I Guess I Wanted You More

It's a strange feeling to look back over the past few years, to really peer into them, and see what it was that drove me to be who I was. To not just look and suppose, or hide and minimize, or hide behind and defend; but, to really, honestly and truthfully, evaluate myself and my choices. I am a remarkable human being with intricacies that I cannot for the life of me untangle.

It's fascinating to be in a time of such mental clarity that I can memorize 3,000 words of study materials, nearly verbatim, and look back to a time when, during the semester, I honestly could not remember what classes I was taking. I suddenly have discernment and sense, and it throws the whole picture of "past" off its axis. I can see clearly now where I went wrong and where others wronged me, and the exact moment that I stopped caring and became completely incapable of choosing.

One particular set of circumstances has me particularly baffled at the moment. Like the others, I see where I went wrong and where he went wrong and she went wrong and they went wrong, but I have yet to see how it could have gone any other way. If even one element were changed, I would not be standing here, standing with the people I am, and that would be the worst fate I could imagine. Did God know this? Yes. Did He choose my destiny before all time and thought aside from His own? Absolutely. Am I angry with Him? Absolutely not. As much as I try, my finite brain cannot yet rectify how He can choose and I can screw up, but all I know is that it happens and I cannot possible understand and that it is perfectly okay that way.

What can I say? I wanted something more than God, and He fixed me. It hurt like...well, hell. Separation from God is what it was, but it brought me back closer than I have ever been. In the midst of hell, I found His love and I'll never go back. He cured me of my (literally) damned loves and wishes and desires, crushing all vestiges until I could be whole again. He loved me enough to crush everything ugly from my hands. He knew what He was doing, and, now that I can see clearly into that dark night, I know it was not a waste. He loved me too much to leave me.

I love You, Lord

And I lift my voice

To worship You

Oh my soul, rejoice!

Take joy, my King

In what You hear

Let it be a sweet, sweet sound

In Your ear

But I Couldn't Stay Away

I know it's time to blog when I'm sitting here, staring at a wall and trying to decide what to do, but knowing on a deeper level I'm staring at my life trying to decide what to do.

So, umm, here's a smudging of my life right now, completely random and superb.

There is this one part of me that is happier than I have been in a very long time. There is someone in this world who loves me, really and truly, even though he doesn't have to. I can drink coffee again. I feel like, more than ever, I am moving into a place with God that is beginning to look like what it should look like in the end. I am looking to the future and not seeing darkness or endless sand.

There is this one part of me that is more confused than I have been in a very long time. What to do next year is high on the list of question marks, as are the questions of if I should go to Grenada, where I am going to get a steady income from once all my money pays off student loans (hooray, though, for graduating debt-free!), and the ever-nagging "is what I'm doing now leading to where I want to go?"

I like lists. It's because this one part of me likes to be super organized, while the rest of me likes to let things lie in ruin under the guise of organized chaos. So here are a few lists that came to mind and make me feel like my life is in slightly better order than when I started:

10 Things I Love About Myself (it's always best to start there):

1. My sense of adventure and ridiculous spontaneity. It has led me on some of the most amazing adventures and I never want to stop being that way, no matter how old I get.
2. My love of cooking and baking. Not only will it always come in handy for the rest of my life, I'm so glad it's not something that's a chore.
3. The colour of my eyes.
4. My ability to memorize. If I could have 5 books of the Bible memorized by the time I die (which I think is completely attainable, btw), that would be amazing.
5. The way I act like a complete child. Sometimes, yes, it's definitely more on the tantrum side than the cute, but I love that I still like swings and sunsets and looking out airplane windows and wearing costumes and making inanimate objects talk.
6. My love of knowledge and truth and justice. To me, those are God-given qualities and I hate when people put them down.
7. My passion for life. I also hate when people put that down. It equates to putting down the essence of my being, and that I cannot stand for.
8. My 10 second attention span for things that ultimately don't matter, and my decades-and-counting attention span for things that matter ultimately.
9. That I have a past. It's not pretty; actually, it's pretty damn disgusting. But it has turned into a beautiful reminder of how good my God is.
10. That I look pretty when I cry (except when it gets to sobbing, then I'm done for). It sounds silly, but my lips get all red and I look in the mirror and say to myself: "well, at least I look pretty when my world falls apart." Then I wipe my tears and it doesn't look like I was crying at all, except for some leftover, natural lipstick.

10 Things I Dislike About Myself:

1. The way I hold onto the things in my life that are dead and buried. Someone or something has moved on beyond me, and yet I can't help but to humiliatingly hold on until I feel satisfactorily debased and finally let go with a silly and heavy heart.
2. My insensitivity. It's been getting better in the last year or two, as I've actually been developing a feel for empathy, yet I still tear people down. I hate it.
3. That I am so critical. Lately, I've realized that, especially when it comes to church issues, my ego blows up and I believe I am the smartest in the world about everything ever. Wrong.
4. How many people I have let slip out of my life over the last few years. Consciously. I knew it was happening and I let them go. Part of it was that I didn't have any fight left in me, but part of it was just laziness. I'm sorry.
5. My inability to follow through on all my promises to God. I hate it. I need to face them and to do them. It's so much easier to ignore them, but I know that some day He will look me in the eye and ask why I didn't do what I promised of my own volition. Silly, stupid me.
6. My propensity to sin in ways that hurt others. Unfortunately, I do not tend towards inward sins that don't do much damage except to me; I tend towards those that hurt others deeply and take a good deal of time and energy and humility to mend, if they're fixable at all.
7. My propensity to sin craftily. I don't usually sin in ways that are directly laid out in the Bible. I like to do things, instead, that I know I am not supposed to do. Or I sin by omission. Or I do things that ride the line so I can pretend I'm on the good side when, the truth is, my heart is usually on the bad side of the line.
8. My lack of style sense. Every once in awhile I have a glimmer of something, and then it's gone. I'm one of those people who wears red with pink and brown with black and socks with flats and the wrong kind of jewelry and shirts with big holes.
9. That I have a severely negative heart-attitude towards my body. 1000 compliments are always cancelled out by one bad comment, even if it's only my own. I regularly only see the bad, and that bothers me.
10. I tend to not appreciate what I have. I am definitely actively trying to change that, but it's a struggle. I could use a good douse of the third world, I think.

Things I Don't Do Anymore that I Used to Love:

• Draw.
• Paint.
• Write.
• Read books for fun.
• Lay in the grass.
• Drive somewhere special just to watch a sunset.
• Listen to music simply because the moment demands a soundtrack.
• Go barefoot.
• Create things.
• Put on fun make-up.
• Eat gross things that make me feel gross but taste so darn good.
• Drive just to drive.

Things I Want to Accomplish in the Next 5 Years:

• I want my Master's. I want to be educated by people I trust surrounded by people who really care about what they're learning. That's not to say that my current situation is the opposite, not by any means. All I'm saying is that I'm thirsting for more knowledge, and I want to do it right.
• I want to have Romans completely memorized. Right now I'm at 4:16, and if I stay on course I'll be to the end of 5 by the end of the semester.
• I want to be married. It's not really something to accomplish, per se, and if it doesn't happen by then I will really be okay. Really. But to say that I want to get married between 23 and 28 doesn't sound like a huge request.
• I think I'd like to go on a fairly long-term missions trip. That's never been on the list before, but now it is. There's been a burning in my heart lately and I think this is where the flame is leading me.
• I want to be depression-free. Wow, I think this is the first time I've actually come out and said the "d" word on here. But there it is. I want it good and gone, never to return. I am not putting a time limit on it, but it is definitely a huge desire of my heart. Sitting around in a pile of my own mess and tears is not for me anymore.

I am at a crossroads. Again. I am starting to get the feeling that these are going to come up often in my life. I look around and like too many options, it seems. Thankfully, though, God has spent so much time refining my desires and priorities over the years that it is becoming easier to see which way the street sign is pointing. I feel confident about the future. That is such a good feeling.

And by the way, I love someone in this world too, and not because I need to. This gives me deep joy.

Let's Kick It Old School

Tonight I was tidying up and found my Jonas Brothers notebook, but couldn't remember for the life of me what was in it. If anyone has followed anything that's happened to me in the last two years...well, it's a mish mash of that. It starts with some pages from a class...Evangelism and Discipleship! Then a sermon I don't even remember preaching, some ripped out pages that are probably gone with good reason, and a packing list for my roadtrip last June. The following 10 pages were notes from the road, hurriedly scratched out while trying not to turn into pavement smear. Those were nothing but a joy to reread and remember the magnificent heart transformation that God accomplished in those three days. Fast forward to some curriculum planning in Toronto and other unfortunate-and-I'd-rather-not-remember entries. A weird dream, a planned roadtrip for myself, Tyler and Mark to go on (the best destination being Kentucky for some straight-from-the-motherland KFC), and then the truly painful stuff. It's not enough to read page upon page that I can't remember writing, but to get to the clearest memories of all...that hurts. A plea to God to forgive me. A "pact" with the disciplinarians of life. A psalm. And then, in the midst of some of the hardest of the hard, this:

God, how to explain? I am a mess. Again. I am empty. I feel desert-ed. I thought I was out of here, Lord. I thought I was in the clear, running with Your hand in mine. Was I wrong?

I stand here, Your living water the only thing keeping my heart beating. I am not thirsty; You promised I never would again and I am far from parched. I am satisfied in You.

How do I complain to the Lord of creation? Exactly, I don't. You are sovereign, my life alone is a gift, and I worship You in desert or field or storm or mountaintop. I worship You for staying the same, for Your righteous consistency.

How do I look into Your eyes, King of Kings, and ask why You have led me here? Your ways are higher than my ways, Your thoughts above my thoughts. Ultimately all creation and situations are for Your glory. How do I accuse Your perfect love of forsaking me in this place? You did not leave me when I looked aside, turned aside, turned my back, walked away, ran away. You were here! Hand in mine, even when the mittens were so thick I couldn't feel it, let alone anything else. Looking directly in my tear-filled eyes when I failed You most profoundly; You still had lover's eyes for me. You still saw Your little girl. I look back over every stumbling step I have taken over the years, which at the time I mistook for trips and falls, and I can now trace with clarity the complex dance You led me in. I was safe in Your arms through every twirl, lift and dip.

Who am I that You are mindful of me?
I praise You!
I praise You.

- September 27/2010

You Don't Know Me at All

It's been a long time since I blogged about tangible things, or so it seems to me. Thinking on ways to fix this, it came to me. I think I may have done a blog on this in the past (if I find it, I'll link it), but it will still be fun. Twenty-five random things about me:

1. I once drove to California by myself just for an In-n-Out burger.
2. I secretly desire to be one of those (psychotic) morning people who wakes up before dawn to exercise for two hours before breakfast. I love the idea of being that person, but my willpower and natural tendencies don't bend that way.
3. The thought of ketchup makes me gag. Ketchup in reality is fine.
4. A diamond has been falling out of my ring for nearly 2 years and I still have not had it fixed. I am scared that I will look down one day and it will be gone, but the idea of not wearing it so it can be fixed weirds me out.
5. I would rather read the Message than the NLT.
6. Every time I watch a TV show where people are driving in a car, I tense up for the entire scene and hold my breath because I am so scared they will be in an accident. And whenever I'm right, the jolt feels like I'm right in there with them.
7. If I could, I would only ever wear red shoes.
8. I enjoy cleaning bathrooms.
9. Every time I start a new relationship with a man (okay, let's be real, it's usually been with boys), I keep tokens along the way "just in case." Then, when it ends, I dump it all except one thing. Then I hide that thing somewhere random where I will never think to look so that by the time I find it, I will smile because there will only be good memories left.
10. Whenever I find myself thinking "if only my ______ were more ________," I now remind myself that it's God's way of keeping me humble. This brings me surprising peace. Rather than complaining that I can't sing, I don't tan, my eyes aren't big enough and I'm just the wrong height, I smile to myself and give God a small nudge of appreciation.
11. I have not written a letter to my sponsor child, Bizi, since I started supporting him in January 2009. Every time I see his picture I feel guilty, but somehow never guilty enough to send him something. It was just his birthday again. He's 8 now.
12. I love wearing giant, flashy earrings.
13. Sometimes I have confidence. Sometimes I do not. The times I do are usually the times I am inadequate and should be humble, while the times I do not are often the times I am forgetting in Whom my confidence should be.
14. I use a man's razor. I like red better than pink, and things that work better than pretty things that break.
15. I am an introvert. The more I admit it and stop fighting who I am, the easier it becomes to just be.
16. There are three weeks left of school. Part of me is desperately sad, but that is only the scared part; the rest of me, all 98%, is thrilled beyond words.
17. My car's name is Zimbabwe, Zimi for short. She flies, sings, conditions and swings. And she holds my cups with confidence.
18. For the first time in probably 6 months, I went to the graveyard on Thursday. It was hot like June and there were flowers everywhere and the wind stopped blowing and my heels were covered in mud and I trimmed the grass with my fingernails and I cried there for things I will never have. Seven years. Where did the time go?
19. The more I see them, the more I love Gerber Daisies.
20. I like who I am in the summer more than at any other time.
21. It's been nearly a year since the end of everything I thought I was going to live my whole life for. Thank You, God, for taking it when You did. Despite the mess, You had the timing down to a T. I am not angry at You anymore.
22. I will only be 22 for another 82 days. It has not been the hardest year. And things will only continue to go up.
23. I am still saving BigMacs for marriage.
24. I am out of my favourite perfume. By the time I get it again, it will be time to leave it behind. I miss smelling like me.
25. I am learning a lot about what real love really is.

Leave a Rose for What Might Have Been

I'm learning to love You differently. I think I may have been going about it all wrong.

Deep breath.

I will not be able to do this alone forever. Not hearing You in the wilderness only leads back to death. I've lived there and I never want to again; despair does not suit me. Without You, that is all that is left.

And out.

What Do You Wanna Marry Me for Anyhow?

So I can kiss you any time I want.

I fall in love with things, make myself love them more than necessary, and then deprive myself and wonder why my life is painfully empty. I am currently rediscovering one of my greatest lost loves: drawing. I forgot how good it makes me feel, how accomplished. This is freedom.

I am now revising my winter plans. From this point on, if I have it my way, I want to only stay here and do the same thing all day. If you love me at all, do not ask me to do anything else. If you hate me at all, just try to stop me. Then I will laugh in your face when you fail and I am worth billions.

I am exhausted and stuffed (see continuous feeding Dec. 24 from 4:20pm-12:45am; Dec. 25 3:00pm-now?) and high on life, drunk on smoked salmon, coked-out on hairspray. All in all, this leaves me with the insane desire to do something crazy; thankfully my greatest insanity at the moment begs for clear pencil lines.

Can we just kiss already and get it over with?

He Sees Everything Black and White

Two days ago - the day, that is - somehow, miraculously passed without incident. It was like it did not exist. I was vaguely aware the day before but did not let myself get caught up, and then a few minutes past midnight yesterday in the wee hours I realized.

Five years to the day.

I have alluded to this day of the month in the past, but never this day of the year specifically. As with most of my pain, I am realizing, I never dealt with this day. I cried once, then shoved it away for good; any tears that came after were private, shocking, and only caused me to shove the feelings deeper. October 29, 2005...where do I even begin?

I guess I could start at a random conversation over blood in a hot tub summer '03...or a rainy night February 2004...or the last weeks of grade 11...or August 31, 2005. The last was the day things went from bad to horribly, horribly wrong. I was in love with my first love, and he loved me too. He "loved" me enough to pretend I wasn't a mistake. He "loved" me enough to lie to me when it was convenient. He continued to "love" me through the convenient right into the despicable. He "loved" me enough to sleep with a fourteen year old freshman. He "loved" me enough to allow his answer to evolve from an immediate "I'd marry you" to an "I think I would" to an "I just don't know anymore." He "loved" me enough to try to have break-up sex with me. He "loved" me enough to celebrate our break-up with a girl named Brooklyn in her hot tub. And he "loved" me enough to use me one last time when I was at my most vulnerable.

So I look at this day that still cuts like a knife, look at my life up to that point and the decisions I made, and wonder why it still hurts. I can guarantee with absolute certainty that at this moment, he's not thinking about me. He probably hasn't thought about me in months...years if I haven't popped up on his Facebook News Feed. The last thought was most likely regarding the next awful thing to say about me to his favourite group: another ex-boyfriend who used to be mortal enemies (just ask, one still has a battle wound), his friend who was always trying to convince me to be with him instead, and his friend who tried to rape me.

Breathe.

That picture was taken right before we started dating (the last time). I was genuinely beyond happy. It has been rare that I have been that happy since.

October 29, 2005, I went over to his house with candles in my backpack, a half-formed prayer tacked onto a fleeting thought (to Whom? I think even then I knew He was real), and a nagging feeling that this would be the day my life changed. Five hours later I had called just the right people to get a party together, and I sat on a couch in a perma-pot-stenched basement wearing a jacket from one boy and the arm of another, and I did not smile once. If I had to guess the next time I wore a real smile? Eight months later when I dedicated my life to God and was baptized.

I do not know how to let go. I do not know how to convince my heart to open so that I can heal it. This is the closest I have gotten...ever. I want it whole so someone else can finally come in and treat it the way I've always needed. I am so not there yet.

He Tells Me about His Night and I Count the Colours in His Eyes

Of course I would be awake now at 12:33AM, as opposed to during the seven hours of school time today when awareness and normal brain cognition would have been helpful. My body may be exhausted but my brain is wide awake. I am thoughtful and introspective. I am on my island.

I used to think my parents were old when they got married, but I realized yesterday that they were 24. The youngest I could possibly be is 23. I don't feel old, but I know I am getting there. I wanted to have a husband, a house and two kids by now. Yet the more life I live, the more it becomes glaringly obvious that my years on this earth will not be what I always wanted or expected. I don't know if I will ever live in a house long enough to be worth painting the walls, let alone have time to set up a swing-set or plant a garden in time to reap the benefits. I don't know if I will ever find a man whose dreams line up with mine in such a way that we could build a life together; maybe I am meant to do this with only one Man by my side. And with that...I don't know if children are part of the picture, and that hurts most of all.

If you've ever dated someone for a long enough period of time that you have begun to seriously discuss the future, you'll know what I mean when I say that breaking up with him isn't just losing him; you mourn a death, the death of the self you've planned to become. All the dreams, the kind of street you'd live on, how your schedules would mesh, the way you'd sign your name once it ended in his, vacations you'll never get to go on, the children with his hair and your eyes who you'll never meet...they are each a blow that needs to be faced, felt and healed. I have had a few of these "funerals" over the last few years and they never get easier, I just get better at pretending no one died. Last night in Freedom Session I cut soul ties...and I feel so much freer. I finally got the open-casket-closure I've been longing for with each person, and now I can move on with my life. It's funny, though. I never saw until now that I haven't ever taken the time to mourn the life I thought I would have, regardless of the man.

At 16, I really did have it all figured out. I would get married the summer I turned 20, live in the same house my entire married life, and start having kids within the first two years. He would work, I would do whatever my heart wanted to at any given time. Some time between then and now I decided we would be a ministry couple together. And I always thought marriage was just around the corner, whether I was taken or not. ...But that isn't the life for me. Jesus has broken me, wrecked me for anything but the incredible plans He has in store. I am going to be so much more than the stay-at-home mom I always wanted to be, or the wife who bakes and cleans and dreams all day; I am going to be a tycoon. I will do what He asks, and whatever comes with that I will take, even when it tears my heart out. And then I will die, and the real journey will begin.

My anxious heart wants to be loved by someone in the here and now, for who I am at my best and who I am without those wonderful qualities I will never possess; the real me, however, is so satisfied. I am in love. He's incredible. Every day, with every new thing we experience together, I am more myself than I am with anyone else. He's captured my heart, and there is no one else right now who can make my heart race this way. The best part? Even when I go away to be alone, to my room or my island, He's there, holding my hand and my heart and my world in the palm of His hand. He says He will never forget me, even when everyone else does, because it is on the palm of His hand I am inscribed.

One day I may meet a man who will sweep me off my feet, but it will never compare. I have a Lover of my soul with whom I am truly myself and He will always be what holds the rest of my world together. No husband could ever replace this love, get in the way, or satisfy my deepest longings. I want this journey to include someone, but I'm learning to let go of the need. With or without, I will survive.

I take it back, I'm glad I can't sleep. This smile was worth it.

What a Weekend (and a Splash of Hope)

Some days are without description, as words would fail horribly and only serve to dull the sweetness of the moment. Therefore, I don't want to bog myself down with lengthy descriptions or thoughts that really don't matter.

I realized the other day that I stopped believing in a lot of good things a long time ago. Life isn't perfect, c'est la vie, suck it up. All to say: build dreams that are slightly in the realm of attainable. Stop reaching. Accept what life hands you and be satisfied.

...But that just isn't in me. I was once told that a Christian's worst temptation is not to give in to worldly temptations, but rather to settle for the satisfactory. I think God has far more than satisfactory in mind.

This weekend was beyond description. Amazingly, I was able to focus and just...be. The first night was wonderful because the message was on understanding God's love for us. To truly, fully grasp that concept is a lifelong process, but standing there singing "How He Loves" I was brought back to my roadtrip and the moment I knew that I knew that He loved me. For real. Not some concept for study or a gift only given to the holy, but for me. He loves me, not because I try to be strong or beautiful or smart or likable, but just because. He just does.

And then. The point that brought it all together. Bring on night number two. Before the message, the speaker was giving words to people in the audience, and as he began his third personal message I knew I would be next. First I told God He didn't have to give me anything, I would be satisfied without anything that intimate (and public). Then I begged Him not to. And then the speaker called on me. He asked if I was comfortable with these people, my peers and authority figures; were they a loving family I could trust?

My honest response: "Some."

My real response: "Yes."

Something inside me clicked and I knew this wasn't just for me. Other people needed to hear it too.

He told me it wasn't to embarrass me, but to use as an example. And he pulled out a twenty dollar bill. I had heard of this illustration before in different classes as a visual prop for youth groups, but I had never actually seen it done.

Randy: "Do you know what this is?"

Me: "Money."

R: "A twenty dollar bill. And I want to give it to you. Do you want it?"

L: "Yes."

R: "Okay, just give me a second."

And he crumpled it in his hand (sidenote: American money crumples so much cooler than Canadian). He spread it out again.

R: "Do you still want it?"

L: I know where this is going... "Yes."

R: "Okay, one more thing."

And he smooshed it into an even tinier ball, threw it on the ground and stomped on it. Every stomp was a knife in the heart, a weight on my shoulders, a new memory. He spread it out again.

R: "What about now?"

L: "Yes."

R: "Why?"

L: "Because it's still twenty bucks."

He went on to explain value. The bill still had monetary value, despite how it had been mistreated, crushed and abused. It still had value. I still have value. That's how Jesus sees me, and how He wants me to see myself. I have not lost my value.

That twenty is now the new bookmark in my Bible. Already I can see the creases begin to become softer as the continuous pressure of my ridiculously heavy NASB squashes it into submission. Diamonds are created from coal in extreme pressure and intense heat; gold is refined by burning out the impurities; I am being turned into something beautiful, something valuable, by pressure, weight and heat. The impurities are being burned away in the wake of the Consuming Fire who is jealous for my love. My love. Incredible.

I am not beyond saving. Hope.

He has a plan bigger than all of this. Faith.

It is by His grace and compassion that I get another shot. Love.

And the greatest of these is love.

Sunrise / Sunset / Butterfly / Cigarette

I wrote a sermon while in Toronto entitled "You Are What You Love," and for some reason it just came back to me. (If I already talked about this, I apologize. And I promise the perspective on it is now on a whole different level.)

We often say that idols are anything we value above God, but I want to take it to the next level: anything we put on par with God, or even consider in the same playing field, is something we have made an idol of. God is SO huge, SO majestic and SO ridiculously holy, so how can we justify looking at anything in our lives as even close to competing with Him for our hearts?

"They came to Baal-peor and devoted themselves to shame, and they became as detestable as that which they loved.” – Hosea 9:10

I have loved a lot of things in my life that were not good for me. Are not good for me. I let these things consume my life and drown out God. It's a choice until the point where I have given these lusts (because they're not really love, only a perversion of real Love) enough power in my life to begin acting of their own accord. Suddenly I stop owning these lusts and they begin to own me. And, all at once, I find myself as detestable as those things which I have loved.

Then. Out of nothing of my own volition, God steps down in His perfect grace to bring light into my pathetic little shell of a world. The light casts out the darkness; Darkness flees before Him; and He wipes the walls of my heart clean with His blood. I suddenly find myself new and more joyous than I ever thought possible. So what do I do with this new freedom? I follow the infamous path of Israel and turn my back on Him for something even more stupid as soon as I forget or take for granted all that He has done for me.

So once again I find myself in the midst of questions which, if answered just the right way, will lead back to that same path if I am not careful. The phrase that always gets me is "What does it matter anyway?" and suddenly my defenses are down and I begin to think and romanticize that which is ugly and detestable in His sight. But He has given me a new spirit of courage in the face of temptation, and I think I am going to make it through this fire period.

Right now, my greatest joy and deepest love are only in Him, and I cannot wait to see how I transform as I become that which I love.

Your Love Is Extravagant

Today is one of those rare days that I truly feel at peace. My word for it is usually "zen" (despite the negative religious conotations) because when I say zen, I feel zen. You feel me? ...But either way you slice it, it's still peace.

It's that kind of day that comes along once, twice, three times a year - or maybe I'm just the only one who suffers from a complex that leaves me needing to be in control and unwilling to hand things off to God, despite His obviously superior skills - and just catches me by surprise.

I love surprises! But, as anyone who knows me well knows, I am extremely hard to surprise. I always wreck the surprise for myself (maybe my brain has too many synapses...or is that even possible?) because I analyze the frankincense out of every situation. I cannot just be.

But today. Oh, today. I just...was. And God surprised me. I found myself in the bathroom after a long day of work and sadness at Germany's unexpected surrender just when they were getting good at taking over (my gosh, it's a pattern!) and treadmilling to get a truffle and I was sweaty and humid and just getting out of the shower when it hit me: I am going to be okay. If I never get married and never have kids (that one came out slow and hurt a little) and never start another church...it'll be okay. I will probably cry and complain at some point, but at this moment I know it'll be alright.

"Whom have I in heaven but Thee? And besides Thee, I desire nothing on earth. My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever" (Psalm 73:25,26).

Bam! Heaven isn't worth getting to if my goal isn't Him; at the end of it all, my portion of the inheritance is only Him. "And besides Thee, I desire nothing on earth;" that one hits hard. To desire nothing but Him...it sounds impossible, but I get it. Not the logical me, but the soul me. Deep down I think I might be beginning to understand.

The Month of Extremely Long Blog Titles Is not even Half-way Done Yet

There was this one time, in grade two, when I was on the teeter-totter with my best friend, Miranda. We used to try to bounce each other off the seat as hard as possible when we hit the bottom and the other reached the top. When we got our rhythm right, it was possible that both of us could be bounced at the top several times in succession. We were pretty darn good.

So this one day, we're doing our thing on the teeter-totter, and we've both been bounced at least a few times, when we realize that if we half let go of the handle and push ourselves with it, we can achieve higher liftoff. Which I did...right over the handles and into a smooth, face-plant landing on the central teeter bar. My tooth went through my chin and I still have a pretty sick scar.

Soon after, the totters were all taken away, never to be replaced.

Moral of the story: when you're sloppy with the things you have, they're taken away...whether you meant to break them in the process or not. And you usually break yourself, too.

I watched a lot of stuff today. I watched a movie about a devastatingly sad and heartbreaking, failing marriage. I watched more Grey's than I should have, and there was way too much goo. I watched my dreams and all the unrealisticness they had to offer.

And it put all these silly, fanciful thoughts in my head. Silly, but real. Fanciful, but what my heart actually wants deep down.

I want to be pursued, believe it or not. I want to be romantically swept off my feet. I want people to not approve and to whisper and to say we're too young and moving too fast. I want to get married while we still have no money and nowhere to live and I'm still in school and you're still doing whatever it is that you're doing which you hope won't last forever but might. I want people to think we won't make it so that when we do, the victory tastes even sweeter. I want to do crazy things, like bungee jumping naked because it's free, and move across the country on a whim because we'd rather obey God than social norms, and not strain for money as if that's what life's all about even though everyone we know will tell us that money is what life's all about, and spend Christmas with as much family as possible, and do jell-o shots together when we're 35 and old and we're way too mature. I want to have as many freaking kids as we feel like, and not care if people say we're not being sensible or not thinking about money again. I want to still have dirty sex when we're 40 and our kids are happier thinking we don't, and still do inappropriate things on ski lifts and in movie theatres and behind dumpsters at the baseball stadium and in moving vehicles when we're 70 and our grandkids would rather think that their parents were conceived by in-vitro fertilization. I want to fall madly in love with that someone who sweeps me off my feet, and to stick around even when I hate him and he doesn't deserve my love and I'd be better off without him.

I don't want perfect. I don't expect him to never screw up or to love all my flaws or to put up with all my crap. I don't want or expect or need perfect. I just need someone who's okay with all the crazy (see above if in doubt).

I don't want to be sloppy with the things I have. I don't want to break me or break anyone else. But, I do want to take crazy chances and try to boost myself and my love as high in the sky as possible...even at the risk that someone might get broken.

Oh, and I want my kids to learn horribly indecent things on the banjo.

...tink tonk tink tink tank tink

Love of My Life

I love the ocean. There is nothing like the smell, the taste, the breeze that can only come off of thousands of miles of open water. The sand has that feel of being touched by sea, whether it's white powder in Cancun or beige sand in Santa Cruz or gritty grey in White Rock. It all feels the same on my toes. But the one thing all ocean beaches have in common, storm or calm, are the waves.

Life generally comes in waves; ups and downs, risings and fallings, hard times and the most wonderful times come one following the other. Tides come high and low, but they never falter. Waves are constant.

My life is not waves. When I think waves, I think little shpsh's to great white breakers and everything in between. My ups and downs tend to follow more of a hurricane versus frozen-over/only-slight-undercurrents-beneath-the-solid-ice ends of the spectrum. I rarely see an in between.

I am in a hurricane. The old adage that says when it rains, it pours...truth. It never stops. One thing after another after another after another. It's like getting caught in a strong current or a sudden volley of giant waves with no room to breathe in between. Just when I think it's safe to inhale, another wave smothers me and only stinging water enters my lungs. I haven't been able to breathe in a long time.

Today was another tsunami. A BIG one. I mean, yes tsunamis tend to be viewed as pretty huge, but this one was a monster. It nearly swallowed me whole. I cried and cried and cried. I haven't cried like that in...I don't even know. It was pathetic. It was pathetic, but it was real.

Tomorrow will probably be just another aspect of the hurricane. Maybe things will be better, but only until I realize I've just been resting in the eye and need to buckle down for another long fight.

There's something about the ocean that takes me back. Back to walks on the beach in tender years with a woman whose age I will never know but whose love I will never forget. Back to my eighteenth birthday kissing a boy who I still loved but I knew deep down had long since stopped loving me. Back to swims and bikinis and sunburns and crabbing trips and boating trips and weeks at summer camp and long meaningful walks and first rebellions and confessions. Back to the first night I knew someone cared for me, truly cared, and staring out across the bay with him altered me in a mystical, soul-changing way that I can't shake.

I love the ocean. I love the feel and the smell and the taste and the refreshment and everything it does to me. But I'd take waves over tsunamis any day.

Drowning in My Own Reflection

Today I got front row tickets to someone else's heart-wrenching pain. She took me through hours of monologue; memories of the last month that she can't shake were suddenly more important than anything else. She is 17 and has just learned that guys will lie about love to get what they want.

She lasted longer than I did. I got my first boyfriend at 15 and, four days into our "relationship," he professed his love to me at the public swimming pool. Despite my incredulous laughter, he said that with love in mind we should have sex. Then I really laughed. We broke up later that day. Shocker. The lesson I learned that I'd always figured but never had solid proof of: men lie about love.

This happens for one of two reasons:

1. They're lying to themselves, deranged enough to think they love me despite not knowing all my pleasant niceties or pitiful faults, which are both essential before such a declaration. You either love all of me or none of me at all; therefore, if you do not know all of me, you cannot love me.
2. They're lying to me and they know it because they think it will get them what they want. Ugh.

She's 17 and hurting because she thinks she broke this guy's heart. A week later he already had a different girlfriend. And she's broken and I understand and there's nothing I can do to help, despite my huge amount of experience. It makes all my heartache feel useless.

She is a slightly more sane, less messy reflection of me. I wish I had something better to say. I wish I could help her before she turns into me.

29

The twenty-ninth of the month is always the most difficult for me.

I was watching Grey's Anatomy some day in the last week (it shouldn't be surprising that I don't remember which day; I watch Grey's every day) and one episode had a woman who came in because she had a heart attack. With testing and a little background search, they found out that she had come into the hospital with the same symptoms on the same day every year for seven years.

The why? The neighbour Ted had died that day seven years before, and she had been having an affair with him. They had been in love for over twenty years. Now, on the anniversary of his death, she literally came in with a broken heart against her will.

The twenty-ninth of the month is the same for me. It's not even that I hurt on the yearly anniversary; I am broken again once a month and don't even realize why until I check the date.

It's been almost five years. That's fifty-four months. Fifty-four "episodes." I want it to stop but I don't know how. Especially when people insist on using this day to break me on their own terms.

End rant.

"Him, to Start"

I would like to think that there is only one person for everyone. In a perfect world I'm sure that's how God would have orchestrated it. Our world is not perfect. Unfortunate.

So, if it's true that I could technically make it work with any Christian guy who I put in the effort with, then where does God fit into the picture? Does it even matter who I end up with? If I were to just let life happen and marry the first guy who I love who loves me and who asks me to marry him, would that be such a bad thing? If the guy I've always pictured in my head and my heart never shows, is it okay to just pick someone else?

Lots of questions and very few answers.

My favourite: "Does it even matter at all?"

Holiday Goodies

It's not true...yet. But I don't want it to be my fate. The first time I read this Post Secret I cried and cried and cried.

Today I almost lost everything important to me. Tomorrow will be better. Tomorrow has to be better.

If I didn't know any better, I would say that life wasn't meant to be so hard.

I was right at guess 17. Gingerbread.

The Greatest Thing You'll Ever Learn

is just to love, and be loved in return.

Apparently I haven't learned my lesson yet, with God or with people. I forgot a long time ago what it feels like to be genuinely loved, and as a result find it even more difficult to believe it exists now. And as for loving...I don't feel capable of anything anymore. If deciding whether to get out of bed in the morning causes distress; if finding a place to go is limited to stalking my favourite shelves at Shopper's Drug Mart while the salespeople watch us (because we're the only people in the store at 11:30 on a Friday night) because my imagination literally can't go further; if I can blank out of entire conversations after asking several times to hear the same thing repeated that I actually want to know but cannot focus on for the life of me; if this is who I am, where the heck am I supposed to fit in loving someone else the way they deserve to be loved?

Today, for the first time in my entire life (not hyperbolizing, there are definitely people who can vouch for me), I could not care less if I never get married.

I meant to say more, but I think that last statement about sums me up.

"If You Don't Hear from Me for a While, It's Not because I Don't Love You...It's because I Do"

I have been learning lately about what love really is.

Love for God
Love from God
Truly loving another human being

I guess Valentine's Day is coming up, but I only realized that after I started on this topic. I guess the truth is that I'm all out of love, so what am I without you? I think in lyrics lately. Quotes sometimes, but mostly lyrics. They put words to the unwordable thoughts. They rarely come out in context, as my heart has never been a fan, but instead the song just leaps forth from some unknown spring until I am immersed in the surety that within this ballad is the key to who I really am. It won't fit in the sentence the way it should, grammar will become a thing of myth, but I cannot get it out in my own words anymore.

I thought I knew what I was doing, and then I realized I didn't.
tell me
that we
belong together
dress it up with the trappings of love
i'll be captivated
i'll hang from your lips
instead of the gallows of heartache
that hang from above
"Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also."
My treasure has been in human affection for far too long and it has only served to wound me, then kick me while I'm down. I've been scared to death of dying here alone. But I don't think this is the way love was meant to be. It's the expressions of Your love I'm meant to seek after, not in-the-now, give-me-novacaine, insta-relief style "love." Unfortunately, I seem to have gone pro.

I'm also tired of being a stumbling block. That probably sounds egotistical, but I don't mean for it to be. When you think happiness, or college, or summer...I don't want you to think of a fling with me. I want something real. For you and for me.

I have spent the last several months searching for who I am. Every once in awhile, a song will catch me by surprise and I'll have a brief glimpse into what I'm supposed to see...that I am Yours. Brilliant, simple, overwhelming...and inconceivable. I can't grasp it. I know in my head that Your love, O Lord, reaches to the heavens, which you'd think would include me, but it is just beyond my reach.

I want to surrender all to You, but I am still without the knowledge of how to do it. Please help me.
though i've tried to forget
You're all that i am
take me home
i'm through fighting it
broken
lifeless
i give up
you're my only strength

Who in the World is He?

I was standing in my dining room, minding my own business painting car wash signs, when my mom walks in and starts talking. Big, scary things are happening and she just needed to talk, but then it came around to this book she's been reading. She began reading me a passage, and in it the author was recounting a question he had been asked: Who is God to you? And not just who we know Him to be from the Bible, but who has He revealed Himself as to me in my own experience? That is a scary question.

So, in the next few minutes, I am going to struggle with this question and figure out what all this means. If I no longer have a Bible, will I still know God?

When i first heard the question, right away the attribute that popped into my head was "funny." God, in my experience, is hilarious. He tells me things that make me giggle like crazy, and sometimes there's even a hint of sarcasm in His voice. He tells me when I'm being stubborn, and it's rarely without humor. God is a funny guy.

He is also incredibly comforting. I can't count the number of times that I have driven home in my car all alone, bawling my eyes out, and He's there with His small, sweet voice telling me exactly what I need to hear. Especially that He loves me. Which is another one of His overwhelming attributes. God is so loving its astonishing. He finds the most wonderful ways to show it, from the snowstorm I begged for to the kindest words that only someone who is head-over-heels in love with me could say with a straight face. He romances me daily and pursues me when I run. It gives me tingles.

He is also judgmental. Just the other night I did something I knew wasn't right, and the second I got in my car, there He was. "So, are you happy with yourself?" No, of course I wasn't. He sits above me, knowing it all, and tells me when I'm wrong. I can try to fight it, but there's no way I can be right when He tells me I'm not. Sometimes He tenderly leads me to see the folly of my ways, but occasionally He yells. The hugeness of His voice fills my brain to the brim and and the truth is inescapable. He is a teacher, both of His Word and of life, and He has the "good cop, bad cop" routine down to a science. If He's not getting through to me with love, He knows how to take me by force. When I'm not in a place that makes me feel as if I can accept His love, He throws it at me until I am bent under the beautiful weight of it and am forced to give in.

He is a friend, the kind anyone would like to have. He listens for hours as I complain and sulk and cry, as I recount my day and plan for the future. He gives the best advice when I'm heartbroken, and lets me know when the grieving period is over so that I can move on with my life. He speaks only truth to me and ensures that, if I will only listen, I will not be led astray by the fears and misconceptions of my own heart. He hangs out with me when I drive, thrills with me on swings and rollerblades and rollercoasters, hurts with me when I can't even breathe anymore from the pain, and laughs with me when something fantastic takes me by surprise.

He is a promiser of good things. He reminds me of these things when I cannot stand on my own two feet anymore, and He always makes these things come to pass. He provides all of my needs, and even some of my selfish wants. I have a hundred stories of times when He made way for the impossible, and when He has come through even when the rest of the world looked away.

This is my God. This is how He has revealed Himself to me, and yet it's only a taste. The Bible is a beautiful thing that God has given to us so that we may come to know Him better, but He has also given us His Spirit to live INSIDE of us. He's not words on a page to be taken in and understood, but a part of me. And He longs to reveal Himself personally. I guess it's the difference between introducing yourself in letter or in person. Sure I can understand a huge amount about Him by reading a letter that spans thousands of years, but He is here in my lifetime to meet personally with me. What an incredible God.