Keep Crying**

It was when the Israelites cried out to God in Egypt that He delivered them. It did not happen in a day, or a week or a month. They cried out to God.

On those horrible, awful, terrible, no good days.

Some days I just can't handle it. I can't handle my tire blowing. I can't handle only having $10 to my name. I can't handle having a headache. I can't handle trying to clean my refridgerator and breaking it. I can't handle the stupid mistakes I've made in the past 24 hours. I can't handle not knowing who to call. I can't handle waiting. I can't handle pmsing. I can't handle being $6000 in debt (not including school). I can't handle being scatter brained, and not being able to do what needs to get done. I can't handle not having the energy or inspiration to write or read or listen to a sermon. I can't handle my messy house. I can't handle trying not to cuss. I can't handle my car overheating. I can't handle my boyfriend snapping at me. I can't handle the fact that I have jobs...but I can't start them yet. I can't handle showing up to mow a friends house (after forgetting keys, forgetting the mower, and driving 45 min out of the way because of all that.) I can't handle not having enough money for gas or for groceries. I can't handle the $30 overdraft fee because I forgot to take back the damn redbox dvd. I can't handle it. I can't handle the fact that my mom had to pay my car payment this month...and I dont know when I can even pay her back. I can't handle the fact that one of my ex-best friends won't even talk to me, and I can't handle that it was largely my fault. I can't handle the guilt of not having a job for the past 7 months, and having my boyfriend supporting me. I can't handle sharing a car with him. I can't handle the fact that if I had just had a job we'd actually have some extra money. I can't handle the fact that I quit a decent job for a job I thought I wanted, then I got fired from that job. I can't handle  the fact that God loves me in spite of all this. In spite of all the cuss words I've thrown out,and  all the objects I've just thrown. I can't handle it. I feel like a jerk, like a failure, like an idiot. I feel worthless, malicious, hateful, hypocritical.

I'm not always like this, but when I am--I go from sweet little church girl to the hulk in 2.2 seconds. And I. CAN'T. HANDLE IT. And I just needed to be honest with you about that.

Weary Endurance (On Rest)

Weary, like an Olympic competitor after a day of training. Timid, like a child asking to try a sip of wine at a dinner party. Tested as an imperfect product before it’s allowed approval. Lonely as a sober girl at a drinking party. Confused like a drunk finding his way home. Searching like a pirate for buried treasure.

After running 6 miles in 90 degree weather, my body cries in agony. My shins screaming, thighs pulsating, lungs burning, head throbbing with the rhythm of my overworked arteries. I’m bushed. I’m beat. All I want now is to drink a gallon of Powerade, curl up in a ball on the nearest flat surface I find and sleep for the rest of my life. Even still, something in me wants to do a jig, wants to throw my fist in the air and scream at the top of my lungs, in spite of the knife attempting to gut them as I take deep breaths. I have conquered something. I have accomplished something great. I’m not sure what it is yet, but I feel my inner-being yearning to express.

                  But weariness wins and I collapse. I lose composure and I cry. I become infantile in my nature. I surrender constraint and my body goes numb. Though part of me wishes to express joy and excitement, I am so far exhausted that the mere thought of it cripples me. I know that I have had a victory of sorts. I’m not really sure what it is that I have had victory over, I’m not sure if I’ve won anything, and I’m not sure when I’ll see the true results of this victory. I don’t look different. I don’t feel physically different, just drained. So very drained.

                  I gave it all I had. I left all I could offer out there. Now I don’t know where to go. How can I be filled again? What will it take to refuel and get back to the empowered condition I was in before the run began? I don’t know. All I know is that something in me needed this run. I feel satisfaction in the agony, even though it is confusing.

                  I am building toward something. I’m not sure exactly what it is or what it will look like or when it will be. All I know is that my running is in preparation for this ‘something’ that is coming. I’m afraid. If the preparation for it is so entirely exhausting, how in the world am I supposed to survive the real thing? But I know I will. I have been promised this. Many have gone before me, and I have had proof.

And I, longing to be held, aching to be loved, loose control over my physical, mental, and emotional reactions. My face washed by tears, my body massaged by convulsions, and I have nothing left but to give in.

Just Keep Walking (On Letting Go)

"Once again the star appeared to them, guiding them to Bethlehem. It went ahead of them and stopped over the place where the Child was. When they saw the star, they were filled with joy "Matthew 2:9

Father God,

The star had gone before them, leading them to a place unknown. But they followed because they had hope for where they were going. They had hope for what awaited them at the end.

"Once again the star appeared to them" --this seems like the star had gone away, been hidden, disappeared from their sight.

Lord, I know that feeling. The feeling that 'ok God, I've been following this [insert guide (hope, star, dream, passion, etc.)] in this direction, I'm not even sure exactly where I'm going, but I know what awaits me. But my guide has disappeared. What the crap do I do now?! My destination location is vague. I don't know how far it is, how close I am, or how to get there at all! The guide I had, my GPS just went off the radar! It's dark, it's cold, and I'm all alone! In the middle of the desert (Mark 1:12-13) and I'm CLUELESS!

And yet, the only thing I hear in response is 'Keep walking."

REALLY?! I'm numb from the cold, dry from the heat. I started this journey with a grand vision from You (though, to be honest, I'm starting to doubt it myself) and that vision showed me a path to follow, something went before me as a guide. But now the path is not clear, my guide is gone, I'm alone and I can't feel You and the vision that was once so clear is now but a misty remembrance, like a dream I'm trying to recall after I awake. But I can't see or remember it clearly, so now what? Now I whine and complain and become bitter and jealous, seeing evil-doers prosper, while I, who have been so faithful and pure (at least in my eyes), suffer needlessly and reap very little reward.

WHAT IS THIS JANK?!

I am hurt and lonely, being abandoned and so I retreat, isolating myself to be safe from more hurt.

I become cold, hard, gray and dull like stone. I don't recognize myself. I've become so numb that nothing holds meaning any more. I would have no problem compromising most of my values-especially if it brought me some sort of pleasure.

But You will not even allow me that ounce of, albeit temporary, pleasure in this time of darkness. All I receive in was this response "Keep walking.”

I have every sad and pathetic excuse: "I'm tired, I don't know where I'm going, I don't know if I'm even going in the right direction and YOU'RE not helping!" All this, then it becomes more of an uphill battle More mountain climbing, less like a carved pathway. Having to take careful steps, maintaining balance, trusting my instincts, having to feel my way to each sturdy place. All of this in the dark, mind You! But I have been led in this direction and like a cross country race, the momentum and knowledge that I HAVE to finish, carry me when my heavy feet no longer can.

                  And as I'm climbing, my hands have a hard time getting hold of anything. I realize the reason for this is because in one hand I grasp a string, tied to a weight of jealousy and the bird of bitterness is perched upon it. In my other hand are the ashes of something that became nothing long ago. I know that I need to let go of both. I know I can't go on unless I do, but I've held on to them for so long, I feel unsafe if I let go. I will have to retrain myself, retrain my hands how to feel without something in their grasp. But I know I CAN'T go on if I do not let go. The weight is easier to let go of, because its' affect is very obvious. I see and feel how much it affects my movements. However, the ashes are much harder to release. They have been with me for a great portion of this journey. They had started off as something broken but beautiful. The broken pieces were burnt and became nothing. But I picked them up, perhaps hoping, in a naive way, to make them whole again. Since that time I have attempted to let some of the ashes fall from my grasp, a little at a time. Some simply slipped through my fingers. But there is still a small amount that I have a death grip on. y hand hurts from clenching so tightly, and I only now realize it. It takes a while, but I finally unclench my fist to look at the ashes. I suppose in my mind I imagined that I could one day make this something whole. But as I now look at these ashes, I finally realize that this is not something any more. I am holding on to nothing that has been long gone for some time. The wind blows and scatters some of the ashes and carries other pieces away, but still a small amount is left in my hand. I study it closely, trying to picture the something this nothing once was, but I cannot. With tears in my eyes and tightness in my chest I blow the remaining ashes out of my hand. My hand aches and I see where the black of the ashes was embedded into the lines and crevices of my hand. I see that the marks it left will be with me, to some degree, forever. and I know that I will never be able to forget the something. But I am free to move forward now. Both hands free and I continue to climb on. And as I clear the top, I find that dawn is breaking. The night is ending. My star appears dimly on the horizon, and though it is not clear how far it will take me or where I will end up, my guide has returned and I am assured that I'm going in the right direction. So I keep walking. Just keep walking...just keep...walking...

**"How can anything be amiss?" (On Trust)

As you've probably gathered thus far by reading my book, my life, it's not exactly been an easy road. It seems for me that if something little, trite, and stupid CAN go wrong, it does. Every stupid little thing, whether it's struggling terribly to find a job or getting a ticket on my way to my first day of work after finally finding a job, or missing the send in date for a bill and having to pay the late fee with the extra cash I DON'T have, or spilling an entire container of cocoa after it plummeted to it's death, or just spilling and knocking over EVERYTHING. My life has often been frustrating for me in those moments, to say the least. Not that anything I've gone through actually is THAT bad. It ALWAYS turns out alright, ALWAYS. God comes through. ALWAYS. I don't know how, but even if it's in the nick of time, just by scraping seconds, everything works out alright.

I know this. Beyond a shadow of a doubt, I always know that God's got my back. That hasn't worked to keep me from freaking out every time the smallest thing goes wrong though. Like a child throwing a temper tantrum when a mother refuses to buy them a toy I scream, yell, and hit things. I'm not proud of this, but this is the truth.  Here's the biggest problem with this: I know I'll get the toy, or A toy, in the end any way; not because, like a spoiled little brat I get my way all the time, and not because I get it so God will get me to shut up, but because it's been promised to me.There's a story behind this story that I have to tell you for it to make sense.

It actually just dawned on me just now. Let me give you the big picture analogy. I'll make it into a cute little story too:) Try to follow along, I hop around sometimes, forgive me.

Once upon a time there was a little girl named Flawed. Flawed had a Father who loved her dearly. She was not His only child, but because He treated her so flawlessly, she often forgot she wasn't. Growing up, Flawed did not always get what she wanted. She quite often asked for a specific friend, or toy, or pet that she never obtained. She never let herself get bitter though, because she knew in her heart that her Father knew best and if she waited long enough, He would bring her a gift that far exceeded the one she had actually requested. Sometime it took days, hours or weeks. However, sometimes it took months and months. Her patience grew and so did her expectations of what her Father would have in store for her next, whether it was what she asked for or not.

For many years of her life it went on like this, her asking, and trusting that her Father would come through. Early on in her life her Father promised her that one day she would get many gifts that were beyond her wildest imaginings. At 5 she hoped it was a pony. At 12 she prayed it was a best friend. At 17 she had deep expectations for a car. At 18 she wanted it to be a clear vision of her future.

However, like all stories, there is a villain, and a conflict that present themselves. Flawed discovered that the more she tried to grow up and become independent of her Father the more problems arose. She began getting less and less of what she asked for, and the gifts from her Father seemed much smaller and less significant. In addition to the size the infrequency of their arrival was painfully long. Instead or hours or days or even months, it was years that she had to wait.

Flawed became angry at her Father. "Why have you abandoned me Father? Why won't you give me what I ask? I see you giving away freely to Your other children, what about me?" she asked. She felt dejected. She wondered if she had done something wrong, or if there was something wrong with her. Occasionally she would remember the promise of her Father--the promise for something "immeasurably more" that what she had asked for or imagined. She would try to imagine what it might be like, but while this temporarily made her feel better, it eventually made her even more disappointed. Why would her Father make her wait so long for something that He had promised so long ago? Did he forget about her, or did she do something that caused her to have the present withheld?  She could not understand, so she began to rebel.

She spent less time with her Father, and had a hard time talking to Him, and a harder time listening to Him. He  would call, but she would miss it, too busy with her friends and trinkets she had found on her own. She didn't realize how much her bitterness had separated her from her Father, her closest friend and confidant. She did not realize that He wasn't holding out on her. He was holding the gift for the right time. He had it, and had certainly not forgotten about it or about her. He would keep His promise, just as He always had, but she was blinded, and it was killing her spirit. 

So, like Flawed, the child throwing a temper tantrum (me), did not realize that her loving parent had already gotten them what they wanted, except it was better. It was at home, it was wrapped with a bow on it, waiting to be opened at the right time. But the child can't see that. 

It's all about the perspective. It can be your best asset or your greatest enemy. Tonight I read part of Ann VosKamp's One Thousand Gifts on Amazon and it kicked me in the butt. It said-->

“See that I am God. See that I am in everything. See that I do everything. See that I have never stopped ordering my works, nor ever shall. See that I lead everything on to the conclusion I ordained for it before time began, by the same power, wisdom and love with which I made it. How can anything be amiss?” word of God’s truth heard by Julian of Norwich

"How can anything be amiss?" Everything in my life often seems like it is amiss. I feel like God forgot all He promised me, even though I see bits and pieces of Him, and His will for me every day, in every moment. How can I be so blind? So forgetful of all the things He has already done for me/given to me? Why? Why am I that spoiled brat in the store, asking for something my Father has already gotten for me? Yes, impatience is part of it. But, more than that is a blinded perspective. I have closed my eyes to all the things that are not the way I think they should be. So,  I am left empty and broken with no hope of restoration till I open my eyes, realign my focus, and step into the light of God's truth and promise once more. 

 Matthew 6:22-23 says 2 “The eye is the lamp of the body. If your eyes are healthy, your whole body will be full of light. 23 But if your eyes are unhealthy, your whole body will be full of darkness. If then the light within you is darkness, how great is that darkness!"

Eyes, where we place our perspective. This is the difficulty. This is the choice. So, today, in this moment, I am choosing the light. The truth. Because that's where the life is. I choose to believe that God has a plan, and that He will follow through with His promises. He DOES follow through and does not disappoint. and THAT, my friends, is more beautiful than anything else in this world:] 

****Favor does not exempt from trial

repent the moment we have sinned and forgive the moment we are confronted and give continually as an act of love toward God.

favor does not always exempt you from a trial but favor will bring you out of the trial with victory

Sentiment

Tonight my heart aches, for arms to wrap around me, for someone to wipe my tears, for ears to listen to a story they've already been told, but that I must tell again, for it is a large part of my own story…Tonight I look back to my past--something I know better than to do, but something I do anyway. I look back to ex-best friends and ex-boyfriends. Not that I want them back…well, I do want my best friend back, but not the way she was. Not the way I was.

You see, this young woman taught me more…well, God taught me more through this young woman than any one else ever has in my life. Because she brought out the worst in me--which is why our friendship ended. But, I also loved her more than I ever loved just about any one else. Not only was I her best friend, I often played sister-role, mother-role, mentor-role, counselor-role. And I enjoyed it all immensely. She made me feel needed, loved, like my life had purpose--because I saw and invested in her purpose…but she couldn't.

Tonight I miss her greatly, and I pray that God wraps His arms around her and gives her a big hug for me since I can't…her and her baby.