COVID Confessions

This is a strange season in which we are living. I process things through writing and, as a method of self care during this season, wanted a place to write. God is teaching me so much through this moment of stillness and I don't want to miss out. Camden has been watching "Trolls World Tour" and is obsessed with the soundtrack. Part of one of the medleys says, "these are the good times." As so much about life has changed in the past 6 weeks, I've been doing a lot of reflecting. I've felt a lot of things recently-fear, worry, anxiety, doubt, sadness. I've been thinking back on other times in my life when I knew I felt that way-- and realizing that, in fact, so many good and fun things were going on that I missed. I missed them because I was internally focused- worrying about my health or the kids' health or something else crazy, instead of focused on what was going on around me. I didn't fully enjoy our first vacation to San Diego as a family of 4. I worried about Caris' newfound mobility instead of enjoying it. These times are trying, there's no way to sugar coat that. There is so much uncertainty in regards to our health and our economy, but there are so many sweet times, too. I want to remember savoring walks to the creek with Camden blazing on his scooter and Caris toddling next to me and holding my hand. I want to embrace pretending to be a tiger family with Camden every day and the opportunity to teach him and watch him learn his letters, sounds and to read. I want to enjoy watching Caris' language develop in real time, something I missed since I worked full time when Camden was in this stage. I want to remember laying in bed and having slow mornings with Jacob, as opposed to one of us having to rush off in the mornings. Mostly, I want to grow in my perspective of seeing God's blessings as an expression of His character, not a consequence (positive or negative) of my actions. I want to fully enjoy the blessings He's given me and to find my satisfaction in Him. I want to be focused on what He's given us, not on what we don't have. I want to enjoy this season, strange as it is, because I know it is fleeting. I don't want to look back and think "those were the days," I want to think as I'm living "these ARE the days." Praying for full presence with the Lord and with this place in which He has me now.

God is Love

Love is like oxygen. Love is a many splendid thing. Love lifts us up where we belong. All you need is love. Love is all around us. No one, regardless of your spiritual beliefs, would argue that love is one of the most important things that a person needs. “Beloved, let us love one another, for love is from God; and everyone who loves is born of God and knows God. The one who does not love does not know God, for God is love.” -1 John 4:7-8 God created love. God is love. It is an undeniable part of His character. Since He is love and the creator of love, I find it interesting how much our culture has polluted such a beautiful thing. Culture tells that love is to benefit us, to complete us, to make us feel right and good and whole. Culture acts as if love is something that lacks commitment, that comes and goes as it pleases and that we can’t control it…we can’t control who or why we love. God, however, paints a different picture in His word. "Greater love has no one than this, that one lay down his life for his friends.” John 15:13 True love, love from God is selfless. No one shows this more so than Christ, who laid down His love for each of us. “If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? Even sinners love those who love them. And if you do good to those who are good to you, what credit is that to you? Even sinners do that. And if you lend to those from whom you expect repayment, what credit is that to you? Even sinners lend to sinners, expecting to be repaid in full. But love your enemies, do good to them, and lend to them without expecting to get anything back. Then your reward will be great, and you will be children of the Most High, because he is kind to the ungrateful and wicked. Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful.” Luke 6:32-36 God loves us unconditionally, regardless of our love back for Him, regardless of our sins and mistakes. God calls our love to be out of covenant with Him, and not to be dependent on the actions or reciprocity of those He calls us to love. "In grace our Savior God appeared, to make his love for mankind clear.” Titus 3:4 True love also involves grace and forgiveness. We are all fallen, all sinners and all in need of grace and forgiveness. God’s grace is one of the most tangible ways He shows His love for us. “If anyone acknowledges that Jesus is the Son of God, God lives in them and they in God. And so we know and rely on the love God has for us. God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in them. This is how love is made complete among us so that we will have confidence on the day of judgment: In this world we are like Jesus. There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love. We love because he first loved us. Whoever claims to love God yet hates a brother or sister is a liar. For whoever does not love their brother and sister, whom they have seen, cannot love God, whom they have not seen. And he has given us this command: Anyone who loves God must also love their brother and sister”. 1 John 4:15-21 God is love. It is who He is in the most pure form. And without Him living in us, we cannot love in the way that He created and intends. Although 1 John 4 is describing our brothers and sisters in Christ and the Church, I have seen and learned more about love through my family. In my family, I have seen that love is about commitment as opposed to about feelings. I have seen servanthood, grace and commitment in love lived out. In my family, everyone makes mistakes and sins against each other, but I believe that Christ helps and allows us to forgive each other. Through family and His blessings, God allows us to experience an earthly glimpse of His love- constant, forgiving, unmoved by circumstances or mistakes, and covered in grace. How much greater, then, is God’s love for us, perfect in every way? Through God’s blessings on earth, I hope and am confident that God is love, and He longs for each of us to know His love. True love.

Never Leaving. Never Forsaking.

Abandon. Forsake. Desert. Cast off. As a self proclaimed “people pleaser,” we have summed up one of my biggest fears in a mere 5 words. Our society has accepted these concepts of leaving as a norm. Self-absorbed and thinking only about what is best for me, we are encouraged to ostracize anything that isn’t helping us, is holding us back, isn’t making us into the best we can be. It’s disheartening to watch the news and see everything from abandoned homes to abandoned babies and families to abandoned projects and jobs. Culture teaches us this is okay, as long as we can better ourselves. Deuteronomy 31:6 proclaims, “Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the Lord your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you.” What a mighty God! Not only is He always with us, he promises to never leave us. He gives us the ultimate, countercultural example of how to abide, bear with, remain. I’ve heard this promise preached upon in several sermons. That we are to take heart during our troubling times and remember that The Lord will never leave nor forsake us. It’s a powerful promise. When I typically picture this promise playing out in my life, I picture God with me, encouraging me, near me when I am “on my best behavior.” When I am being obedient, when I am seeking to follow Him. I picture Him following after me, prompting me on toward His perfection, comforting me when I am not questioning Him and His provision during difficult times. I think, however, that the mind blowing part of this promise is that God doesn’t put those stipulations on His promise. There is NO if…then statement attached. No If you are obedient, then I will protect and not forsake you. During college, I went through a rebellious phase. I made choices that I knew were disobedient to all kinds of people and rules, including God. I put myself in sketchy situations where I could have and should have been in way over my head. These times are where God truly showed me that He never leaves or forsakes us, because during that season of blatant disobedience, God continued to abide with me, never leaving nor forsaking me, continuing to protect me from my waywardness and the imminent punishment that should have come with it. Looking back on this time, I learned more about God’s grace, more about His presence and protection, than I did in any other time in my life. John 16:4-6 promises, “Abide in me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit by itself, unless it abides in the vine, neither can you, unless you abide in me. I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing. If anyone does not abide in me he is thrown away like a branch and withers; and the branches are gathered, thrown into the fire, and burned.” As God is faithful in ways we cannot be, remaining near to us even when we sin, His best for us is to also abide in Him, remain close to Him so that we can bear fruit, live the lives that He has planned for us (which are far greater than anything we could dream up on our own) and bring glory to Him by becoming more like Him. In our sinful humanity, we cannot do this. Luckily, we have a God who leads us by example, never leaving nor forsaking us.

Pondering Promises: A Return to Blogging

Hello blog friends! It has been a while...not quite the 3 years that this blog suggests (I blogged in 2012 at another address), but still longer than it should have been. It's been a season where it's been hard to muster up the inspiration to write. I've felt convicted, as if I'm not using all that I've been given, but also uninspired. As I presented that excuse to The Lord today, He answered by mightier inspiration than I've felt in a while. I'm choosing to update this blog instead of my other as I feel that my best work has been posted here. I hope that continues through His Holy inspiration that I've seen today. 

A.W. Tozer once said "What we think about when we think about God is the most important thing about us." Our perceptions about God vary based on a many different factors...what we have read in His word. been taught at church and by our families, how we were raised, how we feel God has responded (or not) in our circumstances, both past and present.   Each of these creates a layer in our faith, determining how we view not only God but all things in our walk with him. Like an onion, each layer flavors our faith, either with sweetness or bitterness, and determines what we think about God, also determining everything else about us. 

While many of these things are good, Satan uses others to keep us from growing in depth and intimacy with The Lord. Curves life throws at us, our timing being different from God's, God not answering our prayers in the way we think can all impact what we think about God, as well as our walks with Him.

How could focusing on His promises help that? If I truly meditated on His revelation of Himself to us through scripture, how would that impact my walk with Him? How would I grow with him? How could He transform my view of situations? How would it impact what I thought of Him, and therefore everything else in my life? 

So here is my Summer Experiment… taking one promise each week, meditating on it, chewing on it, thinking and praying through it, focusing on it and the quality God reveals through it each week and seeing what He teaches me about Himself and how he transforms us to be more like His Son. As my view of Him is more correct, what else would that impact? So….here goes pondering promises! 

Picture of Purpose

I love art. Monet, Renoir, Van Gogh, Picasso...even modern art, such as Pollock, has a soft spot in my heart. My mother instilled this love in me at an early age. When I was in elementary school, my mom would take me on a mother/daughter date to whatever was on exhibit at the Kimball Art Museum in Fort Worth. I listened with excitement and anticipation as the docent discussed minute details, imperfections and hidings of paintings both old and new. I soaked up symbolism and color like a sponge. We also were fortunate enough to have art docents at our school. One of my favorite works, and one that was most fascinating to me, was "Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte" by Georges-Pierre Seurat. Seurat employs a technique called pointillism, where he painted millions upon billions of tiny dots of very distinct and contrasted colors. The human eye miraculously blends these hundreds of colors together to form a single hue of distinctive color. Each dot was meticulously placed, each color carefully chosen  for a purpose: to blend and manufacture a masterpiece.

Purpose is an interesting concept. To me, it answers the question "why?" it is the reason you're running down the road of life that you've chosen or been placed on. The dictionary defines purpose as "1. the reason for which something exists or is done/made 2. An intended or desired result or aim 3. determination; resoluteness." The bible has many things to say about purpose. I love the way Paul describes it in Ephesians 1:3-10:

Spiritual Blessings in Christ
³  Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in Christ with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places, ⁴  even as he chose us in him before the foundation of the world, that we should be holy and blameless before him. In love ⁵  he predestined us^[a] for adoption as sons through Jesus Christ, according to the purpose of his will, ⁶  to the praise of his glorious grace, with which he has blessed us in the Beloved. ⁷  In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of his grace,⁸ which he lavished upon us, in all wisdom and insight ⁹  making known^[b] to us the mystery of his will, according to his purpose, which he set forth in Christ ¹⁰ as a plan for the fullness of time, to unite all things in him, things in heaven and things on earth.

God's ultimate purpose is salvation, as Christ came to save us all. (Romans 3:23 ESV, Romans 11:32 ESV)

Specifically, too, Christ has given each believer unique gifts to "be His hands and His feet." As Paul writes in Romans 12:4-8:

⁴ For as in one body we have many members,^[a] and the members do not all have the same function, ⁵ so we, though many, are one body in Christ, and individuallymembers one of another. ⁶  Having gifts that differ according to the grace given to us, let us use them: if prophecy, in proportion to our faith; ⁷ if service, in our serving; the one who teaches, in his teaching; ⁸ the one who exhorts, in his exhortation; the one who contributes, in generosity; the one who leads,^[b] with zeal; the one who does acts of mercy, with cheerfulness.

Verses 5b-6 have really been on my heart recently. The Holy Spirit has been relentlessly revealing to me the importance of us using what's been gifted to us, as the "body" both literally and spiritually speaking, cannot functions properly without each part doing what it's been created to do.

I've been focusing on ways to wrap my human mind around a God-sized purpose. The best way God has shown me is by thinking of life as "Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte." We are each one dot. One minuscule yet undeniably and incredibly important part of this enormous painting was can't yet fully see (1 Corinthians 13:12). Sure, we see those dots around us- we know their colors, if they're changing, what they're doing, but only the Master, the Designer, the omniscient Artist can see, and create, the masterpiece. Each of us dots has a purpose- to be the color He painted us, the color He created us to be. Whether it's red, yellow, green, magenta, cerulean, a color similar or different to those around us, in being this color, we fulfill our place, our purpose, in the Master's Masterpiece. Sure, sometimes we tint ourselves another color, we see others and turn into their color, a color we were never intended to be, but our Master painter is faithful and good to repaint us back to the color we intended. He is the Perfect Painter, which we also were never intended to be. We must surrender our control to Him, as He is flawless and faithful to paint us in the way we were intended. We must continue to have faith when it becomes difficult to not change color, trusting that He can see the whole picture and that, one day, we will see it, too.

I'm thankful to be part of the masterpiece. I pray that I fulfill my purpose in His masterpiece instead of trying to fit Him into my own.

Tangible Time

My last semester in grad school, I was able to do an independent study with two of my good friends and a lady who we referred to as “the goddess of Autism.” She was an expert, to put it plainly, and knew more than we could wrap our minuscule minds around. She had researched, published, done therapy with, and invested in thousands upon thousands of children with Autism, and is now writing curriculum on how to start a preschool classroom to foster their language development. There is a lot of time and analysis that goes into this, because since children with Autism struggle to learn language and use it to communicate, you must make sure that the words that you introduce to them are both functional to use and simple to learn. My friends and I, therefore, spent weeks analyzing her words. I’m sure you’re yawning at the thought of this, but we were completely captivated. We loved counting, categorizing, and graphing the word types and numbers. It was gripping, and we were hooked. One day, while talking with Dr. Rollins about our analysis, we got to talking about words to begin and end an activity, which we noted as “time words.” Dr. Rollins told us that the time words were difficult to explain because time is arbitrary, as are words, and those words are our attempt to make time into something tangible, to place restrictions on it so that we could understand, explain and use it.

It’s literally taken me months to wrap my brain around this concept. This concept of time that so governs my life isn’t even something that I could put my index finger on, yet I feel the need to create boundaries to it. We live and die by planners, schedules, bedtimes and alarms to wake us up. We do everything in our power to know where it goes, and make sure it is going to the right things, places, people and events. I’ve been known to think of my day like a pie graph and try to a lot every hour to something. At the end of every month (it is February 26, technically 27 because it is the middle of the night), I think to myself, “Goodness gracious, where as the month gone? How is it almost over.” We seek to hold on as it slips away, yet wish for it to pass more swiftly. We want to control it. I yearn to control it.

I have learned that God and time have a fascinating relationship. They are similar in that I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that they both exist. I cannot see either of them, but I can see results of them both. I witness miracles, glory and the restoration of God; I witness time’s effect on people. I cannot control God, and I cannot control time. But luckily, He can control time and my life. Things run more smoothly when He controls them. He was intended to control both. And He does.

Throughout the past 6 months, but more specifically in 2011, God has continued to build my faith and reveal his sovereignty and flawless timing to me. I have felt like a Stretch Armstrong action figure at times, as he has no doubt stretched me, making me wonder (being completely transparent in this confession) if He did, in fact, know what He was doing. But he has arranged events, like a composer orchestrates the parts of each and every instrument of a symphony, into something breathtakingly beautiful. To remind me He was, and is, there and in control, He placed various events and people into my life, like a lovely flute trill or trombone fall in an orchestra, to remind me of his presence and care. During my most difficult and trying hours, His presence was so evident that it left me in awe, listening and wanting more. He lead me to realize that my attempts to make time, and more importantly His time, neat and packaged into a box, took away from it’s beauty, it’s perfection, and it’s inherent characteristics. And ultimately took away from His purpose and glory, which is really the point of it all.

He has taught me that His timing is perfect and control is unwavering. Even though I can’t always see it through the haze, that he is continually working (which is a subject for another blog). I find peace in that. Basking in His peace, anxiously awaiting His next move, His next stretch of my faith, and His next revelation of His divinity to me.

Celebrate Me Home

Confession: Kenny Loggins will always have a special place in my heart. Odd, I know. "Footloose" has never failed to make me smile, and hearing "Danger Zone" brings back fond memories of watching "Top Gun" with my fourth grade best friends and discussing how cute Tom Cruise was, even though it was made before we were born and Tom could practically have been our dad. The real reason Kenny tugs at my heart came a little later in my life. It was the scorching summer of 2005, and my life was on the brink of change. Major change. I had graduated from high school, and was about to embark on a wonderful journey to Waco to begin college. I was stuck in that odd in between place that most high school graduates find themselves in between graduation and moving away from home… realizing that you are fitting in less and less with high school friends, but not knowing who else my age to spend time with.

That summer I spent most evenings with my mom. We had been (and still are) very close, but grew even closer that summer. Many nights, we sat at starbucks sipping on grande java chip frappacino lights double blended and contemplating the change I was about to go through. While cleaning out her car one afternoon, mom discovered "Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow," Kenny Loggins' greatest hits CD, and quite a fitting title for the time in my life. We put it in the CD player in June and didn't take it out. Every song reminded us of something. I remember listening to "Forever" and silently sobbing one evening, wondering if life would ever feel normal again.

My all-time favorite Kenny Loggins song would have to be "Celebrate Me Home." Something about it comforts me, like home. Throughout college, I would coincidentally hear it as I crossed the bridge between I-35 to I-20, which always signified to me that I was home. This Thanksgiving, I had just said my good-byes to my family, packed my last bag into my car, and slammed the door shut on the Liberty, when the song came on the radio. Overcome with emotion due to the fact that I was leaving, I teared up and immediately called my mom. I shared the ironic event I'd just experienced, and hurried back to Plano. But a strange thing happened…as I frantically sped down Midway, not a mile from my apartment, the exact song that had so reminded me of Arlington not an hour before came on again. Chills crept up my spine, and I realized that this felt like more than a coincidence.

Arlington will always hold a special place in my heart. I grew up there. I learned some of my greatest life lessons there. I even discovered Kenny Loggins there. But it's not where feels like home in the present. Now, Plano feels like home. It feels comfortable, but still as if it is evolving to encourage grown. It feels as if it is right where I ought to be.

I was once told that "Home is being in the center of God's will." If that's true, I know I am home. And I'm glad.

Reflecting in Hope: 2011

New Years makes me reflective and hopeful. Here is the result of that combination:

2011. Wow. I can hardly believe that a new year is upon us. The last time I wrote, I had a feeling that my life was on the cusp of change. That, like the autumn leaves, my life was about to transform and convert to something different. Feelings are funny like that, and a lot of times, your gut is right. The last three months have been bursting at the seams with change unlike any I had experienced previously. I dislike change and crave consistency. I enjoy knowing what comes next and how to prepare. But the funny thing about this season of change was that all of the changes were positive changes. Each change that occurred brought the stress that life revolutions always bring, but blessings all the same.

I feel that the Lord taught me, through these changes, that He is always faithful. Time and time again between October and December, I worried. My stomach knotted and turned. I wasn't sure things would turn out ok. And each time, I felt His hand on my shoulder, comforting me and providing for me. Even though I don't deserve it. Even though I can't comprehend His feelings for me. As my cravings for consistency continue, I have learned this Autumn that the Lord is ultimately consistent, ultimately strong, and ultimately worthy of my faith, trust, and praise.

Even amidst the continuing change, I relish in the expectation that a new year brings. The start of the New Year brings freshness like the sweet scent of laundry detergent leaking from the dryer as soft warm clothes emerge. 2011 brings hope. Not necessarily that it will be an easy year, for I realize that, here in the real world that I am soon to join, changes aren't more rampant, just less expected than in the school world. I think that it's important to reflect upon what happened in the past year in order to prepare for the new, less certain year. Based on 2010, I know that the Lord will be faithful, that He has blessed me beyond my wildest dreams in order that I may bless others by sharing His love, and that serving and knowing Him amidst the change is my heart's utmost desire, and that He brings consistency through his presence.

2010, you were lovely. I am genuinely sad to see you go. 2011, I'm eager to see what you will bring.

Autumn

I love Autumn. Plain and simple. The sound of the word alone spreads a smile to my face. I talk about it constantly. I count down the days until the pumpkin spice latte comes out (which was September 5, if you were wondering)- and then drink them compulsively. My barista, Tom, at the Starbucks I stop at on the way to practicum has already memorized my order, and greets me with a smile and a simple "Is today a grande or venti day?" I relish the feeling of "just air" that Texas Septembers bring, where you can't tell if it is hot or cold. You could literally wear a Northface and jeans or a tank top and shorts and manage to be equally comfortable. But the, being indecisive like Texas weather most always is, the next day will be 90 degrees and humid, once again, and my scorching pumpkin spice latte will have to be iced which just isn't right.

Autumn brings change. The past month, I've felt a change in my heart. Nothing big...minute actually...just a twinge of change, like the leaves gently fluttering from the twigs of trees. They float down one or two at a time, slowly creeping, blowing circularly in the breeze, to the dirt beneath. They show that there is hope for relief from the blistering heat. That's how the change in my heart feels. The most miniscule of changes in thought coupled with gradual shifts in priorities. New convictions. Noticing different things than I would have a year, or even a month, ago. Is this change big or noticable? I doubt it. But it's movement- leading toward the feeling that something big is on the horizon. Do all of the leaves fall off of the trees at once, while the temperature drops 50 degrees in a day? Not usually. But the seasons don't fail to change; they become something new. Gradually.

One of my favorite quotes in all of literature describes Amory Blaine in F. Scott Fitzgerald's This Side of Paradise, in which Blaine is characterized as "dreaming of the becoming, never the being." I would love for my life to be summed up by that quote. As I seek a life of non-complacency, I want to embrace this new season of life. This season of change in the midst of joyful satisfaction. This season of hope. Autumn- I'm glad you've arrived.

controlled comfort

A few weeks back, I decided to make a resolution for my 23rd year. I'll start with a confession-- for the past 21 years, I have gone to sleep every night curled up on my side in the fetal position holding Teddy.

This is Teddy, creative, I know- the Friendship Carebear, circa 1989. My childhood best friend gave it to me for my 2nd birthday. Teddy and I were inseperatable for years. Teddy traveled in the car, to babysitter's houses, to doctor's appointments, to San Antonio, Florida, New York. When I had my tonsils removed when I was 5, I took another bear to the hospital with me because I didn't want Teddy to get hurt. Teddy even spent 4 years at Baylor with me. He's made a lot of pwiends (my 2 year old word for friends, and a common adjective for Teddy). But as of Thursday, as I started my 23rd year, Teddy has had a new home: my closet. After years of comfort during fears and tears, Teddy will live in my closet.

As a child, Teddy was my comfort object, as it is referred to in The Giver. After having my reoccuring nightmare about being chased by a gorilla and not having any defense against it, Teddy was there for me to cling to. Teddy has been bathed by tears on multiple occasions, mourning with me the fact that life was changing, and that going home to Arlington would never be the same again, even though our new home in Waco was so different. Teddy made me feel better as I healed after high school boyfriends and losing love. It seemed as if, no matter what I felt, where I was, or what I was going through, Teddy made it ok. He always brought the comfort and routine I craved. That I think we all crave, even the most spontaneous and free-spirited of us, to some extent. Iappreciate knowing what is coming, knowing what to expect, and those plans coming through.

Sometimes, even with Teddy, my life feels anything but consistent, anything but constant. Projects at work. Something as unpredictable and uncontrollable as traffic. My moods or the moods of others. The tiniest of kinks can throw it all off, it sometimes seems. This leaves mundane, routine lovers devistated, trying to repair the machine we've so thoughtfully and intricately constructed. It leaves us craving that consoling custom we crave.

But where did this notion of comfort come from? Sure, comfort leaves us feeling content, but sometimes almost complacent. Secure. Routine. But at what point did I begin to think this was best? That this was where I was supposed to be?

I remember my junior high youth minister often telling us awkward teenagers to "get out of our comfort zones" and not just follow the crowd. Although the motives are now different at 23 years and 3 days, the same concept appears to ring true in my life. Getting out of my comfort zone, be it at work, school or social situations, seems to be key. It seems to be where I've been placed. And I've spent my summer despising it. Wishing I could feel comfortable. Dreaming of times I didn't feel awkward. But as I've thought more about it lately, I realize that the uncomfortable area seems to be where great things and growth happen. When we are not sure, not comfortable, we seem to be stretched a little further than we thought we could be stretched. Pushed slightly harder than we thought we should be pushed. And what do we do? Adapt. Until we are pushed again, that is. It reminds me of running. You run one mile, and your quads throb the next day. But the day after, you drag yourself out of bed and do it again...and it gets easier and easier, less and less painful each time.

Nothing great happens wtihout great risk. Realizing that the best things come from change, from that place outside of our comfortable and complacent box, and striving to let go of that comfort and consistence is what makes life grand. It's what makes us grow.

Goodbye Teddy. Goodbye comfort. Weclome, growth, change, rejuvination.

Simplicity

Stuff. Clutter. Junk. It's so easy to accumulate. In my apartment, it seems as if it can go from spotless and spic and span to a jumble of belongings faster than I can think of 5 synonyms for the word stuff. Returning from grocery stopping. Coming home after work or school. Going shopping. Even the simplest return home seems to come with baggage. Living like this drives me crazy. I can't find what I need. I don't know where anything is. My stomach writhes and twists with the most limber of snakes. I can't take it. How do you fix it? Easily- Pick up. Clean out. Reduce.

Life has the same tendencies. Friends. Work. School. Opportunities. Exercise. Necessities. Supplementaries. Commitments. Spontaneity. Quickly, it's full and there isn't a moment to breathe. It's a struggle, as if I'm swimming and treading water with every ounce of energy I can muster, just to find that my nose keeps slipping under. I've got to reduce. I've got to clean out. I've got to simplify. But how? These intangible things are so much harder to sift through than the tangible junk I dispose of daily.

As I long for simplicity, I think about necessity. In the words of John Mayer: "Friends? Check. Money? Check. Well-slept? Check. Opposite sex? Check. Guitar? Check. Microphone? Check. Messages waiting for me when I come home? Check." Although my list looks different (God? Food? Shelter? Water? Love?), the concept fascinates me. How is it that one narrows down to the necessities without micromanaging? And while the other things, the wants, are so enticing?

I think in our culture, we crave drama and excitement instead of just being. Just saying what needs to be said. How much easier, more real, would life be if we were more like glass than an onion? If we were more transparent- talking and being real, genuine, rather than having layers, being mysterious, or having to read between the lines. Would this level of simplicity be real, or would it be boring?

2 weeks ago, my computer caught a virus. It has miraculously fixed itself, and although I am grateful, life felt easier without the distraction. It helped me to realize that sometimes, complication needs to be like tensel on a Christmas tree. A little looks lovely and brings a sparkle, but too much looks gaudy.

Working on full presence. Craving simplicity.

Antonyms

I've spent a large portion of my summer as an intern in slate gray scrubs (my favorite color) teaching second and third grade boys upper level language concepts. I now know idioms like the back of my hand, and have become a pro at asking and answering questions on legos and soccer to help them improve their social skills. One of the harder concepts for my 8 year old friends to wrap their minds around was antonyms- opposites. Sure, some simply come to mind: hot and cold, yes and no, in and out, up and down... But many others the kids struggled with, like the antonym of bold or bravery. It's often difficult to envision something very different than what you're talking or thinking about, something you're used to.

I've found this fact to prove true in life. A lot of my friends are similar to me- synonyms if you will. Our thought processes, reasoning, interests and therefore lives are the similar. Sharing life with them is comforting, calming, effortless, wonderful. I cherish it and the fact that they can understand how I tick. Some of the most fascinating people, some of the people that I've learned the most from, however, are those completely different form me- the antonyms. Because of their very nature of being different, I feel challenged around them. Sure, sometimes they upset that comfort and consistency that I so deeply long for, but it's in a wonderful way. I think one of the most important and life changing things we learn in life is to love and learn from those antonyms.

Antonyms encourage growth, change, progression. They help us to become more than we are, better and different than we thought we could be. They bring out qualities and sides of ourselves we didn't know existed. And isn't that the point of it all? Growth. Becoming. Journeying to who we were created to be.

David Crowder says it best: "The antonym of me, You are divinity." It should come as not surprise that sometimes, it is antonyms who help us to become who God created us to be. My appreciation for antonyms increases daily. I am grateful for that.

Feelings

I am a feelings person. A "heart over head" person, if you will. I base decisions on a particular feeling at a particular time; I go with my gut. This is most definitely a blessing and a curse.

I am also an associater ( I'm pretty sure I coined this term). I like to associate various senses with particular feelings. If I smell the perfume that I wore during my freshman year in college, I can't help but to reinvite those feelings back into my life. The feelings of hope, of newness, of realizing I had a new life I could create however I wanted; but also feelings of nervousness, of loneliness, of uncertainty. I do this with all kinds of things. Songs, movies, people, scenes, scents, even clothes.

Spring brought a time of change. It brought busyness that I had never experienced before. And with that busyness brought neglect of feelings. This blog is often my outlet, and I clearly neglected it. I also neglected feelings. My life felt like I was running a marathon. I had to force myself to keep up the stamina to power through, and my thoughts were suddenly consumed by to-do lists, reminders of people to call, and post-its to remind me of even the most mundane things. To be honest, this part of it was awful. I love that I feel and that I can truly empathize and feel in so many situations. I felt like a family who returned from vacation to find their most prized and treasured possessions absent- robbed of something I cherished.

Lately, my feelings have returned. When driving to Waco a few weeks ago, I hit the southbound 35 drag seeing Baylor to the left and Fazolis to the right, and I was right back in college. Excitement overcame me. I felt as if I had no plans, but knew that fun would come, no matter what happened. Anticipation and excitement filled my face, as my mouth widened into a smile. A similar thing happened at work. I was in my square office listening to "Brick" by Ben Folds on Pandora. The first few lines moved me…6am day after Christmas/I throw some clothes on in the dark/ The smell of cold/ Car seat is freezing/ The world is sleeping/ I am numb. I think it must have been the day after Christmas part, but I felt just like I've felt the past 2 Christmases in Arlington. Filled with cheer because of the Christmas season and working at Hallmark. High on life because of the fun with friends. Doing absolutely nothing but having more fun than I could imagine. The inability to explain or talk about these blissful feelings, but loving them nonetheless. Being snuggled in my northface in the back seat of my friend's Camry, feeling the coolness of the broken in tan leather seats on my hands.

Feeling is one of the most important things, I think. It shows me that I am really living. Really experiencing. Really remembering.

The Beauty of Grace is that it Makes Life Not Fair

"Grace is but glory begun, and glory is but grace perfected." -Jonathan Edwards

Being a perfectionist in the society we live in today, grace has always been a concept I've struggled to accept. I've been taught that grace is "what makes life not fair." That it is a gift that should be accepted without question. But especially lately, as I have struggled to trust and relinquish control.

Last week, I checked out DVD's from the UTD library to complete a project. Due to my inability to return any item ever, I forgot to turn them in...and accrued $80 worth of fines. I e-mailed the librarian to see if I could set up a payment plan, and he asked for me to come in and fill out a form about why they were late. I did just that. Today, I checked my student mailbox. The paper that lay in it looked familiar, etched with my block print handwriting in my black pilot pen. "Why did they just put this back in my box?" I thought, starting to feel frustrated. As I continued to read over the paper, however, I realized why it was returned to me. A small "x" had been written in tiny penmenship in the box labeled "dismissed." Grace. I deserved to pay that fine, but it was taken away. I think God places situations in my life to help me accept this grace, so that I will better be able to accept His grace.

What is fascinating to me is that, no matter how much I worry and toil, lose sleep due to tossing and turning and thinking, that God's grace surrounds me, covering me like a warm blanket on a cold winter night, and makes everything ok. The fact that He always cares for us never ceases to amaze me. That after every worrysome situation I enter into, I can look back, grin to myself, and thing "If only I had had a little more faith. If only I had trusted Him a little more, and myself a little less, life would have been so much easier." I love that He doesn't give up even when I do. That His grace continues to abound, no matter how many times I may stumble and fall. What patience and love He has.

His grace is irresistible. His grace is perfect. His grace is sufficient. His grace is exactly what I need. Always.

Stop this Train

I never thought the day would come. Four years of memories thrown into boxes, mostly labeled stuff, but an attempt had been made to organize them. The sky looked melancholy, and large droplets of rain poured out of the sky. It was fitting, for I felt that at any moment, tears could pour out of my eyes in just the same way. Soaked after loading both my mom's car and my Liberty, I finally slipped in the car and sighed to myself. I started the car, and John Mayer blared through my speakers as I drove to lunch. As I turned on to Highway 6 for what I knew would be the last time as a Waco resident, "Stop This Train" by John Mayer came on. This was the moment I'd been dreading. Crocadile tears swelled in my eyes, and eventually trickled down my face. Life was changing, and I knew I was sure to change also. Everything was unknown.

One year later, it was another friday. The air reeked of rain, and the humidity made walking outside feel more like taking a shower. As I cruised down the streets of northwest Plano, streets that now felt like home, the same song came on shuffle on my iPod. "Stop this Train..." It's strange that the same song takes on such different meaning now.

It still feels surreal. I'm an adult. My days of being completely surrounded by people my age are over. Have I learned? More than probably any year of my life. Has it been difficult? At times. Am I more sure than ever that I am where God wants me, that He is strengthening my faith, and that He is molding me into who He wants me to be? Absolutely.

I love that He has a plan and is sovereign, and that He uses hard situations to draw us closer to Him, like a father gently yet securely holding His child.

See once in a while when it's good
It'll feel like it should
And they're all still around
And you're still safe and sound
And you don't miss a thing
'Til you cry when you're driving away in the dark

Singing stop this train, I want to get off and go home again
I can't take the speed it's moving in
I know I can't
'Cause now I see I'll never stop this train.

Stressing surrender

Stress- physical, mental, or emotional strain or tension. Change- to make the form, nature, content, future course, etc., of (something) different from what it is or from what it would be if left alone. For me, these two concepts seem to go hand in hand. And also come around together. Stress is something I've struggled with for years. My stomach knots, and I cannot eat or sleep. I look like a zombie and act like a lunatic. I pace. I exercise. But that doesn't seem to help the simple fact that things will change and I will stress.

Two or three years ago, I saw Evan Almighty in theaters. And loved it. Lame, I know. I think Steve Carrell is hilarious, and I can vividly picture myself laughing so hard I cried at multiple points in the movie. For me, though, the most memorable part was not some witty line of comedic genius, but a quote that has stuck in my head time and time again. Lauren Graham, Steve Carrell's wife in the movie, is upset that their family is being torn apart by the fact that her husband is building an arc. She is upset and keeps praying for her family to stop fighting, and for them to be able to love each other again. God's answer to her? (disguised as a man at a skuzzy truck stop) Let me ask you something. If someone prays for patience, you think God gives them patience? Or does he give them the opportunity to be patient? If he prayed for courage, does God give him courage, or does he give him opportunities to be courageous? If someone prayed for the family to be closer, do you think God zaps them with warm fuzzy feelings, or does he give them opportunities to love each other?

This really rang true to me. How many times have I, as a Christian, prayed for the ability to be able to love someone and just expected for God to make me a loving person? How many times have I asked that He will help me to "cast my anxiety upon Him", and naively think that He will just remove my fears and worries from me? I don't think God works this way. He wants us to be so wholly dependent on Him, that simply providing us or taking away what we ask (in these situations) does no good. It does not glorify Him. It does not make us more like Christ. I still struggle to grasp this concept.

A devotional e-mail I read today said it like this "The practice of surrender requires perseverance." Praying for that steadfastness.

Time.

Cause I need more time. Just a few more months and we'll be fine. Just say what's on your mind. Cause I can't figure out just what's inside.

Time. What a concept. It's arbitrary-ness. It's necessity. It's control. It's invisible- but aren't most important things.

Sometimes time passes slowly, creeping along as if it is syrup slowly seeping along a slippery pancake. Other times it races by, as if it is Michael Johnson, running at record speeds towards a goal. A finish line.

How to feel about time puzzles me. It can seem urgent, as if not one second should be wasted. Like I can't get enough. So much to do. So many memories to be made.

Other times, it feels like it doesn't matter. Sure, February is over, but there will be another February. It will probably feel similar to this one. Or will it?

When I was a kid, probably in third or fourth grade, I had an insane fear of the end of time. Of the world ending. I can remember many balmy summer nights, laying in my bed beside my lime green accent wall in my bedroom, working myself up into a cold sweat. I couldn't wrap my mind around time. Around the concept that forever would never end. Never. Ever.

Striking a balance between that urgency, that fear that it will end, and that fear that it will never end, is the challenge. But then again, isn't striking a balance the challenge of life?

Have you seen God?

I have a new friend in my client's 4-year-old preschool class. Her name is Jordyn, and I am convinced that she will become a speech pathologist one day. She is absolutely fascinated by my client. I, of course, use this to my advantage and encourage the 2 of them to socialize and be friends.

My first memory of Jordyn dates back to the fall, probably the first time I started shadowing my client. I was standing in Fellowship Hall of the church where the preschool is held, and my client's class was lining up after indoor recess. I was suddenly startled by a blood curteling scream. Someone was yelling at the children. I quickly whipped around, expecting to see an adult. But no one was there, just children frantically trying to line up and go to snack time. I was bothered, as I couldn't figure out who was yelling. Then, my eyes were drawn downward. A tiny girl, dressed all in pink with bouncing golden brown curls continued to yell "Come on guys! Line up!" in the loudest and most abusive sounding voice I'd ever heard. That was Jordyn.

Recently, Jordyn runs up to me as I walk into the classroom and declares "I'm going to stay by your side the whole time you're here!" And she does.

Last week, during snack time, I was sitting in between my client and Jordyn. My client was babbling and pointing at the ceiling. I asked my client," What do you see up there?"

Jordyn tapped my leg and said, "I think he sees God!" I smiled to myself, then decided to talk to Jordyn a little more about her comment.
"Maybe so," I replied. "Jordyn, have you ever seen God?"
"Yes!" she stated, with confidence. "He used to come to my church in Indiana."
"Oh, wow! You are very lucky! Did God talk to you?" I continued to probe.
"Yes. He spoke a lot. I don't remember what He said, but He was there!"
This made my friday.

Sometimes I wish that we could see the world with this child-like innocence. In all reality, God does speak to us. Sometimes at church, sometimes while we're sipping our morning coffee during a blizzard in traffic. If only we were listening, seeing that He is there, and obeying and responding to His word. I hope we can all meet with God like Jordyn.

Test

The fizzy feeling of a redbull tingled as it trickled slowly down my throat, through my esophagus, and into my stomach, where I lost feeling and track of it. My palms perspired. My eyes felt plastered open due to the mass amounts of caffeine consumed. My mind felt drowsy, as it had been drilled and drilled; as if I attempted to jackhammer information into it. My stomach knotted, redbull and all, as the professor walked up the aisle, smiled at me, and handed me the thick packet. Here we go. Tests are out.

Until recently, in my life as a full time student, these are the only tests I'd ever experienced. I've heard about others being tested (namely Matt Chandler in his battle with cancer), and bible characters dealing with spiritual tests (i.e., Paul). I knew these were possibilities in my life. But I'd never felt tested before. Until the past 6 months.

Looking back, I can see that my faith was tested. This test lasted longer than the typical hour and a half I'm used to. And there were no essays, and for sure no word banks. This was real. This was life.

The target was something I have worried about for a long time. I think that's where tests start… worry. It's an easy target; something you're clearly already sensitive about. An easy target to make you lose faith. And that's where it started. It began slowly, making small choices. Ignoring the still, small voice. Thinking I would come around and obey later. Putting it off.

I'd prepared for this test. Not an all nighter, no. I prayed. I read the Bible. I knew the facts. But like a shy freshman with test anxiety, the information flew out of my mind. It was as if it was never there.

2 short weeks later, I would know how I did. A concrete number telling me whether or not I passed or failed. Telling me whether I was good enough.

Life tests don't get grades, but I find it easier to know whether or not you pass or fail. You feel it. You see it. You just know.

I failed. I took life into my own hands. I refused to relinquish control. The test was a test of my faith. I let it go. But there is good news. I'm broken but being rebuilt. His strength shines through my broken weakness. I find comfort there. I find grace.

Bikes?

I have an odd obsession with bikes. It started sometime this summer; I can't exactly remember when. But all of the sudden, I wanted the focal point of my bedroom in my new apartment to be a bike wall hanging. With my birthday money, I purchased an old timey bike necklace off of etsy (pictured left) and it has become a staple in my wardrobe. I even purchased a cream bike that sits prominetely on my nightstand.

This semester, I am spending a large portion of my week with preschoolers. I am a grad assistant at a preschool language program, which I absolutely love, work with some preschool aged chidren at a private school for children with learning disabilities, and, my favorite part of all, I shadow the preschool boy with autism that I worked with this summer. He is mainstreamed in a regular 4 year old classroom, so shadowing him means encouraging him to socialize with the regularly developing kids.

One of the kids, Gibson, is particularly cute. He always wears gray clothes, is very animated and acts like a little man. Inspired by the bike obsession, I have been wearing the bike necklace nearly every day. Last week, Gibson came to ask me a question, when a look of perplexion came across his face. "What is that for?" I asked Gibson.
"What is that on your necklace?" He asked, still looking quite confused.
"It's a bike!" I said with a smile, hoping the conversation would end, because I wasn't sure how to explain this to anyone, especially a 4 year old.
"It doesn't look like a bike. It looks like a wheelchair." Gibson replied. I was definitely not expecting this, so I explained that it was an old timey bike, and it looked different than a regular bike that he would ride.
"Are you sure?" he questioned. "It really looks like a wheelchair."
I just smiled this time.


His questioning made my week. When I went back today, I wore the bike necklace. It now puts a smile on my face everytime I put it on. I love kids.