take heart

I feel good, and alive, and excited. I ate an orange just a bit ago, and I enjoyed every bit of it. Even the pith that no one likes to eat. It woke me up a bit. You know? For me it was an orange, but for someone else it might be a sunrise, or a breeze on a cool day- or maybe the way the shadows move on the pavement outside. Fear is a lie. My fear is useless and intrusive. I don't want to be afraid anymore- because I really don't have to be. No matter what happens, I'm happy right now. I feel energized and ready.

So, bring it on.

I'm going to be okay.

death

This isn't morbid, I promise. Death for me has always been a very bitter and terrifying thing. The one thing that truly reminds me of my humanity- of my non-permanence- of my lack of all-knowingness that only God possesses, is death. If there is one thing that reminds me that I am not God, it's death. And in my experience, it's never a nice feeling to realize that you're not the one in control of your life, like you believed. It's easy to believe we are gods. We believe it almost without noticing, or at least I do. I've always had a horribly negative connotation with death (like I suppose almost everyone does). Each relative that has died in the past has jarred and shaken me. The closer death has come to me, the more nervous and anxious I have become about it. Because, no one likes to feel out of control- no one who believes they are their own god rejoices in realizing that they are human like everyone else- human in every possible way and no better or worse than any other human that has ever lived, because they were just as human as you are. Forced humility feels a little bit like claustrophobia.

But probably about this time last week, my grandmother passed away unexpectedly. And she was a woman of great strength, patience, goodness, faithfulness, and hope. She worked hard all her life, and was not one to complain or be ungrateful even when things were difficult or less than ideal. She had always won over my respect for her by the way she approached life so openly- so ready to accept whatever circumstances came her way. I watched her from afar as she lived a life dedicated to the Lord and to serving other people, and treating them with warmth and good humor and companionship. She was a beautiful woman of faith, who I know spent every minute of her life loving Jesus from a deep and unshakable place. I don't doubt that by the time she died, she had been ready for decades to be with Him. She loved Him more than anything. She wasn't afraid of death because she loved Him, trusted Him, had faith in Him to do what He has promised. Her funeral was the first one I have attended in which I felt peace. Mixed with the sadness of not being able to talk to her again was an overwhelming sense of peace- because she is finally with Jesus- she is finally Home, a place she had longed for all her life. And I am so proud to say that I am her granddaughter. And because of her beautiful life and beautiful love for her Creator, I am much less afraid of death.

Death is vital. Death makes the whole equation work. Death is necessary and mandatory for God to exist and for God to love us. Without death, there could be no eternity. Death means there was a punishment given, and therefore a mistake made. Death is the penalty for my misconduct, for my pride in willing to dethrone God. But it also means that Someone cared enough that I made a mistake- cared enough to do something about the irreversible sin I've committed- cared enough to become one of us in the form of a helpless baby to shortly after conquer death altogether for those who claim Him as their Savior. All through my life, from the second I was born, He has been reaching for me- hoping that instead of hoarding the life I have been given, I would surrender back to Him the breath that He has lent me, out of love and devotion and appreciation and gratitude. He cares. He won't let me go no matter what I do. And I know that though my body must return to dust because it was created from dust, my soul will return to God because it was created from Him, in His likeness- in love, for love, because of love. It started with love, and it will end with love.

And I hope that when the last page is turned and the book of my life here is closed, I will have made my grandmother proud. I hope that I will be as fearless as she was about death. And I hope that I will have loved Jesus even half as much as she did. I know that she is safe, and therefore not permanently gone. She is  truly Home, experiencing things that we can't know or understand now. I don't have any choice but to trust that she is with Him- and that one day I will be too.

a little good

Well hello. I'm a little confused about how things have been lately- both up and down and neutral. It's been strange I guess. Oh well. I don't know exactly what there is to say, but I feel weird having nothing current up since my last very depressing post! Usually if I just start typing then things come out like they want to. Here goes.

I'm looking forward to the coming year. I always have hope that the year to come will be better than years past, and while I still have hope that this coming year will have many good things for me, I also know that it will be full of hard work. Full of me turning my soul upside down and shaking things out of it. Today I'm realizing that it isn't as easy as I thought it was for me to talk about the issues I've had in the past- about the things that have hurt. Things seem much more complicated and hard to explain now than they seemed then. It will be hard work.

It's no secret, really, that I struggle with depression. It feels a little good to just admit it. It feels a little good to be seeking out help instead of just waiting for something to change, like I have been for years. The prospect of change is definitely scary, even if it's good change, but I think change is what I need. If I have to be in counseling for the next year, then okay. If it's a chemical thing, then I'll give prescriptions a chance. If I don't do something about this, I'll continue to feel like I'm wasting my life away with these nebulous kinds of illnesses that keep me from doing anything important with my life. If there's anything I'm a natural at, it's not doing anything.

So, here's to new things. Here's to trying. Here's to change.

expert at exit

When I am happy, I miss the fire in my soul. I miss the passion and the grasping for answers. I think depression is of the deepest routes to my soul. There is nothing so intimate as suffering. There is nothing so near to the center of my being as suffering. Nothing seems so natural as feeling the genuine pangs of my fallen nature. Pain is where I feel the most comfortable. Ruin is a sort of home to me. Pain makes the most sense to me- it is always cut and dry- I know it's there because it hurts.

But happiness... Happiness is a fragile, flighty thing. Depression is heavy and weighted- and all the more easier to feel it when it's in my hands. But happiness- happiness is a small bird trembling and twitching to escape through my clenched fists. Happiness is a clever bird, an expert at escape, an expert at exit. And when it is gone, I know it. Not as plainly as I know when pain arrives, however.

Pain is a strange driving rain- where there is a sensation of heat and breath and life without even a word being spoken to prove it. Pain is a thick blanket weighted with lead; happiness is a light breeze playing with the hairs on my head and the smile on my face. Who could build a house on happiness? Who could make their home in the drafty fibers of happiness- always stretching and bending and disintegrating with every attempt to domesticate it? No, pain is domestic and stable and faithful. Happiness is a wild, cruel animal. He may pretend to be my pet for a short while, but he is always a stray- I can never keep him. Pain is more kind than any happiness. Pain is always waiting for me to come back, while happiness forgetfully goes on without me. Pain has a strange love for me, while happiness could care less whether or not I exist.

fight

I've been thinking about change today. Not pocket change. Well, not only pocket change. I waste a lot of time thinking I can fix myself. That my current broken state is livable and tolerable and fine. I guess that's denial. I'm not good at moving on, or moving at all. My life isn't going to change if I don't learn how to do things differently, how to become differently. I can continue to erroneously believe that I can provide the help I need, or I can be more honest with myself than is comfortable and admit that I can't change me by myself. There is a lot of darkness in me that I don't know how to dispel.

And I'm scared.

Processes are not easy for me. I don't transition well. Asking for help, and accepting that help, are not easy for me. But if I don't do something about this, I'm going to just stay the same. And ultimately, I don't really want that. I mean, that WOULD be the easier route- and I've been taking that route for some time now. But I can fight even when I think I can't. I have been incredibly worn out lately- in a very deep, speechless place, but I have no other choice but to fight if I want it to ever get better. I can't NOT fight. The other choice is no choice at all.

I'm real scared.

But I have to go out on a limb here. I've got to get out of here- I need to let my need for rest drive me out of my isolation and into the light where there is warmth and restoration. I'm so tired that I have no other option but to fight as hard as I can back to a place of safety and health and forgiveness. It's going to absolutely suck. But. So what? I can deal with that. Just don't let me do it alone.

[No weeping, no hurt or pain, no suffering- You hold me now, You hold me now. No darkness, no sick or lame, no hiding- You hold me now, You hold me now]

red and white flags

Oh if things could be what there were then. I know it's never a good thing to look back in longing, but sometimes I do. I miss who I was then. I have not become more innocent with time. I think of my friends and of the way I was vulnerable, and I feel a sense of loss. Vulnerability has never been my strong suit, but now it's even less so. I forget how to trust people, forget how to just let go and have fun. Community has become a foreign thing to me, being more than a year out of school, and I have forgotten what it means to be in fellowship. Now, attempts at those things give me massive headaches and a general disappointment in myself- that I cannot easily talk to people, even if they are well-meaning and friendly. I was freer once.

I feel like it's very cruel that I am so painfully self-aware. What a shame that the safest place I feel like I have to say what I need to say is on some stupid website. What little courage I have. What, speak up, you say? I don't think I can, in so many words. What a strange thing that I both struggle with and am comforted by my sense of aloneness. I long to tell you what I think so badly, and yet that longing suffocates me- because at the end of the day I am so glad that it's just me in here and you don't get to see it.

I struggle so much feeling like there has to be a meaning. I have to mean something. My life has to mean something. My talent, my imperfections...they have to MEAN something. Even if that meaning isn't necessarily good or beneficial. I hate this in-between, where there are no solid answers- where the people who have solid answers are just arrogant and make themselves believe something just so they can believe it- so there isn't a strange, nebulous kind of unknowing. You know that nebulous unknowing? The kind that keeps you up at night? Makes the darkness seem like a warm mirror, seem like a breathing room that is listening because your soul is speaking? That's when truth waves a red flag and I wave a white one.

I'm never going to figure it all out. I guess that's okay. Just let it MEAN something, okay? Please.

paralysis

What a crazy long week.

I've stopped reaching out, stopped looking around me. I've just been sitting through my day, standing still through my thoughts and my interactions. Do you know what I mean? I feel like I am breaking a little more every day, taking up less and less involvement in my own life, breathing in less and less air despite my silent gasping.

Is the suffering real? Is there something concrete behind these inklings? Do you hear me at all? Do I even know how to be me?

secret

I try to convince myself that I'm not desolate. I am unhappy. I am unhappy with myself. I didn't expect this kind of hurting- this mute kind of terrorizing hurt. My personality according to Myers-Briggs is only 1% of the population, and I have always felt this...I have always intrinsically felt so different from my friends and from the world, and I have hated myself for it. I don't often realize that my rare personality is good. It doesn't feel good. I don't like the way that I interpret the world or the way I interact with it. I don't like the way that I am always pulling back, always holding back, always mistrusting, always intending to avoid calamity in any possible way. I don't like the way I hide from everything. The secrets give me only a false sense of security, in that keeping them causes me to feel even more isolated.

I'm sitting here, feeling so much deep down in there, but I can't seem to draw it out. The music just sounds like noise to me, and isn't calling me out of myself like it normally does. Pain adds weight to my feelings, and they consequently sink in deep and writhe in their dark namelessness. The writhing is the restlessness I feel. Nothing makes it better.

I want to pick up my pen and write down hope. But there is only the date at the top of the page, and nothing more. There is so much more than I can write down here or there- so many things inside me that I can't write down in words, in letters, in spaces and breaths and cursor blinks. I cannot bear my soul to anyone. I'm afraid I will be alone all my life, just trying to make life work- trying to make myself work the way I wish I worked. I'm beyond being salvaged by a group of my peers. They are imperfect too. They are broken too. I need Jesus, despite how often I try to hide myself from Him.

Please...please...

i can't-

At the end of the day, I am just a girl. A girl with tousled hair and no makeup, in sweats and fleece, a tired soul in a tired body. And that's enough. There is beauty in that, in the plain me devoid of decorations and trends, when I am not clothed in attempted style, attempted perfection, attempted self-redemption. There is beauty in being just what I am and nothing more. There is beauty in just being me. There is beauty in not pretending.

There is freedom in trying to be the best human I can be, and no more.

I cannot be reconciled to the world through any means. I am not meant to be redeemed by it. Every part of my life holds some sense of dissatisfaction or disappointment- in every avenue I am imperfect somehow, with branches of cracks and splinters rooted deep into who I am. Somehow it is beautiful to me tonight, even though it still hurts.

Right now I miss a place I have never been.

At the end of the day, I am a wreck. No amount of hiding or secrets or acting changes that. And even though I hate it, there is some peace in admitting it. There is peace in knowing that the answer to me is bigger than me, beyond me, beyond you, beyond whatever you think or say or do in relation to me. There is peace because in being honest with myself, I see that I need Him. There can never be another- there is no one like Him.

God, I am so tired. So tired I'm about to give up. I'm quietly suffering in here, silently bleeding in here, but I am still Yours. Will always be Yours. Please don't let me quit. Please don't let me give up hope, please don't let me forfeit the faith I had. So many things get in the way, including the things that are supposed to help me talk to You. Those things don't matter if they don't bring me in closer to You.

Promise me Jesus, that You'll be the first one to usher me in? I can't even imagine.

believer

I feel a bit wobbly. Knees not working right. I feel tired. I feel eaten-away at. What's happening? My spirit feels wounded and disappointed. My life should not be led on my own. I should not be in control of my life, ever. I only end up slipping and barrel-rolling down the side of a hill, eventually becoming nauseous and sick and disoriented from the uncontrollable spinning. I don't want to be sunk. I don't want to feel like I am losing myself like this. I feel like my home is slowly being taken from me, slowly getting a step or two further from me, slowly losing its detail and its warmth. I don't want to wake up one day and realize that I traded my home for a cardboard box.

But I can always go home. It will always be MY home.

Oh, rest- come to me.

My name is Katie, and I am a ruiner, a wreckage of misplaced intentions, a submitter to pain and fear and dismay, a perceiver of intuitions and impressions, a deep feeler with little restraint. I am a worn-down lover, a peace-needing negligent prayer, a sensitive receiver of constant information and feedback, a daughter looking for the sunset through the cornfield, a soul both tortured and redeemed, a believer always struggling to believe.

My name is Katie, and I am a human.

beautiful

When we create, we are imitating our Creator. We make Him proud- He is proud of the things that I spend my time creating. And while sometimes creating something can be so frustrating, it's because we are imperfect beings creating imperfect things- sometimes we create things we don't like, or things that didn't turn out the way we wanted. But God, who is perfect, created each of us perfectly- and so He has no regrets- He can only look on His creation with love...because it is part of Him, because we are a part of Him- an extension of love itself. And the intense admiration I feel whenever I come across a song that deeply touches me, I am hearing an echo of what God made. And I feel so blessed to hear it- so blessed and privileged to be someone who really hears it, not just listens to it in the background of life. I feel joy when I feel this blessed. 

And no one needs to understand it for me to know it. I don't need someone else's acknowledgment of it to know that it's real. There is no theology, no discrepancy, no debate. It just is. And I feel joy and love and rest and beauty because it exists. It's like finding a piece of someone else- another piece of God's creation- that sounds like me, that sounds like home. 

I hope heaven feels like this. I hope heaven feels like how this sounds. 

rest

The past couple weeks have undone me, I think. I really haven't been able to sleep well, despite being exhausted for most of the day. I think I need a deeper kind of rest. I think that I have absorbed a deep blow, and am feeling it deeper than even I realized. I do not feel at peace with myself. I feel a need.

I feel a strange sort of hurt, the kind that makes you run home. I feel an injury that follows me in blood as I  go. The kind of hurt a human can't comfort. I feel as though my equilibrium has been knocked off balance, and I don't know quite exactly how to walk upright now, but I must try- must walk on, because the world demands that I go on like nothing is the matter with me.

How desperately I hate to be found in the wrong. I hate to make mistakes. I hate to do anything wrong. I know I'm human, I know that I'm not perfect- that no one is, but I still hate to feel in trouble. I think that somehow, when I find myself in that situation, I look up with innocence at my accusers, feeling that I am innocent- that there has to be a mistake somehow. And I think about this feeling that exists so deeply within me, and I realize that one day when I have to answer for myself, I will feel much the same way as this- guilty but having the conviction that I am innocent- having the need for God to do what He did for me. Long before I ever knew I needed it, He did it.

I am tired. Within. Tonight I feel the way that the world is not enough, that my life is not enough for me. I know it will never be. I won't ever be content for long, for more than a moment or two at a time- because it isn't enough to make me feel fixed, whole, at peace. As wonderful and crazy and beautiful as it all is, the creation isn't what I need. And it wears me down. I need something not broken. I need something not imperfect. Nothing else will make me feel any better. Nothing else will give me the rest I need, the peace I am seeking. I make my life out to be about so many other things than what it really is- I make myself out to be someone I really am not. All this trying and trying and trying to be...what a waste. How foolish to make myself pretend that I am comforted by things, by possessions, by the idea that I am somebody. I feel sick with all these things instead, and worried about things that I shouldn't be worried about. I have more than I need, and I am lucky- blessed- privileged just to be alive to know more and more that God is not disappointed in me- that God did not make a mistake in creating exactly me- that Jesus is the center of everything, and that I matter to Him.

Sometimes I feel like life here on earth is some game that I am forced to play. I am forced to go about bound by gravity with a soul full of unfillable holes. I am forced to go around breathing and beating, stepping forward and running, falling down and getting up; playing by the rules of government, money, and the psychology of our fallen nature. Sometimes I feel like I am sitting at a table, forced to play whatever hand was dealt to me- as equally involved in the turns as I am uninvolved and separate from them. I watch the world revolve on its axis of physics, as the turn changes hands because it has to, not because we want it to. Some would pass, if they could, but no, the game forces us to go with whatever best we can do, and disciplines us when we cheat. And the more I play the more I realize there will never be a winner. There is only the next turn, and only an end to the game when our time has run out.

I hate this. I hate feeling like that I have to go along with this strange game, when I would much rather be free from it. I would much rather quit this table and talk to my Father about it. The game makes me hunger to no longer play it- makes me long to engage in whatever "real" life is- the life outside of the game I know so well. One day I will know. And on that day, though I will be guilty of cheating my table-mates, of slandering them, of wishing them ill, I will look up and find that I am yet innocent, forgiven, accepted, loved beyond the confines of death. Because of Jesus, I can approach God. Because of Jesus, I can play the game knowing that one day it will end, and when it does, I can lay down my cards exactly where they were given to me, stand up, and go outside to walk in the garden with my gracious God, knowing that I am living for the first real time. And I will finally know the kind of rest I find myself seeking at this hour.

mish-mash.

Oh it's been a rough week. Twice the amount of work and a handful of personal issues and three friends' birthdays and a cold....yeah, glad that's over. A friend of mine told me about this place in Isanti, it's a hermitage, I guess, and I'm thinking about going there this month if I can afford it (it's funded by donations, so it's technically free, but I'd like to at least give them something). I think I'd like to go just because it sounds cool, not as much that I feel like I need to (or want to, to be more truthful) go and be alone with God to try and tackle my own issues. I feel like my issues have become less and less powerful over me lately, and I'm glad for that. Maybe that's reason enough to go. Isn't that when our problems get the best of us? When we think we've got of the best of them?

Anyway, at church yesterday I spent the whole time journaling. Some Sundays I don't focus on the sermon and I find myself scribbling in my notebook the whole time. I was thinking about love, I guess, or more specifically, marriage. Two of my best friends got married this past summer, and because of that, marriage has been on my mind more and more. I guess I've always dreamed of getting married- always longed for that closeness with someone- that mutual place of acceptance and love and dependence. But in the last year or two, another sentiment about marriage has tip-toed its way in. And that is: fear. Horrible, awful, terrorizing fear. Mostly, I think, because I am very scared of vulnerability, and it seems the older I get, the longer it takes for me to trust people enough to let them close to me.

I guess I'm realizing though, that I don't actually want the relationship part of marriage- that's the part that's terrifying- I just want to feel valued, chosen, important, loved, validated. And marriage can't give me those things, or if it could, not in the ways I would want it to. Because obviously, Jesus is the only Person who can validate me. Literally. The only Person ever.

Problem is, I don't know how to do a relationship with God any more than I know how to do a relationship with anyone else in my life. But I like that He knew what He was doing when He created me the way He did- He knew He was taking a risk by making me so deeply set within myself. It might take me my whole life to trust Him and let Him in all the way, but so be it. He will wait.

Ultimately, if I didn't have to be close to people I probably wouldn't. People are scary. This week was an exception, for the most part, though. I missed my friends like crazy this week, and felt so grateful to know them and be known by them. I think that is starting to become a rarity for me, so I have come to appreciate it more and more in the places I do have it, even though those places are all over the state.

I've had a lot of different experiences this last week and felt a lot of difference emotions and learned a lot of different things. When it rains it pours, right? Maybe I need the hermitage more than I think. I'm tired. But, curiously, haven't been sleeping well the last few nights, and despite the hours I've spent awake in the middle of the night, cannot sleep past eighty thirty in the morning.

So, here's to sleep, binding up of wounds, and truth being revealed. Cheers.

whispers, forbidden fruit, and resolution

I've had a rough couple days of it. Before that I was doing great, but it seems that right when I feel the best about myself and about my life, that's when I fall the hardest. Not surprising I guess, but well, that's what's happened. I fell off the horse. And the thing that made me get up again was remembering that passage in...um Kings? Here it is: 1 Kings 19:11-13

[The Lord said, "Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by." Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper. When Elijah heard it, he pulled his cloak over his face and went out and stood at the mouth of the cave.]

I thought of this today and realized that when I had expected Him to roar and wield His power to smite my sinful, measly life, He instead whispered a simple "I love you." Once. In the middle of my self-loathing, that's all He needed me to know. He doesn't waste words, and He doesn't baby me. I appreciate that.

I felt like Adam and Eve today. Betrayed, tricked, deceived by satan into disobeying my God. I felt fallen, struck down, weak, human. I think about Adam and Eve eating the fruit, feeling so much bewilderment that they couldn't have imagined how their lives would change- how everything would change- if they ate. Little did they know that eating the fruit would cause their fearfully and wonderfully made bodies to rot around their souls- that they were essentially choosing their own deaths by disobeying. Little did they know that this fruit would become a part of them and rip them away from the physical presence of their marvelous God- that the second it touched their tongues, their bodies were as good as dead and their relationship with God altered for thousands of years- not to be repaired for thousands of years until Jesus died.

I think Adam and Eve get a bad rap. I think most of us look at them and what they had and not be able to understand why they did it- how they could trade a piece of fruit with its promise of wisdom without the consequences God had said it had, for Eden and God Himself, their creator- their companion- their friend. But honestly. I am every ounce as human as they were and I have traded other things for God over and over again, no matter how many times I learn that God is worth more than anything else. How many times have I stood on the edge of paradise and chose the wasteland? Almost every time. And this saddens me.

Now, in the midst of my sin and my sadness, I have a whisper of God's presence in my life. Though I am saved and redeemed, I am not at Home. Though my body is a temple for God, though I am His dwelling place, His home- He is a Person I have to fight to love, fight to know, fight my very self- my very nature to be with. Still, I am grateful that He has even made a way for me to know Him. What a seriously miraculous and undeserved thing that is.

He has bound up my loose ends. Though my body will be marred and aged by the time I die, it won't matter then. How interesting that my body will return to dust because it came from dust- but that my soul will return to Jesus because it came from Jesus. All the mess I have made will be left behind and is already forgiven. I have recently been very thankful for the life I have- I don't want to take for granted these times in my life that I may look back on and think "I didn't know how good I had it!" I guess I should have the same attitude with God, right? So that one day I don't look back and think "why didn't I love God more? why did I take for granted His grace, love, mercy, forgiveness? why did I think He didn't matter as much as the other things in my life I was busy being thankful for?"

And even though I long for the things in my life to at least feel resolved, I know that is asking too much. Everything on earth is open-ended. I think God intended it to be that way. Otherwise, our flighty decisions would be final and irreversible. But God has made me feel, because of this lack of resolution- this open-endedness- that there is always the possibility of change. Good change. It's also more difficult this way, but it makes us trust Him. Just because we have to.

I'm comforted to know that when God looks at me, He sees me in every age of my life all at once. He sees the childhood me who didn't know restraint, the high schooler who didn't know anything but restraint, the college student who didn't know anything but heartache and desolation, and the me I have yet to become at age 30, 40, 50, 60...the elderly me who I have yet to decide the character of. But He knows. He sees me all the same, in one moment, sees me as exactly who I am- and can only love. He looks at me and sees my whole life, my whole existence, whereas I look in the mirror and just see the present and the past, which for me have been dismal at times. He has hope for me, and faith in me- the kind that I don't have in myself. He is confident in me, believes in me- that I can become the person He intended for me to be- the person I was at the dawn of creation- the person I would have been had I never sinned, never left Him, never disobeyed. This is who I am to Him, and this is who I will strive to be. Despite the fruit I have eaten, I will strive to hear Him in the whispers and trust in His resolution.

do you hear that, love?

It's a strange thing to feel that while I am sitting in my sin, I am also sitting in forgiveness. In love. In mercy. I can't make myself understand this love I don't deserve. It's so hard for me to believe, to accept. But I want it... And everything else I've been striving for and longing after just...doesn't need to even be on my radar. I long after a love that can't fulfill me like I want it to. And I know that. Maybe that's why I'm so scared of it. More and more I've been feeling like I need to put down my arms, stop reaching and pining and holding my grudges and my disappointment...and just stop. Just sit quietly at my desk, put everything out of mind, and read. Get to know this crazy Person that has saved my wretched life from my wretched hands- until He becomes a person and not a set of beliefs or ideas.

I started the day weeping about this. Feeling terrible about myself and realizing and feeling and knowing that I can do better- and yet feeling this sense that I am loved. If there's anything that can produce true sorrow, true regret, true contriteness- it's love despite mistakes. I am only responsible to Him. I answer to only Him at the end of the day. He's the one I need to explain myself to. Humans are just humans- as flawed as I am. It doesn't matter what they think. My worth and self-esteem are not decided by them. Trying to please my coworkers is doing me no good.

Everything on the outside is falling short- everything is leaving me wanting more, and I'm tired of it. It's time I turn inward for those needs. I want to want to do better. Not for them. Not even for me... For Him. This man Jesus. I don't want to let Him down anymore.

prose!

"Sometimes I long for the rugged mountains of Colorado," he said, gazing a little sadly at the horizon, where I suppose he imagined the mountains should be. Despite what he had said, I thought he looked quite natural here with me, with the wind scattering moths and grasshoppers here and there. As I gazed on him, I thought the prairie suited him very handsomely.

"Suppose you will grow to love the prairie?" I hinted gently. He turned his head and looked at me gently for a long moment, the curve of his smile very slight and yet very prominent. The warmth of his eyes captured me and I saw a glint in his eye, as he looked at me knowingly.

"Perhaps."

A moment passed in silence as he seemed to contemplate this further. His manner eased me as I gazed at him, feeling grateful for the way he sat so humbly and relaxed, his sturdy forearms rested upon able knees. I respected that he was not uncomfortable, but seemed quite confident in his reserved personality. He didn't seem to notice me watching him, and I perceived from him a sense of security- that he felt quite at ease sitting there with me in the warmth of the sun. He appeared quite lovely to me in that moment and I thought of all the women he must have had occasion to call upon.

"Were you in love once? Was there a someone that you loved in Colorado?"

He examined me as though the question had been written instead in my eyes, then turned his gaze back to the green prairie grasses and contemplated but a moment. I waited, feeling the weight of my interest pressing on my heart.

"There was a woman, but love is too strong a word, I suppose. I believed I loved her at the time, I think. Or maybe it was that I wanted to believe I did. In the end, I think I did not excite her enough. I suppose she grew bored of me."

"Bored of you? My, what an unhappy blow that must have been."

"Not as unhappy as I expected. I have much peace since then, a stillness in my chest that shows me that I had only a high regard for her and she for me, and nothing near the sentiments we both thought we ought to have."

"I see."

"And you and your beau- how did he come to take leave of the likes of someone like you?"

"Oh it was much the same, I think, as it was for you. Merely a respect or companionship but nothing more. I think I loved him, but it was a small love- yet I think it was still bigger than his for me." Here I paused, hesitating whether I ought to continue. He patiently waited, seeming to notice that there was more I deliberated saying, but not that my shoulders tensed a bit more than before. "We were engaged- for quite some time..." I mumbled, avoiding his soft eyes pointed on me- I could feel them searching my face, searching my reserved expression.

"But in the end he would not be serious to make true on his promise," he helped, his voice quiet as mine had been. His gentleness eased me some despite the direct words he spoke. I thought to verbalize my confirmation, but only managed a nod. He watched me contentedly for a quiet moment, yet I felt the way he was very present in this small moment in which the grass whispered and the puffy summer clouds held together the sky above us.

"He, very truly, did not know what seed of joy he rejected in doing so," he comforted. I timidly looked upon his genuine eyes and smiled a little smile that seemed to satisfy him. He smiled a bit as well and then a bird darting overheard caught his attention. I drew my hand to my chin and rested it there, watching this lovely man sitting in the grasses as though he had grown tall and strong in them.

"I think your character went unrealized by her. It is quite obvious to me that you, and the peace you feel, will help you on to someone who is capable of loving you whole-heartedly," I said at length, wishing my words could be as beautifully strung together as his; wishing that I could relay what I honestly thought about him- that I believed he deserved far greater than I could express.

His warm eyes returned to mine, and I saw his gratitude for my words. I understood that the meaning between my words had shone through, and I thought the day grew more golden as he looked at me- his eyes a softer hue of green than the environment around him.

"What do you believe of love? We agree it is more than just respect or regard, but what is it in full? Do you believe that my soul could love the soul of another, and that that soul could love mine in return? Do you believe that love could ever run so deep?"

I could not look away from him as he spoke these words. His manner of speaking, so gently, yet with a pointed intensity, adhered my attention to his whole person. I felt very near him, though I had not moved at all.

"Yes," I replied, and saw him realize the resoluteness of my voice and seriousness of my expression. "I can only hope, that yes- love dwells so deep it can scarcely be expressed," I added, feeling a smile in my soul as I spoke. I watched him gaze at me so unashamedly, without fear, and strove to look back into those eyes that calmed and yet excited me with as much confidence as he showed. It seemed that he said so much more than anyone I had ever met by saying nothing at all. Without speaking a word, I knew he agreed with me- that he longed for that deep love as much as I. We both knew that we had never before encountered such altering depths.

After a moment he bent his head to a strand of grass, which he stroked very slowly. I watched his mind moving, seeming to swell and recede with each touch he bestowed on that fortunate strand. His lips wore an almost imperceptible smile, but as I studied it, it seemed to grow without changing its appearance. I wondered at this and examined my own interest of what he was thinking, of what he would say or not say next.

The air moved freely between us a moment or two more before he seemed to come to his conclusions. He replaced his elbow upon his knee again, and I observed the gentle slope of his wrist as I felt a pining to know what he had resolved on the topic presently being discussed. I felt he had left me waiting much longer than necessary for him to speak an agreement, and yet I relished this moment of quiet- this moment of air and breath and sky.

Instead of caving to my silent and patient request that he at long last share in my agreement, he sighed softly and shook his head, as though he hadn't the words sufficient to describe the thoughts he dwelled on. I realized that he believed this soul-deep kind of love to the core of his being, so much to the fact that he could not enable himself to utter how strongly he agreed with me, how strongly he felt that we were correct and not fools to believe in such a thing as soul-love.

To aid him, I sighed too, and let come from my mouth the warmest smile I dared to let him see, in case he chanced to look over at me again. I felt healed of my previous self-degradation- it did not seem to hinder him that my words regarding this tender subject seemed to me so plain. It did not seem to matter to him that my words could not wrap around the way I believed it fiercely.

At length, he did look at me, as though to judge whether I was bored or whether I understood his thoughtful silence. Though I longed to hear some of his beautiful words on the subject- longed to embed them in my memory forever, I respected his quiet reverence for the idea we both chewed upon so earnestly. He saw no impatience or annoyance in me, and I perceived him physically relax at this finding.

"Come," he said finally, "let us walk."

I obeyed, and followed him through the long grasses of the prairie that I always longed for in the winter, and continually felt my own interest in this deeply felt man of mystery. He held no comparison to anyone I knew, and this intrigued me deeply. He smiled gently as we walked along, avoiding my eyes I think because he could feel me observing him. I tried to look at other things- at the birds and the few trees in the distance, but I could not for long. I ought to have felt more bashful about it, but walking beside and a little behind him, I could not help but admire the strength of his stride and the wide breadth of his shoulders.

While in the middle of admiring his manliness, he stopped suddenly and turned to face me. With anyone else I would have panicked or thought him upset with me- but there was nothing harsh in his manner that would make me believe he was annoyed with the way I silently regarded him.

I felt a shyness rush in quickly as his gaze looked down into me, but I resolved to not look away. I felt his curiosity poring over me and wondered what he might be thinking. I watched a warm smile fill his expression and felt for a moment that my senses were swimming- all the world seemed to hush around us and I grew just as quiet in my spirit as his tender expression told me that he felt contented with me, and not afraid.

"You," he murmured, his voice almost a whisper, my attention standing up erect as his lips closed again. Oh say! I thought to myself, do say... In the quietness of the moment, I could hear only my steady heartbeat and wondered whether he could hear it too. He sighed, his eyes full of light and maybe even joy or wonder. I felt as though my heart could not feel fuller as these things danced on his features. He tipped his head back as he laughed, as though he were laughing with the sky, and I could not help but laugh too.

When he looked back down at me, I thought I could see a moisture in his gentle eyes, a joyous kind of moisture that I marveled at with a deep kind of pleasure I had not known before. I felt that these tears whispered gently to me as though they were uttered from his voice, and for a moment I closed my eyes as if to hear it better- feeling more than I had ever dared to feel before- the beauty of these moments overcame me and I thought that perhaps I dreamed, that this incredible man in my presence was only imaginary and made up. I felt this so much to be the truth that if I opened my eyes I thought maybe he would not be there- that I would find myself standing alone in the prairie, a girl dreaming but a sweet dream. I dared not venture there for the present, and felt the sweet air rush in and out of my lungs, smelling the happy smell of the summer day and catching in the breeze the scent of the man who stood yet before me- unmistakeably I knew him to still be near. I closed my eyes tighter yet a moment and then looked up into those sweet eyes, which I found were staring intently at me, with rapture and unabashed fascination.

I dared not speak. I could not. All the world seemed to silence itself as my own senses tuned themselves in completely to this intensely felt moment. In every feature of his face, and every tenderness he emitted towards me, I felt become my home. I realized I would know forever the flecks in his eyes and the curl of his smile, as though they belonged to my own body. I felt a warmth become me and I realized very quickly that his tears had become mine as well. He beamed as he saw them come, and reached out to touch me. I thought I might waver at his tender caress- I thought I might fall down to my knees in joyful weakness as his gentle fingers touched my cheek.

What came over me then I can scarely explain. I felt a feeling in my soul that felt like flight- felt like I could not possibly be standing upon this ground as before. And in the warmth of that moment, in those tears we shared and this most incredible moment, I felt something awaken in me as though it had been long sleeping. We realized this awakening together, without words spoken to cheapen it. I watched him move to me, felt his arms bring me near him, and clung to him as he did to me- scarcely knowing how this had come to be. I closed my eyes tight and thought I would surely collapse if not for his strong embrace. I felt his lips close to my ear and my knees nearly faltered beneath me. The warmth of his sturdy frame sent such a sense of comfort and peace through me I cannot describe. I only could hide my face in his shoulder and marvel at how lovely it felt to feel his cheek pressed to mine. I will not let go, I thought, oh I can never let go... And with one word, he whispered all I would ever need to know.

"You..."

baby steps and a leap of faith

It's been a while since I've written. I needed a break I think- I needed time to feel like it was passing again. I've been waiting for the negativity to subside and for me to start looking for God in my life again, instead of looking for the imperfections in myself and finding them.

But lately I've been starting to feel like maybe there is something good coming for me- just around the corner, out of sight. I believe that things are going to get better, and soon. Maybe the timing is finally right, and by some miracle I can relearn how to be open to change- good change.

I've been more grateful lately. Even of my job. At least once a day while I'm working I stop and look around, and just let the realization come upon me that this is a good job, and I am lucky to have it. My job is a blessing. A gift. I mean, I didn't even have to apply for it.

I've been praying. I've been reading some of the Bible again. Not on a scheduled kind of basis, but in a purposeful way- because I want to and not just because I know I should. I think that maybe deep down the questions and the doubt are still there, but maybe if I keep reading, keep praying, keep trying to seek...the doubt will go away, and my questions will be answered.

I've been playing guitar. And baking. And reading for fun. I don't know why I waste my time not doing the things that make me happy. I've been thinking about the future a lot too I guess, wondering what's ahead and feeling a longing for it. People can change your life, and deciding to actually get involved in the church I've attended for the last year pretty much guarantees that I will meet new people and actually have friends that live in the same town as me. And even though I know that's good, I'm still a little scared. But, I can do things that scare me. I can do things I don't think I am strong enough to do. Jesus will help me bridge the gap between my heart and everything else. A bit of a leap of faith, it is.

The only way to find out if someone is trustworthy is to trust them. You know?

unsure and a hundred

The how I can't recall
But I'm staring at
What once was the wall
That separated east and west
Now they meet admidst
The broad daylight

So this is where you are
And this is where I am
Somewhere between
Unsure and a hundred

It's hard I must confess
I'm banking on the rest to clear away
Cause we have spoken everything
Everything short of I love you

You right where you are
From right where I am
Somewhere between
Unsure and a hundred

And who's to say it's wrong
And who's to say that it's not right
Where we should be for now

So this is where you are
And this is where I am
So this is where you are
And this is where I've been
Somewhere between
Unsure and a hundred

Hundred by The Fray

time, reality, and myself.

Lately I've been feeling pressed for time. By that I don't mean I'm busy or there aren't enough hours in the day. It's not like that. I sit here, twenty minutes before I need to go to bed, and find this intrinsic wish that I could have more time to be awake- more time to think and to try and do things or at least think about the things I enjoy. It's the feeling that I am near the end of my life and there is a limited amount of time left- the kind of limit that you feel in a deep place.

In all honesty, I've been thinking about time a lot lately- both the waste of it and the amount of it we have. I've been thinking about what's outside of us, beyond us, what comes after this. It's just been on my mind. I don't feel an urgency, exactly, but just the reality that there is a certain amount of time that I am given- and I am feeling the restriction. I'm realizing that I will never feel like there is enough time to do or become what I want. It will always feel like this- like there will never be enough present time to breathe.

I feel it pressing in on me like dense humidity- covering me and packing me in tighter with its pressure, and quite honestly- making me uncomfortable and sweaty.

And on a semi-related note: I am unfulfilled. Becoming more unfulfilled with each day, I think. Increasingly dissatisfied by me and life, and time as I said before. The deeper I sink the less time I feel there is left. And I'm frustrated that I go back and forth. That at the end of the day I don't really know exactly what I believe. But I think the fact that it bothers me so much must mean that it matters- that it is important.

And most days, I feel like a hypocrite; I feel like a hollow tree with rings of knowledge and sturdy fact-bark on the outside, but with a gaping hole in the middle where it's supposed to matter and mean something and become real. And I'm afraid the storm will take me out and blow me down and uproot me from the ground before I ever find the reality.

I feel guilty for doubting. I feel like I have cheated on someone beloved- betrayed a faithful friend. I feel self-forsaken. I feel self-condemned. I feel mostly alone. Mostly confused. Mostly lost. Mostly pained. I feel like I have wasted much of the time I've been given. I've wasted my time going in circles around the things I can't reconcile, the things I deem unfixable. I feel like a child who believes the only way to get attention is to act out negatively. I feel incapable of handling and having the things I truly want. I feel like a whore most days, and the other days I just feel...sick.

restless

I haven't quite felt like myself this week. It's been strange. I feel as though my inner narrator is dead or sleeping, as if I have been living without inner subtitles. Very little conscious introspection, like there normally is. Even as I'm sitting here typing this, I'm having a hard time coming up with something important to say...which is kind of not like me.

I guess, I haven't been sleeping the best. I keep dreaming about my mistakes and now I'm even seeing them in real life. It's so difficult to look back in regret but at the same time know you did the right thing. I don't know why it's been bugging me so much lately, but it really has.

I've been searching for and in need of rest. This week I've sort of just been bathing in my own distractions. Sometimes that's easier than confronting the problem I don't want to think about or don't know how to fix. But the truth is, the distractions are getting old. And I'm just becoming more and more restless.

try again

My boss' dog had puppies about three weeks ago, and today at work he was talking about them. They recently have opened their eyes for the first time, and can now bark (even though it causes them to topple over with puppy excitement every time they do. can you imagine? possibly the cutest thing i have ever heard). And I guess today it sort of has me thinking about being new. Those puppies are literally brand new. They are born without the ability to open their eyes yet! Imagine living in total darkness and then one day- BAM! There's a world with people and colors and movement! How incredible.

I probably don't need to tell you that yesterday was not one of my better days. I don't need to tell you because I told you yesterday! But this morning when I woke up, things were a little better. Even though I had to work, and worked an extra hour without a break. And as I got in the shower a bit ago, I thought to myself, "try again." Yesterday's failures and doubts are not necessarily today's. I struck out yesterday, but I can always try again today. I realize that there is literally an hour and a half left of today, but that's okay. In reality, today is the perpetual, constant now. Today is whenever I am awake, conscious, breathing. It's a good thing to realize that I can try again as long as it is "today."

So. Though it is close to my bedtime, I am going to clean my room and throw some things out, and then I will take a stab at reading the Bible, and then I will pray, and then I will sleep. And in the morning I will try again and again and just keep on trying. I will attempt to pick me up again and keep on trying.

good will hunting

Has anybody seen Good Will Hunting? He's this genius of a guy- the most difficult equations and theories are so easy for him, and all of it is literally a gift- he's this insanely intelligent prodigy who could do the world so much good. But he's rude, coarse, stabbing, blunt, and just all around difficult. He grew up with a physically and emotionally abusive father and then was taken away by social services and was in and out of foster homes for the rest of his teenaged life. He doesn't want the responsibility- he never asked for the gift he has been given. He doesn't want to become an intellectual who changes the world with his mind. He just wants to stay in Boston and work construction and janitorial jobs. He rejects this unique thing that makes him who he is because he didn't ask for it, and because everyone expects him to want to do great things with it. He rejects it because his family treated him like he didn't matter. His father made him believe that he wasn't worth anything, despite his brilliance.

I haven't done a lot of open-minded or positive thinking today. Days like today, I feel a lot like Will Hunting. Unappreciative of what I have been given and who I am- the person I just naturally AM and how that was not my "choice." How I was born into a family and lifestyle that I did not choose. How I was born into a body that I did not choose. I, like Will, can do a lot of good in the world- the kind of good that no one else in the world can, because they are not me. But I am content to eat the grass I walk on instead of lifting my head and walking forward. I prefer to rebel because I did not "choose" me- because I see the gift of who I am as more of a curse. I can't step forward because I have been hurt and held back by the people in my life, and by me. I am something great and unique, but I do whatever I can to reject it.

It's been that kind of a day. One of those self-destructing days.

Maybe tomorrow will be better.

honestly

I saw my best friend today. What a blessing. She's good at drawing the true things out of me. She gave me this journal for my birthday last year, and it's one of those old dusty books you get from antique stores, but she covered some of the pages in colorful paper and included random quotes and verses. And the book she chose to use for this thoughtful little project is titled "A King's Daughter." It's a play, and I've tried to read it, but most of it is covered- honestly, it's the coolest thing ever. I love it. And the more I think about it, the more I feel like it's a perfect analogy of what my relationship with God ought to be: a book with structure and words from Him, for me, but with pages that I need to fill in with my own thoughts to Him, from me.

Honestly though, I'm really no good at it. No good at all. Relationships...are just scary for me, and if I'm being completely honest, I spend more time questioning and trying to figure out if I believe Him than I spend actually believing Him. For some, like my best friend, it isn't difficult to believe Jesus. For others, like me, it is. And today I realized that maybe I need to do whatever I can to just...start over, and accept whatever place I'm at with God instead of aiming for this goal or this standard that I keep trying and trying and trying to attain WITHOUT Him because I'm just not there yet.

So. *Ahem.* Lets make a list. Cause I like lists.

THINGS KATIE NEEDS TO ACCEPT:
1. I am a King's daughter.
2. I do not believe in Jesus like my best friends do. I am not them. I am not supposed to be.
3. My life is MY life. It's up to me, and only me, to make of it what I can and stop just letting it happen to me without a fight.
4. I am an introvert. AND THAT IS OKAY.
5. The only power I have is in what decisions I make each day, each moment. Things are not out of control when I come at my problems one at a time, as they arrive, with Jesus as my adviser.
6. I can be paradoxical and messy, but I have value. And one day, the right man will discover it. There will come a day. There will.
7. The Holy Spirit is One who falls beside, and He has and does and will fall beside me with wordless groaning prayers. Jesus will intercede for and love me like I could never deserve. And the Father will smile at me and call me by name. This cannot be un-given.
8. It will be difficult. It just will.
9. I cannot be the perfect anything. I cannot be the perfect person, lover, daughter, friend, wife, mother, Christian, guitar-player, writer, woman.
10. Every day is the chance to be new again. Be new again.


Since leaving college a year ago, I demanded that God give me some sort of plan. I felt like I needed one- I like knowing what I'm doing and why. It didn't take me long to realize that though God has a plan, the current plan was to just not have one. I now know what it's like to go a year without having any sort of end goal in mind. I'd still like one, mind you, but I've come to terms with the fact that I will most likely never know what I'm doing! So, I'd like to officially move on from that state of mind and into a more personal, more important FACT- that I am a King's daughter.

I need to make a lot of changes. I need to stop making excuses and justifying myself for not doing what I need to be doing. Those things include: accepting the above ten things, actively participating in a Bible study, intentionally making new friends, patiently treating my family with respect, working as though it were for the Lord, and building my relationship with God from the ground up- not from where I've left off or been before. It's been a year since I moved home, and very little progress has been made. It's time I take control of my life, and ultimately of myself, so that my life will stop being about me and start being about others. I need to stop pretending I am who I wish I was. Because what healing can come of that?

happiness

The last couple of days I've found myself wanting to blog but not doing it, and sitting at my desk wanting to write something but the page is still empty after two hours of thinking. I guess I'm really having trouble getting words around how I've been doing this week. The one thing I found myself thinking in church today though, was that I feel like my life is suffocating me more and more every day- like everything is closing in on me slowly but surely. I feel a lot of depression and restlessness and...dare I say evil? creeping into my mind lately. I feel as though my heart dial is slowly being turned away from the truth setting and being turned toward the self-destruction setting. And as this happens, everything else becomes less and less satisfactory, enjoyable, fun. The way I view the future is becoming more and more bleak and disappointing, and I am becoming more discouraged by the things I used to have hope about. Everyday I feel a little sicker in my soul. And I think what I fear most is that I am always feeling this way- that I am always doing this poorly deep down, but I just get distracted by my friends and make myself believe that I am happy. That definitely seems like a trick. And in times like these I wonder how my friends make it look so easy to be happy.


Happiness is just outside my window
Would it crash blowing 80-miles an hour?
Or is happiness a little more like knocking
On your door, and you just let it in?

Happiness feels a lot like sorrow
Let it be, you can't make it come or go
But you are gone- not for good but for now
Gone for now feels a lot like gone for good

Happiness is a firecracker sitting on my headboard
Happiness was never mine to hold
Careful child, light the fuse and get away
‘Cause happiness throws a shower of sparks

Happiness damn near destroys you
Breaks your faith to pieces on the floor
So you tell yourself, that's enough for now
Happiness has a violent roar

Happiness is like the old man told me
Look for it, but you'll never find it all
Let it go, live your life and leave it
Then one day, wake up and she'll be home
Home, home, home

-Happiness by The Fray

untitled

Wow. So many thoughts right now! I'm currently just...really happy with the way the world sounds tonight. I went outside and took some pictures in the sound and the light, and my soul felt like it was dancing when I did. It feels good to get lost in it, sometimes. You know? It's the kind of thing that goes for miles, forever, in every direction- the kind of thing that has no time, no containment, no tense, no constraints of any kind. The kind of thing you see with your soul, it is. Like if sunshine was a state of being, a place, a tangible thing that hits your heart and not just your skin. Where all the bad things that I find myself thinking about- all those negative, humiliating things that sneak in without notice- all just go away. Where all the ways my heart hurts and breaks and yields just don't exist. And I can only dance within my soul, with my camera in my hand and Him in the other.

an imaginary boyfriend

Being a writer, I often imagine myself through scenes of dialogue within whatever story I'm currently working on. But recently I've been thinking a lot about my own life- writing my own story, like Don Miller's book. And so this morning I was daydreaming about a "story" that was really my own life and what I hoped would happen and who I hoped I would eventually marry and whatever. I had probably been thinking about it/dozing for about forty minutes when I realized that God was speaking all KINDS of truth to me through this imaginary guy that I was imagining myself dating in the future. Sometimes I speak truth to myself through the mouths of others...in my mind... Yeah, haha. I'm just glad that this morning I realized how much of what I imagined being told, was really what I needed to be told. Let's see if I can recap.

I admitted a sin to this imaginary boyfriend, and he told me that he wasn't going to use the word forgiveness because I hadn't hurt him- that he wasn't the one I should be confessing to. He wasn't the one I needed to receive forgiveness from. He said that if he tried to reach in and heal that broken place in me, he'd just end up breaking everything else in the process. Only God knows how to heal what needs to be healed and break what needs to be broken. He said I needed to basically treat him like a human, and accordingly confess to God- because He is God. And He's the One with all the forgiveness I need. Mr. Awesome said that Satan is the one who wants me to hang onto my shame- that it isn't hanging onto me like I think it is, like I feel like it is. Satan wants my sin to burn in me like a hot coal. He said my shame and self-loathing is not helping me. It is not keeping me humble, it's only driving a wedge between me and God. He told me to look at how he accepted what I had done, and told me it would be the same with God- that He meets us with acceptance and forgiveness, and not judgment or condemnation.

And it was that last line that got me, that woke me up from my daydreaming. All of that is true of me- the shame and fear and self-loathing- the way I hold onto it as if it's something that won't let go of me- letting it destroy my relationship with God because I have been lied to and tricked into thinking that He is only really interested in punishing me for my repeated mistakes. I'm glad that even when I don't know how to pray and don't know how to listen for His voice, or even how to have a healthy relationship with Him, He knows me well enough to think of speaking through the mouth of an imaginary boyfriend.

Well, I hear You.

I think it's going to be a good day. :)

it pours

"let us draw near to God with a sincere heart and with the full assurance that faith brings, having our hearts sprinkled to cleanse us from a guilty conscience and having our bodies washed with pure water." -hebrews 10:22

Sometimes when it rains, and the air becomes filled with falling water- I feel as though the world becomes much homier. It reminds me of something- though I can't quite put my finger on it. But it's beautiful. I've always thought rain is just mysterious. I can't believe that the single thing that makes the earth what it is, literally falls from the sky. The thing that our whole world depends on to continue, falls from the sky. From clouds. And sometimes it falls with a show of lightning and thunder, as if the whole idea isn't mysterious enough. As if God wants to make it clear that He is the cause of it, that He takes care of us, that He is all-powerful.

And the tree limbs hang heavy with the weight of it- the air turns pale white with water- and any reflection that we normally can see in the stillness of a lake or a puddle is dulled over by millions of ripples and splashes. The world outside suddenly reflects the misty picture of God and His provision for us. For a few minutes or a half hour, instead of seeing Him in His creation, we see Him in what He gives. We see Him in the innumerable drops of clean, pure, fresh water- water that is brand new and untouched by anyone but God.

And I am reminded that this is the kind of water He has washed me with. He washes me with what is necessary for my physical survival, in order that my non-physical survival may be secured. And it doesn't rain because I can control the clouds, but because He gives us what we need. And I need to be clean. For both the eternal forever and the ever-present today. What a blessing it is to know and understand and see.

Today He wants us to jump and play in His image, like the children we are, in the rainy picture of His love for us. So go jump in a puddle today, and when You do- think of Him and how He has made you clean from the inside out.

...waiting

I had a dream last night. I dreamed I was lying in bed, praying- and I definitely could have really been in between sleep and awake praying, when God answered me. And when I was at an understandable loss for words, He asked, "would you like a print-out?" and suddenly there was a printer on my nightstand that proceeded to print off a page of words that apparently He needed me to know. As I was reading the first paragraph, I slowly woke up and started praying for real.

I don't often dream about God. I think I've only dreamed about Him maybe two times in my life that I can remember, including the dream I just described. I prayed for definition of my life. For direction. For guidance- for a push in the right direction- in ANY direction...so long as it means I can feel like I am not in this disturbing stand-still.

I've been thinking though. I haven't been moving because I haven't been giving Him anything to move. You know? It's common to hear the phrase "waiting on God" but what if He's waiting on me? I think maybe He is. And quite honestly, I think I'm waiting too.

When will enough be enough?


"you know what's wrong with you- miss whoever you are? you're chicken- you've got no guts, you're afraid to stick out your chin and say okay life's a fact- people do fall in love, people do belong to each other- because that's the only chance anybody's got for real happiness. you call yourself a free spirit, a wild thing, and you're terrified somebody's going to stick you in a cage. well baby, you're already in that cage- you built it yourself. and it's not bounded in the west by tulip texas or in the east by somali land, it's wherever you go- because no matter where you run you just end up running into yourself." -breakfast at tiffany's

a real soul

It's been crazy! I thought this week would run me into the ground, but I left the wedding less exhausted than when I arrived! People do energize me, apparently- though only to a point. I had so much fun, and it was SUCH a blessing to see how happy my best friend Lindsey was. She glowed. It was a beautiful wedding and it was magical. And I met so many amazing people who I miss dearly! What a great thing community is.

It's late. But I'm up, still. Been thinking a lot about romance and marriage, naturally. I have two innate reactions to the idea of marriage: fear and desire. And I've picked apart why I am afraid, but not why I desire it so much. It raises a lot of questions in me, I guess. And I wonder if I should reread Redeeming Love, though I'm afraid to because I know it will destroy me all over again.

And I know that I'm missing something. And I know what it is. In the end, I cannot be fulfilled by anything but Christ, despite how I try. I need to get back to the truth again somehow. Of my own volition and not just because. I need to get back to myself again. I think I've lost track of things a bit because of everything becoming so time-consuming and mind-consuming. And I think I need to be honest again. Even if it hurts...even if it means letting myself feel what I am afraid to feel. Reconciliation has never been my strong-suit. I've been quietly hurting again, and it isn't good for me. It isn't good for me to pretend away my pain or avoid my acknowledgement of it.

And while I figure out this thing God and I have going, I have hope that my heart will learn to unclose. I will have hope that one day marriage will not feel like a threateningly vulnerable thing that I worry I cannot handle. I will pray that the people in my life will have patience with me, and that I could please, please, change- grow- become...something. Someone. That I will not be content to be the me that I control and manipulate into pretending to care, pretending to love, pretending to have faith, pretending to believe. I don't want to be a pretender. I want to be a real person. A real soul. A thing that shimmers and shines...a thing that changes and moves and grows. I don't want to be numbed down to a remnant of the person I am- a hologram- a picture- I don't want to be small. I want to be better when I am worse.

Can I really?

so tired i can't sleep

Oh the introvert in me is crying for some time to do nothing by myself... It's been so busy lately, and will continue to be busy for at least the next month. It's been so good to see my friends though. I admit, I love seeing them. But I miss having time to just be with myself. It's a lot easier to figure out how I'm feeling about things when I have the time. I do need people. But I also need me time. Sigh.

I haven't been sleeping well lately, and most of my current whining is because of that. Also because I've been working a lot and have been making mistakes at work. On top of making messes of my relationships. AND sort of edging God out of the picture. I plead guilty. I tend to elbow God out of the way when I know I've messed up. Sometimes I think I do that because I don't want to (or think I can't) endure His disappointment or anger or frustration with me, but in reality- I'm the one feeling those emotions about myself. And God is just forgiving and patient and faithful. Oh, when will I learn?

I think there is probably a moderate amount of unhealth going on about me right now, but I have barely had the time or the energy (or ambition, quite honestly) to do anything about it. I'm wiped out and foreseeing that the week to come will result in me running myself into the ground, just in time to go back to work. It may take me months to refill my introvert-time tank. To recharge my batteries.

And everyone is making plans and moving on like you're supposed to. And it's been a year of me living at home, alone, working a job I don't like. It doesn't seem fair that some people have the desire and aptitude for a career and some don't. It doesn't seem fair that some people are better at being open and some are better at being closed. I don't like that my life has nothing I want in it. My life contains zero percent of my dreams or goals. But I don't know what else I should be doing, so I just keep doing it. I don't love my life. I don't hate it either, I guess. I've been feeling lately, when thinking about this topic, that I seem to be waiting for my life to begin- waiting for something to wake me up- waiting for something to make sense- waiting for something to feel right. And maybe that's just naive. My life began a long time ago. I think I just don't know how to live. Maybe I'm too scared to.

a whack at poetry

This won't make ANY sense to you, but it does to me. And sometimes poetry is about finding the truth between the lines, right? It was good for me to write something without grammar or tense, without my usual English major correctness. When you look inside yourself, what words come to you? These are what came to me.

a steady salty blow, there again
coarse cords and rusty knots, sweeping back
a darting deep throb, a pulse bleeding home
warm swirl, writhing cries slow
a marker fleshed and clothed, remaking me cold
sore and coated broke, wreck remote
a light pass by, handles me low
reverb and nerves, caustic, heal the bitter
a knock new life, behold desertion ceasing
soothe below the gauged pierce lie
a rock me now, close a lamb
verbalize heart unswayed, no tremor
a dumbfounded treasure, requench move
mm, no roving bestial tick
a looming soar, pressed in sky
lo...a thorn-bled rose, enrobed silken love

My soul doesn't use grammar. Or words, for that matter. I listened to the song "Oceans" (the one from my previous blog entry) as I wrote it, and I think it helped me to get down inside to where my truth is. It was good imagining myself on the ocean floor, walled in by water, away from my labels and explanations on the surface. That's how it is anyway, for me- this soul stuffed deep down inside me, covered in organs and blood and skin, walled in by individuality, opinions, thoughts, impressions.

And all these ordered words just don't quite explain how it feels, how it is. Rather, a handful of mix-matched adjectives do. I hope you know what I mean.

i'm no good at this

Well I guess I could've stayed ashore
I didn't have to go
They say sometimes to find yourself
You gotta let go
And the water's cold around me now
So far below
And I hear a voice beside me now
Just try to let go

And I'm still here
On the ocean floor
But the world's not
Moving anymore
In the quiet
Something has changed
And I can hear God
Call my name

But before I go I wanna take
A moment and rest
And look back on all my days above
And how I was blessed
And I wasn't all I could've been
That I'll confess
But I loved my God and family
No regrets

And I'm just here
On the ocean floor
And I can't feel my
Heartbeat anymore
In the quiet
Something has changed
And I can hear God
Call my name

-michael logen "ocean"

If You can hear me, just keep hearing me. I realize that I'm the one wandering, the one threatening to leave. You won't do the leaving. Oh, forgive.

wreck

Remember a couple weeks ago when I said this:

"And yet I am afraid that maybe I will be the one to hurt them- that maybe I have always been the one who has done the hurting. And I can try to blame it all on everyone else, but the reality is that I am the wreck. I'm the one who can't cope...with love."

Well, I was right.

It sucks so much to realize that you've inadvertently punched someone you care about repeatedly in the stomach. It appears that I hurt the people I care about whether I mean to or not. In the course of the last month, I've gone from thinking that I'm a pretty okay person to realizing that I am just pretty awful. I feel as though I spat out a bad taste and the wind flung it back in my face.

I've always been deeply afraid of people, but now I'm starting to fear myself as well. And silence is not golden. Silence is dangerous. I feel like all the time I've spent recently being positive about my life was just me pretending really hard. And if there's anything that infuriates me more, it's pretending. (That and being manipulated.)

Truth is, I don't know how to do this. I don't know what I'm doing. I'm a wreck. And I wreck things. I believe that life is a beautiful thing, but what a mess I tend to make of it. I'm not innocent of wrongdoing. I'm not the victim...I'm the victimizer. I've been blaming people for making me bleed when all along I've been the one holding the knife.

my eggs are scrambled, i think.

It's been dreary the last few days. I'm not sure what my problem is. I think some of it is due to fatigue and possible illness. And I've hypothesized that I had a crazy weekend with a lot of face time with a lot of people I don't know, so now my introverted self is making up for it by isolating myself as far as I can into my brain. I generally don't like to be spoken to, this week. I generally would just like to stay in my room and plug into my laptop. I generally haven't been sleeping well. I generally haven't been eating much. Not sure what it is that's bothering me.

Something probably is, though.

Interesting how things like these can both creep in almost unnoticed or barge in with an air-horn. You know?

I feel a breakdown coming. But I think I need it. Feels like a good cry is in there trying to get out because of some relevant issue that I refuse to consciously name. Just being happy isn't my style, I think. It's not complicated enough for me ;) Maybe it's just that I am an unhealthy happy person. I cling to it in an unhealthy way, I think. I don't know how to hold it in my hands without crushing it, so it just ends up oozing through my clenched fists like grape jelly. I need to realize that happiness is not the end goal of depression. Maybe they're not opposites.

Nevertheless, I feel a bit like I'm slipping. It happens, I guess. Better just deal with it. Figure out what's wrong and deal with it. Capiche.

perspective and proportion

It's so beautiful that we're small. That the world is big. That the universe cannot be fathomed. That life is in color- that the sky is blue and the trees are green. Today I like the feeling of being a small part of a big picture. I feel at home in my sliver of world when I look at it that way. I like that the world does not belong to me. That my money is not my money. I feel more beautiful being small than I do imagining myself to be big. I am one person, just one human, and that's all I can be- all I want to be. I want to just be a girl, not a god. A person, not a deity. Control is not mine. And it's supposed to be that way.

I love.

ending on a good note :)

Today started totally different than how it's ending now. What a blessing! God takes care of us, y'all. For real. What an overwhelming joy to know that God just...loves us. Loves me. I don't have to let myself be knocked down, and I won't. Not to say I still don't feel bad...because I really do. But what's done is done...right? It's just a relief to know for sure that God is not disappointed in me. That I have not ticked Him off. That in all the things I have done, He can only love and forgive me.

Thank You Jesus for giving me the encouragement I needed today. Thank You for overwhelming me with the kind of love that is built in You, for blessing me with friendships whose love for me is rooted in Your love. Wow. It may hurt, but I don't care. Isn't that joy? Joy. Joy! What a beautiful Person You are! You are so good... Teach me to love You better. And You love me. You love me. I am a wreck in the center of my being, but You just love me. Lord, give me guidance. "Where You go, I'll go." I believe right now that You're really listening, and I can feel Your heart for me...and I pray for the clarity to know what I want and to be okay with wanting it. I pray for the wisdom to know Your truths and Your guidance, and I pray for the boldness to act in faith, to follow in obedience. Help me to trust You. Thank You for catching me before I hit the bottom Lord- it is not Your will for me to wallow in my sin and my faults and my mistakes and in my own misery. What good does that to do anyone or even me? I love You. Thank You for loving me.

me again.

Hello. I feel like I've been blogging a lot lately, but I've just been doing so much thinking. And I remember my best thinking when I write it down. I'm currently improvising with a small desk. I put my stool directly to my right and have my laptop sitting on it, while my painting things are in front of me on my desk. Kind of like an L-shaped desk, but not. Anyway, I feel creative tonight. Hence the creative set-up.

It's been interesting lately. I guess I don't quite know what to do. But the truth is...I can't do it. And I can't change my mind now. And every time I think about it, the music just can't be loud enough. What I would give for life to not be such a messy thing. And I want you to know that I am sorry. Deeply sorry.

Honestly, I'm a little worried. I'm doing better, but there still seems to be this broken plastic latch that I keep falling over, and I am paralyzed. Like there's a part of me that is just...defective. Incapable of handling...that. And I for the life of me can't figure out why. All I can do is sit in my room and look around, watching the room change as my thoughts do. I can't stand to see myself in someone else's reflection. I can't stand to see myself looking back at me from the reflection in someone else's eyes. Do you hear me? I can't let myself be in the hands of a man.

I do try. I tried so hard. The hardest I have ever tried to do anything. Really. And in the end I was relieved to let it walk away from me. It really is sad, isn't it. Possibly for the best, but sad the way I seem to work. I can be glad that I am being more open with people, that I am much less afraid of them. And yet I am afraid that maybe I will be the one to hurt them- that maybe I have always been the one who has done the hurting, because I can't do it no matter how hard I try or how badly I may want it. And I can try to blame it all on everyone else, but the reality is that I am the wreck. I'm the one who can't cope...with love.

After all this thinking I am no closer to understanding.

there once was a girl

There once was a girl.

She both liked and disliked the concept of living, as it was equally terrifying to her as it was beautiful. She felt more safety in black and white than in colors, and sought the clean definition of a pen rather than the vague smear of a brush.

Ah yes, drawing lines had always come naturally to her.

There once was a girl.

She lived much more of her life in her head than in reality. Her thoughts spun and wove and grappled and moved. She laughed and smiled as the world ticked by, and at night the ceiling looked back at her as she sighed and wept and longed herself to sleep.

Oh no, feeling had never been a strange thing to her.

There once was a girl.

She sought out no intense desires of her own and struggled with her shy wants. Her complicated nature scared her, and so she stayed alone most of the time, hoping to escape her relationships unharmed. She deeply feared to let anyone in.

The locked door had always been a friend to her.

There once was a girl.

She had become numb to most of her existence when she stumbled upon goodness. She decided it deserved to be believed it, and so believed it. With goodness came fun, with fun came joy, and with joy came life. Life became something worth taking a risk for.

The budding of a rose became an inspiration to her.

There once was a girl.

She climbed the tallest tree and looked out as she ascended branch by branch. And though she felt each pang of fear bite her with each hand-hold she found, she was more and more overcome by the beauty of it all. And so she pressed onward, goodness smiling.

The sky and the world became fresh air to her.

There once was a girl.

She gave up her love affair with pain to chase goodness. Pain, though faithful, had never been a suitable lover anyway. With the loyalty had come possessiveness. She would never go back. And if she fell now from the highest branch, she would climb it all again.

Life became an invaluable thing to her.

There once was a girl.

And she left behind her childish ways and broke out into the light, afraid but full of hope. She became strong and bold, alive and true. She looked down and could no longer spot the shade of the branches she clung to now. Never again would she cower below in the shadow of life.

Her heart became beautiful to her.

There once was a young woman.

And I will never go back.