November

When I came home and took off my sweatshirt, I noticed that I smelled distinctly of two things. Grease and cigarettes. Two comforting things. I knew it would be important to find something comforting after my unsettling evening; I hate coming home and regretting where I've been and what I've said. I tried hard to see past my mood, to deny the things bubbling out of me, but it wasn't with much success. Today just wasn't a good day. It's been a while since I've had a good day. It's November.

I have no idea how I'm going to stomach even the idea of tomorrow, even the idea of a family holiday. Every year I seem to get a little more disconnected, a little more unaffected. I wish I knew how many more years it was going to take before going home from work for a holiday weekend doesn't make me cry. I wish I knew how much longer it is going to take before I adjust to being alone on the days no one should.

There aren't words for how it feels to have no one to spend holidays with. So I have to take comfort in the familiar. In the feel of the cool winter air on my bare skin. In the sound of the traffic far away on a clear night. In the sight of the stars, shining with glimmers of hope. In the smells on my clothes, the smells of things that taste good and calm my soul. The peace is found there, in the tiny things found by my senses, and for that I am thankful. After all, it is the day to be thankful, right?

You Know What I Mean...

You know those mornings when you wake up, and you really don't want to do it again today?
You know when you don't know how you'll get through the whole day in one piece?
You know when you end up being late for work, and you wonder why you even bothered?
You know when your phone goes off, and one of you friends wants to know how you are, and you don't really know what to say?
You know when the morning drags and it feels like the day might never end?

You know when you get those random text messages from someone you rarely see, and they want to hang out after work?
You know when you suddenly feel wanted?
You know how good it feels when you get a random visitor at lunch, who just stopped by to see you?
You know how good it feels when someone buys you dinner, just to be nice?
You know how good it feels to hang out with someone who likes to be around you and makes you laugh?

You know those times when you realize that God knows exactly what you need, when you need it, and you notice He never fails to deliver?

You know those nights when you realize that you're going to be okay?

Yeah....I'm going to be okay....

The End

I'm going to miss the way I don't mind getting up in the morning and going to work.
I'm going to miss not caring if I look like hell because my worries kept me up all night.
I'm going to miss emergency coffee right inside the front door.
I'm going to miss making the rounds to say good morning.

I'm going to miss dancing on the counter on Friday afternoons.
I'm going to miss singing at the top of my lungs to make the kids laugh.
I'm going to miss secrets whispered on the phone to the room next door.
I'm going to miss texting people in the back building all day long.
I'm going to miss throwing things down the hallway at each other.
I'm going to miss getting in trouble for not using the intercom.

I'm going to miss Sonic happy hour being right across the street.
I'm going to miss timing lunch breaks correctly so we could goof off in pairs.
I'm going to miss running off new people that we don't like.
I'm going to miss the conspiracies.

I'm going to miss feeling safe and comfortable.
I'm going to miss being real.
I'm going to miss being read as soon as I walk in the door.
I'm going to miss the freedom to cry.

I'm not a leaver. I've been left too many times to ever be a leaver. I didn't want to run away. And I'm not. I'm moving on. I wish it wouldn't have played out like this, but half of me is glad that it happened so quickly. I knew it was a sign when we got the phone calls within five seconds of each other. I'm so glad we had the same last day. I couldn't have planned it better myself.

I never thought I'd quit a job to save a relationship. I didn't even notice that's what you were asking me to do. I'm glad I listened this time. I thought you were crazy, I thought you were against me, but you were looking out for me and didn't want anyone to know. I knew you were better than that. I knew you wouldn't turn on me.

I walked out the front door for the last time thirty minutes earlier than I ever did. I walked out laughing. That's when I knew I was doing the right thing. On Monday I start over. On Monday I'm on my own. I'm going to be fine. You taught me everything I know. You made me a survivor.

I will survive.

Go

Four months ago:

I asked God whether I should stay or go. He said go.

But I wasn't paying attention. He never said where.

Two months ago:

I'm told that I can't go where I wanted to go.

But I thought I was supposed to go. What now, God?
You weren't paying attention. I told you to go, but I didn't tell you where.

Three days ago:

"I don't want to stay here after you go."
"Where are you going to go?"
"I don't know, but I don't want to stay."
"The hardest thing for you to do would be to stay. That's why I think you should stay."

God, I thought I was supposed to go. Do You want me to stay?
No. I told you to go. I just didn't tell you where to go. I'll tell you. You don't have to stay. You are supposed to go. Just wait. I'll tell you where to go.

Today:

9 am: "Joy, we'd love to have you take this job. We're just as great over here as it is over there."

Wait. Did she just offer me a job? But I love my job. Don't I? For the next month at least...

11 am: "We've cut your hours. You don't need to come in today. Hopefully this is temporary."

What is going on?

11:30 am: "She offered me that job this morning. I need to know if I should take it. I need to know if it's going to get any better or if I should take it."

"I don't want you to leave. But you need to do what's best for you."

Seriously, God? I didn't want to go right now. I wanted to go in a month. Please don't make me go yet. Please. Why didn't she fight for me? What happened? Why did it change? Why couldn't things stay the way they were? Why?

I don't want to take this job. Is this really where You wanted me to go?

Silence.

-----------------------------------------

I got a job offer today. I hate job offers. I really hate job offers when my current job is unsure and I know everything is about to change. I have no idea what to do. I didn't want a job offer right now, I wanted one in October.

It broke my heart. I cried all day. Fear of the unknown. Hatred of change. Feeling out of control.

Not the way I like to live.

Angry

I find it odd that the emotion that caused me to stop going to church five months ago is the exact same emotion that drove me back to church this weekend. I didn't know that the two extremes of this emotion would send me two opposite directions. It is one of the most powerful, controlling emotions that we ever deal with. That emotion is anger.

I was angry this past spring. Angry at my pastor for hurting me so deeply. Angry at the people of the church for not being as real as I thought they were. Angry at God for the things He took away from me. Angry at the people in my life for not being what I needed them to be. Angry at myself that my life wasn't turning out the way I wanted it to.

My anger grew as the seasons turned. The hotter it got outside, the hotter I became on the inside. I was angry that even though I walked away, no one had come after me. I was angry that no one tried to stop me from making the decisions I was making, especially if they were wrong. I was mad that no one was asking questions anymore. I got even more angry at God, because I didn't know how to talk to Him anymore. He was gone. He didn't come after me, either. I was just. so. angry.

But recently, the anger has changed. Now I'm angry at myself for believing the lies I was told. I'm angry that I thought there was only one "right" way to live, because I don't know if that is the truth. I'm angry that I no longer know what's true. I'm angry that I'm having such a good time living this way, because I thought it was supposed to make me miserable and it hasn't. I don't understand anymore, and I don't know where to find the answers. I'm still so angry.

So tonight, the anger drove me back to where it began. Back to the God who gave me the ability to feel this emotion. Were my questions answered? No. Did I find the truth? No. I didn't really find much of anything. So why am I writing about it? To share what I do know.

God doesn't change, even when we do. God doesn't walk away, even when we do. God doesn't stop speaking to us, even when we stand in silence before Him. God gave us the capabilities to ask questions, and somewhere out there He left the answers.

So tonight, I could still hear Him whisper. I could still hear Him say "I love you" and "I'm waiting for you". I found out that He is still right in front of me, no matter how far or how fast I run away. And tonight, that's enough for me.

I'm searching for the truth. I know it's out there somewhere. Pray for me? Thanks.

Missing

One of my favorite things about God is that He often gives us gifts that we never would have expected. There have been times in my life that God has given me something that I had no idea I needed until after I got it, and by then I was sure that I never could have lived without it. These things are special because I didn't know they were missing until they suddenly were there. I didn't know I needed them, but He did. These things are usually people. You are a great example of that. I could think of a few more, too. But today, I am especially grateful for YOU. You are one of these gifts, and I would not be who I am today if you hadn't of been here.

Because of you, I have finally figured out who I am. When I forget, you tell me. You are a brutally honest person, even more so than me, but you learned quickly that you can't say things that hurt until I trust you. You know how sensitive I really am, but you also know that I know how to be tough, too. You know how hard it is for me to trust, and you are patient when I change my mind over and over again about trusting you. You just wait patiently for me to realize that you haven't gone anywhere, and you probably never will.

You saw through me long before I knew you did, only because you once were me. That's why you want the best for me. You make me see exactly what I am capable of, and you won't let me settle for anything less even if I want to. You push. Often I push back, but you don't back down.

You let me whine and be a baby when I need to be, and you take care of me better than anyone else ever has. I think it's because you know that I can take care of myself, but sometimes I just don't want to. And you truly don't mind doing it for me. Our co-workers think I'm spoiled. You know I am, and you don't care.

I love spending time with you, no matter what we're doing. I love coming over to your house, because it is safe and comfortable and nothing harmful can reach me out there. I love that you know how important it is to me that you pay attention to me sometimes. I love that we can read each other like books, and I love that it confuses and frustrates everyone around us. I love long lunches and late work days with you. Even if we can't act like we're friends at work. I love that you know how important it is to me to be touched, and that even though it makes you feel claustrophobic you will reach over and touch me to comfort me when I need it. You know that a touch forgives a harsh word and calms an anxious mind. You know.

You've taught me how to act, and I've taught you how to talk. You know that talking fixes things for me, and so you pry my real feelings out of me. You force me to communicate. And I make you talk about how you feel. We trust each others' words, and that is more valuable than anything else.

You make me be the best me that there is. You make me be a grown-up, but you don't leave me to figure out how to do that on my own. You push me, and you know that I don't really hate you for it, even though I say that I do. You want great things for me, and you are helping me get them. We conspire often to achieve the things we want the way we want them, and it always works. I love that. It makes me laugh. If only they really knew the things we were up to...

I love you. I tell you this often, but I mean it with all my heart. I wouldn't be who I am without you, and what I love the most is that I didn't even know I was missing you until suddenly you were there. And now I couldn't imagine living without you. Weird how that works, huh?

Moment of Eternity

Five years.
It's been five years.
Five years, and no matter what they say, it doesn't get any easier.
Five years, and my life has been turned upside down so many times I have lost count.
One single moment, between four and six in the morning, has changed everything about the last five years.
Five years is an eternity, and it is yesterday, all at the same time.
Five years and I don't miss you any less or forget you aren't here, ever.
In five years I have tried to live without you; it is just something that has to be done.
Five years later I am twenty-two years old, and finally learning what it looks like to grow up. Alone. Without you.
Everyday of the last five years I have thought of you. Everyday.
I can't believe it has been five years...

gaping holes

on the phone with my dad:

[me]: dad! a filling fell out of my tooth!
[dad]: well i guess you better call the dentist.
[me]: i'm poor! i can't afford the dentist! isn't it going to be expensive to fix?
[dad]: it's not going to be inexpensive. but you gotta do what you gotta do.
[me]: you'd think these things would come with a lifetime guarantee or something! seriously!

hahahahhahahaha....

Commercial Break

The (other) blue screen of death told me that the satellite signal had been lost. Yeah, that's why I don't have satellite. I listened to the rain and thunder and tried not to panic. I love storms. Unless I'm alone. Add the being alone part to being alone in an unfamiliar house, and you've got quite a combination. I sent Jenn a text referring to the mild heart attack I was having, and she told me to chill out, it was just a passing storm. Good.

Sitting in the quiet allowed me to reflect back on the conversation I had with a friend over dinner last night. I hadn't seen this friend in a few months, and we had done a little catching up. It was fun, we laughed a lot, and then she told me that I sounded depressed. Ouch. I thought I had that one hidden pretty well. Am I? Do I even really know?

Last weekend I had four days off in a row. I didn't leave the house for the latter three of them. That wasn't such a good idea. Too much time alone allows for too much time inside my head. It was a rough few days. When I went back to work on Tuesday and added that stress to my current thoughts, it was a recipe for disaster. Tuesday night I thought I was going to die. Three hours of mild hysteria later and I came out alive. And breathing once again.

Yesterday I was driving home from work and I realized something. I have spent the last month or so worrying about what is going to happen in October. To move or not to move? To transfer or not to transfer? These have been my questions. They've made me prone to sleepless nights and moodiness at work. And then I realized: it's July. It's not October. Why worry now?

It is true that most, if not all, good things come to an end. It is true that change in inevitable. I always fear the end of a good thing because good things are so few sometimes. So why don't I just enjoy a good thing while it's still good. Yes. I will do that.

Weird how embracing a simple concept can change your outlook. The rest of my week was fun. I made the most of the great moments I had, and played around with Jenn on the new long lunch breaks we have since our hours got cut at work. I had fun without worrying about what work will be like when the fun moves 30 minutes south in a few months. I lived in the now. It's a new concept for me.

I'm learning. I'm learning to stop living in the past and worrying about the future. I'm learning that not everyone is the same, and that we all have something different to offer to each other. I'm learning to just let go and let loose, because not everything is always found in black in white. I'm embracing my shades of gray and having a great time while doing it.

And speaking of colors, my (other) blue screen of death just turned black. The signal's back. Now on to my regularly scheduled programming...

Remembering July

July is a painful month for me. It holds the hardest of my memories, and I never look forward to this month. This year is no exception, especially since I found out that my boss's mother also died in July. The knowledge of this led to a painful, yet much needed, conversation in my car the other day that leaves me wondering if I can survive July this year.

I have the day off on Monday. My friend at work took Monday off just because, and she told me that I should too. We turned a holiday weekend into a four-day vacation, and so far I am glad that we decided to do that. Add to it a new house with a big deck, another friend, and a bottle of tequila, and you will understand why the 4th of July continues to reign as my favorite holiday. But the silly fun is soon to come to an end.

My friend made me agree to letting her begin cleaning out my life this coming Monday. I have so much stuff that is related to emotions that I have refused to work through for the past five years. So much stuff that has stayed sealed in boxes so that I don't have to relive the past or talk about how anything makes me feel or why it hasn't healed. And she wants to go through it. She wants me to take it all out, deal with it, and then get over it. She has no idea what she is getting herself into.

I argued with her for quite a while over why in the world she would want to do this. She has only known me for a few months, and she wants to invite herself into my chaos? What is that about? She is determined to prove to me that real friends do exist, and that she wants to be one for me, starting with this daunting task. I am pretty confident that she will beat that concept into me if she has to. I often don't believe her. But if she wants to throw herself into the disaster of who I am, then so be it. Come on in, the door is open (sometimes).

In preparation for this event on Monday, I have tried to psych myself up for how much it might hurt. We have rules (don't judge me, don't fuss at me, don't make me cry) that I hope will help keep her strong, honest personality at bay, at least for a few hours. She is not at all soft, and I hope she realizes that I might need her to be.

This July might be even more painful than the previous four, simply for the fact that I am looking for a little closure. My friend tells me all the time that I am not healed, and that I need to be. That I am not happy, but that I can be. That I haven't dealt with things, and it's time to.

So here we go. A journey into the inside of my past and the inside of my heart. What doesn't kill us only makes us stronger, right? Let's hope I live through this one...

Bad Day

Wal-Mart. In Antioch. On a Sunday afternoon. With a 102 degree temp and some of the worst body aches in history. 45 minute wait on my prescription. Might have been one of the worst things I've ever experienced.

I just wanna feel better. I've had enough already.

Pondering

I've had three people tell me within the last 24 hours that I think too much. It's just been one of "those" weeks. There's a lot on my mind. I thought I would share.

#1: It is painful to suddenly realize that you've spent a lot of time mourning the loss of something that you never actually had to lose in the first place. Ouch.

#2: It is even more painful to mourn the loss of something you actually DID have. That's just downright heartbreaking.

#3: I have been spending a few years waiting for my life to start. Today, it occurred to me that, oh wait, it started without me. I better start living it.

#4: There is a period of life between realizing that you have to grow up and actually growing up. I've played around in that period of life for a little bit too long. It's time to grow up. It's been time.

#5: I have absolutely no idea what I want out of life. I have no idea what makes me happy, or how to live in what makes me happy. That frightens me. I've already wasted enough time.

#6: The best way to act out on irrational thoughts and ideas is to take it out on your hair. You can always repair damage done to your hair. You cannot repair damage done to your reputation, your job, your relationships, or your life. I have a drastic new hair color (or colors), and I feel like I've done enough damage for today. No need to quit my job or push away my friends, because I totally screwed up my hair. And I love it. Way to deal. Go me.

#7: It really, really is okay to let go and move on. It's time. It's been time. It's okay. It's OKAY.

Trust Me

"Thanks for listening. I love you and your hidden little heart."
"I love you too. And I really want to see you happy."
"You saying that makes me want to trust you."
"The fact that you don't yet just means that you need to trust people more."
"I have trust issues. I've was told one too many times that I wasn't worth it. It made me very distrusting."
"You ARE worth it. So there."

Weird how four little words can suddenly tilt your world back where it's no longer falling upside down. Weird how four little words can be all you've waited to hear for a really, really long time. Weird to know that at least for today, everything is going to be just fine. Or maybe, not so weird at all.

today's thought

i have found a million things and a million people to blame for why things turned out the way they did. i could spend the rest of my life finding more. but in the end, it wasn't until the moment that i realized that it wasn't my fault, or anyone else's, but instead the work of God, who knew better than i ever did, that made things turn out the way they did. so maybe it will be alright after all. and maybe i can stop being so angry. and maybe i can find peace in the idea that it happened this way because it was supposed to. and maybe i'll be okay. and maybe i can stop running. just maybe.

Who I Might Be

Tonight I had dinner with both a friend that I hadn't seen in a while and a friend that I see every day. It was a slightly eye-opening experience. I learned that sometimes you don't know how much has changed (or how much you have changed) until you sit with someone who knew only who you were, and not who you are now.

Lately I have had a unique answer to the "How are you?" question: "I'm good, just probably not the right kind of good." I've had a lot of fun lately, and I'm finding happiness in really strange things. Maybe I've discovered a new way of life. I'm not really sure. I just know that for now, I like it. I'm enjoying it. And occasionally, I don't feel guilty about it.

I recently told a friend that I've lost a lot of my convictions lately. And that maybe, even though it sounds like a bad thing, it might be what is best for me right now. I'm finally learning who I am and what I am capable of. I'm making mistakes, and I'm not regretting them. I'm having fun. I'm LIVING.

Ok, maybe this isn't the right way to go. I've been warned. I am aware. I was convinced that someone would come after me, and when no one did, I realized that I was on my own this time. And maybe that's not the worst thing in the world. Maybe we do need to learn from our own mistakes sometimes.

Will I regret this all one day? Maybe. Will it be worth all the fun? According to all the wise people I know, probably not. Do I care? Not currently.

Tonight I was driving home a little after midnight, blaring the music in the car to drown out my thoughts, and I felt something strange deep inside my heart that I hadn't ever felt before. It was like I could physically feel God fighting for my heart. It ripped at the inside of me, and I looked away. I got a text a few seconds later from one of the friends I had dinner with, inviting me to meet her for church in the morning. I declined. I'm not ready to come back yet. When I am, she'll be the first to know...

at dinner:
Me: "A lot has changed since we last hung out."
Her: "Apparently..."

Black as Sin

"Sin is like ink, it bleeds into a person, coloring, making you someone other than you used to be. And it's indelible. Try as much as you want, you cannot get yourself back."

-Jodi Picoult Perfect Match

Quote of the Day

We stood outside in the dark and looked up at the stars. She chattered for a while, like she always does when she drinks. She chatters, and my thoughts get serious. As soon as she got quiet, I spoke.

"What happened to me?"

"What do you mean?"

"Suddenly I find myself standing in the yard with a beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other, and I have to ask, 'Who the hell am I?'"

And she laughed. And after a moment, so did I.

A Matter of Opinion

[laying on the floor in our boss's office, hiding on our lunch breaks]

me: "Am I crazy?"
her: "Just a little. But it's ok. Most of us are a little crazy."

(silence for a few moments)

me: "Am I TOO crazy?"
her: "No. You're just a little over the top."
me: "How do you not be a little over the top? Because I don't like that."
her: "You take what God dishes out to you, and you deal with it. You don't ask questions, you just do what is asked of you. You decide to be happy with what you're given."

[rewind a few days. sitting on my couch talking on the phone.]

me: "I'm just not happy."
her (a different her): "Happiness isn't about circumstances. Happiness is a choice."

Today, I am satisfied. Happiness isn't something that happens overnight, I am convinced, but I am starting to believe that we create our own happiness. I'm tired of waiting to be happy, when I have discovered that I can be happy as soon as I choose to be. So today, I am satisfied. And that is enough for me to make it until tomorrow.

Song For Today

Violet eyes, white cloud skies
She was plainly ordinary
No silver wings, no big dreams
She never bothered anybody

No gamble, no risk
No clenching her fist
When you close your eyes
It won’t help you forget…

One day more or less
One more longing envy, for greener grass
Anything to please fill this hole in me.

Wounded soul, no home to go to
But really nothing so unusual
She learns to deal, and maybe not to feel
And leaves the light on while she’s sleeping

No gamble, no risk
No clenching her fist
When you close your eyes
It won’t help you forget…

One day more or less
One more longing envy, for greener grass
Anything to please

Is there more than breathing
Or motionless hoping for…

Kindred ties, orphan lies
Easier to run than reconcile
Mountain highs, cursed nights
When you run, you drag it all behind…

No gamble, no risk
No clenching her fist
When you close your eyes
It won’t help you forget…

One day more or less
One more longing envy, for greener grass
Anything to please fill this hole in me.

-Sandra McCracken Violet Eyes

The Night My Heart Stopped

[Note: I found out today that wounds can't heal until you remember where they came from. I have managed to repress most of the memories from the first 20 years of my life, and when I asked Jesus to heal me, He caused me to start remembering the roots of most of my pain. Often I am struck down by sudden flashbacks, and often they take my breath away. I want to start talking about them. Starting today.]

I remember the night that my heart stopped beating. I remember that I came home not very late that night, and no one was home. I plugged my phone into the wall in the kitchen so that I could still hear it from the computer if it rang. I don't remember how long I had been sitting there when it rang, but I'll never forget what the person on the other end said.

"The doctor said that you need to come to the hospital tonight. Call one of your friends to bring you."
"It's late. I can drive myself, dad."
"No, you can't. I don't want you to drive."
"Why not?"
"The doctor said that your mom is going to die tonight."
"...what?"

I remember catching my breath, but not missing a beat. This was the moment God had told me had been coming, and I thought I was ready.

I remember Crystal walking into my back door a few seconds later, saying that she had a "feeling" that she should come over. I don't remember what we talked about when we drove. I remember getting there, and I remember finding her room. It was a route I could still walk with my eyes closed.

I remember walking in, and I remember seeing here there. Asleep. And I remember that she didn't wake up. I remember freaking out because I didn't know if she could hear me. I remember becoming hysterical, and I remember my dad holding me down through his tears. I remember that I didn't cry. I had forgotten how months ago. Inside, though, my heart stopped when I saw her there. She didn't wake up, and I didn't say goodbye.

I remember calling Katie, and I remember her asking if there was anything she could do. I told her that I wanted her there, and like the good friend she was, she came.

I remember Katie taking me home with her a few hours later, and I remember her putting me to bed in her house. I remember that sleep remained elusive, haunting me from the dark corners until Ruth came to sit beside me in the morning. I remember knowing as soon as the sun rose what that day would hold.

Everything froze in time that day. The day after my heart stopped beating.

Mornings Good and Good Mornings

I rolled over and pulled the phone out from under my pillow when I heard loud footsteps on the stairs. It was 5:57am. I started to count, and at nine, he busted through the door whispering my name. He had something important to say (don't all 4-year-olds?). I convinced him to get in my bed and I played dead for almost 15 minutes by only giving a "uh-huh" or "uh-uh" when necessary. He let me get away with it.

At 6:17 I heard my baby cry, and I stumbled out of bed with Blaine at my heels. When I walked through the door he stopped crying and smiled, and yelled a delighted "JOO-WEE!" (his version of my name). It made my heart smile. I picked him up out of the crib, and he wrapped his arms around my neck and laid his head on my shoulder. I breathed the sweet baby smell in his shoulder, and he stuck his chubby little hands into my hair. I will never get tired of the feeling of his hands in my hair when he lays on my shoulder. I hope if I have children that they do that, too.

I took them to the nearest tv, and then decided to enjoy my last hour before work with them both on top of me. I forgot how sweet they are first thing in the morning. I forgot how much I missed them. I forget how protective I am of my babies, and I forgot how much I am loved by two very innocent hearts.

It did my heart good. It was what made my mornings good. It gave me the hope and the beauty to KNOW. To know that I mattered to someone. To two someones. To know that all I had to do to get an "I love you" was wake up in the morning. To know that hugs and kisses live right down the street. To know, without a doubt, that I was loved. Even if it was only by someone so little. I was loved, for doing nothing at all but loving back.

And that. Felt. Wonderful.

I (Don't) Like

I Don't like:
-the headache I get when I don't have my morning coffee
-the days that I have no desire to get out of bed
-when the dog wakes me up too early and I can't go back to sleep
-waking up in the middle of the night and my thoughts keep me awake
-being tossed around at work (who knew I would appreciate my own classroom?)
-when I can't calm one of my babies down
-being so lost in thought that I don't do my job well
-having to go home from work, alone
-spending the weekends not at work, alone
-feeling alone
-having to wonder if anyone cares
-wondering if I was ever happy (was I really not?)
-remembering what it was like to be surrounded by friends because I want it back
-having to fake it
-not knowing where I'll be a year from now (or even a month)
-how fiercely I crave human contact sometimes
-not knowing if I'm still loved
-not knowing how to talk to God anymore
-transitions
-change

I Like:
-watching the sun set from my back deck (I live on a hill, it's gorgeous)
-being ok with spending time alone
-sleeping late
-working half-days
-when someone else made the coffee already
-having a super easy day at work
-hanging out with work friends outside of work
-laughing so hard that it's difficult to breathe (usually at work)
-receiving wisdom and truth, even when it's hard to hear
-trusting (it's so hard!)
-serious text conversations (the easiest way to have them, in my opinion)
-how easy it is to escape into a book
-realizing that I'm running away in time to stop and turn around
-when God whispers to me
-the kind of love that makes you want to give it away
-knowing that I'm going to be ok, knowing that I control how I feel, knowing that my life is only as good as I make it, and knowing that I can start over at any given moment
-GRACE

(Not) Alone

"For many months I prayed that God would give you friends there. But then I realized that it's not about where you are. Because maybe you think it's because you are there, but I'm here and I don't really have friends anymore either. It's just important that you have other people period. And maybe sometimes we don't because we're not supposed to. I don't really know. I just know that it sucks being alone. And that you aren't alone in being alone. No matter where you are."
-from a text conversation I had today with a far away friend

Sometimes the most comforting thing you could possibly receive is the knowledge that you are not alone. Even if what you are not alone in is being alone. It was unexpected, but so very needed. It gives me enough to want to try again tomorrow.

Because sometimes all we need is the smallest good thing.

Unraveled

You told me that I would walk away from You at least one more time.
I didn't know it would be so soon.

You unraveled the seams that held my heart together, and everything that was inside came spilling out. It was so very ugly to look upon. I revealed all of the unpleasantries, and it hurts me now to know that another knows just how ugly I was on the inside. It makes me want to hide.

I was so angry with You for taking what I swore was mine, and I was angry that You thought You knew better than I did what was best for me. You gave back to me all that was lost, and that only confused me more.

Now I don't know what to say to You. I'm not talking to You, but You knew I wouldn't. I'm not even sure I want You to talk to me. If I knew what to say, or even that You might even still care to listen, maybe I would tell you how I feel. But I don't.

You've seen the depths of my heart. You created them. You knew that I would think You would no longer want me after that. No one else does. Why would You?

I've made it alright on my own for a few weeks, and that scares me. I wanted to need You. I wanted You to want me. What's missing? It's not even bothering me.

I'm sorry I was angry. I'm sorry I was bitter. All the ugly is out now; it's been seen. All that's left is empty space. Holes that sit unfilled. There was no good in my heart. I wish there would have been. At least I know the truth now.

Sew it back up, please. And fill it with something better.

What She Didn't Tell Me

I remember the cold January night that my mom was diagnosed with cancer for the second time. I remember standing behind her at the sink while she washed the dinner dishes, and I will never forget what she said. She told me that she wasn't ready to die yet because her kids weren't done being raised. I remember it breaking my heart. Maybe it still does.

I remember the morning after she went to the hospital to die 3 1/2 years later. I remember sitting on the end of the hospital bed and telling her that it was ok to go, that her kids were done being raised, and I remember wondering if she could hear me.

Now I wonder if maybe I was wrong. If maybe, at the age of 17, I wasn't near being done needing someone to raise me. I've tried for so long to do a good enough job raising myself, and now I've realized that for five years I've been constantly searching for someone to finish raising me. Now I wonder if maybe I'm ready to give that up. If maybe I'm ready to GROW up.

For a few weeks now I've been on the brink of a huge decision. I've tried not to ask anyone what they think I should do, because I want to make this decision on my own. I want to be a grown-up, for once, and I want to know that I am capable of making a big decision on my own.

Last night a friend told me that part of growing up is no longer thinking that it is selfish to do what makes you happy, even if it makes someone else unhappy. She said that I should follow my heart, and I would know what to do. I told her that I was afraid of making mistakes, and she reminded me that mistakes make you who you are. All of these thoughts have made me more capable of thinking of taking the leap that I fear.

I hope, beyond anything else, that my mother would be proud of me. I hope that I make the kinds of decisions that wouldn't disappoint her the way they often disappoint my dad. I am confident that she has sent all the surrogate mothers (and big sisters!) that have crossed my path since she left me, to help guide me and teach me the things that she didn't have time to teach me. I hope I'm doing a good enough job at growing up.

I'm finally ready to grow up. It's not running away anymore. It's moving on. And I'm embracing it.

Three Seconds

I had some interesting conversations today. I'll blame it on the weather.

Me- "Hey Rach, you know those first three seconds after you first wake up in the morning, when you forget what you were crying about when you fell asleep, and everything is perfectly ok for a whole three seconds?"

Rachel-"Yeah. I know what you mean."

Me-"That's my favorite time of day. Those three seconds."

My closest friend at work told me I looked like hell when I walked in this morning. An hour later, she left me to a whole day at work alone again. Two hours later I texted her and told her that I didn't want her to go home today. I needed her to solve all of the world's problems for me.

Jen-"What happened?"

Me-"You know those days when you feel like you don't have anything or anyone left? And there isn't anything good left in your life? Those days happen. Today might be one of those days."

Jen-"You gotta stop emphasizing the bad stuff. Focus on the good stuff. I know a lot of bad stuff has happened to you, but you gotta think about the positive. When you switch that shit around, it'll change you."

Me-"But the bad stuff always seems so much bigger than the good stuff."

Jen-"That's because the bad stuff causes more stress. Make a bigger deal out of the good stuff. Treat yourself to stuff. I want to see you happy."

And finally, a text on my way home tonight, after going shopping and having dinner with a friend from work.

Me to Jen- "Life is so much more tolerable when you have friends that make you laugh."

Yes, yes it is. I'll thank God for the good stuff. Even when it only lasts three seconds.

[untitled]

Tears in a bottle and wounds that are sore
No one beside you to battle your war
But I cannont rescue your heart from the empty
I must release you, for I've given plenty
-Sandra McCracken "Plenty"

In Case I Never Told You...

You.
I don't think you have any idea how much I worry about you.

The clock read 5:25am on my dashboard when I got in the car to drive home.
It was pouring rain, and I worried all night about whether you could drive in the rain.
Yes, I worried all night long. You said you'd be home at ten.
Where were you?
Do I even want to know?

I found the hundred dollars you left on the stairs on my way out.
You've always thought you could pay me off when you treated me badly.
It's always worked.
That one is my fault.

He woke up at four, and he wanted to know if you were there yet.
I crawled in bed with him.
Like you used to.
You crawled into the warm spot I left you when you got there.
Like I used to.
How many more times am I going to have to make your excuses to him?
How many more times are we going to switch places next to his warm sleeping body?
He didn't know it was morning.
He never does.

I love you, and I hate that your life didn't turn out the way you wanted it to.
Good news, it's not over.
I'm sorry he made you feel less than what you are; you're worth so much more than that.
He left you the two best things he ever gave you.
They adore you.

I adore you.
You're gonna make it.
Don't run away.
You can do this.
Don't give them up.
They need you.
I can't raise them anymore.
That's your job.
And you're good at it.

It's going to be okay. Four more days, and it's going to be over. I'll be right here. I told you I wouldn't leave you until it was over. I'm still here. Just keep hanging on, okay?

When you call me tomorrow, I'll pretend like it never happened.
I'll let you get away with it, one last time.
But then it's time to move on.
It's time to heal.
It's time to let go.

You can do it.
I believe in you.

Perfect Imperfection

Most Sunday mornings I feel the need to look absolutely perfect in order to go to church. So this morning before I left the bathroom, I grabbed the fingernail polish remover so that I could take the two-week-old nail polish off of my fingers. It didn't quite go with my outfit. It ruined the perfect-ness.

On the way to church, it occurred to me that I had forgotten to take it off. I had a momentary freak out, but then I realized it wasn't that big of a deal. It was an imperfection, but maybe I could deal with it. I have to admit that it bothered me more than it normally would, and it really made me consider some things.

I have a tendency to try and make up for the imperfections on the inside of me by trying to look twice as perfect on the outside. The more screwed up I feel on the inside, the more put-together I insist on looking on the outside. I don't understand this.

My nail polish bothered me this morning, because I was afraid it might give evidence to the fact that my heart is hardly beating. I had everything else together, and I was ready to put on the act. This is so bizarre, because I go to a church full of people who are admittedly imperfect. And yet, when it is really truly coming apart at the seams for me, I feel the need to cover it up with my outward appearance. I don't know how to not hide.

It's now the end of the day, and my nail polish is still there. I give up; I can't hide it. I've found myself screaming out loud to my demons at least twice today, and I can only hope that my constant (purple) reminder will go to show that I definitely don't have it all together. This is something I don't know how to admit without turning people off, but maybe I can learn.

The only perfect part of me are my obvious imperfections. I don't have it together. I don't know what's going on right now. I'm not sure who I am. And I am definitely not ok.

And that's a start.

Paisley!

I came home from babysitting last night, and there was a box of dog bones on the kitchen counter. I thought that was interesting, because Bryan and Jessica had been talking about going to the pound and looking at dogs. When I turned around, there was a bowl of dog food on the floor. Hmmm....

I went upstairs to investigate, and texted Jess and asked her if we got a dog. She came walking out of the bedroom to meet me. And this is the next face I met. World, meet Paisley. She's cute, I suppose. There will be some adjusting, but, we have a dog.


In other news, I went to the liquor store tonight to buy a bottle of wine, and I was not asked to show ID. That makes me nervous, being as I look about 16. It disturbed me. I mean, isn't it illegal to not card people who don't look old enough to purchase alcohol? Even if it is Antioch? Geez.

I hope everyone is having a good weekend! I have slept mine away. And a rainy Sunday will probably continue that pattern. Enjoy yours!

Loving and Leaving

Sometimes it is important for me to remember that it's ok to not have a plan, because God does. He knows what He is doing, and He knows where my life is going to go. There are days that I need to find comfort in that. He is holding me, and He will give me what I need to get to the next step. Good thing.

I have mentioned lately that it seems I have learned to cry. I forgot how for a few years, and I think it might be catching up to me. Most of my crying has occurred either in the car (my poor car has seen my worst moments!) or at work. And today I realized that my new(ish) job has been such a gift, because I have been so well taken care of through this trying time.

I have the honor and privilege of working across a half wall from a wonderful woman who shall remain nameless. She grew up in Iran, and upon first meeting her I wondered if I would ever understand what she talks about. She is a few years younger than my mother would be, and at first that intimidated me. Along the way, however, she has become one of my favorite people ever.

She always tells me that I am good at what I do, and that I am a good girl. When my babies drive me crazy, she takes them and calms them down. She cuts my apples up for me (because apparently I do it wrong), and she fixes my clothes when they need mending. And when I cry, she wants me to talk about why.

Yesterday she wanted to know why I haven't lived with my parents in so many years. For those of you that know me, you know that I typically have no problem talking about what is going on in my life. I have nothing to hide, and I often need someone to care. Rarely, though, will I talk about things that really hurt me in the past. Yesterday I was asked to.

It was a conversation that carried on for around an hour, over the racket of twelve babies. Somewhere in the middle I began to cry. I didn't know that there were things that happened so long ago that still hurt me so deeply inside. I didn't realize that these hurts may be the very things that debilitate me, and make me unable to have healthy relationships and unable to grow up and be independent.

Hi, my name is Joy, and I have abandonment issues. I don't trust anyone to never leave me. It has taken over my life, and I just now noticed.

Thank You, Jesus, for the unexpected wisdom that came flying at me in the form of my coworker yesterday. Thank You for the people I look at everyday that are willing to help me learn how to grow up. I can only wonder why I just now found them.

I am convinced that I will eventually figure out how to grow up. I am convinced that healing is possible, I just wonder why I keep missing it. I am convinced that I serve a God who has a plan, and that He may be the One who will never leave me.

I will be ok. I think...

Another "Relative" Term

For me, the definition of "family" is relative (no pun intended). I have had an unfortunate and awkward family situation develop in the last four-ish years of my life, and I would no longer consider my "family" to be the people I share blood with as much as it is the people that I share my life with. I have my reasons for considering my situation to be unfortunate. In in ideal situation, your blood relatives, the people you grew up around, are supposed to be the ones that you can fall back on. The ones that stand beside you through the storms of life. The ones that love and understand you, unconditionally. Unfortunately, it doesn't always turn out this way. Unfortunately things (or people) get in the way.

On Monday, while I was still in New York, I took it upon myself to randomly pop into the hotel that my step-brother manages. I took him by an extreme amount of surprise by just walking up behind him to say hey. He didn't know I was in town. He was a little bit beyond shocked. Like the last time I was in town and randomly snuck up on him, it was weird. We don't really know what to talk about. We know so little about each other, and our parents are married to each other. Weird. And awkward.

This afternoon, I called my dad to ask him to email something to me, and it occured to me that we are completely incapable of having a normal, just shooting the breeze conversation. It's all business. Last time I checked, being as this is the parent that raised me, it shouldn't be like this. But it is.

I went through a rough time a few months ago, and there were nights that I just wished there was a doorstep I could show up on, where the person on the other side would embrace me and take me in, like parents should do for their hurting children. I didn't have that, and it hurt.

I am grateful that God has given me chosen family to fill that place in my heart. I have had at least four surrogate mothers in the last four years who were willing to hold me when I cried, and listen to my stories of trying to grow up. I have had people try their hardest to fill in for what I no longer have in a real family, and I appreciate their heartfelt efforts.

It still saddens me, though, that I am missing out on so much. Holidays often bring me to tears, because there is no warm house to go back to, no cozy couch to sit on while catching up with family. There is no mother to answer life's greatest questions for me, or to guide me on how to be a good wife and mother. I do the best I can, but sometimes I am still reminded deep inside of what I am missing.

I had no intentions of this turning into such a long post, I have just had lots of thoughts since seeing my step-brother the other day of how family is more about who we share our lives with and who we can fall back on. It is not who we are forced to be related to, or what our parents marry in to. Family is a choice, and mine chose to turn the other way. So I'll take those willing to replace what I no longer have, and I will love them with all that is left in me. My friends are my family, and I think I like it that way.

The Taste of Tears

I firmly believe that God gives us everything we need to get through anything He brings us to. Going along with that, I am beginning to learn that He may not always gives us exactly what we want to get through it, but instead exactly what we need. He does know better than us, I hear.

I have cried more in the last three days than in the last three months. Little things, silly things, have set me off. A song, a facial expression, a word of hope. I have repeatedly dropped all the pieces I have been trying to pick back up, over and over again, all week. I am getting a reputation at work as the crier, which is definitely not who I am (or was?). Things just hurt sometimes, and I need someone to tell me that I'll get through this one, too.

Much to my amazement, and yet not to my asking, God has placed random people in my path to give me a word of hope. They have most definitely not been the people I was expecting, but I'll take it just the same.

And this afternoon, He really brought it home for me. My favorite friend at work came to help in my classroom this afternoon, and I took that time to pour out my heart on her. She looked at me, and told me I was crazy. She told me that I needed to just let it go, and trust that things would work out on their own., just the way they are supposed to. She said that I take things too seriously. Who knew that something so shallow, and so simple, could bring me back to sanity. I made it through the rest of the day.

Later this afternoon, I was holding a sweet baby who is always willing to hold me back when I'm upset. I lifted him to my face just to feel him there, and the tears he had been crying just moments before brushed across my lips. It was at that moment that I remember what tears tasted like.

Tears taste of the feeling of letting go. Tears taste of sadness held inside for a little too long. Tears taste of brokenness and sorrow. Tears taste of grief. But most importantly, tears taste of freedom. The freedom of letting your heart be lighter, and the freedom of letting other people see the pain. I had to be reminded of how tears taste, because it had been so long since I had tasted my own.

Yesterday I asked a friend if she thought that maybe there were some roads that we were meant to travel alone. She thought for a minute, and then replied, "Well, there was a reason Jesus sent them out two-by-two."

Thanks Kelly. And thanks for standing by as I learned that it's very healthy to know the taste of my own tears...

Questions and Answers

I think sometimes that I don't want to ask God the questions because I'm afraid I already know the answers. I'm afraid that they are the answers that I don't want to hear; the answers that will make it hurt deeper. I'm not running from the questions, I'm running from the answers. The sad part is, it doesn't matter how fast I run. It doesn't matter how well I cover my ears. It won't make His answers change, and it won't heal the hole in my heart. He's waiting for me to ask, so that He can tell me things that my heart already knows and refuses to accept.

And that. Hurts.

Behind Dark Glasses

I am convinced that one of the most exhausting things in life is pretending that everything is ok when the world is crashing in around us. There is nothing harder than putting on a happy face when it hurts too badly to even breathe. And yet, we do it anyways. We do it, and we do it well.

It all started with the first of at least seven "How was your trip?"s today. "It was good!", I would reply, not bothering to mention the part about not wanting to come home. The good thing about my job is that it keeps me busy enough that I don't have to think about my own life for a good number of hours, or at least that's what I told the sobbing co-worker whom I held this morning while she cried over the good friend that died yesterday. She made me grateful that I wasn't the only one secretly dying on the inside. And yet, I felt the need to keep the fake smile plastered on.

I knew it was falling apart when I was left in charge of a part of my life that I'm not so sure I want yet this afternoon. When my world falls apart, it does so suddenly, and I often have no warning of when it all might hit the fan. I got in the car to leave, and a song on the cd I was listening to, one that I have heard at least a hundred times, suddenly struck me down.

As you go your own way
Remember do not be afraid
'Cause you're right where you should be
In Capitol City

I lost it. I began to cry the way I cry when I have lost all hope. I cried for the fact that I haven't told anyone why I've been running so fast for a little over a month now. I cried for what happened to me that night, and for where it has now left me standing, in the dark. I cried because I was angry that I've been left all alone, without anyone to turn to or anyone to sit beside me while I cry over it. I cried because I'm lost, even though I know deep down that it's possible to find my way to where I need to be. I cried for all the times that I haven't cried about it.

A few minutes later I pulled into the parking lot to pick up Carson. I knew I looked awful, and I didn't want the questions, so I chose to leave on my sunglasses. I chose to hide the pain a little more, behind the dark lenses. On my way out of the car, I told Jesus that I was going to need Him to hold me through this. I don't have anyone else, and I need someone to hold my hand.

I walked into Carson's classroom, and told him that it was time to go. The little boy who always instantly goes racing down the hallway towards the door when I get there graciously let Jesus inhabit him for a few minutes tonight. He stopped walking, and I stopped beside him. He looked up and met my eyes, and a few seconds later, slipped his little three-year-old hand into mine, without saying a word. And so we walked, hand-in-hand, outside to the car. He's never held my hand before. Good thing I was still wearing my sunglasses, or he may have seen the tiny tears of hope that he brought to my eyes. Thank You, Jesus. I feel You there...

Time Well Wasted...

A year ago, if you would've asked me what my favorite day of the week was, I would have told you that it was Sunday. I liked Sundays because Sundays meant that I got to get up and go to church with all my friends (I LOVED church), and then spend the rest of the day hanging out and pondering the thoughts that had been stirred while Jamie preached that morning. Sundays were my "deep thought" days, and I marvelled in the developments made in my heart on this particular day of the week. I always had a serious expression on my face on Sundays.

These days, I feel a little differently about my favorite day of the week. These days, I am falling in love with Saturdays. I have found that I have a habit of refusing to make plans for Saturdays, and instead just seeing where the day takes me. Today has been one of my favorites.

I was so tired last night, and fell asleep so quickly, that I actually have no idea what time I went to bed. I woke up for the first time at 8:30 this morning, and decided it would be best to get more sleep. The next time I woke up, it was noon. Awesome.

I stumbled up the stairs a few minutes later, only to encounter a half-conscious Jeremy in the living room. I made us some coffee and we proceeded to waste the next hour on the couch in our pjs watching Nashville public television. Oh glorious Saturdays.

Two hours later, I find myself spending the entire rest of the day in everyone's favorite coffee shop, Fido, located in the one and only Hillsboro Village. And quite an afternoon it has been...

I spent my first hour here just staring. I love when I have enough time to just sit and stare, and let my mind wander wherever it feels necessary. I always feel out of place in here (and yet I still love coming) because these are the type of people that I sometimes I wish I could have been one of. I found myself thinking of the different paths my life could have taken, if it wasn't for the events that have clouded my last five years.

I next thought of how glad I am that I have ended up on the path I am on, and that no matter how many times the turns have seemed too sharp, I still seem to have built a decent life for myself here. I remembered that I am grateful that God has finally given me a job that I see myself keeping for a while, working alongside people that I love to be around and who make me feel that I am very good at what I do. I remembered that I am grateful for the friends that God has gifted me with, people who know the depths of my heart and the darkest recesses, and love me still. I remembered that even when I am at my loneliest and unhappiest, I am still so very blessed. I chose to just sit and remember...

A good book, an amazing grilled cheese, and four hours later, here I still am. What a way to spend a cold, rainy Saturday, lost in the deepest hollows of my mind. I do love Saturdays...

Don't Make A Wish

She sat down across from me, sighed, and looked up and met my eyes.

"Somedays I'm just so sad. Somedays I really don't like my life."

I nodded, and encouraged her to keep talking.

"I feel like I must have been made for more than this. Am I wasting my time? Will things ever change?"

I pulled out my journal and read to her something that I had written nearly three weeks earlier:

Sometimes I am convinced that my purpose is so much greated than the ways I am currently spending my days. There's gotta be more than this. I know I was made for more than this...

I am so glad that I serve a God who gives me people who echo my very thoughts. There DOES have to be more than this, especially if I'm not the only one who feels like this. I mindlessly spend ten or eleven hours a day at work, happily, and yet I still feel like I must have been made to live and to feel. I feel like I might do greater things.

Yet, part of me is content to be where God has placed me right now. Maybe it's because I have a job I can get lost in. Maybe it's because I work so much that I don't have much time to worry about it. Maybe it's because God has slowed me down enough to finally show me who I am, and what I am made of. I'm not really sure.

What I am sure of, though, is that God won't leave my soul empty forever. He knows what He's doing, and He's got everything planned. He hears the longings in my heart, and He gives me what I need to make it from one week to the next (yes, I've graduated from day-to-day to week-to-week). I am blessed, and I will learn to be content where I am placed.

Tonight as I was driving home, it occured to me that as I blew out my birthday candles the other night, I didn't make a wish. I love the thought that even though my heart may be empty right now, I am content in it, and I could not wish for more. To me, that is accomplishment. To me, that is growth. And truly truly, I think it's beautiful. It's the beautiful, compelling epic we call a life following Jesus. Here's to another year...

Growing Up Is Hard To Do

It was a beautiful day. The kind of beautiful that makes you ridiculously happy to be alive, and to be where you are. I was originally sad about having Good Friday off, because I was too poor to not work, but once I went outside this morning I changed my mind. I decided to take advantage of the wonderful weather by driving down to Murfreesboro and tracking down some old friends. We spent the afternoon in the park. It was lovely.

As I was leaving their apartment this evening, I rolled down my windows and started to cry. Being with them was wonderful. Being in a place that held such a huge chapter of my life was wonderful. I miss it, in a way that makes me sad it had to be over before I knew what had happened. It made me sad that I didn't see the end coming, and didn't have a chance to find any closure, or be ok with it ending.

In Brazil, I learned the importance of growing up. I learned that eventually you have to just accept the fact that you are getting older, and you have to learn how to take care of yourself. You can't depend on someone else to take care of you forever. This frustrated me, because I never asked to grow up. I never asked to give up a life of fun for a life of learning to be an adult. It just happened, and I've refused to accept it.

The truth is, I've tried for a long time to deny being a grown-up. I wasn't ready, and I'm pretty sure I'm still not ready. Tough luck, because here it is anyways. I get up every morning, and I go to work. Nine or ten hours later, I come home and go to bed. I pay the rent at the beginning of the month, and I call my dad once a week to assure him that I'm still here. I recently managed to leave the country and come back, without anyone directing my steps, and I even manage to remember to feed myself (usually). Here it is kids: adulthood. At 22 years of age, I think I'm finally figuring it out. And I'm not happy about it. I miss my life, I miss the fun, and I miss having friends.

It was hard to be with my college friends today, because I often want that life back. It was as good as it gets, and without it I suddenly don't know where I belong. Without it, I've had to discover my own identity. It hasn't been easy. If I could go back for a little longer, I would.

This morning I went to a birthday lunch for one of my boys (he's still mine, right?); he'll be four on Sunday. Four. I can't believe it. As I watched him blow out the candles (on the pizza), I longed to whisper to his heart. I wanted to tell him to not grow up too fast. To not want to grow older. I wanted him to know how hard it is to grow up, so he will savor being young. I want to tell him this because I wish someone would have told me. I wish I would have known.

But then again, it wouldn't have mattered. Time passes, kids grow up, we all get older. Life goes on. Changes come. It happens, and we can't slow it down. Such is life...make a wish.

A Journey In Reverse

I wrote a lot while I was in Brazil, and I'm going to post it and backlog it. It may take a little while to do so, being as I have to type it all up and I'm still so tired, but I will get it all on here eventually. Bear with me.

Day 2: Speechless

This morning I rode the bus to church next to a girl who was sold into slavery at the age of eight. For fifty cents. By her own parents. What do you do with that?

I've been convinced for a while now that we are each given our own unique hell to survive in life. Mine looks much different from yours. Mine also looks much different than the ones of these children. These children have truly seen hell, and they have survived. Many of them are not more than half my age, and they have seem more pain than I have ever even heard about. Yet, these children hold the secrets to life. They hold the secrets to love. They have endured so much, and they love anyways. Without regard, and without condition.

Tonight I walked to church with a boy that is twelve years old. He met me this morning, and yet he wanted to hold my hand the entire time we walked. He doesn't speak my language, and I don't understand his. Yet he loved me, and he wanted to guide me on my way. Without words we took the 30 minute walk, and he spoke more to me than if he would have talked in words I understood. I am lucky to be here, and I have much to learn.

May I not miss out, and may I remember to stop and listen.

Day 1: Face It And Fly

The alarm went off at 3:40 in the morning. I rolled over and turned the light on.
"Anne! I need you to wake up and tell me everything is going to be ok. I don't want to go!"
"I'm awake. You'll be fine."
I don't remember the drive to the airport. When we got there, I lost my mind. I needed something to go wrong so that I didn't have to get on the plane. No luck. I got to security and Anne stopped me and told me that she couldn't go any further. I burst into tears. I cried through security, and slowly regained my sanity before I boarded the plane.
In Miami, I cried again. I was so scared. Nothing in me wanted to get on that plane. But I faced it, and I got on.
Ten hours later, I landed in Brazil. No turning back now. Nine hours later, our bus pulled into Garca. I was amazed at the sights. I got off the bus having no idea what to expect, but here I was. I made it. Point me to the nearest bed, please.

Down To The Line...

On Monday, my room flooded. My suitcases and bags of things for my trip got all wet. I was discouraged.

On Tuesday, we were hit with a freak snow storm. I laughed. Satan was getting creative.

On Wednesday, I came down with the flu. I cried. A lot.

Today is Thursday. So far, so good. My suitcases are dry, the snow is gone, and my fever melted away with it. Thank you to everyone who called and said they were praying. It worked. I am grateful, and so very amazed at the power of God.

My plane leaves in about twelve hours. I WILL be on it.

However...I should probably pack first.

Out of Control...

I like details. I mean, I really might be obsessed with them. If you've ever had a conversation with me, you would know this to be true. I have no short version of any story. If you want the short version, you should probably ask someone else. I really like all the details. I always have. In a way, it might be a good thing, because I always remember little things that no one else notices. Today, it is a very, very bad thing. Let me tell you why...

In a little less than five days, I will be boarding an airplane to Brazil with 17 other people. Sounds exciting, right? Here's the problem: we have no idea what we are doing when we get there. And that really bothers me. I have no details on even the really big stuff, and I'm still really paranoid about the really little stuff.

I don't know who I'm sitting next to on the plane. I don't know how I'm going to survive that long on a plane. I don't think I can sleep on a plane. It's going to be really hot there. I'm afraid of getting sick. I don't really know what to pack. And this is just the beginning of my freaking out.

I have absolutely no details for a period of ten days of my life. And it's driving me crazy. I never realized just how much I like to control my life and everything in it. I never realized how much I just insist on knowing about.

I'm being left in the dark, and everyone else thinks it's funny. An adventure, even. I pray that I can find this mindset very, very soon.

Pray for me? Thanks.

Becoming

Most mornings when I get to work, I head straight for the coffee pot. I make about half a pot, give or take a cup, depending on how much I need to be awakened that day. I stand in the kitchen and talk with my boss and the boys until it is done, and then I grab my mug and fix myself some. Once it is ready, I find a spot in the house (usually a couch or the stairs), get the boys occupied with something, and curl up for a bit. This is my thinking time. This is when I decide how my day is going to go. This is when it all comes out.

Once upon a time, there were days and days of this being the time of the day when I really had to convince myself that I was going to make it through another one. I would sit and bargain with myself about how I would survive the next eight hours, and wonder how soon I could get back in my bed. I would often replay in my mind how bad things currently were, and I would wonder when the pain would end. Once upon a time, I hated this time of the morning.

These days, things are a little different. I had coffee with a friend the other day, and could not seem to find the right words to express to her just how much everything, everything, has changed. And that includes my mornings.

I now look forward to this time of reflection. This is when I get to thank God for the blessings He allows me to wake up to each morning. This is when I get to congratulate myself on how good I am doing, and how far I am coming. This is when I grab my phone and catch up with friends that I often haven't caught up with in a few days. This is my favorite time of the day.

I am amazing myself (and others!) each day at how much I am allowing what I am going through to completely transform my life and who I am. I am on an amazing journey of self-discovery, and am truly enjoying finding out who I am and what I am capable of. I think that these periods in our life are truly precious. I am proud to say that I am really liking me. That is a definite first.

The other day one of my roommates told me that he noticed that I have learned to be a much more tolerable person lately (yeah, thanks). But I took it as a compliment. That is what I want to become. I want to become someone that people don't mind being with. I want to become someone that is kind and giving, and someone that I once wasn't. I want to be who I am supposed to be, and I believe that I am finding my way on that journey better than ever before.

Now if only I could kill the caffeine addiction that accompanies my morning routine...

Sometimes...

Sometimes life can get a little overwhelming.
Sometimes I don't know which way to go.
Sometimes I just want to sit and cry,
And sometimes I don't know how to say no.

Sometimes it's all too much.
Sometimes it's never enough.
Sometimes I really need a damn nap,
Because sometimes life is just tough.


(postscript: I am not a poet. But this picture made me laugh, and it needed something stupid to go with it. I cracked myself up, and that's all that really matters.)

New Life Take 3...

It seems there has been a trend lately among my friends of getting new jobs. Each person I know that has started a new job lately has made the initial announcement with great excitement and anticipation behind it. I, of course, can be no exception. I accepted a new job offer yesterday, and will be quitting my current job tomorrow promptly at 1pm (hopefully). Everyone I have told, I have told with great enthusiasm. I am excited at the prospect of starting yet another thing in my life over again. It seems to be the year for that.

Something in me, though, wonders if I am the only one that is also a bit apprehensive about starting something new. I am a little afraid of leaving what has become way too comfortable for me, and I am afraid of giving up how great I've got it right now. I will be working with all new people (capable of adult conversation!), under an all new set of rules and reguations (don't really know what those are anymore). The good news is I set my own schedule (I had been waiting for that offer), and I will always have work (a problem for me as of late). Yet, something in me still feels the need to be cautious.

So, I give this news with excitement about another new thing in my life to add to the new me. Don't be fooled by my enthusiasm, though. I am definitely apprehensive. I definitely don't know what to expect. I'm just taking the next step. I'm practicing letting go, starting with the prying off of the twenty fingers and twenty toes that have been wrapped around my heart and life for the last 17 months. I hope I'm not the only one that is nervous about a new job. I hope all the excited friends I have encountered lately were a little afraid, too. I think it's ok for a new job to be a little scary. Tell me I'm not the only one...

Forgive Regret...

I am grateful for second chances. They are good for starting over and they are good for trying to do things right, or better, the second time. The other night I sat in church and talked to Jesus for a little bit about learning to forgive myself. I just recently realized that though I tend to be bitter towards people who hurt me or others, I am actually way more unforgiving towards myself. I have done a lot of screwing up in the last few years, and again, I am grateful for second chances. I am learning to start again with how I live my life and how I love God and others.

I still have a problem, though. As much as I am glad for second chances, sometimes I still wish I could take my first chance over again. Mostly in the area of my relationships with other people. I have approached the friendships I have formed in the last few years with a slightly (very) jaded point of view. I haven't had healthy relationships because I didn't know what that meant. And that has left me now with much guilt and regret over how I have treated the people I love the most over the past few years. I wish very much that I could meet all of them all over again, and love them and be loved by them in a healthy, constructive way. God blessed me with great people, but I had no idea how to love and appreciate them the right way until now.

Unfortunately, my first chances are over. I must burn my bridges and let things collapse inside myself that I have been trying to hold up on my own strength for way too long. My hope is that maybe I can rebuild some of what I tear down on a newer, stronger foundation. This has already happened a few times, and these are the relationships that are sweetest to my soul. But if I can't repair the relationships that have crumbled, then I will clear the space to be filled with new things and new people. To be filled with second chances.

I am very happy with the person I am now becoming. I am surprising myself at the goodness I am finding within, but I know that every ounce of it is coming from Him. I will keep learning, and I will keep growing. I will keep taking my second chances, and use them to become who I want to be. I will learn to forgive myself, and I will learn to let my heart be softer. I thank God every day for the oppourtunity to start over. I just hope I can do it better this time...

Lest You Forget...

This afternoon I was sitting in the kitchen with the boys watching Blues Clues. They were both eating cheetos as their after lunch snack (yes, there is such a thing), and I was eating green beans. I never really ate cheetos as a kid, and it had probably been at least a year since I had had some, but for some reason they smelled really good. So, when Blaine wasn't looking I grabbed the bag and took a handful. They were incredible. The first thought I had was, "wow, I definitely forgot how good cheetos are". So we spent the next half hour bonding over Blues Clues and cheetos.

Now being as I rarely write about silly things such as food, you are all probably now wondering why I would have so much to say about cheetos. But wait, there is a purpose....ready?

This week Jesus has been giving me strange glimpses into people's secret lives that I really had no desire to glimpse upon. I have found out things I didn't particularly want to know about people that I am not particularly close to. It's been strange, but it has it's meaning. Just like remembering how good cheetos are, Jesus wants me to remember the things He has whispered into my heart. He wants me to remember that I am not the only one with dark, ugly parts inside of me. He wants me to remember that I don't have to hide, because my secrets just make me more human and easier to relate to. But the most important thing He wants me to remember is that He has already covered all of my sins, and all of the sins of others that I have seen the past few days.

Ok, of course, we all know that He died for our sins, right? I've known that for a long time, but I think maybe I forget exactly what that means. I think sometimes I forget just WHAT He did for me. He knew that I would screw up. He knew that my sins would mess with who I am and mess with who I thought He was. And yet, He took them anyways. They are covered, every single one of them. We cannot forget that. I don't ever WANT to forget that.

So now that I am sure that Jesus is not angry, and now that I am sure that all has been forgiven and that He has turned my shame to praise, I must practice remembering. I must not forget what He has done for me, what He has done for us, and how much He loves me and still wants to use me. The only way to stay safe and unafraid is to keep remembering.

God is good, yes? And so are cheetos. Don't forget it.

"Only take care, and keep your soul diligently, lest you forget the things that your eyes have seen, and lest they depart from your heart all the days of your life."
-Deuteronomy 4:9

*photo by somethingstartedcrazyy

Remember to Breathe Part 3: You Must Keep Going

After a string of hard, terrifying days, tonight I thank Jesus that today was an easier one. The hard part is not over, but He knew I needed a break. Thank You, Lord.

I am lucky to have discovered a few things about this battle inside myself thus far in my journey, and I thought I'd share.

1. My mind is my own worst enemy.
2. Everything is usually ok in the daylight. After dark, not so much.
3. Staying busy is better than having empty time.
4. Sleeping is important. Whenever, Wherever.
5. Eating is, too. I've lost 15 pounds.
6. My friends truly want to help. I don't know why I can't be convinced of this.
7. It is really ok to ask for help when I need it. The people who really care won't be scared away. Even when I pass out in their doorway :)

This is hard, I won't lie. Harder than anything I've ever experienced. I'm out of control, and I can't help it. But I know I have to keep going, and I know eventually it won't be this hard. I'm just striving hard to not turn back. I'm reaching out for something solid when I think I'm about to sink. That's all I know to do. That's all I can do. I appreciate your prayers...

Remember To Breathe Part 2: You May Be Shattered

I am not much of a crier. It seems that at some point in my teenage years I was hardened by life, and I now find very little worth crying about. I have encountered a few tragedies in my short life, and it makes the smaller things seem silly to be sad about. Lately, that doesn't seem to be the case anymore.

I was not aware that after the decision I made the other day that my body and my mind would soon wage war against each other. I am currently marvelling at the power of the human body, at just how much you can mess it up and just how hard it is to fix it. While this is currently a great part of my battle, it seems that I no longer have any control over my emotions, either. Overnight, it seems, I became a crier. And I don't just mean shedding a little tear at the Hallmark commercials. I mean completely break down and sob uncontrollably crying, typically with little or no warning. I know I have surprised at least two people this week by suddenly falling on them and weeping, but it seems I can't do anything about it. My pain is great, and I've smiled in spite of that one too many times. Every tear I've never shed apparently must come out before I can heal. Bring it on.

As much as this battle completely sucks, and as much as I know that it will get worse before it gets better, I also know that it will be worth it in the end. I am walking through fire, not over or around but through, and I am refusing to turn back. I know that I can fight this, I know that I am stronger than it is, and I know that despite how hot it is I will come out whole. No longer cracked, shattered, or missing a few pieces, but whole.

Last night I read in Psalms that He has our tears in a bottle. I love that picture. To me, that means that He is sitting next to me every time I break apart, and He is catching every tear. He's giving me what I need to keep going, and He's leaving me little gifts to keep my spirits up. It's been seven days. Let's go for eight.

Remember to Breathe Part 1: You Are Stronger Than You Think

I was laying on the couch in the sunshine, listening to both the baby monitor and the distant sounds coming through the open window. It was a gorgeous day, but despite the warm breeze blowing in, my own fear was causing me to shiver. I knew it was coming, I felt it deep inside of me, and there was little I could do to prevent it.

Sure enough, a few seconds later I both felt and heard a shift inside of my body. My breathing became more labored before I had time to think about trying to control it. I began talking to myself, trying to remember to breathe in, breathe out, but it wasn't more than a few breaths later that the fear took over. I no longer had control of how quickly I was breathing, and I was pretty sure that the room was caving in around me. Everything started to go fuzzy, and tears began to stream down my face. Breathe in, Breathe out. I kept thinking about how sorry I was, and yet how I would have to suffer my consequences anyways, and that really wasn't helping. In the midst of the panic, I suddenly wondered if I would survive this one. Breathe in, Breathe out. I wasn't getting air. I leaned forward so I wouldn't fall off the couch when it all went dark.

It ran through my mind who I could call to calm me down, but by that point I couldn't see where the phone was. Breathe in, Breathe out. What if Benjamin wakes up? I can't take care of him right now. God, please let that baby keep sleeping. There has got to be a way out of this. God, please save me this time. Breathe in, Breathe out. I got dizzier, and the fuzz around the edges of the light came together in the middle. I stopped breathing. My heart felt like it might burst. I felt like it might not end this time. I fell forward. It went dark.

I don't know how long it lasted, and I don't know how long it was dark. When I opened my eyes and laid back down on my back, I was ok. My breathing had returned to normal, and I knew that I had survived another one. I don't know how many more there will be before it is finished. I'm just trying to hold on. One day at a time, one hour at a time, one moment at a time. I'm holding fast to the hope that I am stronger than it, and that I can beat it. I can do this. I can. Breathe in, Breathe out.