The Harvest: Joy

Whether or not you believe in or know anything about the bible, it's true: in life there are seasons. I'm sure I spend a lot of time talking about seasons and life and growing, but it's just what fascinates me. That is when I'm not lost in it.

I feel like I'm on the exiting end of the tunnel, from a long season of feeling at odds with myself, and having lost a sense of who I am. You could read this and know me, or follow my blog and think, She's just over-analyzing and over-thinking, that's her thing. And that is sort of my thing, but other than the occasional case of anxiety, it's never done me wrong. Cognition is what gets me up in the morning, and somehow (mostly by miracle of God) gets me from A to B, helps me retain the wisdom I gain from the revelations I have and the things I'm taught, and causes me to forget the things that are seemingly less important...and help me process happenings in my life, such as this.

The most notable end of a season is harvest. I am in the harvest of a season. Not that it was something where I particularly knew I was in a sweltering, stormy growing season, or like I'm being "plucked". In retrospect, I don't think it was quite so obvious. I felt a little detached from myself, though 'a little' isn't a fair assessment. Since my trip to France and Vietnam, coming up on two years ago now, I haven't felt fully myself. They have this phrase, once you do YWAM you're "wrecked for the ordinary". I thought for so much of these past two years that that's what it was.

In some respects, it was: I returned to an unraveled version of the community I had before, with what was left of it focusing on empty things. I had the choice to move forward in an uncharted fashion of my own, or walk with those I had around me - not to say it's their fault, any of the wandering I did. I think transparency is essential, and will fully acknowledge anything about these last two years, to anyone. But I think I made that choice aimlessly, maybe even unequipped. Ignorantly, is the word.

I felt in the last year that I have not been myself; not fully who I would claim that I am, or who I've known myself to be, in my life. All the time I would get asked why I was so happy, or told there was something different about me. I haven't gotten that in a while, and when I specifically realized that missing in my life, it made me sad. I know that joy is a part of who I am, I know it's a mark on my life. So where has it been? Who have I been being?

I can't explain yet, because I don't yet know why I went through such a long drought of a season, but the beauty is in the return. Over about the last month, I have felt a shift. Like I was suddenly reminded of the person I'm made to be; the reason I bother to get up in the morning - and it's not just to think about things all day! Largely, I can't explain the change because it's not a story. It's almost as if I've been waking up over the last few weeks, struggling through a day, only to find at the end that the joy and hope I have has compounded. And it's sufficient.

In the last few weeks, I've felt like the person I've known myself to be all these years. And what changed to cause this, you may wonder? Nothing. Except God has been working on me, restoring me to myself; to my true identity that reflects his heart. I've always set myself on - if nothing else - two characteristics that I know only because of God, and they are: truth and joy. For a while it felt like I was trying to skate on only my head-knowledge of the truth. Now I feel I'll be able to move forward with my heart's understanding of joy.

Little, human parts of me whisper worries that this is not a lasting change, but I've just felt so different than I had, yet familiar to my make-up. The fact that it's so inexplicable makes it all the more necessary (and confusing) to share, tears of relief well as I write. Jesus spoke to me months ago that He would stand with me and fight for me, and I thought that encouragement was enough; that it was it. I didn't know that I wasn't operating as my true self, under the ailment of whatever plague; in all my knowledge of Him, and so I didn't expect that He would bring me back...

but He's just so good.

When Did I Become Me?

For many years, and particularly when I was in my late teens, I’ve been told that I do not seem my age; but older, usually by several years. When I think back on when my introspective stage began – if it can be called a “stage” – I think of myself as the same as I am now. I don’t disregard that I’ve learned things in, say, the five almost-six years I’ve been blogging, let alone the many years journaling. Rather, that I’ve adapted in character. And if I consciously think about six years of life passing and leaving the teens behind, becoming a legal drinker, a college graduate – it makes perfect sense, but for some reason I thought I was this stagnant person, namely one who had arrived. How ignorant was I, for being so-called mature?

Funny, that for all my introspection I happened to miss these subtle changes in me over time. Probably thousands of pages of journals, hundreds of thousands of typed words on blogs and hundreds of poems written, and I miss it.

After a few weeks back from my six months abroad, (which I wish I could affix a title to that would properly summarize it,) a coworker who was also good friend told me, “You seem different, Losier.” I feel the same; I think I am the same, I thought to myself, feeling almost defensive. “Really? Like how?” …please, fill me in because somehow I’ve missed this drastic change!

All this time I thought that I was consistently one person, but thank God I was wrong! I spent some time recently reminiscing by reading over old blog posts. I could see changes in myself by the way that I've written; both in content and style. There are things I was working through, or desiring to see come to pass or change, and they have. 

It's one of the reasons I love writing so much, even though I know how little all these words are read...it chronicles the changes and seasons in my life. It's something I'm greatly in favor of, sharing life experiences - for whatever they're worth - with others, in the off-chance that they might find themselves encouraged or challenged...or inspired. There's got to be a benefit to being so overly cognitive...

But it's just a reminder to me, that even being heavily introspective, we can misinterpret our own selves. Our self-perceptions can be so far different from how we actually are; and for some, who we actually are. 

All this to say: there's importance in recognizing the places we've come from; the dreams we've seen come to fruition, the things we're still longing for. There is value in stopping to survey where you're at, and admire the distance you've come. Beauty lies in the growth, even the days, weeks, months, and maybe years of struggle that often come with growing pains. A big part, for me, of knowing myself is to acknowledge who I've been and who I am. To see that they are the same person, and yet so different.

Those chronicles map out the developments of how we operate today, and sometimes that can make navigating the things that lay ahead, so much easier. 

Articulate

I always love to write, and to communicate, but I go through phases of being able to articulate. I have these urges to write. I tell myself, "Tomorrow, I'm going to take some Me Time; I'm going to write." And then I don't.

It's not like I don't have things to say, I can always say something. Sometimes I just have trouble whittling it down, so to speak. It's almost a matter of having so much going through my brain, I don't go far enough down any one path to bother. I mean, maybe people want to read more of my fragmented thoughts...but I kind of doubt it.

How I'm Made to Live: Encouragement

Encouragement has been on my heart, as of late. Not necessarily that I've been feeling very encouraged - in fact the opposite, - but just how important it is to me; how effective it is in life.

Last week at work was rough. I actually just felt extremely discouraged. I was pulled aside by my boss who never really talks to me about work, to tell me I should be doing something that I hadn't been. I like to do well; I like to know how to do something, and get good at it. Things that I'm not good at make me feel really insecure and if I don't quickly figure it out, I usually give up. (...character flaw much?...) Then the poo hit the fan, as they say and I got slammed. Needless to further indulge myself with detailing it; it was a bad week. This week, to follow was busy in the aftermath. I barely took lunches, I was working to catch up.

I had felt myself starved for encouragement that previous week. I haven't really given it much thought, until my eldest sister and I were having a discussion about personality and identity. She was talking about a conference she went to and how personality types and descriptors have a lot to do with your purpose. For example, she talked about how my type is the Champion, so I like to encourage people and lift them up, and if I was experiencing the opposite, I should recognize my nature and choose to remove myself, or speak up. Well just today I was thinking to myself about how much our gifts and tendencies can become a curse and a bad habit, if we let them. If we don't own those qualities or characteristics as ours, and begin to live in them, what are we even doing?

I think that's been a huge part of my struggle to find...place in the last, oh, year or so. If I am not living consciously, as the person I am and the version of that that I want to be - what is my life about? It's certainly not about doing mediocre things and watching a lot of TV shows. Which is what I feel like the last year has been, in summation. Of course, that's also an exaggeration, I've done some really worthwhile things, but I've wasted so much time, too.

After getting some encouragement this week in the form of a challenge to keep myself encouraged by simply reining my thoughts in, I was reminded. In a small way, (and through honestly months of building) I was reminded of who I am; what my purpose is, in part. When I was focusing on keeping my heart in a right place, what naturally sprung forth was encouragement. I felt a little sheepish, being so...gushy. I've quickly realized the only reason it feels silly is because it's not normal.

We're in a society taught to criticize, and to achieve, instead of to dream. To expect instead of to see. I've enjoyed just seeing again; things for what they are, but for the good of what they are. And I guess, that's what I did with myself this week, or maybe in these last few weeks. I know I can tend toward the negative and fall toward the judgmental, but it's only if I'm living loosely and not keeping myself in check; if I'm not aiming to strive in living as I'm made to live.

For as flippant a person as I may seem to the naked eye, I am a huge proponent of conscious living. And even if I'm not perfect at it, I've seen and realize that I am much better in life, if I am cheering people on, standing up with them, and building them up, rather than tearing down and apart. I have to remind myself that I do not live my life to live well, but to love well. Happy, healthy living follows.

Jigsaw

My tongue swells in my mouth
As the words fight to come out
Seems we're just
Falling down
And still we break
Without sound
Covering up already blinded eyes
Masterfully recreating devious lies
My heart drowns in blood and emotions
As you drown in pieces of yourself
And the pain will follow me
But I can put myself back together
You - a jigsaw - have no such luck
Mine commands respect
Yours doesn't merit it
I won't let you inherit it
My eyes, my nose
Start feeling sick as the pressure grows
My full veins course
As soul marries remorse
Hit the button - let's go back
Before I ever knew you
Before I ever grew you
Before I ever threw you
Truth is I can't undo you
And now I can't see through you
Or sing to you
And somehow I miss you
Just want to kiss you - feel you, but I can't
Other than I do every...day...
They told me that this would make it okay
It's best for me they say
That the pain will go away
And the memories will fade
Maybe I'll forget
The choices I made
The regret
An empty pit inside of me
Cries violently
May one day only weep silently.

You Have Me

On the drive home tonight, I had a new revelation on a song. Or maybe just a reminiscence. I don't listen to worship music often in the car; I have to be in the mood. And I was, for Christian music, but also good music...Gungor. I wanted the first track on the album I have and then decided to let it play out. I tend to get pensive on long, late-night drives alone. I was sort of just letting the music roll over me. All of a sudden the words caught my dazed, road-focused attention. 

"my faith was torn to shreds,

heart in the balance, 

but you were there, 

always faithful, always good,"

I immediately thought of the truth of those words; it was something I knew. I can think of a time (or two) when my heart felt in the balance, and I can really only attribute surviving the pain to the Lord. Then came the chorus,

"you still have me, you still have my heart"

and it hit me again. See, the Lord and I have been having an ongoing conversation about my heart. He has been pressing on it, loving on it, cherishing it, fixing it, growing it, teaching me how to make it more like His; He's been talking to me specifically about it. For months.

For four years I've had this heart tattoo idea and I finally got it this past Monday. Over the last few months, during this conversation, the Lord commissioned that tattoo. I really, truly believe He spoke it to me, that I could get it now, and it would be a mark of His love for me; and that my getting it would be, in a small way, giving Him my heart. Not that I won't fail, or run away, or forget...again.

Tonight, the words to that song just sort of pierced me, one after another. Numerous times I've heard it, but never really got it the way I did this time. And it served as a reminder of how good and loving the God I know is.

Originally, I wasn't going to say what I got, rather keep it very secret - and I don't plan to show it off, or post pictures anywhere - but there's beauty in the walk with Him. He is good, and intimate. And that's selfish not to share.

Buck Up and Try

I've been doing a lot less soul-searching than I normally do. Sometimes you find yourself in a phase of life where things just aren't where or what you want them to be. The thought of that might lead you to believe you would be soul-searching more than ever, but in reality it's likely you will wake up in the morning and lay in your bed thinking if you don't move, you won't have to go to work. Eventually the clock progresses to a point you can't deny, and you pry yourself from your bed and throw on something that sort of matches from the clothes pile, plod up the stairs and eat a piece of bread, get in the car and off you go.

I've found this phase is accompanied by this sort of vicious cycle: everything is so mediocre that by the time all the mediocrity is fulfilled for the day, the exciting stuff seems beyond your boredom-induced exhaustion. That may sound incredibly melancholy, but if you've ever been there you completely understand and feel for where I'm at.

This is my phase of life. I'm yearning for more, but find myself so exhausted from the current mundane and futile challenges, that sometimes I have to tell myself to buck up and do the things I love. How bizarre is that? The things that give life start to seem out of reach of my energy levels, because I have to put what I do have into things just to get by. (So if I blew off your party, or performance, or get-together, I'm sorry...I probably felt too tired that day.)

Things like riding my bike, writing, photographing, or socializing get put on the back-burner by an overwhelming desire to just...watch TV; for my brain to go into auto-pilot and put off the over-thought that I'm so disgustingly-prone to.

On the other hand of finding myself quick to excuse a blow-off, I also find that if I drag myself out, or get on my bike and go, or get that cup of coffee with my journal in hand, I sink right back into the life that it gives me. It's a deception, and I guess in a way - though I'm writing this to convince myself - I'm writing this to convince others: when something you love doesn't feel worth it, try anyway. I can almost promise you won't regret it.