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?