What Do You Do With It?

Tonight I sat for six hours and watched my best friend repeat the stages of grief over and over again until she slept. We walked in circles between anger and sadness, and I let her scream and cry, and even broke down with her three or four times. It was a hard night, but as I drove home at the wee hour of one a.m., I began to think about emotion and how much conversations about anger have been happening in my life during the past few days. It seems to have become a common theme lately, and I'm reaching around to try and understand it.

Anger is a confusing emotion for me. Though I grew up an angry child as a result of having angry parents, I've grown to think that being angry isn't acceptable. I often contradict myself when I speak about my anger, because sometimes I believe it to be ok and yet won't let myself admit to it. I think it might be because I don't understand it, and yet maybe I wasn't meant to. I know that unexpressed anger is dangerous, and I'm slowly learning that it's ok to be mad as long as I channel it properly. But is it? Are we allowed to be angry with our circumstances and with what goes on around us? Is there a constructive way to express anger?

I know that I am mad at my mother for leaving me. But is that fair? It's not like she chose to do it. I know that I get mad when people don't live up to my expectations. But is that fair? I mean, it's definitely ok for people to fail. I do all the time. I know that I am mad about the mistakes my parents made in raising me. But is that fair? They probably did the best they could. I know I get really mad at people who mistreat children. That's got to be fair, right?

I don't really have any answers tonight. I just know that the subject of anger has been weighing heavy on my mind for the past few days, and I want to know if it's alright to be mad. I want to know how to handle so negative an emotion. God made us able to feel, and He gave us our emotions. God gets angry, so does that mean I can? I'm not really sure...

Friday morning, over coffee, in Seattle:

He looked up at me, paused for a moment, and said, "I just have so much anger that I've kept inside of me for so long. I've been such an angry person lately."

"Me too," I said. "I just recently realized how mad I am."

He was silent for a moment.

"But what do you DO with it?" he quietly asked me.

I hesitated for a moment before I looked up and met his eyes.

"I have no idea."

It Rains, Not All the Time

This weekend I have the privilege (which, sometimes is more of a daunting task) of spending the weekend in Seattle with my boss and the boys. When I found out that my boss's brother was getting married here this weekend, I begged to come. It's a good thing, because she would not have survived this trip without me. I do not hesitate to be bold enough to say that, because it's true. At this point I am very tired, grumpy, and bitter, but I would like to share some highlights of my trip thus far.

Seattle is beautiful. Yes, it has rained lots, but not all the time. It comes and goes. The mountains are a backdrop in one direction, and driving downtown tonight was so hilly that it resembled those rice-a-roni commercials in San Francisco. A little scary, really. The church where the wedding will be is across the lake from downtown, and the nighttime skyline is breathtaking. Quite Manhattan-like actually. I wish I could have taken pictures (but I was driving).

Flying to Seattle, however, is not quite as lovely. Maybe because I sat between a screaming 18-month-old and a very loud three-year-old. It was not a pleasant experience. A very long flight and a severe case of jet-lag for all four of us. I do not particularly want to do it again on Sunday. Too bad.

I have a very neat friend in Seattle. I do not hesitate to call him my friend, though I have only ever had three conversations with him. I had coffee with him this morning. It was a memorable experience. He's neat. You should have coffee with him, too.

I am staying at an incredibly exquisite bed and breakfast, at which I have my own floor in the separate guest house. I'm spoiled. They serve your coffee to you twice daily, and they make your bed and leave little mints on it. I might move in. The two male innkeepers are interesting characters. They're married. They have no sense of humor. That's difficult.

Well, I believe that sums up my current opinions of my trip (minus my screaming children at the rehearsal. We won't go there). I really like this city, and wish I had time without children to look around a little more. I guess I'll just have to come back. Some of you should be expecting a postcard. Postcards are fun. I send them.

Goodnight all.

*photo by jacobC

Why I Am

I have learned more about myself this year than in any of the twenty years of my life prior to this one. What I have learned about myself has brought me so much more clarity about why I am the way I am, and through that I have been granted truth and freedom. This has caused me to no longer believe in self-defining moments, but rather self-defining periods of life. This has definitely been one for me, and I don't think it's over yet. I am grateful that I have finally been able to find my identity, and that I now have the abilty to be honest with myself. The value of that is immeasuerable...

I am overappreciative because I feel under appreciated.
I am prone to love too strongly because I often do not feel loved.
I am overly hospitable because I often do not feel welcome.
I am a little whiny because my mother spoiled me.
I am loud because I don't feel heard.
I am a user because I know no other outlet for my pain.
I am sometimes not kind to others, because I want to feel justified.

These are not correct ways of living. These are the things I want to change about myself by no longer letting satan lie to me about who I am. These are not too hard for Jesus to change. He isn't through with me yet.

I am very giving because I have lost much.
I am very grateful because I have been given so much more.
I am a loyal friend in hopes that I, too, will have loyal friends.
I am honest because I get tired of pretending.
I am compassionate because I have suffered.
I am merciful because everyone acts out of their own hurt.

These are the things about myself that I have come to like. These are the ways I have become like Jesus. I pray that these traits stay with me, and even become stronger.

I am so grateful that Jesus has taken so much time to teach me about myself and about why I am the way I am and why I do the things I do. I know who I am now, and that gives me the freedom to be me. I only will strive to make my character more like that of Jesus. I pray one day I will see only Him in me.

Letters to the Other Side...

Hi Mom!

Well, Happy Birthday! You would have been 55 today. Which means I would have made fun of you. Of course :) But that's ok, because I'm getting old, too! Can you believe that I'm going to be 22 on my next birthday? It's all passing a little too quickly. I miss you here. I wish you could see everything that has happened as I've grown. I can't believe how much things have changed since you've been gone...

It's been a hard year, mom. A few days before you died, I whispered in your ear that it was ok for you go, that your job was done because you kids were all grown up and done being raised. I'm afraid maybe I was wrong, mom. I've spent a lot of years trying to be a grown-up and trying to take care of myself, but I had to give up. I wasn't ready. It was too hard to grow up without you here to help me. I've had to let Jesus carry me these last few months. I'm learning that He's the only one capable of really taking care of me the way you would have. So I'm gonna make it. He's got me, and I'm gonna make it.

There's so much that I wish I could tell you. I still so often come across things that I want to run home and tell you about. Almost all of my friends are close to their moms, and man do I feel like I'm missing out on something so huge by not having that relationship. I'm forever wanting to tell you how much you would love my friends, and how much you would love having them around. Some of them are a lot like you! They keep me sane, and they tell me it's ok to talk about you. I love that.

Dad and I still don't get along so well. I think that he's just not sure how to love me the right way, and I wish you were here to show him. Will does a great job of being a big brother. He's come through for me so many times when no one else has. He makes sure I have everything I need and that nothing in his power is making me unhappy. You raised a good boy. He misses you, too.

There still isn't a day that goes by that I don't think of you. I thought that would change with time, but it hasn't. You are often in my dreams, and the smallest things remind me of you. There is a hole in me that you left behind, and I know that it will never be filled. There isn't a moment that passes that I don't wish I could pick up the phone and call you, and tell you what's going on in my life, just like all of my other friends do. Sometimes I'm really just dying to tell you about something that was on sale at Target, or about a show I saw on tv. Which, by the way, primetime tv is really good these days. You would love it.

So really, I'm doing okay. It's been a hard year, but I'm just trying to figure out how to grow up after I discovered that I wasn't grown-up. I try my best to do it without a mother to call, but sometimes all I know to do is reach out for help. And I think that's okay. I know you have sent angels to guide me, and I never miss it when I know it's from you. Thank you for taking care of me as best as you can from the Other Side.

Happy Birthday, mom. You are remembered and loved, today and everyday. I miss you. I always will. I love you. That will never change. I'll see you soon, ok?

Love,
Joy

Ready to Jump, Even Ready to Fall

I woke up on Tuesday afternoon to a slightly disheartening message in my facebook inbox from a good friend who is on vacation in California. It began by telling me that there was a prayer need for a friend of my friend. "Ok, simple enough," I thought. I began to skim over the message and see who it was that needed prayer, and what had happened. When I got to the second paragraph, however, my eyes froze. Read along with me:

my pastor in Hawaii, Mark Rife and his wife Sarah went hiking on saturday and sarah fell face forward from a 75ft. waterfall. mark jumped in after her and only sustained a few injuries. sarah however was flown to oahu to be put in intensive care until they could determine her condition...

The message goes on to tell more about Sarah; the injuries she sustained, and her current condition. But for at least the next five minutes, my eyes kept wandering to that paragraph. Why? Because I was completely struck by the fact that the message told me that HE JUMPED IN AFTER HER. She fell off of a cliff, and he jumped in after her. I mean, who does that?

This picture of love, faith, and trust has not left my mind since Tuesday. I first thought of the love that we know as humans, the love that we have for each other, but it wasn't long before I related this to the Love of Jesus. The trust involved in making a jump like that. The ability to just jump, without thinking twice and without weighing the options first. This is pretty foreign to me, as I am pretty sure there isn't anyone (or anything) in my life that I would that quickly jump after. I don't have enough faith for that. I am not that devoted.

The more I think about it, and the more I have shared this story and where it has caused my thoughts to wander, the more I know that this is what I want to be striving after. I want to have the kind of faith that when Jesus tells me to jump in after Him, I don't ask questions and I don't heed caution. I want to love with the kind of love that causes me to be fully devoted to the point of jumping without first thinking about what it means for me. I want to trust enough that when I'm told to jump, I know that Jesus will be at the bottom to catch me and keep me from harm. I want to love that deeply, and I want to have faith that big.

This story has inspired me, and it has caused my heart to run after things I didn't know I was missing. I want to be brave. In fact, I want to be FEARLESS. I want to jump off without having time to worry about it, and I want to love SO MUCH that I know nothing else other than to just jump. Mark didn't stop to think about whether or not he would get hurt. He didn't consult anyone else about his decision, and he didn't stop to weigh his options. He just watched his beloved fall, and he just JUMPED. I want that. I want to be found at the bottom, knowing there was no other option. Let's go. I'm ready to fall.

*photo by dougmcneall

**title by elizabeth

Random Musings...

I haven't had anything profound to say lately. Which is apparently going around. Maybe because so much happened in about two weeks time that I am now taking the time to process it all. Maybe because I've been sick with a fever that I can't get rid of. Maybe because I'm not working and therefore quite bored. I'm not really sure why.

I've spent the last two days being content with where I am right now. I think that's a good place to be. I'd like to stay here in this state of mind, at least for a little while.

I've been sick, and so I've been sleeping in strange amounts at strange times. But, what else is new. Nothing like getting up to watch the Today Show and eat pop-tarts, and then going back to bed until mid-afternoon. I suppose there are perks for not having to be at work. It doesn't pay very well, though.

I'm officially on the job hunt. My boss told me that she doesn't expect me to stick around until she moves in the spring. Good to know. Don't know what's next on my list of random careers, but I'm definitely willing to try it when it comes along.

I had a conversation last night with a friend about leaving college and growing up. I don't think I had realized until last night that I had gained the ability to let go of the life I lived at college and build my own life here. But I totally have. And I didn't even notice. I'm having a great time here. The only sad part is that everything we spent the last two-ish years building towards has crumbled before our eyes. (Enter Nick Lachey lyrics). The good part is that the things I am now building towards are better and stronger, it seems. It's part of growing up I guess. Which is so hard, but turning out to be so rewarding. I am still, however, stopping after my next birthday. (Haha).

Maybe sometime this week I will have something more intelligent to discuss than my own life. I've been doing too much of talking about myself lately. Life isn't about me. We need bigger and better things than ourselves. Thank goodness we are aware of this...

Or A Miracle...

I need peace of mind and a lullaby

'Cause theres an angry voice in my head tonight

Tellin' me to do things that can't be right

I need peace of mind and a lullaby

Jesus, I need the angry voices to stop. I have declared Your power over them, and they no longer can dictate what I do, or whisper lies to me in the dark. In this, You have given me peace of mind. Thank You.

I need peace of mind and a hopeful heart

To lose this rage and move out of the dark

I ain't looking for rainbows or shooting stars

Just some peace of mind and a hopeful heart

Jesus, I need my heart to have hope that I can keep moving out of the dark and into the Light. I need nothing spectacular, just the Light that only You can bring. I don't want to be angry anymore. I want the comfort found only in Your hands. In this, You have given me peace of mind. Thank You.

I need peace of mind and a gentle hand

As I try to change the way I am

And hope God forgives me when I can't

I need peace of mind and a gentle hand

Jesus, I need You to keep changing me. You always forgive me, and Your hand has been nothing but gentle to me. You have allowed the other hands that hold my secrets to be gentle also. In this, you have given me peace of mind. Thank You.

Or a miracle

For this broken soul

A little miracle
For this broken soul

Jesus, you are working a miracle in my life, on my tired and battered soul. If for no other reason, this is why I truly have peace of mind. Thank You. Thank You.

*lyrics by Mindy Smith

**photo by danielygo

Cross My Heart...

I am not a fan of secrets. I think that they make things very complicated, and I think they have the power to do much harm. The problem is, I have a secret. Today I revealed my secret twice, once this morning to someone I hardly know, and once tonight to a dear friend. In telling my secret twice in one day, I came to realize that maybe I was wrong about secrets. While they can do harm, it seems that sometimes secrets can also liberate and heal.

After the conversation with my dear friend tonight, I did much thinking. Here are some of my observations about my secret (and other secrets):
-we are all human, and we all screw up
-more people have secrets than we realize
-secret sin is something many people understand
-i am not the only guilty one
-there is power in confessing to one another

My new friend that I mentioned on Thanksgiving encouraged me not to tell my secret to anyone. She said that people wouldn't understand, and so telling them would only do me more harm. I think I might disagree. I have been blessed with people in my life who seem to catch the concept of supporting each other and suffering together. I have been blessed with friends who are not as quick to judge as I am, and who are able to love each other through scary secrets.

So, all this being said, maybe I have decided that my secret shouldn't be secret anymore. I need to be liberated, and I need the support it will take for me to walk this valley. Though I am not ready to share with the entire world, I am ready to share with the people I call my friends. So those of you who are my friends, you may ask. I will tell. I'm finally ready. It's too dark in here. It's time to let in the light.

"Confess your sins to one another, and pray for one another so that you may be healed."
-James 5:16

Happy One-of-the-Strangest-Days-of-My-Life...

Today I had an eight hour long conversation with a stranger. The last three hours were so intense it may take me a week to process it all.

She has blue hair and five tattoos. She wasn't what I expected from our phone conversation. People rarely are.

I ate Thanksgiving dinner with her, her ever so welcoming and friendly husband, and her two precious young children. She's a great cook.

She dealt me some information over the course of a few hours that will, without a doubt, change the course of the rest of my life.

Nothing will ever be the same after what I learned today. I know too much now. I'm still shaking...

The Dangers of Silent Pain Control

I have trouble tolerating pain. And I'm not talking about the physical something-hurts kind of pain. I tolerate that quite well. That should be obvious from the tattoo on my foot that I say hurt "in a good way". I'm talking about emotional pain...the kind that makes your heart hurt and that makes it a little bit harder to breathe. The kind of pain we all go to great lengths to stay one step ahead of and avoid dealing with.

I've spent a few good years of my life running and hiding from pain. I both avoid and bury it quite well. But the older I get, the more I realize how powerful pain can be in shaping who we are and the way our stories play out. I'm realizing that often the pain that life sometimes brings us is worth it because we grow within ourselves in order to come out on the other side.

Where I struggle most, though, is believing that there are good, constructive ways to handle pain other than running from it. I will openly admit to the fact that I practice some very wrong (not to mention scary) methods of pain control. I just can't seem to find a way to deal with my pain in a way that will convince me that it will end. I can't find a way to deal with what hurts because I'm afraid that I wouldn't survive going through what it takes to heal. Pain is easy to escape. It's easy to bury. So how do we deal? How do we stand in the midst of it and not fall down?

I have yet to accomplish this. I don't have answers to these questions. I just know that sometimes it hurts, and sometimes I escape. I know that I don't want to keep falling down, worried that I won't be able to get back up. I know that God heals, and I know there has GOT to be a better way to handle hurt than the ways I fall into. I know that running isn't the answer, and that everything we bury alive will have to be dug back up eventually. This is what I do know. The rest I will keep searching for, if I don't get lost somewhere on this journey. I have hope that the answers are held somewhere, and that there better ways of dealing with pain. I just can't find them right now.

[postscript: this is what happens in my head after four hours in a quiet car. it is also where my thoughts often wander at 2:30 in the morning. please excuse my vulnerability and honesty. and please don't judge. i'm just human.]

Exercises in Honesty

I think sometimes it is easy to forget how much power there is in honesty. I mean real, no holding back honesty. The kind of honesty where you no longer lie to prevent from hurting someone, but instead you just speak truth. Even the kind of truth that hurts.

This morning after church I had a conversation with a friend that might be one of the hardest conversations I have ever had. She just sat down and started talking, barely taking the time to breathe. She chose to be honest with me instead of lying so that I wouldn't get upset. Much to her surprise, though, I was anything but upset. I greatly respected the courage and strength it took for her to say what she said to me. I greatly respect how hard it was to hurt me, and anger and hurt are two emotions I didn't feel.

It was at this moment that I realized how much I've grown up. It surprised me that I was able to take what she said, and use it to grow and learn. It surprised me that I was able to love her even more for what she said that I did before she started talking. I'm grateful that God gives us hearts like His that are able to handle the truth from someone who loves us, and take it and turn it into an experience to grow from. I'm grateful that He transforms me in this way.

The power of honesty cannot be matched. Yes, what my friend said to me caused my heart to break and caused silent tears to fall down my face. Yes, I'm hurt that my friends all feel the same way and I had no idea. Yet, I am so glad that I know now. I am so glad that someone stopped taking the easy way out and exercizing obligation, and instead chose to let the truth be heard. It gives me the chance to change things. It gives me the chance to evaluate, and start over. It gives me the power to, in turn, start speaking more truthfully myself. There are things we all need to hear, and thank you JESUS that we have people to speak them to us.

So take this as a challenge. Are you exercizing convienience in exchange for truth? Are you avoiding honesty so that someone won't get hurt? Are there people in your life that need to hear some truth that you have access to? People can't fix things they don't know they are doing wrong. Tell them. Be honest. You might be surprised at how much the truth can change things (and people!).

This is my heart today. Take it or leave it :)

*photo by Twenty2wo

These Walls Cry

Today was one of those exceptionally hard days that life brings along sometimes. I was called out to the house I grew up in, on very short notice, to say my final goodbyes. My dad told me a few months ago that he was selling it, but I didn't expect it all to happen so quickly. They close next Monday. I guess I was mistaken.

I took two friends with me to go pick up the things my stepmom pulled out of the attic that she thought I might want to keep. I didn't realize this trip would tug at my heart, as I went through boxes with my mom's handwriting on them, and as I went through toys that held mountains of memories. I, of course, played it off as a fun adventure, when really inside my heart was slowly tearing. Losing the place you could take people home to to look at pictures and go through childhood treasures isn't easy. Losing the place where you spent the only 17 years you had with your mother isn't easy. Losing the backyard and closets and hallways you spent hours playing in with your favorite playmate isn't easy. This place doesn't exist anymore.

After I gathered all of my things, I decided to walk through the house one more time. I walked through the room I slept in for 18 years, the room my mother slowly died in, the room my brother and I spent hours make-believing in, and the bathroom my mom and I redid the last summer she was alive. I felt compelled to go get the camera. While none of the bedrooms still look the way they did when my mom was alive, my bathroom still held the same look. I had to take a picture of our last project. I had to keep a memory.

On my way back towards the door, I tried to listen very closely to what the walls would say if they could talk. It wasn't long before I realized that my walls didn't talk. My walls cry. My walls hold years of heartbreak, years of suffering, and whispers of death. These are things that I could hear the echos of in the walls every time I set foot in this house. These are the things I would remember first and feel the most when I came home. These things are finished. These things are no more, and I can leave them here.

While it was so hard to lose the place I lived with the person I miss the most, my dear best friend (nine years my senior) gently reminded me that it's a part of growing up. That it happens to all of us at some time, and that we have to learn to carry the good on with us, and let go of the rest. This is what I will try to do. I will try to leave the hurt and the fear in the house, and never look back. I will try to smile as I remember the joy of holidays spent there and the fun I had with my brother on rainy Saturday afternoons. It's a house, and I don't need it to remember. I have to let go. I have to cry with the walls, and then turn and walk away. Death has come, and taken the house with it. The fear is finished. It has been overcome.

This is part of my story now, and it is part of who I am. What I choose to let live on will forever be held in my heart. What I choose to leave behind is done. I pick up the pieces, and I walk away. It's growing up. It's letting go. And I can do this.

Home.

Oh, I'm home. I'm so glad. I walked in the door and was immediately hugged by my roommate. It feels good to be missed :) Sometimes I'm not sure anyone ever misses me. Now I know. And I am grateful.

As soon as I recover from a very long trip and a very busy weekend ahead, I promise I will post all that has gone on. I don't have to go back to work until the 26th. Woo Hoo!!!

Be ready for funny stories and funny pictures and videos. A week with kids produces much of that. And I'm pretty sure my boss is now one of my best friends. 20 hours in the car and a week in her parents house made that happen :) Again, I am grateful.

But most of all, I am grateful to be HOME. This is home. And I am grateful.

Hello from Iowa!

At last, after five days of searching, my dear computer has found an internet connection. I have so much to post, including pictures and fun videos. I have also had many thought provoking moments here in the mid-west, as they seem to make more time for that around here. However, at this time, my boss is out of town and I am playing mom for the next two days here in farmland. So it is questionable whether or not I will have time to post it all before I go home on Friday. I just had to say hi, though :)

More to come soon!

Godspeed...and God, can I speed?

In approximately fourteen hours I am going to climb into a car and hope to survive the next ten. My boss, the kids and I are driving to Iowa tomorrow. God help us. I do not travel well, and it becomes even less well when you add a three-year-old and a one-year-old to the mix. Again, God help us. When it is my turn to drive, I will be driving as fast as I can. If it comes to be that I feel the need to jump out of a speeding car sometime in the next 24 hours, please know that I have been glad to know all of you.

That being said, I am not sure when I will have the capabilities to post any time in the next eight days. I do, however, plan on writing lots while I am there, so if need be I will backlog entries when I get home next weekend. Though I am still holding out a candle that I will have daily internet access, even if it means driving to a coffee shop (they do have those in Iowa, right?).

So off I go into the wild, corn-filled yonder. This is new and uncharted territory for me. Who knows, it might spark some great writings. I wish you all a wonderful week ahead. Godspeed. And believe you me, there will be speeding.

When The Day Is Done...

There has been a strange, scary rash of murders in the greater Nashville area in the past week or so. One of these murders includes the one at a house less than a mile from mine on Saturday night that caused us to lock our doors on Sunday night (something we rarely do). I have to admit, when one of the murders occurred so close by, I was a little afraid to sleep alone. I am the only person that lives in the basement of my house, and there are windows in the room next to mine (a storage room) that I'm not very sure have locks on them (please don't come burglarize my house). My roommate Bryan made a big deal about freaking me out by telling me that no one would even hear me if I screamed, which is probably true, but after I considered the possibility of being murdered (very unlikely, I know), I realized I had nothing to be afraid of.

I realized that I am completely at peace with the idea of dying. I know this sounds morbid, but I think it's a really good thing! I am totally not afraid to die! I know to Whom I belong, and I know where my soul will come to rest when I walk towards the light (if there really is a light). I'm honestly even looking forward to when my days might come to an end this side of heaven, and I get to meet my Saviour. It's going to be a great day, no matter how I die.

I was watching The Today Show this morning (my newest obsession), and Matt Lauer did an interview of Shirley MacLaine about her new book. Apparently she wrote about how she feels about dying and what she thinks of the "afterlife", and when Matt asked her about it, he admitted that he was totally not okay with the idea of dying. I thought this to be sad, because I think it would be great if we were all okay with not being sure we have another day on this earth. I'm at peace with it, and I want everyone else to be, too.

Just for the record, even though I am at peace with the thought of dying, I am totally not done living yet. I just wanted to get that straight :). As my last post said, I believe God has great plans for me. But I did realize today, that when my days are over and my purpose has been served here on earth, I couldn't be more ready to glimpse the face of God. I couldn't be more ready to dwell forever in His physical presence. Take me whenever You're ready, Jesus. Until then, I'll take all I can from right here, right now.

A Case of Cabin Fever

I have been restless lately. The kind of restless where I have a hard time going to bed because I feel like I have better things to do, and I have a hard time going to work because I feel like my days have more purpose than what I am currently using them for. It could be the change in the weather, because cold weather makes me feel cooped up, especially when it's dark by 5pm. Or, it could be the fact that a week and a half ago the unmistakable voice of God told me that He was about to ask me to totally quit my job. Possibly without a reason why. Yeah, that's probably it.

I've never been much of a jumper. I'm more of the baby steps type. Probably because I have everlasting trust issues. Why in the world would I just obey and quit my job without a plan? Why should I think that God might have something big planned that He couldn't just show me BEFORE I quit? Yeah, I don't know. I have no idea what God has in store for me. I just know that I'm praying hard that I hear Him when He tells me what to do. I'm ready to go. I'm ready for something different. I'm bored and restless. I know God's got something important for me, I just pray that I can obey, even regardless of what everyone else would have to say. He is all I need. He has become enough for me.

On a lighter note, I had a major mom moment today. In the chaos of putting the baby in the car and finding the keys and all that jazz this afternoon to go get Ashton from school, I some how forgot to put shoes on. So I, being the Tennessee born-and-bred girl that I am, went into kindergarten to get Ashton with my slippers on. At least he's still too young to be embarrassed by me.

Yeah, I'm ready for a career change. I'm praying. I'm seeking. Feel free to join in.

My Saturday Observations...

No matter how old you get, being left at home and left out of the fun still hurts.

Being able to sleep in is heavenly. Sleep is so, so good after a long week.

Living with lots of people is fun, because there is often at least one person around to hang out with. And we truly are a bunch of brothers and sisters in this house.

You are never too old to sport some footed pajamas.

Nighttime in the fall smells so good.

More than two people will never agree wholeheartedly on which movie to rent.

My roommates are much more fun after 9pm. Ha ha ha.

The funniest quotes come from the people you live with. Probably because you see each other at your best and worst, every day.

Saturdays are my favorite...

The American Nightmare...

I spend my days in an area of suburbia otherwise known as East Brentwood. It's full of high-maintenance yuppies, driving their expensive cars, living in their huge houses, and giving their neighbors fake smiles and waves as they go out to get their mail at the end of the day. The particular street that I work on bears striking resemblance to the Wisteria Lane of TVs Desperate Housewives. Life for these people is a big masquerade. The bad news is, eventually the truth catches up with us all. Eventually the picture perfect lives these people have tried to build for themselves and their families crumble right before every one's eyes, for all the world (or at least the neighborhood) to see.

Enter Family A, one year ago. Dad is a songwriter, trying to make it big in the music business. Mom is an actuary, and makes way more money than dad (but no one knows that). Two beautiful blonde-headed boys, Blaine (2) and Drake (3 months), and their full-time nanny, Joy, complete the family. Big house, nice cars, everything they've ever wanted. Sounds like a perfect life, right? Wrong. Soon, dad leaves mom and the kids for a younger woman. Life falls apart, and a year later, no one has yet been capable of putting the pieces back together. No American dream here. Just heartache, frustration, worries that keep mom up all night, and a baby that screams way too much. Let's try again.

Enter Family B. Dad owns his own company, and works from home selling shares of his business. Mom also works from home, and, again, makes more money than dad. A pretty blue-eyed little girl named Annika (1), and her full-time nanny, Brittany, complete this family. Again, big house, nice cars, expensive clothes. They must have it all together, right? Nope. Mom hates dad, and would leave if it wasn't for the child. A few months ago, mom was pregnant with her second child, but lost the baby. Oh, and did I mention that dad's business is having problems? No American dream here, either. Just bitterness, rage, and despair, coupled with parents who aren't really sure they want to be parents most days. Let's try again.

Enter Family C. Single mom bought a house in this neighborhood with money from an inheritance. She has one son, Cody (8). Mom spends her days lounging around the pool in her bikini, flirting with all the single young men in the neighborhood. The easy life, right? Well, a few months ago mom gets busted for selling drugs out of her house. She is put on probation. And if that wasn't enough, the other day she came home and found her roommate dead in the garage, from an apparent suicide attempt. Definitely no American dream here. Just legal issues, hopelessness, and addiction. We'll give this one more try.

Enter Family D. Dad works in the film business, and rubs elbows with the rich and famous almost daily. Mom is able to be a full-time mom to two beautiful little girls, red-headed Maddie (4) and sweet baby Riley (1). This family has it all. Mom and dad love each other, the girls have everything they could dream of. Except for the occasional cranky child, this is a content family. Then yesterday happened. While playing in the yard with some of the neighbor children, a car pulls up in front of Family D's house. A social worker from DHS gets out, and takes mom and dad inside. Mom is accused of abusing her four-year-old child. Life shatters for this family. Mom gets in the car and runs away. No American dream. Just lies, deceit, and helplessness. More like the American nightmare.

So what is my point in singling out these families? My point is that happiness and contentment are not found in the American dream. There is no American dream. If we chase careers and chase images, we are simply chasing the wind. This world has pain. People die, lies are told, and we make bad choices. It is only through Jesus that we can make our way through the ugliness of this world, and I wish very much that I could hand Jesus to every one of these families. If Jesus were in these situations, it wouldn't necessarily make them disappear or be easier, but at least they would know who is in control. It would turn the lies into truth, and give them something worthwhile to chase after. The American dream never stays dream-like forever. Without Jesus it turns into the American nightmare. Without Jesus, suburbia is hell.

A Little Laugh...

I have chased so many deep thoughts today, and had so many serious issues to deal with, that I don't think I can pick just one to write about. So instead, I'd like to share my funniest moment of the day.

I picked up my newest kids, Sydney (6) and Carson (2), this afternoon and took them home. Usually when we get there, there is a key under the front door mat to open the door with. Today, Deana forgot to leave the key. Minor problem. I looked at the kids and told them that there was no key, and I was going to go call their mom and ask her what she wanted me to do. Before I had the phone open, Sydney looked at me and without missing a beat said, "Why don't you just use a credit card?". I looked at her like she had two heads, and then pondered the thought. "Well, it isn't dead bolted, so maybe it would work." I went to the car, got a credit card, and proceeded to break into the house, on the advice of a six-year-old. Fabulous.

Later, when I told Deana about it, I couldn't help but laugh about the fact that this child, at the age of six, has already perfected her breaking and entering skills. Which, I guess, isn't really a bad skill to have. :)

Help Me Believe In Me...

Last night after I came home crying my friend Leif told me that if I wanted something bad enough, I wouldn't let anyone stand in the way. And while I think that's true, I think it might be different when it's your parent. The person who once many years ago told you that you could do anything you wanted to do, and then twenty years later changed their mind.

Life with my dad since my mom died has been difficult. He resented me for so long, and once he had the chance to express all those years of pent up resentment, he made up for lost time. He has continuously convinced me to give up my dreams, one by one, by telling me that I can never accomplish them. He refuses to give me his support in anything, including my upcoming trip to Brazil (which breaks my heart). He thinks my ideas are rash and not thought through. I had to hang up on him last night because I started crying, and I knew he would yell at me if he heard me cry. He has taught me to hide my emotions.

It's really very hard to go after something you want when the one person who is supposed to support you in everything you do refuses to believe in you. Because no one since my mom has believed in me, I seem to have lost the ability to believe in myself. This morning when I woke up, I think I lost interest in chasing this dream. I feel like yesterday didn't even happen.

I want to make him proud, just once. I don't know why, because he really doesn't even deserve that. I just do. I want him to think that just maybe I could accomplish something. I want him to think that so that I can think that. I need him to help me believe in me. Instead, I was forced to tell him to forget that I ever said anything, and then quietly hang up. And as I fell asleep last night, I seemed to have quietly hung up my latest attempt at going after my dreams, too.

Maybe one day I'll have the strength to walk through that wall. Yesterday was not that day. May Jesus teach me to believe in myself. I know He believes in me...

I Forgot To Read the Warning Label...

Caution: Walking on water may cause drowning.

I applied to massage therapy school today. An hour later my dad told me that he thought it was a stupid idea, that I won't do it, and that he won't give me his tax info so I can get federal aid. Wow. What incredible encouragement. In fact, it made me cry. I don't cry.

So much for walking on water. I guess I'll just stay in the boat.

"Take Courage! It is I. Do Not Be Afraid." *

I took my passport to church this morning. Throughout the whole service, it sat in the chair next to me and stared me down. When the service was over, I took it, along with a decent amount of cash, and placed them in the hand of one of the pastors at my church. It was a statement. It was a faith step. I'm going to Brazil. No turning back now.

This afternoon I sat on my back deck with Jesus. I told Him I'd go where He sends me. I asked Him to show me what's next. I know that whatever and where ever it is, it's big, but I know He won't send me until I'm ready. I know He'll hold my hand.

In an hour I'm going to tell my boss that I'm not working early mornings anymore. I'm just not. I refuse to have my life controlled by anyone except Jesus. Soon I plan to tell her that I'm moving on. I don't want to be manipulated anymore. I don't want my life planned by another human anymore. I'm going to chase life. I'm going to chase Jesus.

It's not about me. It's about Jesus. It's a walk on water kind of day...

*Matthew 14:27

Kindness, Goodness, and a Fresh Pair of Eyes...

Tonight I went to a gathering (I don't much like to use the word "party" as a noun) at the home of two people I am ever so pleased to call my friends, and I took my new roommate with me. She hasn't met many people in the week that she has been here, and I really wanted her to meet the fabulous people that I call my friends. I, of course, had ideas of how she would fall in love with my friends as everyone else does. But see, we had a problem. She had a very long week at her new job, and has had a slightly hard time adjusting to the change of moving here and leaving everything she had ever known on her own free will. I get that. So she wasn't much in the "partying" mood tonight, and stayed slightly hidden most of the evening.

Something I've learned very quickly about her is that when she gets really tired, she gets really sad. This has broken my heart every time, because I want very much for her to feel comfortable and happy here. I want to do everything I can to help her feel welcome, and loved, and happy to be here. Tonight, though, I seemed to have had my own agenda. She was ready to leave and go to bed, and I chose to ignore the signs and keep pursuing my own happiness. This was wrong of me, but it gave the chance for another one of God's beautiful daughters to step into her life and love the way He taught us. It was truly beautiful.

There is a person in my group of friends that I have a really hard time getting. One of those things where I really don't want to misunderstand them. I really want to be able to put aside past opinions and barriers, and be able to open the eyes of understanding between this person and me. It has been a desire of mine for months, but I had yet to accomplish this. I really wanted to have a friendship with this person; I've felt drawn to them. That being said, this might have been one of the last people I expected my roommate to form a bond with. And yet, if I had had any sense at all, I would have seen how perfect it would be. And it was.

This person is so incredibly kind. She sat and talked to and loved on my precious, homesick new friend while I was selfish. She listened, and she gave of herself. The eyes of my heart were opened at the goodness I saw in this person, and all of the prior opinions I had fell away. That, to me, is one of the greatest blessings God has so obviously placed in front of me in a long time. To see such genuine kindness in another person that I am so often afraid I misunderstand, while at the same time feeling the sting of my own selfishness. I am blessed to have seen such beauty in another person. I am so grateful to them for loving my new friend. It means the world to me when people show kindness to the people I care about. It's so precious.

I know this probably hasn't made much sense to anyone but me. These are just my thoughts tonight, about a few people I really care about. I really hope sometime I can tell this friend of mine how precious I think they are, and how much I appreciate the goodness that just spills out of them. I am ever so grateful that they showed such kindness to a stranger that I happen to care so much about. I really am just so grateful that this person is who she is, and that I'm beginning to see who she is through fresh, new eyes.

I'm convinced that sometimes the most beautiful people God creates are standing right in front of us, but we can't see it because our human hearts are too quick to judge, or too stubborn for second chances. I want to banish these attitudes from my heart and from my life. I want to see people through the eyes of Jesus, and I want to see such goodness in people much more often. I've said it a million times, and I'll say it again: I am ever so blessed to know the people I know. They are some of God's greatest creation. Tonight, again, I was reminded.

Grumbling...

Things I didn't like so far this week:

1. Having to work on my day off.

2. Working 43 hours in four days.

3. Not having any fun at all.

4. Coming home, eating dinner, showering, and going straight to bed, only to get up the next morning and repeat.

5. Not having heard from any of my friends except one so far this week (I'm lonely!).

6. The fact that it has rained all day every day all week.

7. The fact that it's not Friday yet.

I'm exhausted. I regret taking a third job. I got offered a fourth one yesterday. I may have to pass on that. Pretty sure 52 hours is plenty too many. I seriously need a vacation. It's coming. One more month...

In other news, I discovered today that I make about $10,000 more a year than I thought I made. That's exciting, I thought!

Is it Friday yet? I'm so tired...

p.s...it's ok to grumble every now and then, right?

Atypical Insomnia...

I've had trouble sleeping lately. And when I say this, I don't mean the kind of trouble sleeping that I usually have (I kinda suck at sleeping anyways). I mean the kind of trouble where the other night it took me four hours to fall asleep and then I only slept for two hours before I was fully awake again. No good. Makes for a very tired and grumpy nanny. Which creates grumpy children.

The other day I was talking to my roommate, Ashley, and I told her that I think I know what the reasoning behind this incessant insomnia is. I originally attributed it to stress, as I have obviously lost my mind by agreeing to work as much as I have been working, but it's becoming clearer to me that it isn't necessarily the stress that keeps me awake.

You see, when babies reach about thirteen or fourteen months old, they stop sleeping well because they are in the stage of discovering so much and learning so much that sleeping puts a stop to it, and, well, that just isn't ok. They want to stay awake so they don't miss anything new. They want to keep discovering. Now, I know I am twenty-one years old, but this makes so much sense to me. Right now, at this stage of life, in this particular situation, I have so much going on. I just got a new roommate, and overnight my house has become this giant, constant slumber party. We're having so much fun! In addition, I got very inspired this weekend after a series of conversations to actually get up and do something with my life, and follow my dreams. So today I started to consider quitting my job and going after my passions (sorry John, I don't have a thesaurus handy!). This, my friends, is so much to think about! So much to enjoy! So much to be excited about!

So now, at 11:30 at night, when I have to be up by seven, for the like 15th night in a row, I have no desire to go to sleep. I want to stay up and chase after life. I want to discover what's out there for me. I want to go back upstairs and play with all my roommates (we just played much guitar hero in our pajamas and then did the whole "good night, sleep tight, don't let the bedbugs bite" routine as we headed into four different bedrooms, it was so fun!). Life is so fun right now. This age is so fun, because we have no idea what happens next. What adventure lies there!

So why would I want to sleep? Oh yeah, there's that energy to do my job thing. Why do we have to go to bed? Oh yeah, we all gotta work tomorrow.

...unfortunate, isn't it?

Answers in Time...

June 18, 2007-
I'm on a plane flying home to Nashville. I'm crying, pleading with God. I've learned how to ask for what I really want, and for the first time, I do it. These are the words scribbled on the back of my boarding pass:
Lord, may please I have a place to live and people to live with that I enjoy. People that I can share life with and hang out with in an environment that isn't stressful.

August 19, 2007-
I moved into the house with the boys (Bryan and Jeremy). The next day, they both go out of town. Come to find out, they are both out of town A LOT. I don't see them much. I have a hard time having relationships with them. They are boys, after all. What did I expect? I wonder how this is possibly the answer to my prayers. It doesn't make sense. God, did you hear my prayer? Is this the answer?

October 20, 2007-
I woke up at one in the afternoon, and I have a new roommate living in the previously empty room upstairs. Her name is Ashley. She moved here from Georgia for a job. We meet, and have lunch with Bryan. She's great. I wonder if we might be friends.

October 21, 2007-
I'm sitting in the car with Ashley. We've spent the whole last two days together, genuinely having a good time, and getting to know each other. She looks at me and tells me how glad she is that I live in the house. I tell her how glad I am that she is here. I'm wondering where she has been the rest of my life. We've already reached the deep level it takes me months to reach with another person. I suddenly realize that God answered my prayer. He just asked me to wait a while. And it was worth the wait...

I have a new roommate. She is the answer to my prayers. I am so grateful. Thank You, Jesus. You answered me, in Your own time. I couldn't have picked anyone better, at any better time. Only You could. But that's just Who You Are...

an addition...

I went to a Halloween party Friday night with my boss, and this was on her neighbor's wall. I thought it would be a nice addition to my last post. Isn't it lovely?

Under the Rug (or not)

I started my new job tonight. One of the fun things about what I do to make a living is that I get to work inside people's houses. And being the naturally nosy person that I am, this is fun to me. You can really tell a lot about a person, and about their life and how they live, by looking inside their house. Often what you find will surprise you. We as humans, trying to look like we have it all together, are so obsessed with image that sometimes we sweep the strangest things up under the rug. Tonight, once again, reminded me of how stupid we are with the images we put up. It's truly pointless...

Last December I had my annual Christmas party at the apartment I lived in last school year. The day of the party, I can clearly remember going to Wal-Mart and buying curtains to hang between my living room and dining room. The reason? Because my dining room was (until the day I moved out actually) full of crap that had been thrown in there when I moved in. And I didn't want anyone to see it. I wanted my friends to think that my apartment was very neat and clean, and I wanted to look like I had it all together. Oh, the irony. Truthfully, every single one of my friends that know me at all know that I am not a neat person. Often my surroundings look quite a bit like the inside of my head. Everything is randomly placed, yet to me it is all right where it belongs. Organized messes, really. But to the outside person it probably looks like chaos. Blame it on my type b personality :)

The question is why did I try to hide who I really was? Especially from the people who knew me the best? Why do we feel like we have to have everything perfect when we have people over to our homes? Our homes tell about us. Our stuff (or lack thereof) tells about us. I have to admit, I am the most comfortable in homes that aren't very clean. I am comfortable with clutter, and I am comfortable with stuff. In these homes I feel like I don't have to put up a front, and I don't have to appear perfect. I can walk around barefoot, and I can put my feet up on the couch (or the coffee table). These places make me realize that we are all human, just the same, and none of us have it all together. It makes me more easily willing to show my weaknesses. I hope people feel like this when they come to my house.

I love that the people I started working for today didn't feel like they had to clean their house before I came over. There was dog hair on the carpet, and dishes in the sink. I got to kick off my shoes and play with Carson in the middle of the floor, and not have to worry about breaking anything or leaving fingerprints on the furniture. Our homes are for making memories, and no one will remember how shiny our hardwood floors were. I don't want to not have people over because I didn't do the dishes yesterday or clean the bathroom last week. It's more important to me that my friends have a good time here, and feel comfortable being who they are without having to stay on their toes. Emotions are affected by environment, and so is comfort level. Don't you agree? I want the environment I share to be known more as a warm one than a clean one.

Image isn't just for show when it comes to our homes either, but that is another blog for another day. I leave you with this image as food for thought: When Deana came home from work tonight, I couldn't help but giggle to myself as she walked in the door. She looked perfect. Her hair was perfect, her clothes were perfect, and she had accessorized just perfectly (she works in a very high-end salon off music row). She looked very out of place in her less than perfect house next to her less than perfect (and quite dirty, really) son. So how does she handle this situation? She plops down in the middle of the living room floor, takes off (and throws) her high-heeled boots into the kitchen, and proceeds to grab Carson by the ankles, throw him on the floor, and blow a raspberry into his neck. That's who Deana really is.

I only hope we can all one day be as real as our homes make us out to be. That dirt didn't start out under the rug, anyways. Let it be. Dirt has character. Show it off.


***Edit: Jenelle- I'm not really sure I've ever used parentheses so much. It make me think of you. And laugh. ***

Newness

*Warning: the post you are about to read will probably be a collection of very random thoughts. My head is loud today.*

Occasionally, and I think I am not alone in this, I have these days where life is so overwhelming and loudly buzzing about me that I have a hard time doing anything other than running to my bed and pulling the covers over my head. No one can find me there. It's great. Thank goodness for a boss who understands and lets me go home half-way through the day so I can further this bad habit of escapism.

I think I might have been nuts for picking up another part-time job last Friday. I start tomorrow. It seems easy, but do I really want to work 52 hours a week? Let me tell you, nothing makes me want to go back to school more than the idea that I am now working three jobs. I guess we'll just see how it goes. I'm just having a hard time keeping track of all of my kids (and employers). I have a hard enough time keeping track of myself. Sometimes I get ahead of myself. Hopefully the money will be good, and that going back to school thing might happen sooner rather than later.

I found out this afternoon that I'm getting another roommate this week. The more the merrier I suppose. At least this one is female. It seems to be a week of new things actually. New tattoo, new job, new roommate. I wouldn't mind a new car next...hmm...

Besides all this, I'm also heartbroken. Selfishly. And I have no one to talk to about it. Hate when that happens.

Yeah, I'm done.

p.s....I'm still smiling :) He makes all things new. He's reminding me.

Goodbyes at Sunrise...

The clock in the car read 4:39am as I turned out of my subdivision and headed toward the airport. I had only been asleep for two hours when the alarm went off, so I wasn't really even tired. I had been psyching myself up for this all night. I was hoping it would be quick and painless, unlike my last three goodbyes. I made it to the airport in about fifteen minutes, parked the car, grabbed the keys, and headed to the terminal. I was early; they weren't here yet. The airport was surprisingly busy for this early on a Sunday morning, and I sent him a text to tell him so. He sent one back, asking if that meant I was here. Well, of course I was. It wasn't long before they walked up, both carrying some of his stuff. We all got in line for him to check in. We made small talk while we waited, and laughed quietly at each other a few times. After he checked in, we walked to the security line, and stood and stared at each other for a moment. He said we could go, and she said that yeah, she was just thinking it was time to go. She hugged him first, and told him she loved him, and then it was my turn. I, too, told him I loved him, and that I was proud. We snapped a picture, and then said goodbye one more time. As we turned to walk away, we found ourselves looking back just once, and I yelled out one more loud goodbye. We both smiled sadly to ourselves, and walked side-by-side out of the terminal. As we headed toward our cars, it seemed there was nothing left to say. It was done, it was over. It was just goodbye. Just another goodbye at sunrise...

truth

"Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free."
-Jesus (John 8:23)

The Truth sets me free a little more each day, and it's changing my life. Oh, and it's permament. Not only on my foot, but also in my heart. I'm thankful for the Truth I continue to find to replace so many lies that I've believed for way too long. Thank You Jesus, for being the Truth. May I always be reminded, and may I keep finding new truths with each new day...

Irreplaceable Lessons in Unexplainable Love

Right now I am sitting in one of the five gazillion branches of the Nashville Public Library surrounded by strangers. Yes, I have a computer at home, but there is just something about public libraries that has always attracted me. Of course the number one reason is because I love to read, and an endless supply of books I can read for free definitely sparks my interest, but there is also something about the library that makes me happy on the inside. And that, of course, always inspires me to write. So I am going to take this chance to write what I am thinking RIGHT NOW, instead of waiting until later when I am too tired to write. Here goes...

The last few days (or weeks, rather) I have been overwhelmed with gratefulness for knowing the people I know. I am convinced that God has blessed me in such a way that I am friends with the greatest, most humble, most beautiful people He has ever created. But as I was thinking about it this afternoon, I realized that I am grateful for the people in my life for all different kinds of reasons. My friends are most definitely categorized, in many different ways, and many of them fall into more than one category. And these categories play different roles in my life. One thing is for sure though, I am equally grateful for each and every one of them.

I am grateful for, and forever indebted to, my friends that are older than I am. I have been blessed to have older friends that are wonderful teachers, and that are willing to share their stories with me so that I know someone else has gone through what I go through. My best friend is 8 1/2 years older than me, and while our friendship started with me leading her to Jesus, she soon cut in front and I now look to her for so much advice about growing up. She makes me not fear getting older, because she does it with such grace. She would do anything for me, and proves it over and over again, even when I'm a brat. She holds a special place in my heart, and always will. One of the dearest friends I have ever had (you know who you are) is five years older than me, and has taught me (or rather, let Jesus teach me through her) more in the seven months we have been friends, than anyone ever has in my whole life. She has come the closet to loving me like Jesus would than any friend I have ever had. I learn patience and perseverance from her because of how she is toward me. I respect and admire her more than she will ever know. She reminds me to breathe. Another friend of mine who is three years older than me has taught me that it is still ok to speak truth to people that are older than you are. She has showed me how to be a friend to someone who doesn't want a friend, and she has listened as I whine about life almost every day. I am forever indebted to my older friends. Without them, I would be blind to hope for the future. I hope they know the impact they have made on my life.

I am grateful for, and most easily am myself around, my friends that are the same age as me (give or take a year). These are my closest friends. The ones that I share mutual give-take relationships with. The ones that go through the same struggles and stages that I do, near or at the same times as me. Most important of these are the friends that I have come to share all parts of life with. I have a group of five to ten people that I can share my joys, struggles, heartbreaks, and celebrations with, at all times. Some of them I talk to every day, and some I don't, but these are the people I run to when something exciting happens (even if it's only exciting to me), or when I'm having a bad week. They speak truth into my life even when it hurts, and they party with me when we have something to celebrate. These are the people that show up when they know I need them to, even if they have nothing to say. They know me well enough to read me, and that speaks volumes. Life would be horribly lonely without these friends.

I am grateful for, and have the most stupid-fun with, my friends that are younger than me. It is often these people that remind me that I take life a little too seriously sometimes. They remind me to let go and play, and help restore a little of the innocence I lost such a long time ago. They teach me patience, because I have to remember that I once didn't have anything figured out yet, either. They make me miss being young enough to not worry about so much, and they keep the child inside me alive. They give me someone to take care of, and they make me feel cool. They give me someone to pass the wisdom that I have received from my older friends onto. I am positive my life wouldn't be so much fun if I didn't have friends that were younger than me. They make my heart smile :).

We need other people in our lives. We need the people that walk in front of, the ones that walk beside us, and the ones that walk behind us. I am also lucky enough that I have many friends that do two of these things, and a few that even do all three! Those are the most precious by far. My friends are my family, and lately I have realized just how blessed I am. If you are reading this, and I call you my friend, then know that I am grateful for you. You are special to me. And I thank God for you every single day. I am blessed to know the most beautiful people God has created, and I am blessed to call them my friends.

Showing Up

Another sudden death occurs in my life, and again I find myself asking why. Again I am reminded how quickly life can be gone, and how sometimes we just don't expect it. Sometimes it scares me to think how sudden death could come, and I think back on the occasions of my life when people have passed in surprise, and how we have dealt with it. I think about how people reacted, and how tragedies like these have seemed to shape our views and shape how we deal and heal. Another friend my age has died, this time to sudden sickness instead of the car accident we dealt with as seniors, the suicide we dealt with a year later, and the heart attack just months ago. This time I ask myself if I should show up to this one. I worry about who I might run into if I do, or what I would say if I ran into those more torn up about it than I am. But then I remember that I of all people should know that it's not about words and it's not about image. It's just about showing up. It's just about the silent respect shown in taking the time to come and support those who are hurting in a time of loss. It's just about being there.

When my dad took my mom to the hospital that last time, and I found out a few hours later that she would die within the next day or so, I was in too much of a state of covered-up shock to call people. I was afraid to ask my freinds to come and hold my hand because I had always played the strong one, the one that didn't need any support. I could stand alone. Right? Much to my surprise, within an hour my pastor and my best friend at the time, Katie, were both standing beside me in the hallway of the hospital. It was very late at night, and I didn't expect anyone to come. I later went home with Katie and tried to sleep alone through the night (without much success). The next day was one of the hardest of my life. What stands out to me the most, though, is remembering who showed up.

By ten the next morning, about ten of my friends had elected to skip out on church and come sit next to me in the hospital instead. Some sat for an hour, and some sat for two days. My best friend was supposed to leave for Georgia that morning, and I told her that she could go, but she knew me and knew I needed her, and she showed up. My other best friend was on the other end of the state working at a camp, and couldn't get away, but after hours of us crying on the phone, she announced to her supervisor that she was leaving. And a few hours later, she showed up. My best friend from middle school who never came through for me showed up later that afternoon. A friend who was still grieving the death of her father two weeks earlier also showed up. They all came to sit with me in silence. Words were not needed; their presense was. Whether it was two in the afternoon or two in the morning, people just kept showing up. That was what mattered, and that is what I remember.

So when I sit and debate about this funeral tomorrow, I remember how important it was to me that people showed up. I always want to be the person that shows up, and knows that words are not necessary. I pray that I will always have the kind of friends that just show up, because it seems I have been blessed thus far. Death sucks, and it's not an easy thing, and it doesn't always make sense. But we don't have to play strong, and we don't have to stand alone. It's ok to reach for a hand to hold. I'm gonna show up to this memorial service, and I'm gonna hold somebody's hand. Because to me, that's what it's all about. I'll be there, Holly. We will all be there, holding each other's hands, as you stand and watch, holding the hand of Jesus. Rest in peace.

ok i lied...

i will eventually post the other half of that last blog. i just can't seem to get my words right. i need to work on it some more...stand by :)

Prelude to "The Other Me"

I've never told anyone this, but when I was seventeen I was diagnosed with a personality disorder by a social worker. I think I've never told anyone because I thought it made me sound crazy. And well, yeah, I am a little crazy :). I've been accused of having more than one personality on occasion, but I've always denied it. I don't think I would have ever admitted this if it wasn't for a series of events from the past week that caused me to realize that this may be a part of me, whether I like it or not. Realizing that, and also realizing that this disorder was not caused by my own actions, has made me more willing to admit to it. So now I would like to share a piece of me that is becoming more exposed, and therefore is a wound that is beginning to heal. I'd like to explain why I struggle with this disorder, and what happened to me to make me into two different people. This won't be an easy story to write, and it may also not be an easy story to read. But it's my story, and I choose to now to step out of the shadows and whispers and claim it as part of who I am.


[the following entry will be the piece i have entitled "the other me". but seeing as it is well after midnight, I am waiting until tomorrow to post it. fyi.]

[and just in case anyone is curious, this makes much more sense of me that i ever could (though it does make it sound a tad intense):
http://www.nimh.nih.gov/health/publications/borderline-personality-disorder.shtml ]

Noticed

This is my friend Drake. He's fifteen months old, and probably one of cutest toddlers you've ever seen, right? Maybe I'm partial, but even if I wasn't I would still think he's cute. The problem with precious baby Drake, though, is that he KNOWS he's cute. And that makes it very hard to take him in public. Wherever we are, if we walk past anyone that doesn't acknowledge his presence, he will make noises at them until they tell him how cute he is (or until we walk away). He knows he's cute, and he wants to make sure everyone else agrees. Everyone. Now we all know that not everyone in the world (especially everyone in the public library) thinks that little kids are adorable. But poor baby Drake just wants to be affirmed. He wants to feel loved. He wants to be noticed. And oh, how much I learn about myself from this precious little boy and his seemingly pointless antics. For if the truth be told, I am exactly like Drake in this. I always have been. But I hope that I won't always be.

I have never exactly been the strong, silent type, though it may appear to be so sometimes. Silence is something that is rare for me, even when I'm sleeping. I'm just loud by nature. I'm pretty sure even my thoughts are often loud, judging by the noise in my head that I can't seem to control. On the rare occasions that I am more quiet than usual, for example when I am in big group settings, my facial expressions and body language usually still speak loudly, especially to the people that know me well. And as for the strong part, well, we'll just say that is also lacking. I'm weak and needy, and I'm not ashamed to admit it. We'll just leave it at that.

The bad part about my weak and noisy status is that it causes my happiness to depend mostly on the behavior of other people. I'm addicted to approval and affirmation (in both positive and negative forms), and I'll do whatever it takes to get them. That includes letting people use and abuse me, willingly discounting my own feelings, and worst of all, trying to manipulate the people I love into loving me the way I want them to. Let me be the first to tell you, that never works. It only causes me more frustration, and causes the people I care about to stop caring.

Yes, I want to be noticed. I'll admit to that one, too. Maybe no one paid enough attention to me when I little, or maybe negative attention has always been easier to obtain for me, so I play my strengths. Either way, the point is that the people who are supposed to notice me, the people who are supposed to pay attention to me and care about me, well, they just WILL. I don't have to make them. I don't have to obsess about what they think or what I did or didn't do. I'm tired of my demeanor, my mood, and my general contentment being found in other people. That's not how it is supposed to be. I'm selling myself short. Jesus loves me, this I know, and I want that alone to be where I rest. I want to care only about pleasing HIM and gaining HIS approval for all that I am and all that I do. I want to be able to say who cares if someone else doesn't appreciate me. He does. That's all that's really going to matter in the end anyways.

I hope that I can learn to become the strong, silent type. To me, it's those people who are a picture of security. A picture of rest. While I know that in some areas I will always remain weak, I pray that I can learn to be quiet more often. Just because I'm making noise (good or bad) doesn't mean I will turn a head or get a comment. I want to be loved for who I am, and I want to be appreciated only out of that kind of love. And as for baby Drake, well, he'll figure it out. Not everyone cares how cute he is. But the good news is, the people that really count tell him so every single day. May that be enough for him, and may it also become enough for me.


(sidenote: thank you, elizabeth (and/or ellie), for the advice about being noticed. it's truth. this is where it let me.)

The Beauty Right Behind Me

This weekend we were blessed with weather that hardly ever happens. I mean, it was amazing. And tonight I got the pleasure of sitting on the second level of my back deck and watching the sun set over the huge hills in my subdivision. I truly believe that one of the most amazing things God does is paint the sunsets. He paints them so that we can sit and watch them, and remember how beautiful He is. He paints them so that when life is an unattractive struggle we still have something that takes our breath away that happens every single day.

The last three mornings I have woken up in a bed different than my own with a heavy heart. I'm pretty sure that even if I had woken up in my own bed my heart would have been heavy, but there is significance in the fact that I have been waking up in different places. You see, I'm running. And even though I recognize the fact that I'm running, I have no idea how to stop. I'm not even sure that I want to. When I get in my car to drive away from my life, and God asks me what I'm doing, I just turn the radio up louder. I'm running from the life that God has fashioned for me, because I'm convinced that I know what's best. And man am I wrong.

Change has never been something I was very good at embracing. The idea of letting go of the life I have lived for the last few years breaks my heart, because I'm convinced that life couldn't get any better than it was. God told me to move here, and He went before me and prepared this place. I have amazing roommates (even though they are walking natural disasters, they have great hearts), and I have friends that live within five minutes of me that I really do have a great time with. But I've turned my back to them and shut them out. I go out of my way to avoid having conversations with them, and it makes me nervous when I can't avoid them in situations like church. Unfortunately (or maybe, fortunately) at least one of them is very in tune with what God wants to say through her, and she cornered me in church this morning and told me that what I was doing wasn't ok. I was honest with her and told her that I didn't know what else to say other than that I was doing it on purpose, and I didn't really want to stop. She hugged me and told me that she would be patient with me, but that they weren't going to try anymore if I wasn't going to try, too. She proved it when they all left my house to go play in the park this afternoon and it was clear that I wasn't invited. Ouch.

So now I sit here tonight in the silence that happens in big huge empty houses, and I wonder if they will ever invite me in again. I hate that I made it clear that they weren't good enough to be my friends, because I'm pretty sure I was wrong. They may not be the people I have shared the last three years of my life with, but they were perfectly willing to share the next three years. The hardest misery is misery brought upon oneself, and this is my consequence for running and for my cold heart. I pray that I can learn to let them in, and I pray that I can see how blessed I am to have a group of amazing people standing in front of me and asking to be my friends. It's all a part of moving on. It's all about learning to let go.

Tonight as I returned to my empty house, I looked up and noticed the beauty of the early fall sunset. It gave me warmth within my soul to know that God would still let me glimpse something so beautiful when I am acting so ugly. I am unworthy of the beauty that God hands to me, and yet He thinks I'm worth it anyways. To know He still stands there when I'm running full speed the other way completely blows my mind. So I walk outside and stop to take a deep breath as I glance upward. I thank Him for what He gives me, and I ask Him to help my heart believe that the beauty of His best is really what IS best. The evidence is in the vibrancy of the setting sun over the hills. And oh, are the colors breathtaking.

...He has done for me

I have to admit that for about a week now, my heart has been too bitter to allow me to function properly. I spent the week in hiding, pretty much refusing much social contact. Jesus was working on my heart, and I wasn't allowing it to cause me pain. I hardened my heart. And then last night God showed up in the most unexpected way, at the most unexpected time. I had plans to hang out with a friend of mine that I have known for a while now, and yet never spent one-on-one time with before. We felt it was time, and we made a dinner date. God had bigger plans.

After we ate, we went to grab some dessert before we were going to head back to her apartment and watch a movie. As we were waiting on our dessert, we discovered that we had never really traded life stories, even though we knew bits and pieces about each other, and we thought maybe last night would be a good time for that. We both figured we could accomplish this within about half an hour. We were so wrong. As she began to talk first, I made it a point to practice my listening skills, and became very interested in what she had to say about how God had brought her to this point in her life. She definitely had some surprises for me, but it wasn't until I began to share, too, that the walls were really torn down for both of us and Jesus entered in and joined us at the picnic table we were sharing.

It wasn't until about four months ago that I realized how powerful it is when people are real. I mean the vulnerable, fearless, holding nothing back kind of real. This has never been a strong point for me, because I have major trust issues and my secrets aren't even common knowledge amongst my closest friends. But as I sat talking with this precious friend of mine last night, something in my heart was ready to just bear it all. Something in me told me that she deserved the whole story, complete with the heartaches and pain and darkness. So I shared, and I left no parts out. And as we sat and talked, I realized so much that I had never known about myself and what I've come through and how much my perspective has changed. I found myself realizing God's purposes for some of the things I have been through, and I started to see how strong He has formed my faith to be through the struggles. I was suddenly aware of how much my heart has changed, and how much I have grown. It was beautiful.

As we were nearing the end of my story, I felt compelled to talk about the search for healing that I have been on for a few months now. I often am pretty convinced that I am not the only person walking around desperate for the healing that only Jesus can bring. Last night as I found myself able to be real about my pain, it offered the freedom for my friend to do the same. And there is so much power, so much healing, in being able to share true pain with another. We were able to bring out secrets long hidden that had hardened out hearts, and made us cold. We were able to ask for healing, and find life again. We were able to ask Jesus into the dark places, even though He had been there all along. We found light. We found warmth. And we found freedom.

Tonight as I sat down to spend some time with Jesus, I was reminded of the David Crowder song "Come and Listen". I realized that last night, that was what the conversation all about. Come and listen to what Jesus has done in my life, and allow me to come and listen to what He has done in yours. We have power in our stories, because we have allowed the power of Jesus to change our hearts, change our minds, and change our perspective. Sometimes we forget this, and sometimes we don't know how far we've come or why we've been through what we've been through until we allow ourselves to be real with another, and let the walls fall down. Praise God for his sovereignty in what He allows us to walk through, praise God for healing, and praise God for freedom found only through Him.

Praise our God, for He is good.
He has done for me. He has done for you. He has done for us.

Outrunning the Rain...

I turned the key in the lock and we started down the stairs with the last bags of trash to take out. It had been thundering loudly while we loaded the last of my stuff in the car, and I was just hoping the rain would hold off until I was ready to go. I kept telling him that the coming storm was a sign; that maybe I shouldn't go. We walked to the dumpsters and threw the trash in, and right as we turned to walk out, we could hear the rain coming on the aluminum roof of my apartment complex. It was so close we could feel it. He took off running and so I followed suit and sprinted after him. We split when we got to his car yelling our goodbyes and me yelling a thank you and and I love you along with it. As I ran for my car across the parking lot, it was right as I jumped in and slammed the door that the rain hit. Huge, soaking drops falling hard and fast from the dark sky overhead. I sat for a moment and tried to take deep breaths, and then turned the car on and put it in reverse. As I headed for the entrance to the complex, watching the trees blow sideways in the sudden storm, my tears started to fall just as hard and as fast. It had been so long since it had rained, and this storm was a symbol of so much for me. It was so ironic, and so perfect.

I began my drive through Murfreesboro, not able to go more than fifteen miles an hour because the rain was falling so hard so fast. The water was collecting quickly on the roads, and visibility was next to nothing. I could hardly see from the tears falling from my eyes anyways. I was leaving my life. I was leaving the town I had lived in for twenty-one years, with no promises of return. I was leaving the apartment I had lived in during the hardest, most difficult (and yet beautiful) year of my life. So much had been learned here. My friends were right down the street here. And oh, had the rain fallen here. The storms I had weathered in this apartment were the some of the worst ones I had ever seen. So much pain and grief, and it was so hard to escape it. The winds had knocked me down more than once, and sunny skies seemed so far off. I had stopped sleeping well in this apartment months ago. The rain was perfect, because the rain was mostly what my heart saw when I lived at this address. I was ready for the rains to end. So I drove on.

Just as I was about to hit the interstate and head a county to the north, it suddenly stopped raining. The winds became calm, and peace was whispered into my soul. It was time to move on. It was time for a new life. A better life. It was time to take all I had learned and all the relationships I had built, and leave the rest behind. Though I know the rains will fall again no matter where I live, I had weathered these particular storms and come out on the other side a better, stronger person. I could move on now.

This first week in my new house has been hard. It's been lonely, and it's been new. There aren't friends to call that live right down the street, and there is no familiarity in anything. My comfort is found in the familiar, so this is stretching me in new ways. I'm learning to explore the unknown, because I don't really have any other choice. I'm learning to bask in the peace of living outside of the center of town. I'm learning to appreciate my five minute drive to work, living in an actual (HUGE) house, and living with people I have the pleasure of getting to know (even though I haven't seen any of them in three days). I don't yet regret my decision to grow up, and I hope that I never do. Yes it's new, and so yes it's hard. But I'll adjust. The best part is that even though it hasn't been easy, the sun has still been shining. I sleep all night, and my heart isn't heavy anymore. The storms that my apartment had held had attacked my spirit and burdened my soul. There is peace here; peace and sunlight. The rain has stopped, and it is well with my soul. For now at least :)

"It's the Fear That Keeps Me Wide Awake"

I've spent the last few hours packing my life into boxes so that I can put it all into a U-Haul tomorrow and move to the next county. To be perfectly honest, there isn't an ounce of my being that wants to make this move anymore. You see, I have this problem with making decisions. Decisions, especially big ones (but usually small ones too!), scare the hell out of me. I'm terrified that I'm going to choose wrong. I'm terrified that either I or someone else is going to lose in the end. I'm scared of this not being the next right step in my life, and I'm scared of what I might lose by leaving this town. To sum it all up, as I laid in bed last night trying to sleep, I reached the disheartening conclusion that I have not only let fear take up residence in my heart, but I am letting it rule my life. And no one should be ruled by fear.

Fear is something that I have been familiar with my entire life. When I was growing up, security was something that was rare. It was important that I always stayed on my toes when it came to what I said and did, because if I chose wrongly there would be consequences. And the consequences usually hurt. This instilled in me my fear of choosing wrongly, and so it has made me hesitant of choosing at all. I think this is unfortunate, because being an adult is about making decisions on my own. And so I lose.

When I was young, I feared adults and the pain they could inflict upon me physically. Not feeling safe with the people who were supposed to protect me the most from everything scary and unknown did more damage that I have ever chosen to realize. Now, a few years into adulthood, I find it hard to think of anyone as safe. Which gives me nowhere to escape to from the fear. It has caused me to be the most afraid of the people that I am closest to and should trust the most. This makes life very scary. It leaves me searching for security, and causes me to stay frozen when it comes to walking through life, for fear I may take the wrong steps forward.

All this being said, I think I'm tired of letting fear take the upper hand. It is robbing me of my life, and it is taking from me the ability to risk. I'm so afraid to let go that I cling with all my might. This isn't fair to me, and it isn't fair to the people who love me. I have to learn to jump, even when I can't see the ground. I have to learn to TRUST, which is completely foreign to me. I think I'm finally realizing that the entire world isn't out to get me. Maybe there are people out there who are safe, even though they may fail me from time to time. Maybe it is ok to take steps in a forward motion, and hope that Jesus will work out the details if I just follow His lead. Life wasn't meant to be lived in the same state of mind all the time. We're supposed to take adventures that are offered to us, even if it is simply for what we might learn along the way.

So even though I'm still questioning this move I'm making tomorrow, I hold tight to some advice I got from a dear friend just last night: even if this is the wrong decision, I will learn from it. Which in the end makes it the right decision. I believe that Jesus wouldn't let me make huge decisions that are the wrong ones. I believe that He's holding me in His hand, and guiding me along the way that leads to life. I believe He can deliver me from the paralyzing fear that rules my heart and my life. Fear is not of God. For "God did not give us a spirit of fear, but a spirit of power, of love, and of self-discipline". So may I learn to risk. May I learn to trust. And most importantly, may I learn to LIVE, confidently and free of the fear and lies that have plagued me for way too long.

Emotions Trapped Between the Threads

I am moving in a few days, and being the procrastinator that I am I just decided to start packing today. You see, packing for me was going to require going through everything that moved home with me last August that has been abandoned in my empty dining room ever since. No one but me knows why I have left these things abandoned for the last eleven months. No one but me knows the emotion contained in the full boxes that I haven't brought myself to yet touch. For the same reason, there is a five foot by ten foot storage unit just down the road that I pay rent on every month, full of things I haven't touched in two years. This may sound silly, but I truly haven't had the ability to go through this stuff. My things were dumped in these two places in seasons of confusion and pain that I couldn't face. They were placed there to be held until I was ready to deal. They contained emotion and memories that I refused to deal with and instead kept buried. Until today.

This morning at church the message was about healing from the pain we kept buried deep inside. The pain that no one knows about. Oh, the irony. Jamie, my pastor, used the illustration of trying to hold a beach ball under the water. You can hold it down and lay on top of it, but eventually it's gonna pop up and smack you in the face. Yep. And until healing comes, we live in fear and we live trying to control the pain we hide. Yep, again. I consider myself an expert in pain control. But how much easier would it be just to embrace healing instead? How much easier would it be to finally walk through my grief and my pain, and find the Light that heals? The Love that heals? The Truth that heals?

My mother died four years ago. And while it would be so much easier to say that I was over it a long time ago, I would be lying. I have run from grieving for so long. I have held onto the pain, I have held onto that stage of life, and even more inconveniently I have held onto everything that reminds me of her. I have boxes full of everything that causes me to remember, just in case I forget. Today, I think it might be time to let go. Today I realize that people are not contained in stuff, and neither are memories. My memories of when my mom was alive, my memories of happy times (and happy shopping trips) will not be lost if I let go of my material things.

So as I stood in my dining room this afternoon, going through the clothes my friends have been trying to throw out behind my back for years, I realize I am finally ready to let go. And I realize it's ok to let the tears come as I discover the clothes I was wearing the day my mom died, the dress I wore to the funeral, the sweater she bought me that Christmas, or the shoes that she wore before I did. It's ok to be sad, and it's even more ok to throw them in the goodwill pile. Because it's time to grieve, it's time to deal, and most importantly it's time to let go.

Waiting for Morning Light

It's been one of those weeks where I haven't ever felt more alone. One of those times where I can hear myself scream, but no one else seems to be listening. I often have a really hard time knowing how to express how much I'm hurting, and because of that no one can reach out to me. My car is forced to witness my mental break downs at the beginning and end of each day, because for some reason I find it necessary to hold it all together while I'm at work or with friends. I'm a fairly good faker. I don't find it difficult to pretend like everything is holding together well, and I can force myself to have a good time even when everything is crashing down. But it sucks. It sucks, it's not fair, and to be honest it's making me die from the inside out.

The other day one of my friends told me (as she listened to me fall apart) that it was ok if I didn't know how to let her help me carry my pain. That she was going to do it anyways. She said that there was a reason God had given me good, faithful friends that were able and willing to plead with me on my behalf to Jesus. That conversation inspired me to become willing to ask the four people I trust to please pray for me. And honestly, that's as far as I have gotten. I can't seem to grasp the truth that maybe we weren't meant to carry our pain on our own. That maybe there really are people who care enough to pray diligently for me and to slip little bits of light into my darkness. If that really is true, maybe I should open my eyes a little wider so I can see it. Because maybe sometimes all I need to know is that I'm not alone. Maybe all I need is a touch, or a word of hope. Pain is taking it's toll on me, and that is the honest truth. I just don't know how to express it. The louder I scream, the more I'm convinced that no sound is coming out. Can anyone hear me? Is there anyone else out there?

Jesus be near to me, and don't leave my side.
I'll sit here and wait for you, for I know You hear me cry.
The darkness surrounds me and I'm falling fast,
But I hold fast to the promises that are in the morning light.