Just Popping In . . .

So, this is new, not blogging for three whole weeks. It's the college (and work) life. Totally rocks.

And just when I started to get some blog drafts started, a big thing happens. On Sunday night my dad had a heart attack. Thank Jesus, we did catch it right away, and Mom took him to the ER soon afterwards. As of now (Tuesday evening), he got out of surgery a few hours ago; he had a few stints put in, which will help keep the blockage in his coronary arteries at bay. Unfortunately, it doesn't take care of the root problem (the blockage needs to be completely removed), but it does provide a short-term (2-3 year) break before the need for a more invasive procedure would need to happen.

This whole process has been covered with the peace of God; nobody has been freaking out, no complications with doctor's procedures, everything pretty smooth. My brother flew in from Canada to help out, which has been a great blessing. I have pretty much been holding down the fort while everyone goes to the hospital to see Dad. I hate hospitals and, unless something major is happening, I make every effort not to purposely put myself in a situation I hate. But being home has let me do a few things; yesterday I cleaned the house, top to bottom, and today I "winterized" the garden.

Nevertheless, prayers would be appreciated, obviously. Just for peace as we start to figure out what these next few weeks will look like. That Dad would recover quickly and smoothly. That he wouldn't rush his recovery. (He's an A-type personality, so he basically has a one-track mind. Right now, it's "get better and get back to work.") I can't really think of anything more specific other than that, but I mean, nobody ever got too much prayer or prayed too much.

This experience has also tangibly brought the realization to me that, we really don't know when our time will come. Sure, we can make tentative plans for what we might want to do when we grow up, what to study in college, what boy we want to marry, how many kids we want, and whatever other major life decisions happen to present themselves. But that's the thing - these are just tentative.

Ultimately, my life is in His hands. I'm down-right assured of that. I do actively try to position my life according to where I feel God is leading me. For this reason, I am in college, attempting to acquire the knowledge needed to get a job in the field of humanitarian-government relations. At the same time, I can't bank my life on the mere fact that I'm still living. I can only live day-to-day, step-by-step.

I know I'm basically rambling now, and I promise I'll stop after I say this. But, really, loving people is all that it's cracked up to be. That's what people ultimately remember you for. I'm not a sentimental person in any way, shape, or form. But having death come so close to my family, I don't really care anymore. I want to love with abandon. I don't want to hoard my life to myself anymore. Whether it's my giving my mom a gift for no reason, forgiving a friend for something that is really quite petty in the end, or just going to my sister's birthday party even though I'd rather go to jail than pretend I love parties because I have a serious hate-hate relationship with parties. I want to feast and abide in God's love daily so that I can be a conduit of love to others to the fullest.

I want to love hard.

18 Lessons

This past Thursday, August 23, was my birthday. I'm 18 now. And if 18 is anything like 17 . . . I will be blessed beyond what I deserve. In the hardest, but best of ways.

The awesome part about having a birthday in the middle of the year is it's almost like New Year's Day all over again. Just for you. New year, new start, new clean slate. I'm beginning a new season of life. I'm now an adult. I haven't wrapped my head around that yet. It's a thrilling but daunting mental trip. The kind of thought that makes being five sound like a good idea. Back then naivety was the norm and skepticism was a foreign language, and I just think every once in a while you need fries and a chocolate milkshake and your mom.

The thing that gives life its point is that there is always something new to learn. Over the past year or so, I've come to the conclusion that the moment you think you have everything figured out, you don't. You never arrive. It's the elusive finish line that we'll never cross this side of Heaven. It's always more and more, deeper and deeper, experience overlapping experience, wave over crashing wave, lessons learned. And then more lessons to learn. Year 17-18 has been chock-full of this. At times I've wanted to point a finger at the Teacher and say, "Stop it! I have enough homework as it is! I never enrolled for a B.A. in Christianity. I'm not that spiritual. Really, God, I'm not." Nevertheless, you learn whether you want to or not. I'm glad God doesn't take orders from us.

1. Being content doesn't mean throwing your hands up in complacency. It's eager expectation married to patience and self-control.

2. Sometimes it's easier to write a research paper outline on pretty stationary.

3. Good friends are rare. Treasure them, but don't smother them.

4. Nothing wrong with being confident. Just don't get cocky about it.

5. Once you learn the true Biblical form of forgiveness, you will immediately fall head-over-heels in love with it.

6. Sometimes you just have to tell the negativity committee that meets inside your head to sit down and shut up.

7. Knowing exactly what you want before you go shopping is a huge time and stress saver.

8. Listen to good music. Good, artistically rich, soul-filled ear pleasure. Sometimes the best beats are the neighborhood garage band, not the ones releasing their latest VEVO music video.

9. Trust is priceless. Damaging it costs too much.

10. Facades aren't worth it.

11. Smile.

12. Common sense isn't really all that common anymore.

13. Sometimes mothers really do know best.

14. Always feed your brain. Never stop exploring. Learn new information. Don't paralyze your curiosity.

15. Really, it's lame to do things just because everybody else is doing it.

16. No one ever accomplished anything worth doing without dipping their toes in the pond of Uncomfortable.

17. In quietness and trust is your strength. (Isaiah 30:15)

18. Love is such a worthy cause.

Photo courtesy: (1) That Kind of Woman; (2) Of All Loveliness; (3) Pinterest; (4) Of All Loveliness

Mistaken Identity

Sometimes I try too hard to find out who I am. I study myself. I look for patterns in my likes and dislikes and experiences, but the answers I find are only illusions.

Because my identity is hidden in Him. I am His, and nothing on this fragile, transient earth can define me. I am not defined by my talents. Or clothing style. Or my college major. Or the books I read. I am not a violinist, a writer, a bibliophile, a homeschooler, an introvert, a girl with a major penchant for hand-written letters and notes, a telephobic, a friend, a gardener. I am His.

And that is the only answer that will ever satisfy. It's the only category in which I will ever feel at home. Everything else is only a costume for my short time on life's stage.

He is, therefore I am. I am His. I am His. I am His.

"I am in Love, and out of it I will not go."

Embracing the Dark

Shakespeare, Galileo, Milton, Kepler, David; each wrote of the stars. Some in verse, some in science - all in wonder. However numerous their mentions, have you noticed stars never grow cliche'?

Scientifically speaking, we know these orbs are only the gaseous dustballs of the universe with no potential to support human life, and yet staring at them sends us into a speechless stupor. Lord Byron, a poet rarely caught without a quip, could not begin to describe them: "Ye stars! Which are the poetry of heaven!"

Unfortunately for me, my thoughts seldom reach as high as the heavens. My thoughts tend to stick to the solid, predictable and unoffending ground.

What do I do with this extra time I now have since I've graduated? What if the college doesn't accept my SAT scores? Have I picked the right degree? Do I take a job? Where? When? Am I doing this right? Will God allow me to feel His Presence or must I trust blindly? Must I continue fumbling in the dark, groping for a light switch?

But when the lights are off, the stars are easier to see. Galileo admitted, "I've loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night." Maybe that's the wiser perspective.

Isaiah wanted us to adopt this view when he cried, "Do you not know? Have you not heard? Has it not been told you from the beginning?" Finger pointed to the sky, the wizened prophet must have shouted, "Lift your eyes and look to the heavens: Who created all these? He who brings out the starry host one by one, and calls them each by name. Because of His great power and mighty strength, not one of them is missing." (Isaiah 40:21, 26)

When attempting to figure out my future, I used to feel stuck in the dark; but I'm now of the opinion that "in the dark" should no longer be a synonym for ignorance and confusion. Instead, it's a doorway into clarity. In the absence of man-made lamps, which illuminate at my command, I'm powerless. I can't trust myself. Reflection is all I have to do.

And so I count the stars and laugh at my smallness; remembering that the God who leads constellations through infinity can guide me, too.

(Photo courtesy: Pinterest)

Fragile Hearts

The words seemed to leap off the page.

Propelled to my inner thoughts with intense meaning. Inside I could feel the conviction of the words and their truth seep into my mind. A weight settled inside. I scrambled to straighten out the words pouring through the pages of my soul.

". . . Fragile heart . . ."

The first words I begin to understand.

Reading is my before-bed tradition. Reading anything . . . the Word, Mr. Putter and Tabby (I'm a child at heart, don't judge me), a Christian devotional, old letters . . . and I always have my quote notebook out, just in case I come across a profound thought that deserves to be written down. But there are times that I feel almost sure that God does some writing of His own. Some days the words seem to be written just for me.

The page is small, the words are crowded, the meaning is powerful to me.

"Handle with care," a message about our vulnerable and fragile lives and hearts.

My thoughts stubbornly acknowledge: "You've hurt others."

"I've been hurt. Hurting people hurt people," I defend myself.

" . . . forgiving others more readily . . ." I continue to read on paper pages.

"I know I've been wrong and done my part in the cat fight with her, but frankly, it's her fault."

I fight back the tears gathering in my frustration and confusion. I squeeze my eyes shut. I wait.

The words rip through me: "Lord, please, help me to understand her."

I open my eyes to receive moments of another's memories that my mind unravels. Scenes flash crossing my eyes. The same memories, yet different in a way I cannot ingest. Slowly I realize what I've done . . . I've seen through another's eyes.

Slowly, I let out the air, realizing that I've been holding my breath.

"God, is this what I'm supposed to see? Her side? . . . I have been hurt. But I've also hurt both of our fragile glass hearts. But forgiveness . . . I want to forgive. I want to be forgiven."

And so now, with this revelation, I begin the journey. Sometimes, fragile hearts are slow to heal, even slower to trust another into the inner-most chamber of our being. As I continue to remind myself the importance of another's perspective in all I do, I will attempt to tread carefully in the dance of communication. One's heart is not only fragile, but a gift to be held in utmost reverance and care.

Photo courtesy of Of All Loveliness

What About the Other Hand?

Yesterday while having my devotions, I had this thought.

Crucifixion is the only death you cannot accomplish on your own. Putting a gun in your mouth, cutting, harnessing yourself to a weight and jumping into the ocean, tying a rope to your neck - all of these offer you the power and control of the situation. Crucifixion on the other hand is not so easy. You can pierce your feet and nail your one arm, but what about the other hand? A part of you, while it seems minute in the whole scheme of things (your body would be wracked with pain at this point), there is still a piece of you that is not fully dead.

We cannot crucify ourselves to our fleshly nature and whims. We cannot mortify the deeds of the flesh to ourselves in our own strength. Should we try, we will never truly die - there will always be some area, no matter how small, that will be still be clinging to the fragments of sin.

Christ alone can truly crucify you . . . me. Indeed, He already has. Jesus has loosened the ropes and gag that had bound me to myself. My flesh has already been crucified with Christ. This life I now live, I must choose to live in faith, speaking truth to my soul that the word is dead to me, and I to the world.

For this reason, I rejoice in my death. I welcome it, cherish it, embrace it, breathe it. Death to myself means life to my spirit. In my external weakness, my soul is hid in the shadow of the Almighty. My flesh may beg for attention; why is it so painful? Yet, why do I afford it the listening ear? Sin has never done anything good for me, it deserves none of my recognition or respect. Christ alone brings fruition out of pain, strength out of weakness, life out of death.

Lord, take me deeper into the glories of Calvary.

The Well Will Not Run Dry

Ever feel completely drained?

I do.

On days like these, I stumble out of bed, feeling as rested as an insomniac running on four hours of sleep can be. I take out my Physics notebook and aim to conquer light refraction and wave length. My brain promptly conks out. I run errands with my mom across town, hit home for lunch, and head out to babysit for the rest of the afternoon. I'm physically tired from long days (those days when you wish bedtime was at 2 in the afternoon), early mornings (thanks, Insomnia), and late nights (I hate you, Insomnia). I'm spiritually starving because my Bible sits on the shelf while I run around trying to satisfy the demands of Real Life.

Some people would probably say the two are unrelated - physical and spiritual emptiness. I don't think so. One tends to exacerbate the other, and both together make for an unhappy combination.

It's ironic, really. The Word is meant to be our inexhaustible source of strength in the face of everything life throws at us, and yet right when life starts winding up for the pitch, we feel overburdened and let that all-important relationship begin to slide.

On nights like these, I make myself a cup of hot tea and sneak a cold apple dumpling from the fridge. I settle on my soft quilt and my cat jumps on the bed to cuddle. I put away the research report notes and open up the Word.

The well will not run dry.

Photo courtesy of a Well Traveled Woman

I'm Majoring for a Mrs. Degree

Coming from a conservative homeschool background, I've been exposed to the "preparing for marriage" idea since . . . well, for too long. Not so much within my own family, but more so with books, articles and magazines, videos, simple chit-chat discussions . . . marriage is a hot topic. Recently, I went through the "cold-footed senior" dilemma, not quite sure how to translate what I know I've been called to do into a tangible reality for my life (which, thankfully, is not the case anymore). For the past year people would ask, "So, what are your plans after highschool?" "Oh, I'm still praying about it," was the inevitable reply. Several times, I would get back, "Oh, take your time. This just allows for more time to prepare for marriage."

Note: If you love me, you won't say that.

The problem is not with marriage. I truly believe that marriage is wonderful and I will be thrilled should it happen to me. Yet I have observed, over and over, young women leaving the nest of homeschool with one purpose alone: to catch a man.

Girls will dream of their wedding day, that is a given. But what about making your life around the wedding day? Until you reach that time, you will not have a purpose. No goal except to find a mate. With any other object this may be attainable - a job, an education, even a home - since these things can be found and earned. A mate is an entirely different animal . . . a human. As time goes on, this human can become a god: all youth is spent in pursuit of him, much time is spent on dreaming of him, all skills and knowledge honed in preparation for him, and marriage, a wedding, and a happily-ever-after can become all you ever want out of life.

So what happens when the wedding is over? What then? Wedding days are over by sundown, honeymoons are over in a week, and then there's the great expanse of Life to deal with. Tests and trials come - often much more difficult to face than if you are single as the family must provide for itself with the unison of each other. What then?

The Ideal Mate suddenly is revealed as a sinning human, as well as are you - despite all the preparation for marriage. If marriage was your idol before the ring, you eyes are opened wide as you see that it's not all romance and candles. All the time spent to attain it may make you wonder if it was well spent at all. Did you redeem the time of your youth? Did you make the most of the years you had?

Preparing for marriage is an admirable goal, and I would never say to stop learning the various skills needed to be a homemaker or provider (whichever you happen to be). At the same time, if that is your only goal in life, it is a low-sighted vision. While God works mightily through married couples, He can work mightily through anyone who is called by His name. He is not restricted by our perception of what we think is best for us, our perception of Him, nor our personal interpretation of His Word.

Would I like to stay single for a long time? I'm just graduating from highschool this year, so I don't classify myself as "single" yet, but to directly answer your question, no, not really. I want hugs and kisses too. My mom and dad do it all the time and they seem to have fun with it . . . I want my turn. However, if that becomes my only goal then I am making an idol out of something that is a blessing of God, not God himself. It is the same with a career or education - or anything that takes the place of God in our lives. Yet it often seems that marriage is somehow given a license to take this position in the lives of young people while careers and educations are not, especially to girls.

Perhaps you're alarmed by the feministic ring to that last statement, but don't be; I will tell you what I am for. I am for young men and women making these years when they are unmarried, without commitments and people to provide for, the years that they fill with learning and moving forward. These are the years to do things you dream of - not in a selfish way, which the world propagates, but the dreams that God lays on your heart. Dreams beyond marriage. Once a woman has children, her domain should be in the home training them as her God-given position in the family. But until then, she has work to do either for her husband or for her God.

Marriage can seem like the safe haven that escorts a girl out of her parents' home into the home of her husband. She never has to face "the world." Truth be told, we live in the world. We may not be of it, but we sure better be able to face it. We had better know what to say and do, how to speak and teach - and in these things we can still be all the wife or husband that we need to be. In fact, we'll be made the better for it.

Any man of mine will be worthy of my respect and love because he went out into the world and accomplished the dream God laid on his heart. He will be my hero because I will see in him a man who took his time and redeemed it, preparing for me by not wasting all his knowledge and preparation on me, but working to support me. And I will do the same: use these years to their maximum. So when my man and I meet, our years together will be twice as powerful as our years apart. That's my dream, and marriage is a part of it - but marriage isn't the dream itself.

Society may be set against marriage, instead being a proponent of the "swinging single" image, but that does not give us the right to take the pendulum the other direction with the idea that marriage is the "only way." We must strike a balance, with morality as our guide and God as our hope, knowing that our work for Him will be effective whether we have a spouse or not. When He is in His rightful place, and we are being faithful in what He has called us to in the here and now (whether that's education, getting a job, serving your family and church, or simply loving your neighbor), then He can give us those blessings that we desire.

The Dogwood's Secret

(Spoiler alert: One word - rambly.)

It's no joke that my favorite season is spring. In my mind, spring has it all. Heavenly weather, clean, crisp air, the grass begins to get it's green on, and my personal favorite - the trees start to bloom. 

There really is nothing quite like taking a walk and getting snowed on by Dogwood petals, or to see a child squeal and giggle as she runs to the Magnolia tree to gather a few twigs of the breathy pink blossoms for "Mommy to put in a vase and keep forever." I'm quite partial to the Dogwood. Not so much for the scent, but for the white blossoms. White is such a symbolic color. It stands for purity, cleanliness, something fresh, something new. So many phrases run through my mind whenever I spot a tree in full powdery white glory.

"I am the Resurrection and the Life," rustles through the blossoms as I work in the garden. "He who overcomes will be dressed in white."

A few days ago, I was struggling with the weight of my sin. "Get a grip, you moron! You were born to 'fight the good fight of faith and lay hold of eternal life' and you cast off the sword . . . again." While I continued to beat myself up, I heard a soft, gentle voice.

Look out the window.

"But I don't see anything and . . . oh, my Lord."

There, just three houses down, was a Dogwood tree, its white blossoms basking in the sunlight.

Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be white as snow.

That was enough to calm the raging voice inside of me that said "Give up, you'll never work through this. It's no use fighting now." Any fears of having at long last wasted the last drop of grace that has been shown to me were dispelled at His voice.

The Dogwood bears within itself a secret of immeasurable worth. Now when I see it, I gasp not only for its pure beauty. It stands as a reminder of who my Savior is, and who I am and am becoming according to the power of His Spirit that works within me. There is a Savior who has redeemed me. There is hope of salvation. There is life.

Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; old things have passed away; behold, all things have become new.


Photo courtesy of Of All Loveliness

Move the Pot

Yesterday afternoon, I was doing some dishes left over from lunch and the water wasn't draining on one side of the sink. Granted, our sink isn't from the 21st century, but whenever you wash dishes the old fashioned way (i.e. without a dishwasher), it's somewhat crucial that the water drains through.

Stupid sink.

"It's probably just a clogged drain since the pot of soap is barely covering it up," I thought. Five minutes go by, and the water has receded approximately 1 centimeter. "Just lift the pot up and see what happens," Common Sense told me. Sure enough, the water drained through quickly.

And that got me thinking.

So often when we're facing problems in a relationship with a family member, friend, or co-worker, it's too easy to eenie-meenie-miny-moe on something other than the root issue. But Christianly, before we play the blame game, it's our job to evaluate ourselves before we bang the gavel on someone else.

"Judge not, that you be not judged.

For with what judgment you judge, you will be judged;

and with the measure you use, it will be measured back to you.

And why do you look at the speck in your brother's eye,

but do not consider the plank in your own eye?

Or how can you say to your brother,

'Let me remove the speck from your eye';

and look, a plank is in your own eye?

Hypocrite! First remove the plank from your own eye,

and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother's eye."

~ Matthew 7:1-5 ~

Just like I thought the problem was with the drain (something I can't fix), likewise it's too easy for me to point the finger. "It's her fault!" But the reality is, the problem could be as simple as "lifting the pot," repenting of a sinful reaction in my life (something I can fix).

This isn't to negate situations where the other person is indeed at fault. But even then, it's easy to settle on the worst case scenario, coming up with reasons why he didn't return the phone call or why she is being distant for no seemingly legitimate reason.

In the conflicts we have with those around us, almost every time there's something we can change about our reaction in order to honor and love them the way Christ loved us.

Destroying a Thousand Years of Mathematical Genius

I'm not sure I believe in negative numbers.

If zero is really zero,
that is, nothing,
then how can something be less than nothing?

"Nothing" is the absense of thingness.
How can one be more absent a thing than another?
"We are both nothing, but I am more nothing than you."
To be more nothing . . . does that not
make "nothing"
a thing?

Thingness defies zero.
Either you are zero - and absolutely nothing
or very secretly
you are something.

How I Died

Some days, I am weighted down by the sheer knowledge of my own filth.

I live and breathe and laugh. Sometimes I even speak, and others listen. There are days that some call me "wise" or "mature." Once or twice, I believe them. More often, I feel guilty. Dirty. Fake.

Is what they see real? Or do I live to hide the abomination of my own being?

Perhaps we are all abominations, in our own right. And yet perhaps, it is this that gives us  beginning. You can't have an ending without a beginning. Can't have an after without a before.

Can't have salvation without abomination.

What drags at my conscience is the in-between. The now. The sanctification not yet complete. The work in progress.

The life of a Christ-follower places us at the fulcrum point: behind us, the filth. We see it still, and it nags at us, taunts us. Before us, the plunge. There is no memory of the abominations there - the dirt that clings to the bits and pieces of a former life.

But we are in the now. Not yet perfected. Clinging only to the sight ahead.

The past is forgiven, but not erased. We are all of us abominable.

Which is why we must cease to be "us."

The days full of guilt and shame and grief belong to another life, and must be left there. When my mind tries to revive them, I must simply remember.

Remember how I died.

Photo courtesy of Of All Loveliness

Indifferent Moments

"The opposite of love is not hate, it's indifference."

~ Elie Wiesel ~

I found this quote (once again) just recently. It really struck home.

Over the past few months, and really over the past year, I've been dealing with quite a bit. Much of it self-afflicted, much of it my fault, yes, but that doesn't make it any easier.

There are times when life is very stressful. There are times where the emotions seem almost unbearable. And I've discovered it's very easy for me to just shut everything out. Go into auto-pilot. Stop caring.

Sure, it seems easier. Maybe in the moment things don't hurt so much. But it doesn't fix anything.

And, in the meantime, I miss out on so much. I miss out on offering a broken heart up to God to fix. I miss out on friends who are willing to support and encourage me. I miss out on reaching out to others and supporting them where I wished I had gotten support.

Caring is such a beautiful thing. Indifference, such a dangerous thing.

In the midst of the pain, in the midst of the complications, in the midst of the emotional roller-coaster life puts us through, are we willing to face it all, and simply care? You'll lead a very bleak life, otherwise.

Photo courtesy of Ruche