Archive for Legitimate Insight

The Blog That’s Fear(less)

{ July 6, 2009 @ 8:12 pm } · { Blatant Overshare, Legitimate Insight, Me }
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I’ve gone though phases with the idea of “blogging”.  First of all, I hate the term since it just sounds so…bleh.  It’s completely unappealing and every time I have to admit to such activity I either find a wordy way to not say the “word”, or I mumble it – as if either choice will really change the reality that I do indeed…blog.  (Ew).  But anyway, I originally started writing on MySpace (of which I haven’t had an account at in over a year – something I am tremendously excited about) when I had a thesis of sorts to present.  I tried to stay away from overly personal “here’s what happened today” crap because I figured no one really wanted to hear it.  I don’t assume that this reality has changed, but I do think that there’s a lot of gaps that happen in the progressions of these pieces because I ommitt the day-to-day.

Gosh, I really didn’t plan on opening this like that.  I only mention it to give the heads up that there’ll likely be a bit of such commentary to come.

This past weekend was one of those weekends that takes it toll and leaves in its wake not a person refreshed, but a person just a little bit different than the one who left work on Friday.  By no means was it a bad couple days, but it certainly was an interesting two or so.

And you’ll be fascinated mildly interested informed to know that the above was written on the 20th of June…and here, on the 6th of July, I am picking up where I left off with the best of hopes of finishing this thing called a blog.  (ew)

This post was birthed with its title first in a moment of true inspiration.  It was one of those glorious and far too elusive snapshots of time where the fog cleared, things fell into place, and that near high feeling of unbridled joy began to take hold.  I stayed there in that stance of happiness for a few weeks straight after the title was birthed, free time came to an unexpected halt, and the original inspiration was lost.  Well, maybe not lost.  Just put on hold.

Life in general has been an uphill battle to get to a place earning the description of “good”.  I’ve talked about the past a lot, and alluded to all manner of nonsense, but really that’s what I discovered was indeed what kept me in that battle.  In reality, I wasn’t fighting specific people or circumstances – I was fighting myself.  I was in an allout, raging, viciously epic battle with myself…about myself.  About my past.  About my life.  Every mention of the past is another rope I tied around my neck and chained to the ones I name in distasteful reverie.  I realized that the reason I felt so powerless was that I was willingly handing over power to THEM.  Every memory I entertained that brought me down was my own fault in allowing it to do so.

And I’m not really in a dead horse kicking mood, so I’ll get to the point.

I decided to turn the page.

I grew tired of carrying the banners of a past littered with atrocious behavior and damage done by other people.  I have never been able to respect people who wallowed in their own filthy past without making an effort to pick themselves back up again.  By no means should this sound callous or without understanding of the torment some go through.  My heart hurts for the pain that I know the wounded carry.  For myself, the time came to make a decision.  I was looking at two different roads: on one hand, there was the road of years of therapy and counseling and re-hashing of every single painful instance of my growing up till now.  On the other, there was a choice to just move the F on.  Enough sitting in what my mother deems as “pig swill”.

I decided to get up.  Let the past be past, and lets look towards the future.

I’ve been seeing someone since early November.  Maybe it’s his eternally positive outlook on life that’s got me seeing things a bit differently, and maybe it’s just growing up.  Either way, I was doing quite well with this decision…

Until the past came crashing in by way of a miss-guided “counseling” session, an email from a former friend, and a message on Facebook from the most unlikely of sources.

BAM.  The past was back.

It honestly knocked me off my hill of happy for a few days.  The “counseling” session I was essentially conned into under a supposed trial basis – then realized at the end of it that this was exactly why I wouldn’t be traveling the road filled with couches, boxes of Kleenex, and a signed check at the end of it.  It was pretty much like “here’s all the traumatic things that have happened in the past two years of my life, and would you like a side of broken trust and rape with that?  Thanks.”.  No.  No, thanks.  The email I responded to, and thank God, the friend who was at that time considered a former is now back as at least a friendly acquaintance.  Restoration was most welcome in that situation.  The message, well, that was just a shake my head and wonder sort of thing.

But the moment I came to today is the same one I reached then.  It’s a moment when I don’t repress or undermine anything that happened, but when I look it all in the face before turning it over to God and stepping into the next chapter.

“Here, Daddy, You can take it.  I’m done”

Fear is stability of sorts.  It’s something familiar to cling to – a fence to live within.  Fear of the past, the future, the people you may encounter…it’s a tough mind set to break out of.  Living without it is a whole new sort of fear – it’s fear(less).

“Being happy doesn’t make you a quitter” – me.
“Welcome to life.  Not living death.” – my mother.

The Blog With Sandra B

{ June 5, 2009 @ 6:10 pm } · { Legitimate Insight, PG-13, Quoting the Brilliant }
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“I think most of us are raised with preconceived notions of the choices we’re supposed to make. We waste so much time making decisions based on someone else’s idea of our happiness, what will make you a good citizen or a good wife or daughter or actress. Nobody says, ‘Just be happy, go be a cobbler or go live with goats.’” – Sandra Bullock

I’ve been trying to narrow down the pool of potential thoughts to expand upon to something less than excessive for a while now.  I stumbled upon this quote a moment ago and felt it pretty much summed up the common denominator of most of my thoughts lately.  No, I haven’t been thinking “Gosh, my parents raised me with preconceived notions”.

I was raised by God fearing, honest, conservative, and overall idyllic parents.  I was disciplined, not spoiled, taught manners and morality and grew up loving both them and the God they served with every waking (and probably sleeping) moment.  My parents were supportive and understanding without being pushovers.  I’m well aware that I wasn’t the easiest teenager to deal with, but still they did nothing but love.  That said, they did manage to do what I think all parents do – they pre-programmed me with a set of ideals and expectations that life as of this moment has not lived up to.

When I was sixteen, I thought I’d be married by 22, 23 at the latest and have kids by 25.  I figured I’d be with one man, one perfect catch who my parents would love and my closest friends would envy.  I thought I wouldn’t have to worry about careers or anything silly like that because I’d stay at home with the family and love every moment of every Pleasantville day.  There’d be God, love, family, and nothing to regret because I couldn’t even imagine doing anything that was morally corrupt or socially unacceptable.

Then I did.  Both.

And then I did again.

And what happened was eight years of self-flogging because I hadn’t lived up to a reality that didn’t even exist except in my mind.  Was it really something I expect of myself because that’s who I was, or was it something my family and my surroundings dictated that I want and have?  At 25, relatively single (in the sense of not being married), and childless (which, at this point is unquestionably a good thing) I feel with every engagement announcement and baby shower an overwhelming sense of sadness.  Maybe it’s me, or maybe it’s the software, but I am finding one thing for sure – I’m not alone.

It seems to me that anyone in my generation who once desired these things and who hasn’t accomplished them by their mid to late twenties does something that we used to only expect from the older, divorced, and balding crowd.  We fracture.  We crack.  We break down ever so slightly and watch in helpless wonder as that which we once held dear in hopes passes by unrealized with each turn of the calendar year.  We have a mid-twenties crisis.  How sad, really, that this sort of expectation should even exist as anything more than a “that’d be nice”, but when raised in a Biblical family with parents who were united at 20 and are still married 31 years later and counting – it’s a hard expectation to not live up to, and still not feel inadequate for doing so.

For me, this realization has come in seasons.  There’s been the supremely unattractive “I’m not married OMG WHAT’S WRONG WITH ME?!” phase.  There was the “God, why do you hate me?” phase which was quickly followed by the “I hate you God” phase.  The oh-so-glorious “I’m going to hang onto this guy no matter what even though I know it’s wrong and he’s a liar and untrustworthy and I don’t respect him and can’t imagine us together for one second are you kidding me but he loves me so it’s ok, right?” moment that lasted a few months more than a moment technically, but who’s counting.  And of course, each of these were bookended with either the rational side of me saying “Get over it” or the rebellious side of me saying “Fuck it” but either side being completely unsatisfied with whatever state of single or taken I happened to be in.

Getting to the point where men truely did not matter, and a life with myself and God was just fine with me was a scary point indeed as it was so damn unfamiliar.  Once achieved, it was short lived in its original incarnation, and metamorhpasized to something far more frightening but we don’t need to get into that at the moment.  The point isn’t my own personal wrestle with the subject of men and relationships (so incredibly sick of that word, by the way).  It’s more about the beautiful awfulness that is growing up to a life unscripted.

Whether it’s finding that counterpoint in another person, or scaling the walls of fame, or being a CEO by 30, we all grew up with something of an idol in ourselves.  There’s that illusive Grown Up person that we all picture and then one day turn around to find staring us in the face.  Sometimes we recognize it and, as in my case, sometimes we don’t.  The person staring back at me may hold my mother’s smile, my father’s eyes, and the blood, sweat and tears of love poured out by both upon every particle of my being – but she’s not what I thought she’d be.  Her life isn’t the one I dreamed up, and I’m sometimes unsure if it’s the one God dreamed up either.

Setting aside a preconcieved notion is difficult, but looking back on the years that were, I’m not so sure it’s a bad idea.  Clinging so desperatedly to an idea that simply isn’t means living somewhere other than now.  Now is what we’re given.  Who knows what not yet could hold.  Sounds epic and cliche, but maybe there’s some truth to it.  Still, leaving it there sends my mind into a tail spin – still searching for answers, always looking for a bottom line, and ceaselessly seeking something of a certainty to rest within.

I’m not sure where the story goes from here and I lack anything that doesn’t sound pretentious, however unintentional, to throw in here at the finale of this post.  How about another quote.

“Growing up is never easy.  You hold on to things that were.  You wonder what’s to come.  But that night, I think we knew it was time to let go of what had been, and look ahead to what would be.  Other days.  New days.  Days to come.  The thing is, we didn’t have to hate each other for getting older.  We just had to forgive ourselves…for growing up.”

The Blog With HOB And You

{ March 19, 2009 @ 4:06 pm } · { Blatant Overshare, Legitimate Insight, Me, PG }
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I’m not one to say I have it all figured out.  Indeed anyone who claims to hold the key to understanding the entirety of the mysteries of this world I find myself immediately shoving into a quarantine of sorts for observation.  Yes, there are things that can be known for certain, but there is also an infinite amount of knowledge that we as humans just can not wrap our heads around…even if we DID manage to come across something resembling potential profound insight and understanding. 

 

Sometimes I drive even myself crazy by the roundabout and liberties-taken ridden sentences I manage to thread together. 

 

(Seriously.)

 

I went to House of Blues last night in Anaheim.  I’d been planning to go for probably over a month, or whenever it was I found out that two of my favorite bands would be playing there.  A good friend of mine has a brother who works there, so we were given the tickets gratis.  The BF was working, so it ended up just being the two of us.  My brother happened to be there with his almost-sometimes-significant-other-ish-girl, so the four of us managed to stay together for what would be an amazing show.  I don’t know what it is about concerts, but they always manage to provide more than enough fodder for trains of thought that end up taking off into mental quests ending with some sort of epic realization and the subsequent reality of a fork in the road of life.  Maybe it’s just the happenstance timing of when I end up going to shows, but this always seems to be the case.  Last night was no different. 

 

There were a few elements to fuel my thought process that night.  The lack of my present extracurricular interest (read: man), the presence of family and friend, the fact that I was about to partake in a show centered around God – Someone I’ve been somewhat wrestling with for the last six months or so, and an incredibly random sighting of someone I first saw when I was 17, then actually met at 18, and sort of knew until I was 19 or 20.  I’ll get to the significance of all these, though I’m not sure they’ll tie in together in such a neat and tidy package.  Let’s see, shall we?

 

The man.  I’m not going to go into details of our relationship.  We’re great.  Long term, well…

 

Family is an odd one.  I’ve referred to myself as the Black Sheep of my family for years.  If you’ve been around for any amount of time, you’ve probably heard this and its explanation before.  For the newcomers, I come from a VERY conservative, English, Christian, and proper household.  My brothers did things by the book.  Both went through High School normally, one of them being Valedictorian, both being varsity soccer players, both went to a Christian College, one married the cutest little blonde haired and blue eyed girl next door and the two of them are currently living happily ever after…sigh.  Me…well, I did independent study through high school because I was involved in the entertainment industry, only went to school up through half of my Junior year then got out early, was working from 15 onwards, and then there was the rest of my life.  I did a lot, saw a lot, got tattooed and pierced and had every hair color under the sun, hung out with older people, and refused to fit some sort of idealized mold.  Well, refused isn’t quite accurate.  There have been times where I fit the mold of my family quite well – and happily at that.  Thing is, it’s a battle.  It’s a moment to moment, second to second, takes everything in me just to stay on one side of the fence battle.  I have long lamented my inability to do things simply or take the easy way out.  I’m not Type A.  I realized last night…

 

Then there’s God.  I made something similar to peace with that wrestle a couple weeks ago.  I don’t understand Him, but that doesn’t mean I can’t love Him.  Love is a choice.  I don’t get why he allows certain things in life to happen, but I am not one to judge God.  He gave us free will, and ultimately He is not responsible for the end result of the domino effect that we ourselves set off by our own choices.  I realized last night…

 

The crush I mentioned is oddly enough the spark that started the process of pulling all this together into something resembling coherent.  I was at a worship conference when I was 17, and I remember looking to my right and seeing a guy standing there completely wrapped up in worship.  He was tall, dark, ridiculously good looking…but it was the posture he held himself in and where his focus was that grabbed me.  It was the most attractive thing I think I’ve ever seen.  Somewhere in me something resonated, almost recognized a counterpoint of sorts and I said to myself “…someone like that”.  I didn’t meet him that night, but I DID meet him a few months down the line by chance when I began attending a new church.  Eventually we talked – and there was honestly nothing there.  The tongue tied crush was in full force…but we had nothing to talk about.  Zero.  He’s married now, and all is well.  So, last night…

 

I realized how ok I am with the end conclusions of each of these.  There’s far more to life than concern over men and the potential nonsense they bring with them.  Granted, the deepest hurts have been at their hands…but their reprehensible acts of free will by no means represent an act of God.  There have been maybe two people I’ve sincerely wondered if they were the one I’d marry in the end.  The funny thing about that is, even if God has created and willed it so, both parties have to choose it.  One I’m realizing may well have been intended for me…but his free will dictated him to lose self control when it came to me and destroy anything that could ever have been.  The other, well, time will tell. 

 

I can’t tie the above paragraph to what follows very well, so let’s just move on.

 

Knowing how different I am from my family, but how remarkably similar I am in the ways that matter has brought a strange amusement at myself.  God didn’t make me to be just like them.  He didn’t make me to be just like ANYONE, that I’m completely fine with that.  Recognizing who I am also helps me see the ones around me in a different light.  No need to get into that. 

 

So many thoughts…none of them done justice.  I’m sure there’s more to follow. 

The Blog That’s A Quickie. (Not like that)

{ March 2, 2009 @ 3:32 pm } · { Legitimate Insight, The Silver Lining }
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I recognize that the rollercoaster of my life can be attributed to choices of mine that can either be categorized as super or crap.  The direct results of said choices may be minute compared to the gravity of say, Hiroshima, but still their consequences tend to make my life rather turbulent and (sadly) at times akin to a really badly written soap opera. 

I could go on for quite a while on the realization of my part to play in all this, and I could even go on with the rather fitting metatphor that hit me as I was writing the above paragraph about likening life to a movie script and how really, if you don’t like how it’s written and directed…then you need to look at who’s doing the writing and directing…(I’m SO writing that later)  But for now, my point is not to be sooooo serious.

I’m drinking a Trader Joes Kids Apple Juice Box.  It delicious.  Before that, it was a package of tuna for lunch with merely Ketchup to grace it’s protein goodness.  I realize that the concept of a fishy substance masqued soely in that of pureed tomatoes with a spash of vinegar and whatever-the-heck it is that makes this alternative form of the Tomato so much more palitable than it’s original form, probably just made someone regurgetate some of their own lunch (hopefully not Tuna, though the irony I would find amusing).  Still, it’s simplicity and health factor I find quite enjoyable and appealing. 

That’s really the point of this little quickie.  I’m in one of those tragically rare good moods where the little things in life hold that much more joy.  I finished with the gym a little while ago – a good hour and a half of weights and cardio, before taking a shower and heading back to the office.  I am blessed.  I have a fitness center at my work place (as well as soccer fields, basketball courts, tennis courts, and a baseball diamond) and the liberty to use it at will.  Really, I am blessed to have a job in general, let alone one which tops most charts of awesome when it comes to the perks. 

I realized this morning that I seldom smile.  Not really.  I’m good at the fake, tilt the head, dorky smile that you awkwardly offer to aquaintances upon arrival.  But it made me sad as I drove through the security checkpoint on campus this mornig and realized that my brief interraction with the guard consisted of a movement of the mouth that was more of a grimmace than anything resembling joy or good will.  How sad.  After noticing this, my day has followed in a different mindset.  I don’t like my typical way of handling the world.  It’s always on the defensive, even down to the aversion of showing joy.  I often don’t even acknowledge joy to myslef out of fear of losing the happiness to some sort of set back or stroke of ill luck.  Either way, this is my baby step to not being such a bummer. 

Baby steps to not being a bummer, baby steps…

The Blog About Rocks

{ February 26, 2009 @ 11:14 am } · { Legitimate Insight, PG-13 }
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Last night was a rather nerve wracking experience for me.  It was one of those moments where I sat there (well, lay there is far more appropriate…but ironically that makes it sound inappropriate.  It wasn’t.) fidgeting and finding crass remarks to add to just about anything to pass the achingly painful moments of silence that passed while my company completed the task at hand.  As we lay there together (appropriately), I’d flit from one thing to the next in random spurts of speaking, while making the mouse on the computer screen bounce spastically around for no apparent reason – other than occasionally moving the visible portion of the Firefox window down to reveal new material.  I continued this nonsense until he put one hand over mine and said “STOP!  Every time you do that, my ADD kicks in and I have to watch the mouse have a seizure and then I lose my place!”

 

I was letting him read my Blog.  More specifically, I was letting him read the Blogs about HIM. 

 

I say “Let”, and I’m immediately aware of how obviously strange that word usage is.  This Blog is clearly open for the world to see.  If he felt so inclined, he could look at it whenever he’s able and peruse the mind of yours truly without my self-conscious antics to divert his attention.  Why, then, do I turn into a four-year-old when he’s viewing something which random strangers are given unspoken and unquestioning permission (Hello, random readers) to read? 

 

I suppose it’s for the same reason we still have yet to define the relationship.  It’s that moment where you made a very crucial and potentially risky decision: do you fold or do you show your cards and let the chips land where they may?  It’s that moment where you find out who’s been bluffing, who’s been hiding the winning hand, or whatever other card-related metaphor which could apply to two people having a “let’s cut the bull shit” interaction.  For me, showing him my mind laid bare on the subject of him was one of those moments.  Granted, it wasn’t up to the moment bare, as the entry in question was written over a month ago.  Since then, things have changed.

 

A lot has changed, actually.  I looked back at the entries from last year when I mentioned the inevitable end to our relationship.  At the time, I felt like writing it may make it more of a reality that I could follow through on.  As it turns out, time hasn’t really proven faithful to my predisposed assumptions.  Someone I thought I could discard if forced to by rules and whatnot is now someone I have no desire to part with.  Someone who I thought I wouldn’t let myself get attached to is now one who’s company I find comfort in, and whose friendship I trust more and more as the days go by.   I have no presumptions for the future, on either end of the spectrum.  I stopped assuming the fate of just about anything relationship related a little while ago, and taking things as they come is far more exciting than living a secondary life of imagined future bliss in the confines of my head. 

 

Being vulnerable is something I have never enjoyed.  Learning to live and love as such – well, that’s proving to have far more enjoyable dividends than living life as a rock.  A really polished and shiny rock, but at the end of the day a rock is a rock – and no one wants to snuggle a rock.  Do they? 

 

The Blog About John and Jesus

{ October 25, 2008 @ 10:51 am } · { Legitimate Insight, Me }
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This morning is a quiet one.  I haven’t had a morning completely to myself, with zero obligations or schedule, in ages.  My roommate is still sleeping, and I’ve only been up for about an hour and a half.  So far the morning has consisted of feeding Asher, switching laundry over to the dryer, starting a new load of towels to be washed, and putting away a completed load from last night.  After that was breakfast, during which I was reading through John.

Last year (as in, at the beginning of 2007) I decided to make a new years resolution – something I’ve never done and am likely to never do again.  I think they’re nonsense.  Usually it just ends up being a novel idea which dies out after life comes charging in and you lose interest or focus.  This resolution, though, is one I am incredibly sad I never kept to.  My goal for last year was to learn as much as I could about the life of Christ.  I wanted to know more of Jesus the man in order to get a better picture of God.  My view of God has shifted and changed over the years.  When I was a child He was as real to me as any member of my family.  My parents used to get phone calls from the school asking that I please stop talking about Jesus, since I hadn’t shut up about Him during lunchtime…again.  I remember plenty of conversations as a child with my peers where explaining God was like talking about my best friend.  Things weren’t alaways so rosey, though.  I remember the first time I ever questioned the existance of God – I can clearly recal the moment, the setting, the thoughts, and the pain that went with it.  I was in fifth grade.

My relationship with God has had many ups and downs and backwards and forwards and all manner of doubts and fears.  There have been many times of joy, aswell, where I’ve known beyond a shadow of a doubt that every fiber of my being is screaming out in agreement that it was made for the sole purpose of worshiping the God of the universe.  On the flip side, there was also a time where I consciously said “God, I don’t care if You exist or not.  Stay out of this”.  God is a gentleman.  He did stay out, when asked, and the consequence was immediate.  Even though I was raised in the Church, have had amazing parents with incredible insight and faith, the most painful chapters of my life have been a result of the Church and its members’ actions.  It makes it hard to maintain a faith which includes a community when the community maims its own.

This was where the desire to know Christ apart from the Church came from.  As the year turned out, I lost sight of the goal, lost track of what I believed, let pain come in and cloud my better judgement, and I can safely say that as of today the last calendar year was hands down the worst of my life.  None of this I can or will blame on God.

I’ve often been frustrated about the manic relationship I’ve had with God.  I’ve mourned the loss of those “mountain top” experiences which often have preceeded some serious time in the metaphorical valley.  Overall, I’ve been completely confused as to why this up and down has been the story of my life since the fifth grade.  I’ve blamed it on my “wiring”, and how I’ve always been drawn towards the darker side of things.  In all honesty, it’s a daily battle to stay on any sort of moral high road (and obviously there have been a few seasons of failing misseribly at this ambition) and deny what is easiest and seems most fun at the time.  And as I said…I don’t get it.  How can a heart that, at the core of it, wants to be with and please God, be so torn and drawn to everything which He stands against?  How is it that I can one minute say I want Him to have full control over every aspect of my life, and then the next be engaging in activities I know directy counter His best?

As I said, I was reading through John over breakfast this morning.  I’m not sure if it’s because of the translation I have now (the Amplified…AMAZING), or if it’s simply the place I’m in, but as I read John 5:37 through the end of the chapter, I noticed something.  Jesus is talking to the people about their faith (or lack thereof) in Him, and how it is their trust and utter reliance which dictates whether or not they truly have faith.  I thought about it, and realized that that is likely where the up and down of my relationship with God comes from – I don’t trust God.

I believe in God, absolutely.  My head tells me to believe in what He says about himself, and my heart has had moments where it lets go and says “here, take over”.  These moments are never lasting because at the core of me I don’t trust that He is; first of all, in control; and secondly, truly has my best interests in mind.  A pastor at RockHarbor recently prayed with me and said “I get the feeling that you don’t believe God loves you as much as He loves everyone else”.  He was completely right, and that is where the instability and doubt comes from.

I may have a lot of head knowledge and I can offer all manner of encouraging and sound advice to those who ask – but when all is stripped and laid bare, Jesus seems to me like an unfaithful husband, and a disloyal best friend.

It’s ok for me to say this.  He already knew I felt it, anyway.

This is the problem with living a life where faith is dictated by the evidence surrounding you.  Evidence really isn’t objective.  It can be interpreted from many different angles and with many different bias and both can influence entirely different conclusions.  Take for example the main subject matter which has caused me to doubt God on most levels: my mother.

My mother had a childhood filled with heartwrenching facts and abominable situations which would anger even the most corrupt people who lack a conscience.  The aftermath of that was an echoing legacy that would take the better part of 40 years to overcome and work through…and remember, none of this was her fault.  Add to that the never ending parade of health problems: severe illness, gall bladder removal, intestinal surgery, cripling neck injury, chronic excruciating neck/back/head/everything pain which only prescribed liquid morphine could touch, heart problems, skin cancer, surgery on the spine, chronic fatigue syndrome, migranes, separated shoulder, arthritis, and many other problems/issues to do with her body.  And that’s just the physical bullshit.  Then there’s the situational crap which is a never ending list of car accidents (not her fault), accidents in general (not her fualt), character failings of “friends” around her, errors in judgement of leaders in the Church (I can be just as unbias as bias and can admit when those I love dearly make mistakes of their own…this is not one of those situations.), and likely things I’ve never been told because they know the interpretation I tend to make – WHERE ARE YOU GOD?

My perspective is this: How can God allow all this to happen to a woman who has done nothing but love Him and devote the entirety of her life faithfully to Him?  If I look simply at the situations and circumstances, it is easy to form this kind of standard argument:

1. God says he is a good God.

2. If God is good, then bad things shouldn’t happen to those He says He loves.

3. Bad things happen.

Therefore, God is a liar.

As I said earlier…evidence is not objective. Looking at what I just listed about my mother, lets apply a variety of subjective interpretations to the evidence provided.

My mothers childhood can be looked at one of two ways.  Either a) God was absent and cruel and is a liar, or b) God was present through it all, protected her from ultimate harm, and had a greater purpose.

These two perspectives can be applied to every situation in her life, really.  It’s all how we choose to look at things, I guess, so in reality – our reality is defined by our core belief.  In my case: Is there a God, or isn’t there?  That question really is the core…because to believe in God requires that you believe in what He says about Himself – and it’s an all or nothing kind of thing.  To say that something He says isn’t true means you’re calling Him a liar, thereby negating ANYTHING He says about Himself.  It’s all or nothing: either He is, or He isn’t.

To me, He is.  Even though, as we speak, my Mother is in the hospital…He still Is.

But how, then, is the question of trust and reliance addressed?  What does it take to make that transition from head knowledge to heart felt reality?  My quiet morning is continuing to be quiet.

The Blog That Turns The Corner

{ October 15, 2008 @ 8:58 pm } · { Blatant Overshare, Legitimate Insight, Me, PG }
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The past two days have been pretty cool.  Today wasn’t so remarkable, so we’ll leave it out of it.

Monday was another eventful day at the workplace.  I had one “special” child leave campus on four separate occasions – the first two of which required my sprinting abilities to be put to the test.  The second one involved me getting kicked a couple times.  The third fieldtrip I had nothing to do with on purpose – I ignored the call, as I had other things to take care of.  The fourth time the dum dum decided to run ended up in front of the fire station, on the side walk, in a floor restraint, then finished with six staff having to haul the kid into the van as he refused to move and made himself 300lbs of dead weight.  This kid sucks, on most levels.

One of the other incidents of the day included a pretty rough situation with a more violent kid, myself, my Boss, and the top Boss Lady.  The first part of it was taken care of with no little effort by me and the Boss.  It was later on in the situation (once we’d controlled it for the most part) and after quite a bit of fight that the Boss Lady arrived and aided with the restraint.  The whole story its self is far more interesting with the details we’re not supposed to talk about, but the point of me bringing it up isn’t because of the story its self – it’s merely to make it a point of reference.

I met with my counselor later that night and we went through quite a bit of what had been happening since our last meeting – some of it to do with various relationships in my life, some to do with work, and much to do with the future.  I relayed some of the stories which had happened (including the ridiculous one with the obscene kid a few weeks back) and went through some of my thoughts on careers and schooling…etc.  She remarked about “selling myself short”, and I didn’t understand what she meant at first.  She explained by listing exactly what it is I get myself into on a daily basis and pointing out how much of an anomaly my sort of mind set is.  The main point was this: I put myself into physically dangerous situations on a daily basis, willingly, knowing that both psychological and physical harm could happen to myself and the others involved.  And I like it.  She pointed out that most people wouldn’t do this on purpose, including herself.  Oddly enough, I’m so used to the sorts of situations we deal with with these kids (remember, we’re not talking children…we’re talking teenagers who are emotionally disturbed and prone to violence) that it doesn’t phase me to step in between two larger-than-me male students, separate the two, and potentially then have to physically restrain them until they’re once again safe.  I’ve been kicked, hit, bit, spat at, thrown around, pushed into various objects and walls, almost thrown down staircases, and had enough work days that ended with sore muscles from having to hold my own against a kid trying to re-gain control of the situation.  I guess what we do isn’t so normal, and from what I’m noticing now, it’s something that not many would put themselves in to.

As I said, though, the odd part is that I love it.  The risk of it, the physical demand of it (which isn’t always a part of it, though frequently is), the need to constantly be aware and in pro-active and problem averting mode, and whatever else is required of me…it’s something I get a rush from.  My job keeps my interest like no other job has.  It also has taught me a lot about myself and what I’m capable of – which is far more than I’ve given myself credit for.

When talking with my mother and going through this, I almost braced myself for the expected scoffing that would come after acknowledging that perhaps what I do shows some sort of strength or character.  As I waited and braced myself for the eye rolling…it didn’t happen.  She agreed.  I then voiced what I had said to the counselor – that I feel like I am rarely taken seriously, whether it be physically or otherwise.  The predisposition to underestimation is towards friends, co-workers, but mostly family.  I’ve felt ridiculed and slighted for my lack of athletic ability and supposed “laziness”, and it’s caused me to believe that these things are true and my believing otherwise is merely wishful thinking.  Mom looked at me and said “where in the world would you get that idea from?”.  Um.  You?  And my brothers?  I’m just sayin’.

Just her denial of this belief was like removing blinders and made me see myself in a completely different light, and it’s a light which is far more akin to reality now that I actually consider the facts.  I am by no means weak, physically, mentally, emotionally, or spiritually.  My job takes all manner of strength, and life has dealt plenty of rough hands over the years.  I’ve been through more nonsense and seen more than people with a decade of lifetime over me.  No, by no means do I deem myself to be superior – we’re all too unique and with different gifts, experiences, and characteristics to be fairly compared to each other.  The cool thing, though, is that the last two days gave me something I haven’t had in quite a while – a genuine excitement for the future.

It’s pretty amazing to consider the posibilites of the next few years and the years beyond them.  Removing limitations of underestimation and low expectations opens up a whole new level of posibilities.  School didn’t seem like such a burden, and more of a training ground (I know, I know…) and relationships an asset rather than a life or death necessity.  Of course there are some relationships which mean more or less than others.  There are still hopes for a certain future and a certain path where that may lead.  The amazing thing is that God did indeed put me here, for now, and at this time and place for a reason.  The way He put me together is nothing to be upset about, and the passions He gave are also far from irrelevant.  We’re chess pieces, the way I see it – all part of the master plan of the One who began and still runs the show.

The Blog About An Anomaly

{ September 20, 2008 @ 3:18 pm } · { Legitimate Insight, PG }
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Last night I went out to Los Angeles with a girl friend of mine to see her band play at the Kat Club.  I’ve had plenty of contact with the guys in the band before, one of which has become something I’m almost comfortable calling a friend.  He’s an amazing guy, and I’ve mentioned him in previous posts – first as a blip, then as a father – but really those two pieces of information are irrelevant.  The band its self is incredibly talented, and he is gifted at what he does.  This blog isn’t about him, really.  He may have been a character of the evening, but there were others just like him who wove together to form the scene of my night.  Now that I think of it, he wasn’t really just like the others.  He and I are similar in some regards, and whether he identifies it for precisely what it is or not, he has one particular likeness which made me feel marginally less fish-out-of-water esque.

I haven’t seen this particular girl friend for a while.  Our friendship goes through phases, and as we no longer work with each other, the daily reminder of each others presence has been missing for a few months.  She’s someone I enjoy hanging out with, but at the same time have to be a bit guarded around.  She and I come from very different worlds, have very different beliefs, and just as different standards for what we deem to be acceptable.  On the drive to Los Angeles, there were two more with us.  One of them is a former roommate of my friend, and someone I’ve met before.  The other is a guy friend of theirs who is a musician – a rather attractive musician, mind you – and he was new to my acquaintance.  The three of them fit together quite seamlessly – they drink, party, sleep around, and swear like sailors.  Then there’s me.

I saddens be to say that at one point, I too melded with the likes of them quite well…minus the whole sleeping around thing.  The point is, no matter what beliefs or standards I claimed to hold, my demeanor and actions led a life of hypocrisy.  They blatantly contradicted each other, and made those around me skeptical of what I really was.  Last night was slightly different.  Actually, it was very different.

I remember sitting in the back seat with the male of the group while we all exchanged friendly banter about all manner of topics.  There were some I was significantly more involved with – especially when it came to my work and the kinds of things I deal with.  Then there were other topics where I became the fly on the wall.  The topics when converstational subject matter became obscene and derogatory to whichever person had fallen victim to their focus, these were the ones I had little if anything to say to.  As I sat there, I noticed the distinct feeling of sadness that these three daily sold themselves over to that which will never satisfy and will do nothing but leave them damaged.  On the same note, I sat there fully aware of the stark difference between them and I, and in turn the difference between who I was and who I am.  It’s odd really, but there was a slight feeling of glee when my friend remarked upon the fact that I’d said a swear word – even if it was just quoting someone else.  Time was, my language was shades more than colorful.  I still have moments of outburst, but for the most part my speech has been cleaned up significantly.  While they rattled on about things I didn’t have the heart to join, I switched my station of focus to Someone Else entirely.

As was the situation later that night.  I went with another member of the band up to the Rainbow Room before the show, and we sat down and talked for a while over a drink.  I still do have the occasional drink, but never when I feel like I “need” it (as that would be a comfort or avoidance thing), and no longer do I feel the need to get intoxicated.  As long as it is in clear conscience, I feel no problem with it.  Our conversation went all over the place, but ended up on relationships and learning about yourself post-break up.  The guy had broken up with a girl he was with for three years, just three months ago.  Since then he’s gone through somewhat of a transformation, including dropping 20 lbs due to exercising and a different style.  We talked about the loneliness and sadness that comes with the end of relationships, but I turned that note towards the notion of thankfulness.  Not only am I glad for the changes in ME that have occured over the last few months, but I’m thankful for the change of where I tend to put my focus.  My focus doesn’t reside on the crap going on around me.  I’ve had a pretty dramatic and in some ways draining and physically painful week.  My work has put me through the ringer and my body has born the marks of minimal abuse.  Even so, I can’t sit there and whine about it or focus on the truly horrible things I’ve seen and been a part of.  That’s not what matters.  There’s a bigger picture to focus on – and that is what brings hope, not sadness at what currently is.

And that’s where the theory behind the title of this blog comes into play.  As the night progressed, the band went on, I sat with the male element of our group and talked a little about our backgrounds, then later about our faith.  The group moved back to the Rainbow Room (which had FILLED considerably, and the paparazzi had taken up watch over the front as celebrities are known to loiter there) and we ended up in the upstairs bar of the place.  Amidst scantily clad, insecure, and obviously available women and men who were eyeballing the buffet of flesh for their next appetizer, I felt remarkably separate.  Upstairs as I conversed with the same guy, after he had expressed interest in me, I still felt removed from both him and the surroundings.  I didn’t fit.  And neither, really, did the band member friend I mentioned at the beginning.

One of the coolest things about that night (well, at that point, morning) was standing in the middle of a packed and loud bar with this friend, and spending somewhere between 30 and 45 minutes talking about his life and situation and how God fits the equation.  This friend has an incredible heart, and it’s one that is not appreciated or valued by the significant other he has a child with.  My heart hurts for this guy as I see the amount of effort (working over 60 hours a week while she doesn’t do a thing) he puts into making sure his son is taken care of, while being ignored, criticized, and nagged for nothing.  She takes and takes and offers nothing in return – a situation remarkably similar to that of the other party which started the shinanigans of my situation last year.  It kills me to see this guy miserable, wanting out (they’re not married), but being terrified at losing his son to her vindictive side.  We talked for a while about how he’s allowed God into the situation, and how he hasn’t.  We talked about the character of God – something I’m more in love with than ever before, and all in all had a pretty amazing conversation.

In the middle of a debaucherous bar where Ron Jeremy and Lindsay Lohan were hanging out downstairs, the two of us, we were an anomaly.

And I love it.  The guy who came in the car with us asked why I didn’t entertain the guys who showed obvious interest.  My response was what I’ve learned: I could turn a hundred heads or none – and it wouldn’t matter in the slightest.  At the end of the day, it’s pretty inconsequential.  Who I am and what I want out of life isn’t affected by the amount of attention I get or advances come my way.  Both are rooted in something much bigger than that.  This turn of topic got us into a pretty cool conversation about God and faith and what living that out looks like.

What I’m learning at this stage is the reality of living out what I claim to believe.  Last year and the start of this one, those around me stared with jaws on the floor at the nonsense I took part in.  Those who knew me before and found out after couldn’t believe that I had done something so contradictory to my personality and character.  I realize now that the huge discrepancies happen because there are a hundred little ones that came before them.  Every compromise, every settle for less, they cut away at the resolve to be in this world and not be owned by it.  Last year was a culmination of many things, but the result of just this – the repeated stripping away of one standard after another and an increasing tolerance for what I never before found acceptable.  Last night was a beautiful picture of what is slowly being restored – me.  A bit of an anomaly.

Ralph Waldo Emerson was a brilliant man.  He said it quite well:

“It is easy in the world to live after the world’s opinion; it is easy in solitude to live after our own; but the great man is he who in the midst of the crowd keeps with perfect sweetness the independence of solitude.”
- Ralph Waldo Emerson

The Blog About Now vs. Then

{ September 13, 2008 @ 11:16 pm } · { Legitimate Insight }
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The last seven days have been another crash course of learning in this mini-semester filled season of life. I learned quite a bit about myself, both good and bad.  Some of it I’ve noticed on my own, but there has been a surprising amount pointed out by those around me.  The bummer of this particular set of lessons is not really what I’ve learned about me – though there is plenty to not be proud of.  The down side is what these lessons about me have illuminated about those around me.  Ambiguous enough?

I’ve had several personality flaws and weaknesses called out within the past few days.  I’m thankful for these, though they hurt to hear.  If my actions have been perceived in a way which is unintended, then I am grateful to be aware of it so it can be changed.  The notion that anything I have said or done has come across as bitchy or mean bothers me.  One of my co-workers said to me on Friday that much of what I say comes out with far more attitude than I thought – and the rest of it sounds defensive.  I wrote a little while back about how my behavior has been on the defensive for the last year.  Work was a different beast entirely, but the rest of my life coupled with the situation at work brought out an abnormal pattern of being overly dramatic and snapping back far more than was necessary.  It hurts to know that I’ve acted this way.  It was never my intention and certainly is something I’m trying to remedy.

My character is something which was called into question yesterday by someone who once claimed the title of “best friend”.  I say once because her previous proclamations of friendship have now been taken back and excused away as her having “gone through a really abnormal time” and “saying and doing things [she] probably shouldn’t have”.  Ok.  Making mistakes is one thing, but calling upon another person to be your lifeline and be on call literally 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, regardless of whatever the other is trying to get through themselves…and then ditching them after you’ve been “fixed” and returning to whoever you pushed away at the time…that’s pretty ridiculous.  In reality, she put my life on hold, pulled me and my entire family into her problems, relied on all of us to be her support and strength (because her own family and friends couldn’t deal), and openly (and without request to do so) declared the lot of us to be a part of her life “forever”.  As for me, I lost sleep due to being up with her till all hours of the morning while she broke down, I stuck by her while her friends and family criticized and insulted me and mine – with zero provocation or grounds to do so, I got in trouble at work as a result of her behavior and the request to be the savior during her most serious of break downs, and I became her personal therapist and shouldered an enormous amount of mental and psychological nonsense.  Having stated all that, I don’t look back on it and complain…I look back on it and can’t fathom the kind of person who would take so much, promise so much, and then see no problem with excusing away any sort of keeping to her word simply by saying that it was a unique circumstance.  It’s not a sense of entitlement.  It’s not a sense of “you owe me”.  If there had been no titles given, and no statements of friendship or loyalty, then the above wouldn’t be of as much consequence.  It would hurt, absolutely.  The thing is, I don’t let people close for this reason exactly – I can’t trust that they’ll follow through on a word they say.

Add to that the fact that I live with this person…and life just got remarkably unstable again.  The home situation hasn’t been completely comfortable since the move in date of July 29th.  There are a few factors involved in this, but the main one is the vanished friendship which I had learned to trust.  At this point in time, I’m in need of a new place to call home.

Home is an interesting word, in and of its self.  I don’t know what to call home, really.  My mailing address is that of my parents, simply because I’ve moved enough to make that address the only one with consistency.  The place I sleep at night feels awkward and uninviting.  At this point, going to my parents house – a place I used to want to flee – is the only place I consider to be a ‘home’.  As I think I said recently, I just feel unstable.  Mentally, spiritually, this isn’t the case. My circumstances are what I find to be shaky.  I don’t know where I’ll be located, and I don’t know if those financial needs will require me to look for a new job as well.  At this point, God could take me anywhere for anything…and that part I find exciting.

I think that’s the main lesson for this moment: that no matter what is going on around me and with me, God is still God – and nothing is too big for him.  I already learned about finding my identity and worth in Him.  Next is solidifying the lesson of purpose through Him, while trusting that I am right where I’m supposed to be even in this moment.  I’ve made some interesting decisions this last week, and I’m sure there will be consequences to come.  Really, some of those consequences have already happened through the result of pain that followed.  We really are turning a page right now, and God is the author deciding which characters will follow on to the next chapter.  Some will, and some won’t.  But God is still God.  There are family and close friends who I know will be there, but there is another character I hope will return as well.  That, also, is in Bigger hands than mine.

The Blog With Lyrics To Hold On (to)

{ August 29, 2008 @ 11:08 am } · { Legitimate Insight, Poet, Quoting the Brilliant }
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“Hold On” – Magnet

These days I don’t see you walk to proud
These days I don’t hear you talk so loud
When you thought you’d soaked up all of the blows
You realized you were not even close

& it feels like it’s tearing you up
Feels like its wearing you down

You’ll get through this if you hang on
Cause the truth is you’re not alone
You’ll get through this if you hang on
The truth is you’re not alone
You’re not on your own

I see your face on every corner of every street
You spend you days just waiting for your next defeat
But I can only tell you what I know
And all I know is that I just don’t know

& it feels like it’s tearing me up
Feels like it’s wearing me down

I’ll get through this if I hold on
Cause the truth is I’m not alone
I’ll get through this if I hang on
The truth is I’m not alone
I’m not on my own
& you are not alone
It’s just hard sometimes to carry on
No I’m not on my own
& you are not alone
It’s just hard sometimes, so hard sometimes
But we got to hold on

The Blog About Change

{ August 26, 2008 @ 5:14 pm } · { G, Legitimate Insight }
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Anyone who has been following for the last year or so knows that there have been a significant amount of changes in the life of yours truly, especially within the last few months. I look back, as I previously stated, and squirm at many of the things I said and did in response to those around me. As I said to my counselor yesterday, I was living in a state of “reaction”, rather than “interaction”. Sounds a trifle corny, but it’s the best word choice I could come up with in the moment. What I meant was that I had been perpetually on guard and defensive, so anything anyone said or did around me was reacted to in a far more angst ridden, dramatic, and ridiculous manner than it would have been normally. Instead of relaxing and focusing on relating to people when and as the interaction happened, I would instantly wall up and shut down at the slightest provocation. There were maybe one or two who managed to avoid this fate with me. The main one in question was physically only around for five or six months, so you can gather how many people in my life I was an ass to.

As I said in the opening, though, a lot has changed. By no means are all my problems solved and my relating to people perfect…but the core of unrest which I lived with has found its self stilled. I always felt this inner turmoil and writhing with myself – a constant battle between my head, heart, past, present, and a general lack of peace about who I was and what I was capable of. It makes sense to me now why that was.

I’ve been seeing a counselor for the past five or six months. I originally started seeing her every-other-week, then we moved to a weekly session as circumstances I found myself in escalated considerably. Yesterday’s session was pretty cool for a couple reasons. First off, we bounced some ideas back and forth about The Shack, as it was her who assigned the reading. If you haven’t gathered the unwritten recommendation, I’ll outright strongly recommend reading this book. It’s by William P. Young, and it’s a bit out there in some areas, but if you just let yourself go with it and follow where it leads…you won’t be disappointed. Anyway. We talked about the book and came to some awesome conclusions – none of which would make sense to anyone who hasn’t read it, so I won’t bother attempting to relate them to an unfamiliar crowd.

The rest of our conversation was pretty much me telling her about my previous week and everything that had happened since we last met. It is strange to think that it was only a week, as the amount that took place (to no one but myself, granted) is huge. Part of what I told her was the conclusion I alluded to earlier. The concept of being “still” on the the inside; finding rest and peace within yourself, about yourself, and in whatever you choose to place your faith in. I’ve spent ages at war with myself and anyone who’s been close to me knows this. The beautiful part of last week was that the war reached an end. The turmoil stilled. See, you can’t build a person or a life on a shaky foundation. When you don’t place your faith and identity in something solid, you are bound to falter. In my case, accepting – not just being told and saying “yeah, yeah” – but really accepting God for who he is and what he says about me…completely liberating. That void which has a thousand cliche’s attached to it, is a legitimate void which indeed needs filling. Most women try to fill it with Guys, or materialistic possessions. Men usually try to fill it with work, sex, or wealth. All these are placebos. They do the job for a season, but they can’t sustain you through the worst life has to offer. Only One can.

I’m trying to veer away from preaching, as that is hardly my intention, so we’ll move on to where the above realization has left me: stable. Not searching for something or someone to validate or complete me. No, I’m not perfect. There are things I would change about myself, certainly. But none of that matters. In the past, I’ve felt like a sixteen year old pretending to be 23. At 24, for really the first time, I actually feel my age. And it’s kinda awesome. I ran into one of the amazing guys I spent time with last year on Sunday…and didn’t have some odd emotional reaction when I had to rain check on the offer of coffee just to maintain the integrity of my “No guys” till September agreement. May sound like something silly, but that’s kinda huge considering who it was.

The great thing about the new mindset is that when it comes to guys, I’m not in a hurry. Last week was filled with (not so) random tangents of thought which went back to the various men in my life and their definition of “love”. Any guy I’ve gone out with has had their unique way of caring about me. Some encourage, others affirm what they see, some are gift givers, others are more physical, or talkative, or whatever. That’s not what I’m referring to. It’s not just the action, it’s the heart behind it. What kept coming to mind was a brief time in my life last year. One who loved, not in the romantic sense (though yes, there was an element of that), but in the way God originally intended. He showed restraint when it came to being around me. He never demanded, or objectified, or was overly this or that. And in the end, he loved enough to let me go. At that time at least, it wasn’t the right time. Really, it wouldn’t have been the right time for ANYONE and me back then. See, on several levels, I NEEDED him. What frustrated me and left me confused was that he didn’t NEED anything. I could enhance his life, sure, but he wasn’t searching for something to complete him. He already knew who he was, and who God made him to be. I didn’t know how to deal with someone that self sufficient.

Now I get it.

It’s awesome to be able to enjoy people without somehow demanding from them. It takes the strain off of relationships when you both know who you are and can enjoy the other for who THEY are, not what they have to offer. That whole love thing, the way it was intended…I get it. I don’t have it, it the human sense, but I have a better picture of what it looks like. If the guy from last summer was brought along for nothing more than to demonstrate this, then for that I am thankful. Whatever God’s plan is for that side of my life, I’m ok with. He knows best. His timing is perfect. Even when we don’t understand it or think He’s ignoring or abandoning us – He’s still God.

Change can be unsettling. It is certainly a process, as I have to retrain myself to think a different way and stop basing my sense of Alright by the actions of other people. The coming months will be bringing plenty of changes, to be sure. Some of them quite welcome. Some are a bit frightening. Others simply hurt. My counselor put me back to every-other-week as a result of our last meeting. It makes me smile. I think I’m getting one or two things right.


The Blog About Birds And Love

{ August 23, 2008 @ 6:47 pm } · { G, Legitimate Insight, Quoting the Brilliant }
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“You, on the other had, were created to be loved. So for you to live as if you were unloved is a limitation, not the other way around…Living unloved is like clipping a bird’s wings and removing its ability to fly. Not something I want for you…Pain has a way of clipping our wings and keeping us from being able to fly…and if left unresolved for very long, you can almost forget that you were created to fly in the first place.” -God, in The Shack

As I mentioned in a previous post, I am reading through The Shack this week. I am on my second read through, but this particular selection is pulled from one of the two most profound and thought provoking chapters in the book, and it got me in the first round. I found such truth in this paragraph (which is actually pulled in parts from several paragraphs, but what was removed is internal dialog of the other character which doesn’t affect the context or intention of the selection above) that I felt the need to re-post it. It’s one of those things which I can’t put into words that well, but when I read this portion of the book, something shifted.

I have always judged myself based on my mistakes and how far I have fallen short of people’s expectations…whether it be parents, friends, people of supposed importance, or even God. I have defined myself by my mistakes and declared myself unlovable because of it. This is silliness, really. It is also completely limiting – crippling, even. To live under the weight of alleged disapproval can be an overwhelming burden to bare. Actually accepting that regardless of flaws, regardless of faults, I am loved fully and without condition by God…it brings a freedom like no other.

The difference between God’s love and the love we know as humans is that, unlike humans, we can never “let God down”. In order to let God down or disappoint Him, there would have to be expectations to be met and fallen short of. The cool thing about God (and the thing that rocked my world entirely) is that we can’t possibly let Him down…because He doesn’t have expectations to be met. He loves. He loves. He loves. End of story. He loves without condition. He loves simply because we are His. To me, at least, when faced with the awe inspiring truth that I am adored beyond all reason by the God of the universe…the rest of this world and it’s nonsense does indeed grow strangely dim.

Another interesting shift has been the one about where I choose to set my focus. The past few months, or nearly a year really, have been focused on a small group of characters. I recently learned that where we fix our eyes, therein lies our hope. No wonder I felt so hopeless up until recently. My eyes were fixed solely on my situation and the lives of those around me. Hope can not be based on people. Hope is found in God.

“Perhaps when all you see is pain, you lose sight of me?” – God, in The Shack

How true that pain has the ability to blind us to the very presence of God. We sit wallowing in our own misery and expect God to show up and fix everything. God is already there. He never left. Regardless of what we feel (or more accurately, DON’T feel), God is who he says he is. We’re just too preoccupied to see Him.

I wish there was a way to articulate all that is going on in my head and heart. It can’t be done, for now. There’s just too much. Only this time…too much is NOT a bad thing.

Music is the soundtrack of emotion. This video is just a glimmer of what I’m trying to get at.

The Blog About The Shack

{ August 20, 2008 @ 1:43 pm } · { Legitimate Insight, Me, PG-13 }
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I just deleted what would have been the beginning line of this blog…for the sixth time.  I used to be able to begin these with a pretty clear and concise opening statement followed by the appropriate supporting sentences that make up an opening paragraph.  Lately, this has been a challenge – and a frustrating one at that.  With changes taking place at the rate at which they are, it has been dizzying to say the least.  Part of the problem certainly comes from an over-abundance of possible subjects and threads of thought, but now that I’m thinking about it, another side of this is a tendency which I only really saw for what it was within the past few days.

This morning I sat at Starbucks, just as I did yesterday, for what had to have been several hours of reading.  I started reading The Shack at the instruction of my counselor this past Monday.  Her homework for me entails reading the book three times; the first simply reading, the second journaling, and the third annotating.  All this has to be done within a week.  I’m nearly done with the first reading…and I can see quite clearly why she is having me read this particular book.  The lessons taken from this will likely be mentioned in the future, but for the moment, that’s not why I brought it up.  I brought it up because, as I was reading, there were several points which I wanted to immediately reflect on, then there was the train of thought which proceeded to think of getting a new journal to dedicate specifically to this task…and then I asked myself why.  Why do I feel the need to start a new journal, just because I don’t want what precedes it to be included?  Why do I perpetually crave these “fresh starts”?  New Journals, noting various dates as milestones to start over from, new home, new cell number (ok, there was a very real reason for that one), new…whatever.  I noticed this trend this morning and came to the following conclusion: I can’t tolerate being less than perfect, so any record of mistakes or ‘imperfections’ I have to somehow erase in order to move forward.  It’s like, I want a perfect track record in order to be acceptable.

Ha.  We all know it’s a bit late for that.

I really only have one major regret, in that I have only one thing which I would want to go back and change regardless of what was ‘learned’ by the situation.  There are other little things which I wish I could make amends for.  I wish I could apologize to the one I said “fuck you” to both with great feeling verbally and the matching physical gesture to go along with it.  I was frustrated that night, I felt small and used, and he had no idea how much that final barb hurt me.  Even still, the dramatic nonsense which I fired back with and the subsequent walking away which followed really weren’t necessary.  In the months that followed, I lived every day perpetually in defensive mode and looking back at it now, I said and did many things which were completely out of character and now make me cringe.  Come to think of it, the past year or so has been spent in perpetual defensive mode and has brought out the most overly dramatic and non-me responses to people that I would have thought I would say and do.

I can’t go back and undo what has already been done.  I can’t re-phrase something which has already been said.  I can’t delete my response to things which caught me off guard.  Indeed to do look back at a great deal of the recent past and cringe.  I’ve always despised drama.  I seem to find myself amongst it frequently, something I’m quite annoyed with.  Even the blogs of this year have held a spectacular level of drama.  The bummer is there is no rewind button…but there is the future.

The future doesn’t have to reflect the past.  The beauty of grace is that it is enough to cover all.  The other mind blowing notion is that God is neither surprised or disappointed by our mistakes.  Mistakes don’t disqualify us.  God doesn’t look at us and see our failures.  When God looks at us, he sees his Son.  That’s what redemption is all about.

So looking to the future, without the predisposition of ’starting over’, I’m looking forward to continuing on this journey knowing that God’s love is not dependent on my performance, rather on the fact that I am His beloved.  The beauty is that nothing can change that.

The Blog About Lying

{ August 12, 2008 @ 5:42 am } · { Blatant Overshare, Legitimate Insight, PG-13 }
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I lie a lot.

I’ve realized this for years but only fully accepted the sad truth that I am indeed truth challenged recently. For those reading along and now questioning every interaction we may have had, halt that mode of thinking and let me be a bit more specific. I don’t lie to those around me, at least not on purpose. I’ve said it to many before and meant it, not only on a sincere basis but also with an element of dare only WISHING certain people would just out right ask me…ask me anything, and you’ll get a straight answer. But that said, the opening statement remains the same…To myself, that is. To myself, I lie a lot.

The complexity and depth of the lie can vary on a case by case basis and for any number of reasons. It can be merely to make myself see things from another point of view other than my immediate one. It could be an attempt to protect myself from hurt by convincing myself that someone isn’t what they initially may seem to be and their intentions are not what I would desire.

In the past I have justified everyone else’s actions in any given situation by trying to see where they’re coming from and consider every variable in their unique situation which could have influence their messed up behavior. If they were on trial for the shinanigans they pull and I was their lawyer, I’m pretty sure they’d end up getting off with a paid vacation to Bora Bora. With potential interests, I’ve done my best to convince myself that any interest they show my way is truthfully anything but and I’m reading them completely wrong. Even when they blatantly show interest my way, I’ve rationalized it by saying “They’re just being nice” or “I’m sure I’m not their type” or something else completely fabricated.

These, at this point of realization, I would consider trivial compared to the much larger theme of lies I have sold myself for far more years than I could probably dare estimate. Really the worst bull shit I have spun is that which convinces myself that even the worst trauma didn’t really hurt.

My parents and I have had parts of this conversation, though in a slightly different light. My mother remarked about how strong they always thought I was. There’s some truth to that, absolutely. But there’s a difference between being strong enough to get through painful events and lying your way into believing the situation didn’t bother you. In my case, the lies are innumerable. And the paragraph that follows, will likely border heavily on overshare.

I’ve lied to myself and convinced myself that hurt from high school wasn’t hurt, that what was stolen at 17 was my fault and not that of the other, that what [he] said about me didn’t bother me and leave me forever questioning the truth behind it, that the truth of the story told in court at 19 didn’t bother me, that the hand prints left on my throat at 21 were the only damage really done that night in November (ok, a slightly more flimsy lie), that my boss yelling at me was just because he was an asshole and I really overreacted by crying, that I had no right to be hurt when [he] slept with her – while he was with me, that [she]’s just speaking out of jealousy and hurt and what she says is irrelevant…but those are just circumstances.

The problem with lying to yourself is that soon enough those lies become the ‘truths’ upon which you build yourself. What I’m realizing now is that having build myself on a foundation of bull shit…it’s not really a surprise that things don’t smell so rosy.

To be clear…I’m generally quite aware of the flip side of the above mentioned statements. My battle really is that – a battle. I see the good, but I tell myself the bad. I see the beauty, but tell myself of that which is ugly. I can give the run down of the good things I see in me and around me and about me…but something in me is terrified to risk believing them. So, I lie.

At 24 I have damn near bought into the lies that I am an unattractive fuck-up who meddles and destroys and who’s life is and will be a never ending cyclical cluster F of storms dotted with sporadic and brief moments of muted joy and happiness.

Why share all this? Why put my dirtiest (well, alright, I’m sure we could get dirtier if we put our minds to it) laundry out there for the world to see? That’s what it is, really. To me, an slide show of my mistakes and failings is trivial pieces of information. What lies behind that is where it gets personal. My dirty laundry is what I lie to protect…what I actually think and feel. The affects of things done to me and around me is what I have kicked and screamed about and refused to acknowledge. I’m told that the likely reason for this is a lack of self-worth which prohibits me from seeing other people’s actions as a violation, seeing as value is needed in order to recognize that devaluing matters.

Ok, but why?

The first step in breaking the cycle of a lie is to expose the lie for what it is, and then speak the truth. So, given what has already been said, what then is the truth?

I’m not a fuck up. Someone of marked value in my life said to me not too long ago that “the mistakes you make are not what defines you – what you do after, that is what defines you”. Life isn’t dictated by how many times we fall…rather by how many times we get up. There’s been a lot in my life which has been somewhat colorful. Some was my doing. Even the worst of my situations I went into with full knowledge of what would happen in the end – but that doesn’t change the hurt. Accepting responsibility doesn’t absolve pain. Being accountable doesn’t erase memories.

This past weekend was one of the roughest I’ve dealt with in a long time. Birthdays are HUGE to me. They are often marked with reflections upon the year that’s past and what I did with it. As I said in a previous blog, for the first time ever, I can’t look back on this past year and see the lessons learned justifying the pain it took to get there. I’ve never truly regretted anything to the point of wishing I could go back and erase something that happened – until this year. The good memories, I never should have had. And the bad…they FAR outnumber the good. Just this acknowledgment is a huge step in the direction of honesty. That’s another thing this past weekend brought up for me: I’m tired. I’m tired of pretending that all’s well. I’m tired of faking strength and insight when really half of what my head knows and can spew out at will, my heart still has yet to learn. This past weekend almost became too much, for several reasons.

There is no “Ah ha!” moment to speak of, in all honesty. I went from the lowest low I’ve ever been, to a gradual climb back up to at least a plateau for the moment. Recognizing that something has to change has brought two realizations, the first being the cease of lies. Honesty can be hard to fact, but living a life of denial is a far worse fate as far as I’m concerned.

The second realization is really just a re-draft of an agreement I had made with my counselor back in April. At the time, she made me agree to no dating for six months – that would put the end of the deal on October 21st. After our meeting today, we re-drafted the deal into something a bit different. It’s something far more difficult, but with a smaller time frame. Basically, the deal is zero contact with anyone outside of the platonic friend circle…ending September 1st.

When you build your truth on lies, outside influences are therefore far more influential than they would be ordinarily. As someone who is quite relationally driven, the influence of male opinion and approval has had far too much of a say in my overall sense of wellbeing. So…we cut the umbilical cord…

And get back to what, at the core of me, I know is true. God is good all the time. All the time, God is good. Not lie changes that. And where we go from here, only He knows. I don’t know what the next four weeks will look like, but if denying myself means honoring Him…Then that’ll be the only acceptable denying to be done.

The Blog On Hope

{ July 16, 2008 @ 6:42 am } · { Legitimate Insight, PG, The Silver Lining }
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It’s shortly before midnight and I’m sitting in bed writing. I should probably be sleeping, as I have to be up for work in about six hours, but there are times in life where the content of the mind and heart warrant the delay of sleep so that they can be documented for future reference. Now is one of those times.

Today began in a slightly more endearing fashion than the norm of late. For the first time in ages, I awoke and set about getting ready for work without the usual black cloud of doom hanging over me. I say that with a tone of cynical sarcasm, but sadly the description remains accurate. As I said, the cloud was missing this morning and I had the welcome ability to actually formulate coherent thought and process those thoughts into a dialogue with the Almighty. Sweet. And that last statement is with a tone of sincere relief. You see, for the longest time the above mentioned cloud has managed to prevent any real conversation and relationship with my First Love. In addition, it has bred nothing but confusion, whether it be attempting to process life and its fantabulous (sarcasm) curve balls of joy (more sarcasm), or merely attempting to think.

I think we get the point. Today started better than usual.

Then it took a nose dive as work proved to be annoying, and then I was accosted with the immature nonsense of a woman with a seven year supposed leg up on me in both age and alleged maturity. Not so much. Well, the age, perhaps. Maturity and logic for that matter, seem to be lacking. That’s the trigger of the blog preceding this one, which I am now tempted to remove considering the events of this evening.

Indeed, when I posted that blog everything I wrote was accurate. In truth, it still is. The only real difference is the frame of mind which caused me to write in the way I did. Perhaps I could have been a bit nicer about things. Perhaps not. Either way, the point of this particular blog has little to do with the one bellow.

I went to Los Angeles with my brother this evening to attend a mid-week church gathering called “Expression 58″. It’s an amazing group of people who are mostly in the entertainment industry, who gather to celebrate God and worship Him through their gifting. There are likely people of noteworthy fame amongst the crowd, but that is irrelevant. What attracts me to this group is that they’re people who I can relate to. They’re not “Type A”. They’re just a bit ‘off’ in the most fantastically familiar way that only a select portion of society can fully understand and appreciate. On the way there during my conversation with my brother, he suggested that I ask God for something specific for the evening. There were many possible things I could have chosen, all things considered, but the one I went with was the idea of Hope.

The black cloud I mentioned before is obviously a simile (or is that metaphor?) for the state of depression I have found myself in. Although there are several obvious sources for this state of mind and heart, the bottom line lately has been a feeling of utter hopelessness. It has felt as if there is zero hope of ever getting away from the past, that things will always feel this bad, and that the idea of a light at the end of yet another metaphorical tunnel is laughable to say the least. The idea of there being something to hope for in the future was completely unfathomable.

Until tonight.

In the car I mentioned to my brother that I needed Hope. I asked that he ask for it for me if the thought entered his head in the future. One thing I keep being reminded of, and something I never want to forget, is that with God…nothing is an accident. There is no such thing as coincidence. God is a God of master planning and perfect orchestration. You can guess where this is going…

Tonight’s message was on Hope. Isaiah 40, to be exact – a passage I am quite fondly familiar with. Tonight, God had my card entirely. And he passed it on to a wonderful woman He sent to pray with me afterwards. And I broke.

So did the cloud which had returned during the day. Just as the sun breaks through the darkness, as each ray of brilliance shatters fog and shines its warm light on the earth bellow, so did the hope begin to break through. There was the feeling, thank God, but more importantly the recognition of something far more meaningful.

Emotions are fleeting. I have written about this many times before and remarked about their tendency to be unreliable and at time inaccurate. Tonight I learned that Hope isn’t just a feeling – it’s a choice. Where you’re eyes are focused is where your hope comes from. As long as they are focused on yourself, your circumstance, and your failings, there will be near certain disappointment and disillusionment. When we fix our eyes instead on the things Above and take a stance of gratitude for what we have and faith for what we lack, then real and lasting hope can take root.

Hope isn’t found in our situations in life or in the people around us. Certainly these can be great assets, but they are fallible. God already knows our needs and will provide for them in His time. His plans are for our benefit, not for our ruin. The lesson of the day? God is God. Let him play his role accordingly, and I’ll play mine – the beloved child He created unique and for His unique plan and purpose. He created none as he did me (or you, for that matter) so comparison to another is asinine. He delights in his creation. I just need to learn to do the same.

The Blog About God

{ June 1, 2008 @ 5:28 pm } · { Legitimate Insight, Poet }
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There have been many influences and voices lately which have offered sentiments both new and old in regards to me, my life, and my relationship with God. There have been some recurring themes, some amazing words of encouragement, and some brilliant moments of near euphoric awareness of being held in the palm of the Almighty’s hand. One of the coolest moments I’ve had was during my drive to Arizona last week. I remembered something that Mike Erre had said about love. He said that real love involved risk. Obviously, on a human level I understand this one completely. On another level, though, it was as if something finally clicked and I saw it from a different perspective. I’m usually one who takes little chances without knowing the outcome of the situation. I won’t risk acknowledging emotions or feelings for someone if I think they’re not on the same page. I very much wait for them to take the initiative. Likewise, my relationship with God has been a wrestling match between finding psychological, logical, historical, and evidential proof that He is who he says He is and Christianity is the ‘right’ choice, and believing with a childlike trusting faith. The second doesn’t come easily to me.

I have trouble trusting that He is good when I see so much unexplained bad. I doubt Him as a perfect and trustworthy shepherd because I’ve seen things in both my life and the lives of others which lead me to think otherwise. When I reflected on the notion of love meaning risk, I realized that my love for God involves that kind of risk. Certainly, I can look at all the reasons why I choose to live with the beliefs I do, but as we’re trusting in a God who can not be seen, there is little tangible proof of His existence. I have felt His presence like a tingling fire on my flesh when my heart and soul is focussed entirely on Him, but I always question whether I’m right or whether I’m taking a chemical reaction in my body or a stray emotion and running somewhere inaccurate with it.

The words spoke to me and over me recently have mostly related to things I’ve known before. In fact, many of them I had to chuckle at because they are almost directly relevant to something I wrote last year. I hadn’t planned on writing it out anywhere public, but as this is a select forum…I’ll share. What follows is essentially my walk with God put to words.

In dark of night with only fire to guide me
It burns my clothes and singes my path
My flesh remains untouched
Your had surrounds me
Your breath lives in me
Your light will hide me
Even in darkness, hold me and I’ll be fine

My soul longs for and finds you
Through the tears your goodness shines through
You confuse me and leave me guessing
But I trust you. My God, I trust you

When dreams seem past and faded
My view of life is completely jaded
But still I will seek and I’ll get to you
I see you’re always with me
Regardless of what I’m going through
Just take my hand, I will go
I will follow you, Father. I will go

Jesus, my love, your beloved I’ll remain
I dance before you
Take my joy in seeing you
Take my life, God, I’ll serve you
I adore you
Live for you
Take my hand I’ll be just fine
I am yours, I will keep you as mine

Let my life be pleasing to you
May your heart beat the rhythm I dance to
I will sing at the top of my lungs and rejoyce
Because my Father loes me
Not by force but by choice
So forsake the world and live for you
Give up with striving and delight in you

I am fearfully, wonderfully, beautifully made
Perfection in your eyes
May that be all that matters
All that I need

I need you, my God
Don’t hide yourself from me
I will climb up this hill
And not leave until you bless me
Even if this world destroys me
I will rise from the ashes
I will fly to you

Hold me in your arms, only then I’ll survive
May the shade of your presence
Be where my soul rests and is alive
Fill my heart with your love
Keep my eyes on you
Take my hand and guide me
Be my strength
I will find you

In the waiting, I will find you.

- September 14, 2007

Currently reading :
The Sacred Romance: Drawing Closer to the Heart of God
By Brent Curtis

The Blog About Who I Am

{ May 26, 2008 @ 8:20 pm } · { Blatant Overshare, Legitimate Insight, Me, PG, The Silver Lining }
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One of the biggest battles I have to face on a day to day basis is the battlefield of the mind. The mind is a powerful thing and really it’s what we choose to do with it which dictates the directions our daily lives will take. I’ve had plenty of examples of my thought life changing how I view people and activities, and I’m not referring to reflections upon reality. I’m talking about the fantasies that the imagination can conjure, which may be based on real life people and places, but the situations are false and the story plays out according to the fancy of the moment.

I learned how powerful this way of thinking was during the relationship I was in a couple years ago. In the past I had been in relationships with guys, but allowed my mind to wander to the thoughts of others. There would be speculations and imagined situations where myself and these others would interact and little by little my daily life almost had a parallel alter ego. I was sometimes absent during my own waking moments and going through the motions while a preferable film of sorts played in my head. Although this proved to be amusing and fulfilled various needs, be it emotional or psychological, all it really did was leave me in a state of wanting. The real life boyfriend I had took a back seat to the preferred characters of distraction and in doing so my affections dwindled. That particular relationship wouldn’t have worked long term anyhow, but the point is the lesson learned. The relationship a couple years ago I spent guarding my wandering thoughts against distraction. Ideas would pop into my head and they were immediately banished. I wouldn’t even entertain the curiosity about another guy or alternate circumstance. Because of this my relationship with this one was awesome while it lasted. I learned something about myself which I, up until that point, thought was impossible: I was capable of love.

My recent situation was a product of a rogue thought pattern. What was originally unthinkable and out of the question became a pre-occupation, then was encouraged by the other, and what I thought I was incapable of became reality after pain left my thoughts and emotions vulnerable to a moment of weakness. The moment my thoughts shifted, I knew I was in trouble. Sure enough, what was a dismissed idea came true. Granted, that may have been the way that things began, but what perpetuated it was obviously more than that. It’s extremely complicated in someways but remarkably simple in others. That’s not relevant. This isn’t really about relationships with other people. I use the examples merely to illustrate the power of the mind.

What I intended on getting to was the current battle which has taken the forefront of my internal dialog. For years I have refused to admit that which is good about myself due to an overdeveloped stance of humility. The last thing I wanted or want to ever become is one of those girls who is so full of their own self importance and supposed grandeur that they become intolerable to those around them. Everyone looks at them with annoyance and scorn due to their overdeveloped self-esteem and over sized ego. My problem is that I’ve taken that fear to an unhealthy extreme. Instead of merely guarding against the ego becoming overinflated, I take it to a ridiculous level and squash any thoughts of positive whatsoever. Instead of admitting to something that is good about myself, I say the opposite and maintain that what others perceive as good is indeed somewhat below average.

Really, this is a moronic way to live. Humility was the goal and there is something to be said for that, but discounting various blessings which God has granted is completely wrong. Part of daring to risk on the faith that God is who he says he is includes the risk to believe that what he has made me to be is true also. Self hatred has been a huge part of my life since junior high, really. Only for brief moments have I claimed anything positive about myself be it appearance, capabilities, talents, or any other virtue worthy of recognition. The remainder of the time is spent flogging myself for how badly I suck at life. The fact of the matter is, I am by no means perfect and in the past I have been prone to making some really crappy choices, but in reality – being me doesn’t suck.

I decided yesterday that instead of focusing on everything that I despised about myself I needed to start recognizing things for what they are and not for the worldly ideal I fall short of. Acknowledging these things about myself makes me squirm and makes me automatically feel defensive against other peoples opinions which may rival what I have to say…but really, what’s the worst that can happen? I think something positive? I stop hating myself? Hmm. Seems like a decent trade off for learning a new way of functioning.

Before attempting this foray into the unknown, lets just understand that all which is about to be voiced is said with the intention of reflecting what I know to be true about myself, not necessarily how I’ve acted. I’ve made some bad judgment calls and made plenty of mistakes in life, some intentional some otherwise. That doesn’t change who I am as a person. It means I’m merely human and prone to human behavior. Ok. Now that’s out of the way.

On an intellectual basis, I happen to be above average. I know this to be true not just because of a IQ test score (which is a good deal above average) or my honors status throughout my education, or the position I used to be ranked at when district exams were taken. How I problem solve as well as communicate, both through speech and writing, is generally above that of my peers…and most older than I. I had to speak in front of a courtroom full of people – attorneys, witnesses, government representatives, etc. I spoke my piece directly to the judge as the main witness for the prosecution. Although I knew basically what subject matter to use, I had no idea what to say until the moment I stood at the podium facing the Judge. What followed was about a five minute monologue covering everything from facts about the situation to my opinions and reasons behind them. As I spoke, I could hear an attorney near me say to another “she’s more well spoken than his attorney!”. My parents were present in the courtroom that day and were later approached by various lawyers and court officials who all made remarks in kind. Professors share these opinions and more. Enough about that one.

I’m the kind of friend who will drop everything for the need of another. I’ll loan money, I’ll drive hours just to meet up for lunch, I’ll pick them up in the middle of the night just because they shouldn’t be alone. I’ll stay with them while they’re upset, I’ll come back for them at 4 in the morning and take them from the cold night and back to a place of safety where I’ll remain at their side until daylight. I’ve done surprise parties, surprise “decorating” with candy and balloons in an unsuspecting friend’s bedroom, and made dinner for people to come home to. I’m trustworthy, brutally honest, and I’ll listen to as much as someone wants to tell me. I’ll say what needs to be said, even when it doesn’t want to be heard and rarely will I pull punches that need to be thrown. I’d rather give than take. I’ll act like a complete idiot just to make you smile.

I’ve always said that if I had no need to work and was free to do whatever I wanted with my time, then it would be spent doing something for others. Whether it was volunteering at an animal shelter, or working with Habitat like I did last year – I have to be active and productive. Life planted on a sofa or lounging in a cushy house with nothing useful to do is incredibly unattractive to me. So is waste of resources. I get frustrated with people who have so much but who strive for endless amounts of…what…more? More of what? All they seem to accomplish is furthering the craving for accumulation of wealth – all the while doing nothing of real worth with it. You can’t take it with you. So, why beat yourself to death for it and then hang on to or squander it? Makes no sense.

Anyway.

As a significant other, I know I’m amazing. Years down the line a guy I was with for a year and a half still grumbles about me “raising the bar pretty freakin’ high”. The most recent was one who adored me for everything I was and could do and be. To see his face light up as I came into view at the airport in San Jose – you’d think he’d just won the lottery. Twice. He didn’t allow me out of his arms until the center console of the rented SUV became an obstacle. After that, my hand remained a captive of his until I could once again be by his side. Again in New Orleans, he couldn’t wait to see me and his reaction said so the moment he saw me arrive. When we were out in public, there was zero doubt to anyone that his affections were focused solely on me. When we weren’t in public… The thing is, everything he did for me and all that he was I never took for granted. I always affirmed, complimented, took interest, encouraged, listened, and allowed him to see how he affected me in turn. Hell, I even spent way too much on Christmas for the guy ($160 for a hat…seriously.) I’m the type who will go out of my way to bring lunch to a work site on my own lunch break. I’ll give a back rub just because I’m near enough to do so. I’ll go riding and hiking and enjoy the beauty of creation, but I’ll be arm candy at a say so. No, I’m not a pushover by any stretch of the imagination. I am a better lover than fighter. Really, my strength is love. Even when love means letting go.

Physically. This is the hard one to go through. I know what I see. I also know what other people see. And these differ at times. I’d be an idiot not to acknowledge that God has gifted me with incredible eyes. That one’s pretty obvious. The other things are difficult partially because of my genetic predisposition to body dysmorphic disorder-type thinking, as well as my brief modeling stint. I have long, golden brown hair which can either be curled or straightened and will basically do whatever I want it to do. I’m tall, and that’s something I’ve only recently stopped complaining about. Structure wise, I’m curvy without being ‘big’, have a great torso (cute stomach…and DD’s aren’t something to be complained about – especially when you’re repeatedly asked if they’re real), and I’m capable of muscle and tone if I care enough to try for it. I’ve had the classic “I’m bigger than society wants me to be” syndrome since I was 13, but every guy I know is appalled when I suggest losing weight. From guy friends to significant others and co-workers – they all say the same thing. If it’s not a blatant “You’re perfect. Shut up” then it’s a “if you were more skinny, that would be gross”. I mentioned this concern to my last relationship to which he remarked on his dislike for bones and his love of my curves. Couldn’t stay away from them, actually. Having a flat stomach is also pretty great. Overall…I know I’m at least slightly above average looking. Alright. Maybe a bit more than that.

Moving on.

This is turning out to be far more detailed than I planned on. OK. So, for the rest of it…I’m strong. I’m musically talented. I’m a brilliant people person. I’m confident, outgoing, fun, compassionate, loving, and caring. I can keep up with the boys on a construction site, and will climb just as high on a rock wall. I’ll at least try the unlikely before declaring it impossible. I love new learning experiences. I’m very artistic. I drew my phoenix tattoo and several friends, even my dad’s office at Purpose Driven, have my paintings on their walls. I can bake better chocolate chip cookies than your grandma – but mine are healthier. ;) I’m brilliant in support-role work environments. I make a great assistant. I multi-task, can type ridiculously fast, and can achieve far more in any given time than the average joe schmo. I can handle whatever life can throw at me, and even if it breaks me for a moment, I’ll bounce back quickly and stronger than I was before. I learn from the past and have more life experience than most twice my age. I know when to speak, and when to shut up. I’ll graciously bow out and take a hit to the pride simply to give another peace of mind. I don’t act based on emotion, but allow time to bring logic and reason into the situation. I always consider the other person’s feelings and possible reactions before speaking or acting. If I feel a strong emotional response to someone or something, I’ll at least give it a night and day before allowing myself to act on it. Emotions are hardly reliable resources on which to rely upon. They enhance life, and can be wonderful and amazing…but they can be misleading and an inaccurate depiction of reality. Every guy guy in my life (ex-boyfriends, friends, whatever) has remarked upon the fact that I’m not a crazy emotional “chick”. I still have a ton of feelings, but they’re not insanely across the board or all consuming. I don’t use them as excuses for being a bitch or being moody. That’s what self control is for. Those around me know what I feel and when, so I’m not a robot in any way. I’m good a crisis intervention. I can put my own feelings aside and take care of another when needed. I can shoulder incredible amounts of stress and responsibility. And the list…

Could go on, but at this point I’m tiring and in need of sleep. The whole point of this is to begin to be aware of the positives. I’m sure this will be edited and added or subtracted from over time. That’s a good thing though. The only time we should stop growing and learning is when we’re dead.

And even then, I’m sure God still has something to say.

Not a brilliant conclusion, but hey. I’m not perfect.

The Blog About A Night At RockHarbor

{ May 5, 2008 @ 5:26 am } · { Legitimate Insight, PG, The Silver Lining }
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The harder the fight, the more you know you need to keep fighting. This is something I’ve learned over and over again but is something I still, ironically, have to fight to remember. There have been many things over the last month or two which have been day to day battles for me. Moment to moment is likely a bit more accurate. Every second, every minute that passes by contains the thought or situation demanding to take my thoughts and actions captive. It’s taken a hell of a lot of willpower with some of these battles. Today the battle was church.

I knew that the fact that I didn’t particularly want to go was a decent indication that I needed to do be at Rockharbor’s evening service today. The series has been on Song of Solomon – a series I have been through with Rockharbor before, but this time around has a bit more relevance due to the timing which can be labeled as nothing short of divine appointment. Considering the situation I recently fought my way out of, a series of this nature was quite welcome. The messages up until now have all been awesome and have hit me in varying degrees, but each of them has carried something meaningful and perfect for the moment. Today, however, the moment was a bit more meaningful.

The battle today was more than just attending church. The main fight was once I walked through the doors. I walked in as someone with PTSD. I was scanning the crowd, acutely aware of the people walking into the building around me, and looking for the tell tale height of one and the style of another. In fact, there were four possible characters who’s presence was expected and partially dreaded for the effect I knew they would have on my night. Once I found a seat, the distraction remained and I found myself constantly wondering if one or more of them were aware of my presence. I knew at least one was present – the feeling of someone watching was quite overwhelming through the beginning of service. Which one, I’m not sure. This preoccupation proved to be quite problematic as the sermon progressed. Words which carried such meaning and insight became dulled in the background as my thoughts took center stage. I found myself playing through the events of last week, then projecting what potential interactions would be like with any one of the four in my mind. Several times I had to wage war against my own mind set and get back to focusing on Mike Erre. I’m incredibly thankful that God was merciful enough to help me tune back in when I needed to. Tonight was a turning point.

The end of the teaching consisted of Mike throwing out several possibilities that could represent our view of our own sexuality. There were several I identified with. The reality of being single and settling for counterfeit or the placebo comfort of a moment with someone irrelevant, just so that the loneliness wouldn’t take over. A past of being abused and robbed of what God had gifted by way of innocence. The idea that my past disqualifies me from future happiness and love and that relationship I’ve always wanted. There were more, perhaps, but these were the ones which stuck with me.

What ended up getting me was Mike throwing out the dare to believe that what God already says about us is true: that we are pure, and whole, and worthy in His eyes and that all he had planned for us is still there no matter what our past looks like. No one is beyond redemption. Nothing is too big to forgive. No sin is too atrocious to disqualify us. We are redeemed, adored, cherished, loved, and forgiven people with the eyes of the Living God focused upon us.

When the teaching closed, I went to one of the side rooms to one of the crosses. There on my knees, I did what needed to happen. I started the conversation. It took quite a bit of willpower to continually fight against the distracting thoughts which tried to fight their way into the forefront of my mind. Even still, I laid it all out there. Confession. Repentance. Letting go. Name by name, I gave him every one of the guys who represent something to me. Every one of my crutches, my hopes, my sorrows, my painful memories, my worries, my stresses, my preoccupations, my false comforts. That’s the thing – even the most angst producing characters are still a comfort because they’re familiar. They’re something I know and recognize and hold tightly to as some form of stability. No matter how damaging, they mange to become a part of my identity. I’ve let them define me. I’ve let them be my source of affirmation and criticism and worth. It’s nonsense, but it’s the only way I’ve know how to function. Name by name, they were released and handed back to God. It was uncomfortable and frightening. In the end I knelt there, and in my minds eye saw myself surrounded by this group of guys and one by one they all faded away until it was just me. Alone, I stood there. In a blank and open white space, I stood still and afraid with no one around to shield or hide behind. But the coolest thing is that I wasn’t alone for long. God stood behind me and wrapped His arms around me. His being engulfed mine until I was surrounded by Him – a barrier against whatever I would go up against.

Tears fell to my hands and I was reminded again of Magdalene. How often I’ve identified with her. I’ve wondered what happened to her. Yes, she was redeemed, but then what? She was forgiven an enormous amount but did she end up with a love and family of her own or did she live the rest of her days alone?

What what about me?

I don’t know the near or far future will look like, but I knew that God was asking me to stop being stubborn. This fight is not one to be fought alone.

I stood in the back of the sanctuary and waited for a somewhat familiar face to go to for prayer. Mike Kenyon appeared and stood with me there and prayed. I told him what I had identified with from the service. The interesting thing was what he said at the very end. He said “I have a sense that you don’t believe that God loves you as much as he love everyone else”. At first I didn’t think he was onto something…then a moment later I realized he had got right to the core of what all my doubts can be traced back to. Really, my lack of faith that God will provide or cause hopes to become reality is saying that God isn’t God – and he doesn’t love me the way I see Him loving other people. I’ve looked at the relationships those around me have been blessed with and though that no one will ever love me the way that THEY are loved. I’ll never be the world to another human being. I’ll never be cherished or longed for and love in return. These realities for other people are a gift. God loves them enough to bless them with these relationships. Why, then, do I believe that I’m not worthy or won’t be given that sort of love? That would indicate that God doesn’t love me the same as He loves other people.

When you get to the core of it, Kenyon was dead on. My own feelings of inadequacy and failure have led me to see myself as sub-par and unworthy. Even of God. Especially of God.

But it’s not true.

What I realized/felt/saw/experienced in that moment was the overwhelming reality that I am adored by Him. Completely loved.

And I dare to believe that this is true. I choose to dare to believe that all is not lost – God is still God. And life up until this point is NOT all He wrote. There is hope and a future, and dreams and desires are not given to torture us with disappointment.

A whole new way of functioning. It’s completely unfamiliar and frightening as anything. Thing is, I’m not alone.

I never was.

I walked away and later out of the sanctuary with a completely different demeanor. My body was relaxed rather than tense. My eyes didn’t scan with fear and expectation. I walked out of that building knowing that I was under the complete protection of His will and plan – no one was going to get to me without His permission. I ran into one of the four on the way out. A hug and a brief interaction later, I realized that the short exchange we had was slightly different from how it had been in the past. Instead of speaking based on how I expected his potential reaction to be, I spoke as myself. I carried myself differently. Smiled more. Was open rather than guarded. I was me.

It’s been a while.

It’s slightly sad when you realize you haven’t been you in such a long time that when you finally get back to yourself, you’re slightly unfamiliar. How I felt tonight makes me hope that this will no longer be the case. So be it.

The Blog About Cats And God

{ August 16, 2007 @ 6:39 am } · { Legitimate Insight, PG }
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It’s funny the circumstances and situations that God will use to teach us the lessons He wants us to learn. For me, these lessons seem to be crammed into very short periods of time and tend to come when I least expect them. Tonight, the credit can be given to my cat. Well, a cat and a long past due phone call.

I brought my cat to my new residence (with the roomates in Costa Mesa) two days ago. I did this for several reasons; my parents were threatening to get rid of one or more of the three cats still remaining at their house (2.5 of which’s presense is my doing), I’ve grown up having animals around and now that they are lacking it’s just plain weird, and quite frankly…I was lonely. This point will likely be referenced later on down the line. Goose is my cat. Up until this evening, she had spent the entirety of her stay hiding under the bed. I have all the understanding in the world (really) if I feel that my understanding is going to pay off. In this case, I was doubtful. She’s the cat that I bottle raised from ten days old and who has never seen another environment beyond that of my parents home with her familiar canine and feline companions. Anyway, this morning I had to drag (and by drag, I mean grab her by the scruff of the neck and forcibly remove her from under her inconvenient hiding place) and syringe feed her water simply so that she wouldn’t be dehydrated. So tonight, as nothing had changed about her demeanor, I had spoken to my parents and told them that I would be driving Goose back to their place this evening. This was at 7:52, four minutes after I had made an outoing phone call to a certain guy. I was pissed off for a number of reasons, but I had made up my mind about Goose.

I then embarked upon a mission to seek and retrieve the cat hiding in the recesses of the area underneath my bed. My bed is somewhere between a queen and king size (it’s English, thus the ambiguity) and is a mere 8 inches off of the ground. I used to go under there as a child. I’m no longer child sized. Usually, I’d call upon the aid of another person to hold up one side of the bed (it folds in half) so I can slide underneath it to get whatever it is I’m after. Tonight I was stuborn. And pissed off. And didn’t want help.

There’s an art to being difficult. First you have to accept the understanding that whatever it is you are doing is likely going to take double if not triple the amount of time it would have required if you weren’t a stubborn ass and just asked someone to help. Next, you have to come to terms with whatever discomfort you are going to have to put yourself through to get what it is you are after. This could involve added effort, pain, contortion, or perhaps all of the above as was the case for me this evening. Lastly, you have to realize that once you begin such an endevor solo status, there’s really no going back – and even when the bed is squishing the air from your lungs and causing your shoulder to become instantly bruised from it falling on you, and your hip bones are (for once) a God send because their width allows just the right amount of movement for the rest of your body as it is propping up the entirety of the weight of said bed, thus allowing you to grab the cat in question and wrench it from its oh-so-comfy hiding place against the wall in the farthest corner…you get the picture…you must follow the mission plan until it is accomplished. The point is, being difficult has its cost. For me, it’s an aray of lovely new bruises in various places on my person. For my cat, it’s a sore neck.

Anyway, I got her out…and then she started pulling this bi-polar nonsense on me. She went from hiding out to being miss friendly. Bitch. Seriously, I had my mind made up and had securely based my decision on her lack of personability in her new surroundings…then she blew me out of the water and decided to purr. So we had a moment, and then I had to try to put the kabash on the situation. I picked up a piece of her food (which has previously gone un-touched) and while presenting it to her thought to myself (and God), “ok. IF she eats this, she can stay”.

The damn cat decided to eat.

I then placed her bowl of food in front of her and she proceeded to eat quite happily. The next little while consisted of her eating, fussing, using the cat box (something I was also concerned about) and wanting little more than attention from yours truely. All the while, all I have running through my head other than thoughts of gas money saved by not having to drive out to Yorba Linda, is “Sometimes you have to wait and trust to get what you want”.

Waiting sucks. I’m bad at it. The whole concept of anticipation is somewhat lost on me. I’m a microwave person. Hell, I’m a eat-the-tuna-right-out-of-the-can rather than make-the-mixture-and-use-it-in-a-sandwich person. So, the idea of being patient is just frustrating to me. With food, with cats, with God, and yes, with relationships aswell.

Three weeks is a long time to wait for a phone call that you both want and need to happen. Sometimes, no matter which way it’s going to go, you just need to know what the hell is going on. Somewhere early on in the 2000 hour (8 something or other) and right after I’d just completed another round of near audible “wait and trust” the phone rang it’s undeniable caller-ID’d ring tone.

That situation is not one that I’ll go into in this semi-public forum. That’s not the point of this anyway. The point of this blog isn’t to be an expose of the private life of me. It’s more of yet another installment of the voiced musings of someone who’s learning more about this life and God by the moment and who’s best way to process is to write it out.

Time is an interesting thing. No matter how we try to manipulate and control the timing of our lives and our various encounters with people, there’s Someone out there who has a much better idea of how things should go than we do. As much as I shake my metaphorical fist at the One who I believe is charge of this whole show, I’ve got to give him credit: his timing is indeed perfect. If things happened as I would see them take place, there would be no lesson to be learned. There wouldn’t be weakness exposed or emotions brought to the surface. There would be no vulnerability that comes from simply trusting rather than stressing. There would be no point to relinquish what little control I have if the pay off wasn’t a much better outcome than I could have hoped for.

Yes, the cat situation is comparatively stellar. No, the relational one is not exactly as I hoped…but even with that uncertainty I do know that the biggest lesson is the one I’m finally starting to grasp: My life is fully and completely in the hands of the One who made me and adores me more than any human entity ever could. No matter how pissed off and ornery I get, His patience is insurmountable. His love is unquentiable. His plans are perfect, and (thank God) His grace is sufficient…even for angsty and stubborn me.

I’m not sure if anyone not remarkably close to me could have been tracking enough to make heads nor tales of the above…but perhaps this can make sense to more than just me.

Jeremiah 29:11 – “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.

So be it.

The Blog About Talitha Cumi

{ February 22, 2007 @ 8:15 am } · { Blatant Overshare, Legitimate Insight, Me, PG }
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“And taking the hand of the child, he said to her, “Talitha Cumi“, which is translated, “Little girl, I say to you, get up”.
Mark 5:41

Talitha Cumi.

My headline on myspace, and currently the most fitting verse of the moment. I began the year with my previously stated resolution – to learn as much as I can about Jesus the man in order to gain a more accurate view of God Himself. With such a quest chosen, it is hardly surprising that the past two months have been fraught with an onslaught of opposition. I think the blog directly before this one indicates something to that effect – though toned down a bit from what I was really thinking/feeling. So what does that have to do with the above mentioned verse?

I started using my gym time (which contains on average an hour of cardio machines that leave me bored senseless unless I occupy my mind in someway other than people watching) reading rather than staring blankly. I began reading a book entitled “Can the Real Jesus Still be Found?” by Sigmund Brouwer…I think I’ve mentioned this before. Point being, it took just a few key paragraphs (though not all together, granted) and several observations from the author to give me a profound moment of clarity. He was talking about a visit he had made to the Holy Land, and wrote about his experience in one of the sites thought to have been the tomb in which Jesus was placed. From what I remember (this moment was several weeks ago) it was just a simple comment about how people in those days would have the graves within the tomb pre-dug according to the height of the people they were intended for. The author went on to say that the tomb in question showed that a hasty addition to the length of the grave within the tomb had been made to accommodate a burial other than that of the owner. For some reason, just the simple reality that Jesus was a certain height (average, but taller than that of the tomb owner) and dimension made it even more real that he was indeed perfectly human. This may sound stupid. Reading what I’ve just written, I’m very aware that the above represents perhaps nothing profound to anyone other than myself…never the less, it was while reading this segment and the paragraphs surrounding that I felt my entire being be convicted of the simple fact that the God I’ve claimed allegiance to since I was three did in fact live a human life, and die a very real death – and is still just as real today as He was then. It was such an odd moment to have while sweating at the gym…but so moving I hardly cared where I was or what I was doing. I’m not even sure this paragraph really makes sense…and what about the Verse?

The latter portion of the book contains the gospel of Mark. I read the story of Jesus’ encounter with the girl mentioned, and something about it registered with me in a way that only God could have inspired. As soon as I read those simple verses of Jesus raising the girl from the dead, I thought how true that verse was for me. Up until very recently, I’ve been spending far too much time allowing myself to be beaten down by the crap of every day life. The past six months or so have been spent basically wallowing in my own self-hatred and ambivalence to life. I’d allowed a part of me to die, and the rest of me to become so complacent that I hardly was an accurate representation of what I was created to be. That verse was like God reaching down, taking my hand, and pulling me up and out of the mess I’d got myself into.

Which is exactly what He did this last weekend.

Most people with whom I have daily contact know that I went up north (not quite San Francisco…but still north…) this past weekend. I knew I needed to get out of town. I knew I needed to make the trip by myself, for myself, and give myself as little distraction as possible while I was there. I did a bit of research on the hotels available in the area I wanted to go, and eventually settled on a Best Western in Arroyo Grande – about 15 miles south of San Luis Obispo. I picked this area for several reasons. I was a little familiar with the area from previous visits, I knew it was beautiful, it was far enough away but not too far, and lastly, I knew someone in the area. The last reason was one which was a side note, rather than a focal point. As much as I would have wanted to spend time with the person in question (seriously…you have no idea…) I knew it could take away from the mission of the weekend. The whole point of the trip was simply this: to deal with the garbage, get right with God, and move on. To break if need be, and hopefully come back as something resembling the person I’m more familiar with – me. I was tired of living behind a detached facade and feeling nothing more than the occasional burst of anguish. Oh, that sounds dramatic, doesn’t it?

But it’s true. So, I made the drive up north and spent the next two days self-sequestered. The first night I spent two hours straight writing out six months worth of events spanning my return from Georgia up until about a week ago. Why? Simple. There’s just some things I won’t talk about. These pages contained every detail of the events in question as well as my reaction (both internal and external) to the moments themselves. It was everything that had happened which I refused to talk about…but that was destroying me from the inside out. Once in written form, I read through it all and broke.

The thing is, it’s all too big for me to handle. Me, the past, the future, my own hangups and hurt and over-analyzing…it’s too much. So, I let go and let God take over. What followed was about 36 hours of learning a new way to function. (side note: part of the time I spent reading “Captivating” by John and Stasi Eldridge…to all the women in my life, I HIGHLY recommend reading this book.) Utter reliance on God, and allowing everything that I found to be so important from the world’s perspective to become completely irrelevant. The end result?

Peace. Believing for the first time that I am enough. Being content with what and who God has and will give me. And most importantly – an end to the striving. That constant drive to be good enough, or attractive enough, or skinny enough, or successful enough…etc. That doesn’t mean I stop caring, but it does mean that the obsessive fixations I had on the previously mentioned ideas has finally been put to death. It’s amazing what can happen in three days.

So, does all this classify as a massive over share? Likely. I simply put this out there to share the most meaningful events in the recent life of yours truly. I can’t put into words exactly what I want to convey through this thing…so the above will have to suffice. Well, it’s late (or early, more accurately) and sleep calls.

The Blog About Jesus

{ January 21, 2007 @ 9:11 am } · { Legitimate Insight }
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I mentioned my new years resolution in the last blog, but have yet to follow up on that as far as blogs go. By no means does this mean that the resolution has failed – no no, it’s still an effort in progress. It simply means that my schedule has not permitted me to act and report in the most timely manner. That said…

I began a week or two ago reading a book by Sigmund Brouwer entitled “Can the Real Jesus Still Be Found?”. I purchased this book several years ago, but up until the starting point this year had yet to begin reading it. Today I spent my hour of cardio at the gym reading through the first third or so. Brouwer basically starts the book from what I understand to be a phylosophical argument in standard form. He begins with a question or statement then adds logic and factual evidence to come to some sort of conclusion. He does this on such questions as “Do we have a soul?”, “Does heaven exist?”, “Does God Exist?”, “Was Jesus Divine?” etc. He spends a good portion of the book going through the question which I am currently seeking answers to: who was Jesus the man?

I got from this book a decent picture of who the author views Jesus to have been. Everything from his appearance (we have no real idea other than what scripture says: simply an observation that there was nothing remarkable about his appearance – neither extreme of attractive nor un-attractive as both would have distracted from his ministry) to his upbringing (a traditional Jew), to his lifestyle (as a carpenter he would have lived a life that would prepare him for his ministry – traveling, physically fit etc.) and other such ideas. What Brouwer had to say seems to be accurate to the best of my knowledge and backs up most of what I’ve heard in the past and fills in a few details of what I haven’t. There were two points in the selection I wrote which struck me, however.

One talked about a feeling one would have gotten when meeting Jesus face to face. People say “the eyes are a window into the soul”…just think what that would have meant for the Son of God. A soul so Holy, so filled with life and love…and to see a glimpse of it…I can only imagine. If you know me, you know I observe people quite closely. I take note of the look in their eyes…I can usually tell if something is wrong, or right for that matter. But I think it is absolutely true that your eyes reflect what is going on in your heart. To imagine what must have been evident on Jesus’ face…it’s incredible to think of.

The second talked about the follower of Jesus who was a tax collector. He talked about the life of the tax collector and what that really would have meant in society back in those days. The rejection, the hatred, how the only way for a tax collector to be “forgiven” in the eyes of God was to go through a rediculously near-impossible ordeal of rituals and requirements…how a recognition of wrong-doing would have left the man feeling utterly worthless and hopeless. He would have felt utterly unreachable and unsalvagable. How similar we are. I must admit, in the past and especially lately this is the feeling I have had about myself. A complete failure and a fraud in many ways. But the thing is…Jesus still loved the tax collector, and likewise loves me also. It’s humbling. It’s heartbreaking. It’s exactly what I needed to read: that the offer of relationship is still on the table…regardless. Regarless of what I did five years ago, two months ago, or a few nights back. It’s still there.

Damn near rock bottom there seems to be a sliver of light. Perhaps the clouds are finally breaking.

The Blog About Scott And Being Sifted

{ November 13, 2006 @ 9:40 am } · { Blatant Overshare, Legitimate Insight, Me, PG }
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In starting this blog I feel the need to add a short disclaimer. I manage to keep the majority of my blogs relatively aloof and devoid of excessive amounts of emotion. On this occasion, this censorship does not apply. That said…

In an attempt to simplify my life I recently went through several folders in my computer and did a massive cleaning job – read through the files I didn’t remember, deleted the unnecessary, and reorganized what remained into a much easier and logical filing format. Doing this turned out to be quite the interesting event. I came across pictures I didn’t remember taking, old school papers that sounded way too thought out to have been written by the person I think I am, and then the two files which I think my happening upon can in no way be considered mere chance.

I have an ex-boyfriend. Actually, I have four ex-boyfriends. One of them was a teacher whom I dated when I was 18 and 19. This one liked to write. He was a guy who believed in journals, notes, letters, longer letters, and other pieces of word-related tokens of affection. I have to give him credit – he picked the correct avenue to get to me. I still have the majority of the originals (if not all of them) in what I refer to as the “Scott Box” up on a shelf along with other little gifts bestowed upon me during this time. Don’t get me wrong…this isn’t some shrine to a former long-lost love. The guy’s married now. I respect that wholeheartedly and wish them nothing but complete happiness. I have, up until this point, hung onto them simply for the sweetness the items contain. The two above mentioned files were the original WORD documents written to me on May 14th and 15th, 2003. And now, three and a half years later, pieces of these documents are exactly what I needed to hear. Here’s a few excerpts…

“…You are so patient and resilient to everything and I admire your strength. I respect you, and you know I do because I listen to you. I will not run from you even in the hard times. Your value and worth in my life is because of who you are Natalie… and the importance of that weighs within my being…It’s not about me. but here I am Natalie. I prayed for you today as I drove onto campus. I lifted you up before the lord and asked him to protect you from the schemes of the enemy who is sifting you… “

And from the 15th:

“driving to work today I thought about you. I started thinking about what you said, how the battle is not against flesh and blood…you and I live by what we see and feel so much at times…They want to some how negate you or see something about you that could be deemed wrong so that they feel better about themselves… and the more threatened they are of you the more they make an issue out of whatever it is they perceive as a weakness. You are a leader…You speak your mind and don’t put up with crap, yet you are sensitive, caring and patient. Don’t stop pursuing the dreams of your heart. When I think about you I get excited because I know you will never settle for the easy passive life…although your very importance to me does not define you, know that it is true; you are important. Not because I believe it or think it, but because it is a reality of you just being…you are significant and essential…Never underestimate your worth…”

As wrong as he turned out to be for me, he was completely right. He had a very accurate view of me. Not all of it was glowing, but it was honest. He got it. He got me. But really this isn’t about him, nor me with him. It’s about how true his words are even today.

I’m being sifted. It was true in 2003, and it’s true now in 2006. At this point in time it seems like God is taking away everything I hold dear, everything that matters or that I consider important, everything that I cling to – all of it, just to teach me this lesson: utter reliance upon Him and Him alone. First, He removed a person. One person who meant the world to me. Someone I treasured and adored, loved with everything I had, and would have given anything to hold onto. God took him away. Him and the puppy. Then He removed a few friends here and there, a couple job opportunitiesies, an iPod, allowed relationships to fall to pieces before they even really began, and generally isolated me from all but a select few people who amount to few more than family. For anyone who doesn’t get how huge this is…it’s devastatingly meaningful. I’m a people person. I thrive on the company of others. This was big. So…we’re down love, people, material possessionsons…then comes health. I’m used to being a healthy person. I rarely get sick, seldom have an injury more than a few bruises from Soccer, and have (thank God) never had anything wrong with me that warranted any serious attention. Until a little over a month ago. Now, I have the mystery of what I refer to as the “non-child”. A few symptoms with no positive diagnosis. And no, they still don’t know what it was/is. And now…for what I hope is the grand finale, God is taking away one of my last security blankets. Vanity. For the first time in my life I have bad skin. As of a few days ago, I have six new stretch marks which are apparently not weight related. I am bruised in many areas for some unknown reason. My teeth are adjusting themselves after the wisdom tooth I was told I didn’t have finally came through. And I realized this after freaking out over a gain of three pounds in what could only have been water weight: I have a weight problem. No, I’m not overweight. It’s more like the opposite. It’s the reaction that I had in the doctors office that let me know how much of a problem I had with whatever weight I was at, and how deeply terrified I was of any possible increase. And all of that comes down to the root fear that I know God is trying to address: I’m not good enough.

No matter how I present myself to the world, the deep-seated feeling I live with is one of insufficiency. Never intelligent enough, or well spoken, successfulull, or Godly, or thin, or beautiful…etc. The letter I quoted above contains all the truths that I need to hear at times like these, but the lesson in all this is one so much bigger that that. It’s one that Scott tried to teach me years ago. It’s one that my head remembers but my heart hasn’t yet learned to cling to: my own worth is not found in the things of this world. It’s found in God.

A very wise man told me to read through 1&2 Peter. After a few days if not weeks of prodding, today I took my Dad’s advice and read through these two short books. They’re both encouraging and draining, but absolutely fitting.

Even now as I’m writing this, I’m still conflicted. I have the answers in my head, from wise counsel and the Book. The answers, however, don’t calm what’s raging inside of me. I’m angry. I disappointed. I’m hurt. I’m frustrated. I’m afraid. I’m overwhelmed. I have this ache of sorrow in my chest that clings with an iron fist and won’t let go. I feel like screaming and dissolving into the vegetative state that my soul wishes it could become.

My Ex was right, though. I will never settle for the easy passive life. And that is why the sifting occurs. Those who chose to live a passive life of mediocrity rarely seem to encounter the troubles that others face. I think the truth is, however, that they may encounter the hard points in life, but they choose to avoid them and take the easier way out. They settle. They take what they can get and write the rest off as too difficult or out of their reach. I think many people live this way of life. They let relationships slide because it would be too much effort to make it work. They would have to sacrifice. They would have to TRY, not just be handed something on a plate. That’s another topic entirely, isn’t it?

I’m exhausted. Physically, mentally, emotionally. It’s tiring to pretend that everything is fine when it most definitely is not. It’s hard to not pick up a phone and call the ones you want most. It’s torture to let go of someone you want to hang onto just a moment longer. It’s self control, absolutely, but it’s also trying to see the bigger picture beyond my own wishes of the moment. May I learn this lesson quickly and God help me, may I get through this crap to see what lies on the other side.

The Blog About Love and Forrest Gump

{ August 16, 2006 @ 5:22 pm } · { G, Legitimate Insight, Quoting the Brilliant }
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I’ve spent the last few weeks thinking and bouncing ideas off of people – kind of taking inventory of what it is I believe in this life. Everything from relating to people on this Earth, to ethics, to love, up to and including God. The thing that I keep coming back to is a familiar movie. I’ve watched it many times before, but it wasn’t until I saw it sometime early July-ish that something caught my attention. I watched scenes play out following the life of Forrest Gump but whatever happened to him, in some way it always came back to his deepest love – a girl named Jenny. Here’s a little bit of dialogue from a particular scene that I can’t quite forget.

Forrest Gump: Will you marry me?
[Jenny turns and looks at him]
Forrest Gump: I’d make a good husband, Jenny.
Jenny Curran: You would, Forrest.
Forrest Gump: But you won’t marry me.
Jenny Curran: You don’t wanna marry me.
Forrest Gump: Why don’t you love me, Jenny? I’m not a smart man, but I know what love is.

I remember watching this and something in me felt this deep longing for that type of affection. Granted, the film is fictional and Gump is given the words of many brilliant writers, but the idea is one so extraordinary that it manages to get me every time. No matter what Jenny did, no matter where she went or who she was with or what damage she did to herself in the process, there was one thing in her life that remained the same – Forrest still loved her. She came from an abusive home life, ran off and ended up wrapped up with guy after guy, eventually ended up in prostitution and addicted to drugs…but after all this, all Forrest saw was the girl he met as a child. He didn’t look at her circumstances or actions (nor blame her for what she got hersef into by her own free will) but rather offered his love unconditionally. He found her in a strip club with men pawing at her and all he could do was try to rescue her.

Her response to all this is even more interesting. Up until the last quarter of the movie, she is either frustrated or merely tolerant of the protection and love he offers her. It isn’t until she’s tired and broken that she allows him to do what he’s always wanted – to love her.

Jenny Curran: Why are you so good to me?
Forrest Gump: You’re my girl!
Jenny Curran: [pause] I’ll always be your girl.

The female/chick/human side of me would only dare to hope to have that sort of love in this lifetime. Unconditional. Irrational. Completely unselfish. Far too many people only look for prospetive mates in regards to what that person can offer them. Then at the first sign of weakness or trouble, they’re done. Not worth their time. I’m not saying that we should just live our lives for ourselves and hope someone will put up with it. THAT would be irrational and selfish. But if both parties, whether friends or lovers, could adopt this way of loving this world would be such a better place. Forrest Gump had it right.

And the funny thing that I realized is that as much as I want this sort of thing from another human being, I already have it in God. Granted, I have trouble trusting it at times when the evidence of life points to the contrary. It’s hard to believe that God loves you completely and unconditionally when he allows pain and heartbreak to happen. It’s hard to trust that he doesn’t condemn you when the things you want most are taken away. I tend to think that it’s God judging me for the mistakes I make. He knows what I want, so he takes it from me as punishment. I’m told this isn’t the heart of God. I’m told (by brilliant people and scripture to back them up) that God is a God of Love. The kind of love that I, as a human, can equate to Forrest Gump love. All consuming, unconditional, and ever-present. As fallen people we really are so undeserving. We’re messed up and lost but the offer is still on the table. We’re all Jennys.

I wish I had a witty comment to close this thing out with. Really, it’s just a lot of pent up thoughts typed onto a screen for a few people to browse through. I hope it makes sense in the end. Or, perhaps this will do:

Forrest Gump: That’s all I have to say about that.

Currently listening :
Eyes Open
By Snow Patrol
Release date: 09 May, 2006