you say, in a home where she won't be lonely, where she'll be taken care of.

you open my door and ask me to shut my eyes as we drive away into the shoddy and vandalized city. you say it is a surprise.

i joke about our safety and you press your forehead against mine, breathe in my perfume, and say: trust me.

i do.

the door slams like the chiming of bells and we drive on.

this will be where we start a family and invite guests over to discuss fine literature and art. this will be where we kiss until the sun rises. this will be where we argue and make up. this will be where our children will plant poppies in remembrance of papa.

in two parts, really.

this blog is in two parts, really.

i hope that isn't distracting from the importance of either of them.

today was glorious. and silly.

sometimes i'm really excited to be in class. maybe overly excited. that's when i laugh and the whole class knows it's that girl who laughs loudly. indulgently. and without restraint. i do hope it's endearing. and not annoying. like that one girl who asks too many questions. please keep your hand down. and mouth closed. questions are good. but i'd much rather go on with the class.

sometimes i'm early. actually that is always the case. and my books are stacked neatly, one atop the other. my notebook is turned to a blank page. well, not blank - covered in doodles of trees and mythical creatures. (bahaha.) and my pen is uncapped, ready. painfully ready to write all that my professors says.

sometimes i serve myself three plates of food during one meal. there are just too many options. spring rolls. chicken picatta. mashed potatoes. mexican burrito. rice. beans. burgers. ice cream. nine drink choices. and they all look so appetizing. when i sit down, plates dripping with delicacies, i take a bite of each plate as to decide on which to eat first. and whichever one has the prevailing flavors will be eaten last. because i love to leave the table with a good taste in my mouth. with a heavy stomach. and laughter. light-hearted laughter.

sometimes i really love days like today.

...

school is great right now. and i'm learning. about a lot of things. language. and disciplines. and theory. but mostly about myself. and it's not always nice to learn about yourself. because there are ugly parts of us. parts we haven't dealt with. parts we ignore. parts that are hard. or secret. or just hurt. parts that seem impenetrable. unlovable. shameful. but it is good to know that my King can transform me. and all of those parts. out of love. deep, deep love. because He doesn't want me to live in the realm of shame or guilt. in the realm of hiding or pretending. He has brought me into His marvelous light. He has brought me into His realm of grace and forgiveness as i am now. not as i wish i could be. or know i ought to be. and that profound freedom is around me and in me. in abundance. showering down. and covering me. changing me into His likeness. but only if i invite Him to. only if i open the door, welcoming Him to have rule and reign. surrendering my rights. and ways. and thoughts. to the King. trusting that He knows what He is doing. knowing that He is gentle. trusting that He has nothing but love for me. knowing that His love goes deep.

know it to be true

procrastination: 1

stacey: 0

the battle was over before i blogged about it. and i knew it. it's reasoning was irresitable. as was my bed. and drew barrymore in "never been kissed." i finished the paper the next morning (what a hectic morning it was). and then my dear professor decided to post pone the due date until friday. well i turned it in. and i think i did it wrong. but that's okay because i'm not sick anymore. no coughing up mucus. no sinus headache. no overworked nose. (i swear it almost gave up on me). completely rested. because rest is so so important.

"turn to me and be saved, all you ends of the earth;

for I am God, and there is no other."

isaiah 45:22

today i am thankful that my God is big. and real. that He is not made of wood or bronze with eyes that do not see. and ears that do not hear. or hands that cannot deliver. set free. that He orchestrates the most awe inspiring sunsets. and knows how much i love clouds. that He is not sleeping or slumbering. but recognizes. acknowledges. sees me. and you. that He keeps His word. that He is faithful. that i can stand on His promises. and not be afraid. not be afraid at all. that there is no one like Him. that it is holiness that makes Him beautiful. His apartness. His otherness. His sacredness. His unlike-no-other-thing-or-man-ness. He is my beautiful God. my Eternal Lover. and i am His. and i know it to be true. truer than anything on this earth.