What Dating Has Taught Me About Myself

People always talk about how you learn so much about yourself through dating.  I guess I never realized until now that they're right, but in reality how it is so harmful.  See, the men I've dated have taught me that I'm wonderful, "enchanting", amazing, kind, intelligent, sexy, - but not worth it.  "It" being effort, communication, honesty, time, respect, self-reflection, being heard, buying a drink, leaving a prime parking spot...you name it.  I'm great – but not worthy.

Don't get me wrong, as I've had to tell my therapist many times, I don't believe this at all – but they all seem to.  So I keep getting my hopes up and dashed, whether a shallow or deep encounter.  Each and every time, I can think back and find somewhere he didn't want to put the work in.  Now, I'm not demanding backflips through crazy hoops, or asking for anything unreasonable, by any means.  In fact I think I'm asking for what I deserve, as a human being offering my time and heart.  Somehow I haven't met a man that is willing to put in the effort where it's needed.

It's exhausting and discouraging. I know I don't deserve to be treated this way, but I find myself questioning if there's anyone out there who will treat me as though all the things they think are attractive about me, actually make me deserving of their effort.  That anyone will treat me as if once found, I'm someone unquestioningly worth effort to keep around.  I find myself taking what I can get, until I am frustrated that I have to tolerate these things – because even confronting is too much. 

Dating has taught me that I'm both too much and not worth it.  Can you blame me if I feel completely closed off to admiration always intermixed with rejection?

Rollercoaster vs. Intention

In the great yonder that is adulthood, it's always kind of been my thing to live my life with intention. I've always sort of known what I wanted to go after, or what I wanted to do and what I didn't. I've had this sense of who I am, and who I'm not. Up until the year from hell. Since I've felt like I'm away from myself; like I'm waiting to wake from a weirdly mediocre dream. I've just been living my life.

It occurred to me recently that after I lived in Paris and traveled through Vietnam, I was convinced I was going to change the world. That was six years ago now, and all I've done is live my life. I haven't done anything all that grand. And after the bad year and its residue trickling into this year in a way I didn't expect, I don't feel like I'm living with much intention.

I've been stuck on a crazy rollercoaster and there have been some things that have stood out along the twists and turns and sudden drops. A listening ear is a powerful healing tool. Showing up is key. When you feel broken into all sorts of weird pieces with sharp edges, the very thing you need around you is someone who can handle that. Being that someone to another takes intentionality.

For several years, my best friend lived two states away – a six to eight hour drive. We talked on the phone for an hour or two every week, and probably texted an obnoxious amount. She moved back to the cities two years ago now, and since we have seen each other nearly every week. For a while, it was Thursday nights. No matter what other thing I had, Thursdays were off limits. I think that consistency has saved my life. The intentionality we both put into our friendship makes it possible and meaningful. The amount of time we've logged filled with laughter, tears, and food is invaluable. She's my best friend because I can count on her and she uses intentionality in the way she does relationship.

Not long ago, I realized I don't have so many of those consistent relationships. I have flippantly flitted around and made a lot of weak friendships on fun but not a lot of effort. That's not to say the people aren't worthwhile, but the depth isn't if it detracts from having more relationships that are of greater depth.

Finally I find myself at the end of the current rollercoaster, a dating relationship that looked like a fun easy coaster at the beginning and turned out to be a high-speed nonstop wooden corkscrew. As it pulls to a stop, I'm of course nauseous and disoriented. There are the people who are there to help you off, hold a bag while you barf, and put an arm around you to help you stumble away.

I'm really tired of being the mess. It's been a while since I've felt like as big of one as I've been for over a year now. Whenever things have been good for anything that classifies as a stretch, I'm hesitant to admit it to anyone who asks, for fear of crying wolf and being a sad hermit mere moments later. I look at the ones who've been there for me, and I want to be them – not for the lack of my pain, but because I admire them. I want to be the one living with intentionality again, not the mess that needs someone to just listen for an hour. I want to be the one that sacrifices bedtime because her friend needs someone to go to a concert with instead of being alone. I want to be the one who listens and says I'm sorry.

It can be easier to live without being intentional. Flutter around on whatever wind may carry you. But then you're not the master of the direction your life is headed. There's so much of life that's out of our control, such as whether someone loves us back, but there's just as much that is a choice, such as loving without expectation of return. I ran myself dry giving away all my love in the wrong places, but when I get filled back up...I hope I've learned enough to use it well.

The Overshare of Vulnerability

I recently tearfully (and a little snottily) finished Donald Miller's book Scary Close. In it, he effortlessly chronicles his journey of coming to grips with the fact that he was often being fake and that it had an effect on his relationships, to sum it up in a less moving and insightful way than his pages do. Miller is a writer I greatly admire, in part for a reason he himself notes in that book: he's good at being vulnerable. The way he described it, I could relate. I won't claim to be as eloquent or talented a writer, but I get the vulnerability thing.

Sometimes I make people uncomfortable, - well, okay, I think often times - with my vulnerability. However I've noticed something that matters to me far more than the comfort of those it bothers, it helps the walls between the others of us come down. It's exactly what Miller's book is about, too. I cried through the entire last quarter of the book because he precisely hits the mark. We need vulnerability to have deep relationships, and we need it to get through the walls to have those deep relationships.

Sure, vulnerability is scary; it involves risk, but somehow we've built our social understanding of vulnerability to equate weakness. Another writer I'm learning to love is Brene Brown, a social worker and doctor of psychology who has long studied the interactions of people. She has written entire books on the power of vulnerability and owning your story. As I've been slowly reading her latest, Rising Strong, I'm also often crying or shouting a resounding "yes" of agreement to the proverbial heavens, hoping somehow wherever she is she'll know I needed this validation.

See, I'm naturally a pretty soft, squishy "feelings person" - as I like to say, - always have been. Growing up as a youngest child my siblings didn't get it, so I was often criticized and teased for being "overly sensitive." Maybe rightfully so, I'll never know, but either way their callousness helped thicken my skin a lot. Thank God, too, because people are mean; bosses are mean, middle-school girls are mean, ex-best friends are mean, customers at a coffee shop are mean! So over the years I learned to toughen up and not let it eat away at me, while at the core there's still that sensitive little girl who doesn't want to suffer at the carelessness of others.

Fast forward and, for most of my adult life, that has translated to being unapologetically me: openly sensitive and yet not a punching bag. I'll be honest, I'm still learning but much of that resulted in being a fiery defender of the underdog or raging against inconsiderate injustices (that would've been a mouthful of a band name). I'm passionate. And while I know I have to rein that in sometimes, I'm still not ashamed of it. I'm also not ashamed to be truthful. I place a high value on truth and honesty, partially because I've started to see through people and through the meanness - I don't mean that judgmentally. It seems everyone has a scared being inside them that they want to hide from the world. The sad thing about that is, it's usually the part of them with the most to offer. How can you be your best self if you don't even allow the world to see your true self? This is now what I get criticized for: being too open. Because I'm not afraid to share much, I obviously am sharing too much. This is of course usually decided by those who don't like risking an ounce in vulnerability their self.

I have been going through a shitstorm (sorry if that word bothers you, it's about the only word that seems sufficient) in the past few months - and guess why: I was vulnerable and it hurt, big time. There's no way to say it without sounding mushy or sappy, but I loved and it failed me. Without even fully realizing it, while holding back on admitting it - thinking that'd actually protect me - I put my heart all in and lost out.

I took some time and thought about it. It was a slow start, but I wasn't about to hide my pain from the world as if there were shame to loving deeply and with great hope. I had no idea how I could possibly maintain a semi-normal life and wade through the grief I felt. I also knew that there is power in vulnerability; power in stating that life is sometimes downright painful and ugly, and it can be hard to get out of bed, simply because you risked and lost, and the disappointment is a heavy load. That should be incredibly relate-able, but we shame vulnerability. Still, my goal was to be real, as it always has been.

I wanted to share my story, because I thought even though some may judge my honesty and openness, maybe even look down on me for it assuming a lack of self-control - I thought some people may need this. Some of us need to know we aren't the only person in the world who has had the days where it's difficult to get out of bed. You aren't the only one that's scared to try to love again, want to love again. You aren't the only one crying in the bathroom at work and avoiding eye-contact with passersby on return.

Turns out I was right, at least a few times. I had people thank me for being brave, because they felt shamed when they had pain and they felt alone because of it. I can't help but think how much we could change the game if we were just honest, not brutally so, but truthfully - if we were real with one another. What if we stopped being so concerned someone would think less of us because we're human and it hurts to be sometimes? Maybe through all of these gushing words over these weeks and months I have only helped a few people wipe clear the shame of their pain; maybe only a few people learned something about how to address someone in pain, but I think that's worth it.

My good friend said to me just recently, Vulnerability begets vulnerability. She's incredibly right. I've seen that when I am real about my struggles, others breathe easily around me, and in their exhales share their struggles in return. And when I encounter someone who is open to a fault, I feel more comfortable with them than all the perfect instagram friends I know.

So I won't apologize for being vulnerable, or "too open", if you want to call it that. I won't stop, either. Facing a fear could be viewed as reckless, or it could be touted as courageous, so I'm going to keep pushing to change the landscape, even if only around me by starting with my own open book.

...But are we sinners?

**Disclaimer: This piece was written pre-deconstruction of religious beliefs and faith system. Many of these beliefs inform the sentiments of the writing and are not in alignment with my values. As this is a part of my journey and an extensive blog over years, I have chosen not to remove a majority of my posts written on faith. Please as a reader, take this into consideration and take what works for you, leave what does not. I also apologize for any harm my words from this past perspective may cause to any readers.**

"But God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us." Romans 5:8

The Greek word "yet", or in more translations "still", has a meaning that implies it was a state that is no more. The interesting thing in this verse then, is that the implication of Paul's words is that we were sinners, but are no more. The language of this verse, as well as the context tells us Paul did not presently buy into the identity of "sinner" for himself or other believers. 

Even in Romans 7:24-25, Paul says that God "delivers" him - present tense. In the midst of the struggle within himself as to what he will or will not do, God delivers him through Christ. He even concludes at the end of verse 25, that he has a dual servitude: in his mind to God's law, in his nature (or flesh) the law of sin. 

One could rightly conclude, though my nature without Christ is to serve solely sin, in duality as a baptized believer, I am presently also in service of God's law. I think too often total depravity would say we are useless, worthless, incompetent...but that seems to discount that God delivers us - present tense! That Romans 7:25 is followed by one of likely the most well-known verses and truths of the bible - "There is no condemnation for those who are in Christ, because through Him the law of the Spirit who gives life has set us free from the law of sin and death."

I don't know just how or why that verse tends to get lost, ignored, or downplayed. Nor the one to follow (8:3) where it says the law was weakened by the flesh! God's law was weakened by our flesh warring against our desire to serve [the law] as our master instead of our sin nature. So, God had an alternative plan for handling sin, one that was equally just and merciful. Why do we insist on preaching God's justice but not living in His mercy? Why do we insist to land on one verse of Paul's letters and build an entire component of theology around it, placing ourselves continually under the burden of sin? Again, further in Romans 8 at verse 5, it says that those who live in accord with the Spirit have their minds set on what the Spirit desires. If we have our minds set on our sin nature, do we not hold ourselves to the fire in spite of the Word telling us we're already refined? Does not the insistence that we are worthless diminish what Romans later tells us, that though our body is subject to death, the Spirit gives life because of the righteousness of Christ in us? 

I tend to get a little perturbed when I hear people say they're sinners, clenching to that name for themselves, because I believe they're holding themselves in the mindset of the flesh, not fully walking in the freedom from the law of sin and death! Nothing about reading Romans gives me the impression that is strictly limited to the life after this one. I therefore refuse to refer to myself as a sinner...

Does my nature try to tempt me away from God? Yes. Shall I go on sinning so that grace may abound? Certainly not. Did I deserve Christ's death? It depends on which way you're asking - I deserved the punishment He took in my stead, but I did not deserve that He should take my place, yet I was worth it to Him. In fact, it was an act of love (as 5:8 tells us), that while I was undeserving He took the place which was rightfully mine. It was love, not law for which Christ took the cross. The law could remain in tact and thus we could perish, but He wouldn't have it, instead showing us love by His sacrifice to meet the law's wrath for our iniquities. The act is done. 

The place that was ours was taken by Jesus so that God could demonstrate His love for us and reconcile us who were sinful to Him through love, into righteousness. 

"The Spirit you received does not make you slaves, so that you live in fear again; rather, the Spirit you received brought about your adoption to sonship. And by him we cry, “Abba, Father.” The Spirit himself testifies with our spirit that we are God’s children. Now if we are children, then we are heirs — heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ, if indeed we share in his sufferings in order that we may also share in his glory." (Romans 8:15) 

Dating is a Sh-t Show

It is. (And hey, I got you reading, didn't I?) And I think I might be bitter...

I went all these years without dating anyone, and then when I did it was awesome, but it couldn't last. And everyone's response is all about how there's something better out there for me, or I shouldn't "settle". I guess I didn't know I was...settling. I never thought he was somehow less than deserving of my time - actually, I thought he was immensely worth my time, so I spent a lot of it with him.

It's so damn complicated. I managed to fall in love with somebody that I never got tired of being with; could talk to about anything; was up for almost any random thing that came into my head; could cook; that I found really attractive -- and it was mutual; was honest; we communicated easily. We kind of couldn't get enough of each other. Maybe that's naive and not enough, but that is what I'd always wanted in a relationship, a best friend that I'd never grow tired of.

But as if it's not hard enough to find a guy who (all personal preference here) doesn't waste his spare time on video games, isn't obsessed with football, is a self-sufficient adult, serves others well, showers regularly, knows how to cook real meals, doesn't have basic white bro taste in music, has an idea of what he wants to do in life, is respectful, is self-aware, and is passionate about his faith -- that's not hard enough, I've gotta find that guy that also shares the same understanding and passion that I do about what exactly that faith looks like.

Right. Okay...go?

I write this pithy and honest, but I also feel strangely on the brink of tears in a coffee shop. Maybe because it's too soon. Maybe because there's an early-aughts playlist of peppy songs by emo punk bands about the one that got away loudly interrupting my every thought. Maybe this is my stage of bitterness because I don't understand it yet and I'm not all that convinced that it would've been settling. In fact, I'm more concerned that anything else in the future will feel like settling (words I do and don't hope I regret writing).

So it is with nearly complete apathy that I've begun to notice guys again. I've begun the search again. When just over a year ago I was a-okay being single old me, now I feel out of place in everything, my confidence is apparently on sabbatical, and I'm painfully doubtful I'll ever find something I like as much as what I had.

There is no neat and tidy cute way to wrap this up, which is the exact point. There is no telling that it's for the better, or someone else is out there, or whatever platitude. Dating kind of sucks, and when you're not in it, its pains are easily forgotten.

To Be Alive & to Be Human

I think there's something about pain. Pain wears us down, and then teaches us something. It's not always a good thing that it teaches us, mind you, but sometimes it exposes our true selves to us. 

You'd be surprised at the discomfort upon a vulnerable, truthful answer to the careless, passing "How are you?" we so loosely toss around by habit (as if it's any more comfortable for you that that question causes you to ugly cry because the truth is: you're a mess). I found myself with no tolerance for the blank stares, or the weakly masked panic at the realization that they don't know what to say, but they don't want me to get emotional...Get over it. I'm going to get emotional when you ask how I am the week (or 3) after ending a serious relationship.

I am one to be honest with my feelings. They are not invalid or unimportant (and anyone who tells you they are is probably not emotionally healthy), but they also don't run my life. I haven't always been this way, and I'm not always successful in it. It's taken some learning that they serve a purpose as well as some unlearning that they're harmful. Having emotions and feelings is to be alive and to be human. Managing them and listening to them well is to be wise.

In pain, you learn the balance: I am not okay, but I need to be in it for a bit so that I come out the other side healthy. If I brush my feelings aside or pretend they don't exist, I'm not moving through them and processing them - I'm letting them build up and likely trip me up later on, when they rear their ugly head due to life's lovely pressures.

Yet somehow, this is something so many of us fail at, so often. We even create a society where we're so uncomfortable with people's pain, we either ignore it or try to throw a bandaid on a bullet wound, so as to move on from the pain. That's one of the worst parts to me about processing the pain I'm in. I'm not afraid of it, I know I can't ignore it, and frankly the first few weeks of this, I haven't wanted to. Even a little less than two weeks from the great shaking in my life, I got the impression that many people wanted not to deal with my pain anymore, all the while it is still incredibly real to me. I wake up every day to it seemingly staring me in the face, as if the very reality had tapped me on the shoulder and dryly growled, "G'morning..."

Typically, anyone that has known me a while would refer to me as happy-go-lucky, fun-loving, and care-free. I've even had people tell me that with a sting of bitterness, as if envy drove their words out. All of that isn't contrived, and I don't really think it's a secret, what I've found to work to be that way. Really, it comes down to working with my emotions. I find that I am a healthier person when I know how to manage and understand them. Whether that means relishing in the joy of a moment, or sitting in the unwelcome, unwanted pain just to stare it down and say I'm not giving up, -- that is the big secret.

The happiness isn't always there...but neither is the pain. I think we each have to come to realize that our emotions don't dictate the value of our moments. Some of the most painful moments of my past, are now considered some of my most valuable. And some of the most happy and free, are bittersweet distant memories that only slightly glimmer. Still others make me cry with joy at their very thought. 

I could be proud and attempt to shield that I am in fact human and have emotions that sometimes lay me out cold, but that would somehow suggest that having them is weak, instead of that having them is human. It's funny - though not "haha" funny - how some of the most proud, seemingly strong people I've known, have had the most walls up and likely feel the most alone in their struggles. I even find myself in that sometimes, and so when I am confronted with it in someone else, I strive to choose and show grace. I, if even only faintly, hope that they might lift the veil ever so slightly to let the light into the darkness.

I can't help but to say it again: Emotions are not weakness, they are human. People in pain don't need pity, but they don't need to be ignored or placated either. They need validation that indeed what they're enduring is difficult; they need assurance that they don't go unseen in their struggle; they need another to look on them with empathy and compassion, to slightly lighten the burden and isolation of pain, by being present in it with them; they need to not pretend it isn't happening or call it good to make themselves feel better; they need someone to cry because they're crying. Sadly, pain is a part of this life. As much as it'd be easier to go on intentionally blind to it, we are more likely to have better connected families, better functioning societies, and all around healthier relationships, if we stopped running away from other people's pain, stopped trying to fix it, or explain it away, but embraced it to move through it. 

Wading through emotions and especially pain isn't always the easy road, but it certainly is the high one. Our minds and bodies are reacting to our shifting realities in an effort to guide us to process and adapt. We need to allow this not only of others, but also of ourselves. Let yourself feel the emotions that come, but let them wash over you, not steer you.

Life as a Walkabout

I hate that I'm thinking about using the "life is a journey" metaphor, but cliches are sometimes truths. I often look back on my life, see what my circumstances are now that are different from another previous point in my personal history. It's one of my Strengths, they call it "context". It's when one is good at learning from history; seeing how things from the then and there came together to be the here and now. The people with this strength find comfort in this process, - I do.

The last few days at work have been busy. There are things pulling me every direction and every day I'm re-writing my To Do list. I have to stop and remind myself how fortunate I am to have my job. I quickly think back to a year ago when I was just leaving the honeymoon period at a job that was on a steep incline to painfully frustrating. Before that, I did something I loved but it wasn't long-term, which is ironic because it was incredibly short-lived due to a freak accident. Although I guess I should know myself well enough to know klutziness isn't abnormal.

Again, the cliche is true: it's not without looking back that you see how far you've come.

A lot of times in looking back I find hope that even when things are bleak and there's no dots to connect between where you are and where you want to be, it's possible to get there. That is life! (Ugh, I haven't written for pleasure in a while, forgive the oozing of cliches.) Sometimes you put one foot in front of the other without really knowing what you'll walk through, because life doesn't let you stand still.

I'm actually kind of a fan of getting lost. It gives me a chance to explore something new, experience something new, and at the end of the day there's always some way to get back home. There are seasons where we are forced to do this. There's an Australian aboriginal practice about this that [in theory] I'm fond of called a walkabout. While it's conceptually geared toward adolescent males as a rite of passage to go off and find themselves in the wilderness, I like it. It is an apt metaphor to the times in life when you don't really know where you're going, or the purpose of the walking, but in it you learn a lot about who you are.

Maybe it's not one specific event, maybe yours wasn't when you were an adolescent or even limited to one age in your life - heck, maybe you have never had your "walkabout"! Dreams are meant to be grasped and deserts meant to be explored, should you dare to try. And maybe along the way you will learn to hope.

The Risk of Love Notwithstanding

Guard your heart. A particularly nauseating piece of Christianese if ever I heard one. I'm of the thought that it needs to go wherever "kissing dating goodbye" went to die. (Too harsh? Sorry...sort of.)

There was a slow build of annoyance the more I heard this over the last few weeks. For starters, where did it come from? Second, I don't think it means what just about anyone means it to. Last, and most importantly, how in the heck are two people supposed to figure out if they are to choose each other for life, without being vulnerable? Isn't it more a risk of pain to flippantly engage in a relationship for months, for some even years, all the while "protecting" yourself and never getting to the real stuff.

Call me crazy because I do it a little backwards; I want to know there aren't any giant, glaringly obvious deal-breakers (nod to Liz Lemon) before I bother to invest my time and subsequently heart. The beauty of that is, that is how I do it; that is my style. It doesn't actually matter how different people would do it, they're not living my life. They won't know my pain the way I do, but they also can't know my joy the way I do.

I don't highly value surfacey relationships. If there's one thing I've learned from my broken hearts of yore, it's that having fun and shared experiences does not a lasting loyalty and selflessness make. So I also won't apologize for striving to quickly discover the other heart. I won't keep letting everyone sell me short of how well I know myself, how I approach relationships, or how I make decisions for my life.

I decided that "guard your heart" is for people who are always in flippant relationships, which added a layer of hurtfulness for each uttered reference, but nonetheless I think it could be the only logical use. Surely, you should protect yourself from being taken advantage of, for granted, abused, used, or whatever else. Those who don't understand consequence, pain, or themselves, surely ought guard their hearts.

Or maybe take it slow and guard your heart are meant to be "listen to your intuition, wisdom, and don't buy in before you know"...all of which are yet offensive implications that I wouldn't otherwise be doing that but...I think I've made myself clear.

I've never remotely planned to live my life cooped up in a cushy padded room somewhere, doing nothing. Not to mention the deeper I go with the Lord, I think that sounds crazy! Trying to protect ourselves. Rather, I choose to dare to love because He first loved me; that love will cover my story end to end, high highs and low lows. That love will keep my heart together, and put back the pieces when - inevitable to life - it falls apart.

I will end on this: I keep running into something lately, a notion. Jesus wasn't guarded. He wasn't anti-vulnerability. He was all-in, encompassing grace, mercy, and love, unbridled and sacrificial. I have my strong doubts that God has called us to live guarded lives...the risk of love notwithstanding.

Unafraid Over Wavering

Never would I have said that I am particularly susceptible to wavering with the wind. I may be indecisive, that I'll own, but easily-persuaded? Never. I never would have described myself that way. I have even unofficially (or unbeknownst to them) coached people in the art of gleaning wisdom, then making a decision for yourself! Somehow, here I sit feeling emotionally exhausted from being tossed from the left to the right, and back again in a vicious cycle. Though when I can pause long enough to get my bearings, I know how I feel; I am not wavering...then I get thrown again.

Several weeks back, God told me something very clearly: He said, "You can go headlong into what I have before you, unafraid." Unafraid. Months further back, He told me "There is no place unsafe to go with me." Nowhere unsafe with Him. Then just today I was reminded of a very similar word given to me by someone else, almost exactly a year ago; don't be afraid. That last one, - given specific to a relationship that would enter my life.

Being unafraid is a choice. Not only is it a choice not to adhere to mere logic, but it is a choice to acknowledge and trust God. To trust God beyond what seems logical is something I have been learning about for nearly a decade. It was about nine years ago that He brought me to Psalm 91, in an hour of great fear. It floored me that God was so bent on protecting me, that I could not "strike my foot against a stone," - or as I always paraphrase, stub my toe. "A thousand at your side, ten thousand at your right hand, but it will not come near you." That's my life verse. That's what's tattooed in my very own, everyday sight-line.

So I become ever increasingly familiar with flack for such a lofty belief. Pfft, God as protector! Not just protector, Refuge. And yet, I am emotionally toiled. On one hand, I have this exciting new thing that I am not afraid of, rather I want to study. Then on the other hand, there are all these voices drowning out my ability to even hear the Lord. These voices are those of logic and reason, but in this I have further realized something: fear masquerades cleverly under the guise of "logic". Logic is so respected, we could never question its validity...but I think as believers we should. The Bible is an entire book of logic-defied; the very Messiah himself is logic-defied. So much so, there are people who still believe Jesus wasn't it! Receiving Grace in spite of being undeserved, that is logic-defied. Walking unscathed through fire is logic-defied.

I find it perplexing that I struggle to find people who believe in such a big, boundless God. That I receive criticism because I would much rather trust the Lord and seek His wisdom, than put my trust in the logic of this world. No amount of logic can truly protect me, but He can. And though I know I'll never be completely rid of the skeptical questioners, I hope that they will let me walk out my faith the way God has so graciously shown me to; trusting in Him. I hope that I root down deeper in that, so as to be unwavering.

Talk is Cheap, Grace Isn't

There's an old cliche: put your money where your mouth is. We can all talk, and talk is cheap (there's another, for you). The value of what we say is exemplified in a few phrases, which came from where I'm sure there are many more. The things we stand for will be challenged, and there will be times when we lose our focus. It is completely human and it happens to everyone. The key is what we do when we realize we've gone off track.

The last time she saw me, a cousin of mine who reads much of my writing said, "You're always trying to define yourself." She said it like it was a bad thing, but it's something that, in being hyper-self-aware, I know and am on good terms with. I am someone who likes to know myself, which is a challenge as we are ever-changing beings. So I am constantly trying to define myself. I would almost go so far as to say I fear finding myself at a place where I do not know myself well. It's not necessarily that I pride myself on it, but that I think it's important.

For as much as I aim to know myself and be self-aware, I too am prone to the occasional one step back. I did that recently. As I've talked about before, I went through a partying stage after returning from YWAM (of all things). I call it a stage because there aren't many stupid things I've done that I really care about, but this - this was a stretch of being really stupid. Basically I drank a lot. Thankfully (believe me) I survived said stage relatively unscathed, save for the fact that you can't un-have experiences. I'd realized after a patchy night of celebrating a party-friend's birthday, it wasn't even close to smart and definitely not worthwhile. Ever since, I haven't disappointed myself.

Finally this fall, in spite of out of character isolation in reaction to stress, I felt like I was moving forward, almost exponentially. I was re-entering a heart-understanding of where God has me and what He wants me to do. This amid heights of anxiety and...then I cut loose, a little too hard. Nothing detrimental further than disappointing myself in a way I've been very done with. I don't often wear guilt, but I never want my talk to be cheap; I mean to mean what I say. So I brought it to God, this isn't who I am anymore, how did I do it again? He kindly reminded me of something that He had kindly told me several years ago when I was similarly at a loss on account of my weakness:

You can fail a thousand times, and still...

It wasn't to say there's a limit, but the opposite! That my imperfection isn't a hindrance to His grace; there is no hindrance to His grace.

So I have been lounging in something; not quite guilt, but...a tension. There is this tension of recognizing my imperfection but moving away from it to the best of my ability. There's no promise I won't fail again; that I won't eat my words and swallow my convictions, but because of Grace I can aspire to move forward.

Many people have a misconception about the biblical meaning of "repent". It doesn't just mean to feel sorry, but to turn around and go in the other direction. It's so tricky that Grace allows us to turn around and change that which we would not otherwise have the opportunity, let alone the will to change.

Thoughts on Doing What You Live For

Have you ever asked yourself: what do I live for? Not some morbid question of why am I alive, or even asking The Point - just: what do I live for? What gets your gears turning? What can you pour into yet walk away filled-up? What do you dream about? What do you long to grow in? What fascinates you?

So often we sell ourselves short thinking we don't deserve to do what we love. Whether it's because we deem it irresponsible, or because there's something seemingly more important to do...or several things more important to do. I myself am guilty of this; I sit down for a Writing Day - as I've affectionately and cleverly dubbed them - and do everything but.

See, for a lovely season, I would take my only untouchable hours of the week (my Saturday morning and afternoon) to just write. Whether it be blogging or journaling, or - in rare shining moments - working on a story. It's my introvert activity; when I don't want to be social but I want to be active, I go to write. I'm an ideas person, but not in the entrepreneurial way. Concepts. I'm also a verbal processor. I like stories. I love written communication; it's this complex tool, yet sort of like a Rubik's cube but with multiple solutions. In recent months, this sacred Saturday morning tradition has fallen by the wayside.

I get there, and it seems there are plenty of better things to do...yet when I wrangle myself into doing it, it's exactly what I need. I've had a few conversations here and there about writing. I've had some with folks who are doing what they love and have a passion for, about the leap it takes to prioritize it. These conversations have been encouraging and for lack of a better word, convicting. They help subdue the commit-aphob in me that says I should probably try to learn how to be [a million times] more responsible before I aim to be more creative or invest time and money into learning more about relationships. These conversations silence the voice of insecurity that doesn't even want to try because I'm still learning.

The thing is that when I write, when I problem-solve in relationships, or when I photograph - whatever it may be, if it's life-giving the responsibility falls in line. When I give myself time to do the things I love, I find I have more space and less anxiety when it comes to doing the things I have to do that I have less or no excitement for. And when I'm in the habit of doing these things I love, I'm consistently better at them.

I have spent the last few months bartering my time for low-stress activities, and yet have been neglecting some of the things I really love. In that, I have concluded there is no easier way to come to a stand-still in growth and progress toward your goals than to put the things you love on the back-burner. There's a trendy phrase that my generation and millennials love and I detest, but in spite of my distaste for it, it makes a good point: "If not now, when? If not me, who?" I tend to think of it as inspirational fluff, but a part of me admits here that therein lies a truth. At some point, if we truly want to achieve the things we aspire to, we have to grasp the courage to begin. And beginning requires even the tiniest action...followed by another, and exponentially more. The remaining pieces will fall in line.

[Spoken like a true optimistic idealist.]

Eyeliner Alicia

Recently I was thinking about my adolescent self - who I was before I learned to make decisions without caring what people thought of me. In my mind, to myself, I refer to this as Eyeliner Alicia.

See, not long before high school, I started wearing makeup. I think the "rule" was not before 14. I was thankfully exiting my awkward stage, and transitioning to public school after my initial nine years in private grade school (not as glamorous as it sounds, believe me). Freshman year, I would style my hair every day, sometimes blow-drying it before straightening it. Me factoring an hour into my morning just for my hair! I would put on my makeup, usually during the bus ride to school. I felt plain, and somehow discovered that eyeliner made my eyes more dramatic and hence stand out. It became my staple; I felt naked without it, which only made sense because I was embarrassed of what was underneath: plain old me.

Now, I'll only clarify this once here: I don't say any of this to shame people who wear makeup or like doing their hair - rather to tell the story of how I grew out of it, I suppose. And make no mistake, it was only in recent years that I received the vote of confidence I needed to call it quits.

On some off day sans my usual face, a few of my family sat down to dinner together. My brother Shayne is not really one to dole out compliments or flattery, one might think that the idea wouldn't cross his mind as he only expresses the reality he beholds. Among the smattering of dinner conversation topics with a family of busy-minds, Shayne commented, "You look really nice, what are you doing different?" Not wearing any makeup...and I was sold! Granted, it took a while for people who saw me regularly to stop asking if I was feeling okay, but it was liberating to not have to worry what someone might think if they saw my real face.

Sometimes I think about how many consecutive days of my young life were spent wearing eyeliner; how many hours were totaled up applying the pristine stroke of black crayon under my lashes; how much stock was put in thinking that doing this would make others value me...

In reality that's what it came down to. I can't even say subconsciously because that's not true - if I'm honest with myself, for so long I was afraid of not putting on a face and I knew it. There's nothing inherently wrong with makeup (at least that's how I feel at this point in my life), but I don't like that my security was ever found in a daily work of art other than my natural self. It was wildly freeing for me to stop buying eyeliner - though, scary at first, I should add.

There's something about that piece of my life and the subsequent putting down of the pencil that I see as being a part of my understanding of self and growing in confidence. In my head, Eyeliner Alicia is the same one who was afraid to do so many of the things that I have done since I primarily gave up the ritual. She is the one who got walked on by people. She's the one who was afraid to speak up for herself...or in front of a crowd or even a group! She was the one who needed to know so much more firmly who she is, so as to move forward unshakably into bigger things than she'd imagined.

This evening, I saw a commercial for an anti-aging cream. The woman said she would embrace all that life would bring, except for wrinkles (she called them "frown lines"...okay...). I thought, whether it be baby-weight, age-spots, or laughter lines, I can't wait to embrace whatever life brings me, without pretending that I'm something I'm not.

The Art of Settling

As if life and relationship aren't complicated enough, there's this wily pressure to add marriage into the mix, or to be dating with it as an end-goal. I, like I'm sure many other girls, have my moments of pure panic, thinking what if I'm supposed to be doing something right now and I'm not, and then I'll be single forever! Fear of the unknown grabs hold and grips tightly. And while it's different now than the times where at my age I'd already be considered an old maid and a lost cause, there's still a function of society that strikes fear of singleness into our hearts; beyond the healthy desire for companionship.

It's a weird conversation to have, anything revolving around being single and the implication that you shouldn't be. Lately, I've come to terms with one thing about my love-life - or lack thereof: I'd rather be single than settle.

Most people can get behind that statement til they start asking questions. Well, what do you want? Which quickly can turn into, Well, good luck finding that! Exactly. Exactly. There's enough mess to this life and relationships in general, then to go adding in romance and quite possibly a family with someone that sort of meets what you need?

Now, believe me, I've read all the blogs and articles (and some pages of books before I got bored or annoyed), and I'm not saying I expect someone to be perfect! I'm so tired of that retort; I'm not nearly so naive. The people I love the very most in this life have all hurt me at some point, and I'd be surprised if I haven't hurt them. I'm not under some sort of illusion that I will find someone to match all my ideals, but I'm not about to throw them out the window, either!

I am also not naively referring to frivolous wants. I don't think having hobbies in common or even really shared interests is necessary; most of the good couples I know are vastly different in many ways. I like to think that's part of the excitement is learning about someone else's interests and expanding your horizons. But shouldn't certain things be immovable requirements? And can we please stop telling people that they need to leave those behind?! How desperately do we need to remove our singleness? If we weren't a society that held everyone to this unrealistic and unhealthy idea of incompleteness without a romantic relationship, maybe there'd be a little less pressure to take just anything.

This is all not to say that anyone isn't worth your while; that you're too good for anyone, but rather what is healthy for you and what do you need? Where are you at? Almost every time I've gotten frustrated and frankly bored of being single, I circle back to the conclusion that I'm actually okay with it because I still have a lot to figure out. No person is going to make me whole, or complete, or satisfy any unfulfilled part of my life. This is likely different in a secular mindset, so I guess if I even have any non-believing readers...disregard? Then again not, because the reality is that it is not healthy, no matter what your religious affiliations, for your identity to be revealed through the filter of one other person. But that's another rant for another time.

If anything, all I've ever seen from settling is heartache and identity crisis. I recently told a friend who was evaluating a dating relationship, if you have to say the words "we could make it work", it's probably not worth trying to. I think we have a tough time being honest enough with ourselves that we feel insecure being alone. That being alone requires us to walk into parties by ourselves, or have a Friday night with nothing to do, go stag to a wedding and risk sitting at the table while others dance. Rather, I think those moments build character; there's something to be said for learning that you have value for being yourself, without anyone else.

On Going On 24

With my next birthday rolling around, I thought to myself today, Ahh, finally I won't have to say I'm twenty-three.

As if being 24 is all that different. This has been a strange age; I feel like I've never had so many people speak to me in a derogatory nature of 23 year olds as the elite class of especially naive humans. I know not to take offense, as they likely don't mean anything by it -- more than likely they forgot that I am in fact lumped into whatever their ideas are about 23 year olds. The time it bothers me is when it's followed up by, "Ugh!...Wait, how old are you?" I might as well answer "I'm naive, overly self-confident, and stubborn years old." Or when I first meet people, and the age question comes up all-too quickly.

See, being my age doesn't actually bother me, just that anyone would ever assume anything about me based on it, especially that it might automatically make me simultaneously naive and a know-it-all. If anything, that's where the adolescent yearning to age comes from, but the sick and twisted part is that we can never quite comprehend the part about getting older. That part is important. Yet, no matter how much anyone forewarns that getting older is also hard and that you probably don't want to actually get older, you want to because then maybe you'll feel less defined by however young you are.

And in one moment of looking at myself in the mirror, washing my hands and thinking how I will finally answer that question with "I'm 24," -- never mind that oh my gosh I AM getting older -- I realized it does not matter. Chasing after the next mile marker of time only wastes the in-between; the now.

Anyway, those who know me don't write me off based on my age, and those who do [write me off], just don't know me well enough to know better. Another lesson in grace, this one wherein I swallow my pride and listen to running mouths.

What Does Being Christian Even Mean?

I find it interesting that there are so many definitions of what it means to be Christian. There are definitions from the inside, which tend to vary widely between denominations or doctrines, and then there are the perceptions of non-Christians. I often think that being a Christian is a bizarre thing, that if I wasn't one, I myself would probably find quite strange.

However, having been raised Christian, I grew up with some ideas of what being one meant by the things that were rote. We went to church every Sunday like clockwork, my siblings and I went to private grade school, and as a family we rarely ate dinner without praying a simple prayer before hand. Thankfully, in my adolescence, in the midst of some of the great hardship of my thus far young life, God got a hold of me in a way that broke through my misconception. So while I would say I was raised Christian, there is a specific time I'd say I became one. Unfortunately that's not necessarily what I'm writing about here, now.

Growing up in it long before I understood it on a personal level, there were periods of time where I felt like I saw through a lot of things; like there were parts of being a Christian that I didn't like. I took a break from church for a while when I felt like it didn't fit what I was feeling like God is about. Looking back on that time, my faith was by no means on the rocks, but on the contrary there were many moments of deeper intimacy with God than I even feel like I've had in a while, and I'm really thankful for it. I learned a bit about how faith isn't dependent on church, which began what I think is a long journey of figuring out that being a Christian doesn't mean what so many of us think.

Admittedly, I often struggle to tell someone I'm a christian, not at all because of what it means to me, but because of whatever connotation or stigma the word may have to them.

Being a Christian doesn't mean voting republican. It isn't defined by my stance on gay marriage. It's not in my tattoos, or nullified by them. It's also not nullified by swearing, or proved by withstanding. My faith is not upheld by listening solely to Christian music. Being Christian isn't dependent on your ability to abstain from sex outside of marriage. It's not by ritually reading the Bible. It's not in evangelizing from a ladder on a street. It's definitely not holding signs on the street condemning people; it's not condemning people. It's not judging. It's not segregating. It's not obligatory. It's not hinged on saying "Grace" before a meal. It's not hinged on using the right lingo.

To be a Christian means [to me] that you have had a personal revelation of the merit and reality of the death of Christ, as it pertains to your life, and have acknowledged God as giving that gift. There are so many facets and pieces that come after that, but they do not define one's adherence to the identity of being saved by Jesus. The etymology of the word "Christian" even implies a belonging; as in slave ownership. That might sound scary to some, but I think that with the understanding of what that personal realization of the cross is, there is a feeling of indebtedness, of service which is born from thankfulness. It is wanting to serve the One who you know saved you. That is a better definition of "Christian".

No doubt, from this Christian life should come fruit; good things, but those look much different than the many stereotypes would have us believe. It means a selflessness. It is a countenance of grace. It is a life lived with and seeking wisdom. It is self-control. It's showing mercy, and not judgment. A Christian life should display love. A Christian life should display hope. It should display a relationship with God in which He allows you to partner with Him in heavenly works, not because you are doing what a Christian should do, but you have acknowledged your need for Him in your life and are open to following the example of Christ.

Dateless

I am in this really strange limbo in regards to my feelings toward being single. (I tend to stray from writing about it for fear of coming off as pathetic.) The older I get, the more I learn to like it; the more I'm happy that I'm figuring myself out, by myself and I don't need the "help" of a significant other to do that. The more I go through infatuations, the more my taste is refined. There are ebbs and flows, from the moping due to lack of a movie-watching cuddle-buddy, to decidedly deciding that I don't care if I ever "meet somebody"!

Lately it's been: "I just really want to go on a date." It's a boredom stage more than anything, because you see it's not quite so simple as some silly part of me makes it out to be. I don't really want to date.

A friend of mine suggested OkCupid. "You should just go on some dates," she said. Let me tell you, that place is disheartening! That's not to slam people for using it, by any means, it just didn't exactly encourage me in my half-hearted search in any way. It made me scared that having standards of any kind, never mind factoring in interest or attraction, is an impossible feat. Anyway, I don't think e-dating is for me, evaluating the chemistry is too important an initial factor.

Thankfully I am, what I like to call, Happily Picky. While I would love to just go on some dates, I have this nagging pragmatic side that knows it'd be a waste of time. I do not actually have interest in dating random people, for the heck of it. Don't get me wrong, I love meeting people, getting to know them, that's all well and good, but slap the label of a date on it and it changes everything. I'm not afraid to talk to men, in fact I'm an excellent flirt, when it doesn't count. But when I'm interested, nearly all self-confidence tries to leave...usually via the shakes. This had me thinking maybe I could try some dates in an effort to challenge myself, but it'd still be unfair because I know myself well enough to know when it's just not happening. And when it is, I'm nervous as hell.

Whenever anyone inquires as to "what you're looking for", they always seem to follow it with some solid criticism that, "If you don't want to be single you..." might have lower those standards. Forever. Lower my standards forever, or be single forever. (I can already smell the kick-backs of, "Well, not your standards, just some things..." Even then.)

But then, the question really is: do I not want to be single, though? No, I'm okay...but I could go on a date.

A Closed, Bleeding Heart

I take breaks from really talking to God, from time to time. They're not intentional, or not completely I guess. I had this revelation of sorts, recently, that I sometimes do not address the things on my heart with God, as a coping mechanism to protect myself from feeling. I am an individual with a lot of feelings, and subtly or otherwise, people who don't feel all the feels (as the kids say these days) have treated me like some basket case. It has taken me a lot of time and conscious self-assurance to undo those lies, partially in realizing that to willingly face vulnerability is a strength. Even still, I backslide from time to time, and there are areas where I have taught myself to close off, in the name of self-preservation.

My grandpa was admitted to the hospital on Monday for a small stroke. Being my only living grandpa (married to my only living grandma), I've never experienced anything like this with a close relative. I found myself a little shaken to know that he felt confused and simply "lost" some things from his memory bank, like how to tie his shoes, or my mother's name. Startling, is the best-suited word I've found; it's startling. I continued my workday after the call, because otherwise I probably would've cried at work and felt embarrassed to have feelings. If I'm being really honest, that's what it was.

I waited at my parents' house for my mom to come home that night, I was worried she'd be upset. I discovered where I get my "in-charge" mode from. She said it's not that she doesn't have emotions about it, but things have to get done, too. I was upset, and of course saved it all for the person I trust most. No one has ever seen me a bigger mess than my mother, partially just because she's my mom, and partially because she would never even think to judge me for being too emotional. (Reference here: My Mother the Saint) She let me wrap my arms around her and cry. After she somehow graciously inquired as to my turbulence, I took a deep breath mixed with a sigh and said, "Being empathetic sucks," as we had a laugh. Then she said, "It's great," in that affirming way you'd hope a mother would, but of course mine really, extra means it.

Somewhere along the line, I adopted the idea that emotions are weak. In between trying to find a balance of vulnerability, I bought into crying being embarrassing. Further than that, I started not bringing those feelings to God. It's almost like I decided that if I ignore the way I was made, stuff all those nasty little buggers down into my stomach in the form of knots and up into my head as aches, the things that I feel won't feel. A twisted, self-designed, unconscious but fear-based coping mechanism to being empathetic.

Being empathetic does suck, and it is great. Sometimes when I think about it, I'm convinced it's a form of torture. I've been known to cry as much or more than someone who's actually going through the thing I'm hearing about. And I absolutely can't help it, because I just feel it, deeply. At some point, it became worth it to me to begin ignoring that in me and quit caring - and that sucks!

Thankfully when you're prone to feeling lots of things about lots of things, you can't just turn it off. I say "thankfully" because I know that's how I was designed.

Somewhat consciously, I've also been avoiding taking the hard things back to God in fear that I will only revel in what I feel and not see any change. It's like God has made me able to feel all the difficult things, to the extent that they might as well be happening to me, and then nothing. And it's scary; risky, rather, to put one's heart on the line with God. I know better than to give Him the silent treatment, because all along He quietly beckons as a listening ear and place of comfort. So what have I been waiting for?

It's easy to avoid God, but it doesn't make things any easier. A lesson I think I'm learning. If the Creator of the universe and He who authored selfless Grace and bestowed Mercy, is waiting to hear my heart, how could I keep it?

A Time to Get Pissed (Oh, & Guard Your Words)

Sometimes I just get pissed at the devil! Sometimes at people, too, for their perpetuating of his schemes. I'm pissed at the lies he masks as logic, which parades as wisdom! I am angry at countless attempts to steal joy from myself and others, and end it. I'm angry, and I'm ready to fight it, but more often than not I feel like my fellow brothers and sisters are not beside me. Often they are the ones buying in and regurgitating the lies...things will never change, you're not worth it, you can't get free, God doesn't do that, it can't be fixed, you cannot hope, you may never feel happiness...they go on and on. They're told in different ways; sold in different packaging, same product.

Today I heard a statement that a pastor had made that completely dripped of the world's hopelessness, defeatism, and despair - and my blood downright boiled. To claim to know Christ and live to share and serve Him - words like his should never come from a believer's lips! Now I will be among the first to admit that I am not perfect, but if I were counseling another about a detrimental circumstance in their life, I would speak of what the Lord has to offer, or keep my worldly mouth shut. 

Do you not know that your words have weight?! Do you not know that when you talk only in terms of logic without engaging the Spirit in you, you may very well be lending to or furthering the Enemy's work?

I'm beyond frustrated that this happened, - livid is probably a better word - but also beyond that, that it is likely a regular occurrence. My heart pulses and aches at such a thought. That there is freedom, blessing, and healing, yet we dare to repeat the cursing words we have heard before we would call on the Lord. Proverbs is riddled with wisdom about choosing words wisely, and even further the whole Bible is packed full of God's might and love for His people - so why this epidemic?

If you're a believer and you read this, fight with me? Guard your words, and keep those around you accountable to guarding theirs. Speak the truth we know from the Word and by the confidence we have in Jesus. Call out the Enemy, and break down his plans in the name of Jesus! Because if God is not bigger than everything, we might as well quit; stop trying to sell the Kingdom of the Resurrection to if we don't even buy it! I can get pissed at the devil all I want by myself, but it does nothing if my community and the Church don't start talking like this thing we believe in is real. 

And if you're not sure that Christ's blood covers all, don't go becoming a pastor and handing out crap advice. The world doesn't need it.

[Intentionally for discretion's sake, I left out who the pastor is and the subject of his comment.]

This Takes Grace

Life takes a lot of grace, I've been realizing. I have found myself asking for an extra measure here and there. There are several different connotations and uses for the word 'grace', but the one I'm talking about is the one that affords peace and calmness beyond what circumstance may warrant. It's more than patience; patience is for the expected, for the anticipated and enduring the wait. Grace...grace is more.

I would say I'm decent at being content. While my truthfulness about my feelings toward any given circumstance may lead some to believe otherwise, I find it easy to be content. But I have a wandering heart and a wild imagination (thank God), so at times I struggle to look at what's in front of me, instead focusing my attention on what could be. Suddenly, seeing something that reminds my rabbit-trailing mind of another thing, I am spiraling down the rabbit hole of dreaming. I'm not opposed to dreaming (duh, I'm a dreamer, but stick with me), but I've learned that it can detract from being present where you are and hard to accept what comes - regardless of what you wanted to. Enter: grace. Lately, I've been beckoning a short-but-sweet prayer: "God, I need Your grace." Because when you want something to go a certain way but it doesn't look to go that way at all, it takes grace to handle what does come.

I haven't traveled significantly since my DTS in 2011, and for some reason travel is important to me; I can honestly say my heart yearns for it. The realist in me has learned to cut the pained-dreamer short in an effort to save from further tension. The reality of the present is that I'm at a job that God clearly placed me in and I'm wildly blessed to have; I can't up and travel even if I wanted to! Let alone affording it...

I flip-flop back and forth from being okay with being single to hating it...but never really loving it. Others want not to assume, but rather be nice by saying "If marriage is a part of the plan for you...", and to me the reality is: I know what I'm made for. I'm a people-person. I want to be a mom someday, and I'm definitely not good at life alone - not just romantically, but in the sense of total independence. Now, that's not to say that if I knew God was calling me into a life of singleness, I wouldn't just figure it out, but it would take all the more grace! All that rambling aside, just knowing it's a season of singleness, doesn't make it any easier. It's one of those things I do a lot of holding up to God, and asking for His input in my heart on it.

Being single when sometimes you just don't want to be, today - takes grace. Being stationary when you just want to go and see, takes grace. It requires something beyond patience, rather something to sustain me and comfort me in knowing that no matter what tomorrow holds, I'm headed there and following the Lord's leading. Even when it feels like I'm blind. Only by grace can I say You made my heart to crave these things, so I'll go where You take me, but need You to sustain me. It takes grace to say that right where I'm at is okay, even if I'm desiring more, and the more is big and is not easily come by.

My God is good, and He gives the grace...

The Tired

I think it is full-fledged exhaustion that's set in. My first real day is tomorrow. I have to be back up in six hours, my shower is covered in bleach. My living room is half painted its cheery, lovely blue, while half repulsing me with its former peachy beige. I'm sleeping on a couch for the second night. My room seems to be wall-to-wall clothes; the space feeling mildly claustrophobic after my 500+ sq ft mustard haven. It took me a good half an hour to vacuum that haven once it was empty. My boxes of belongings riddle our new abode like grass in the forest. I'm pretty sure next time I'll just burn it all and start over; no moving. I do know I'm not allowed to buy any more books til I read all the ones I own.

My muscles may never be the same.

I do wonder what I'll eat for breakfast, and what I'll eat it off of...or with. Guess I'll finish cleaning the shower when I shower in the morning.

I don't recommend moving from one upstairs place to another right before starting a new job. The tired.