Hope in a Smile

There's really not a reason for this post. I don't have anything new to report or something terribly inspiring or compelling to write about. No, the impetus for this particular entry is as simple as this: I love this man. That's it. His smile makes me smile, and I wanted to capture these pictures here so that I can take a peek at them whenever I so desire. His smile makes me smile, and today? Today I'm in need of a good dose of that. And still, even though I may feel a little...downcast? I'm still full of hope that there will be a better day. And Joey's smile is a reminder of that simple truth.

How Joey Happened

I want to have a record here of how things happened with Joey. I wrote this letter to my dear friend Ashley, who has sort of been my confidante and mirror since the day we met at Biola. Our lives have paralleled each others for years, and we've always kept each other posted on the latest and greatest (and worst and most heartbreaking) things going on in our lives. We've vented to each other, celebrated together, encouraged one another, and held each other up in prayer, and this year, it was our year, the year that our hearts accepted the truth of what God has for us. It may not look the way we've thought it would, but the reality is better than we could have imagined. Here's my version of what happened:

Over the past year and a half, Joey has struggled a lot with his feelings forme. He fell hard and fast, and then when it became clear that I did not feelthe same way, and wasn't even interested in him at all, he swallowed his feelings, gave them to the Lord, and prayed himself through it. One day in themidst of his angst, Joey heard the Lord say, "wait patiently." He didn't think then that it would mean that my heart would change now, but hedid know that he could trust the lord with his heart. Still, it took about a year for him to get to a point where he felt like he could just be my friend.Even that was hard for him; he didn't know how to be just my friend, but he didn't have a choice because that's all I wanted. And through it all, Iwas terrible to him. I shut him out and kept my distance because I didn't want to give him the wrong idea. I hurt him pretty badly in the process.

Over the past few months, though, things have changed in my own life--a lot. God's been doing some intense healing of my heart, and I got to a point where Joey and I were actual, true friends. He didn't bother me at all anymore. In fact, I began to really enjoy him. I was myself around him, and I discovered not only that he's an amazing friend, but he's one of my best friends. He knows me in a way that I've never experienced. He sees me for who I really am, and for some reason thinks I'm pretty much amazing (something I'll never understand, based on what I put him through).

Meanwhile, some pivitol moments in my walk with the Lord have happened. I've been living under this cloud for the past several months, feeling extremely inferior in every area of my life. And the truth is that I thinkI've been living under it for years, but in the past few months it's gotten much much worse, much more noticeable to the outside on-looker. And I'm in this small group at church where we're reading John Elderidge's Walking with God--a fabulous book--and one of the things we're dealing with is spiritual attack. Well, one night we dealt with spiritual attack that we're facing. And I dealt with mine, and something broke. Seriously. It's like a veil was lifted. A stronghold was broken. A dam broke. A prison door was unlocked. Suddenly I began to see clearly. And I've never experienced anything like that before, but Ashley, everything changed after that.

I immediately began to see Joey differently. And it shocked me. I didn't trust it because I don't trust myself with love. I don't trust myfeelings. I've made bad decisions before, and I didnt want to make a bad decision on Joey to wake up and think, "Just kidding! I don't really have these feelings!" But I realized that I do have feelings for him, and soon discovered that his feelings for me are real. They're still there, strong and true--despite what I put him through. And I didn't breathe aword of it to anyone because--for goodness sake it's Joey! And I was terrible to him. Awful. Spiteful. Mean. I was SO against the idea of being with him. How could I possibly tell him that my heart was changing? Did I really expect him to say, Ok cool! Let's give it a try? It's hard to swallow that sort of pride.

But Ashley, the Lord is good. He changed my heart. He softened it. He had the grace to show me just how wrong I was. And apparently everyone around me could tell things had changed even though I didn't mention it to anyone. So on July 3rd, Christy called me out on it. She asked me about it, and I didn't freak out and tell her "eew,no!" I told her, yes . . . my feelings are changing. She challenged me to tell him, but I chickened out. But . .. Joey had noticed, so he called me outon it. I was put on the spot, and I didn't run from it. It was scary and hard, but real. More real than anything I've experienced before. And so over the past two weeks, we've had an intense, fast-forward, whirlwind of a romance that scares the living daylights out of me, and blows my socks off. Joey's amazing. I don't know how I missed it before. But at the same time, I'm just now discovering my feelings, but Joey's pretty solid in his.

And that's what I need, for sure, but it scares me because it's SO new. Yesterday we were at a BBQ with a lot of people from church, and word got out and spread like wildfire, and let's just say that it ended up feelinglike we'd announced an engagement, not just the fact that we're dating.It freaked me out. It was so sweet to hear "it's about time!" and"we've been praying for this!" and "oh you two are PERFECT together!" but my goodness, it's 2 weeks old! and I'm really having to face my fears about relationships in general. I realize it's not about JOey. JOey's amazing. It's about me. I dont' trust myself with love. I don't want to hurt him, and I'm afraid that I will. I keep asking the Lord to continue what he's started in me--I know it's him andthat he's smiling down on both of us. His timing is perfect, and I know thathe's given me an amazing gift in Joey. Joey seriously is everything that I've been praying for. And when that stares me in the face, it freaks me out because it's real. I know it is. And today (sorry, you're getting the version of this that's borne out of the freak outyesterday), today I'm praying "Lord, let the light of your truth wouldbe ever-illuminated in my heart."

What We Are, and What We're Becoming

I realize that I've written very little about Joey here. It's not to say that I don't want to write about him. I do very much. I already made a resolution to document our lives in pictures, so I've been trying to remember to bring my camera with us wherever we go and to actually use it. It feels funny, I frequently forget, and when I do remember, I feel silly, like I'm capturing moments that don't really matter because they're just simply little moments in a normal day. But I realize that these small moments when taken collectively make a life. And I am determined to document our life. Our life. Wow.

So far, I've done a fairly ok job. Not great, but ok. Here's one of my favorites from just a couple of weeks ago. We were on the BART train heading into San Francisco to meet up with one of his friends from PA school. There's nothing particularly special about this picture, except that I remember that moment. I remember sitting with him on that train, I remember how the sun was setting and we were laughing and full of the promise of what lay ahead. You wouldn't know it by looking at us in this picture; we're not smiling, nor do we look particularly excited about much. But to me? This picture is comfort, a representation of my new definition of Home.

So maybe I need to resolve to write about our life as well, to not leave it as moments frozen in a digital frame, but instead to expand on it, paint a true picture of who and what we are.
We’re nothing special, but oh what a special thing we have. No, ours is not a sweeping romance of epic proportions. But to us, it is. It’s made up of small moments, of seemingly insignificant times when taken together are carving out what we're becoming. I'm not done. He's not done. We're not done. With every day that passes, our lives takes shape just a bit more, and I can begin to see more clearly what’s intended to be made of us. And I'm not going to take it for granted or miss a moment of it. I'm determined.

The Joy and Pain of Writing

I'm supposed to be writing tonight, but as I sit quietly in the corner of this coffeehouse, I realize that purposefully taking time out to do so proves to be more difficult than my imagination makes it out to be. This isn't new; each time I intend to spend a significant amount of time writing, I somehow find that I have nothing to say. How can that be when every moment of every day, I try to make sense of the jumbled mess of thoughts that are bursting to be written out? You'd think that they'd spill out the moment I give them a chance to, but instead it's as if they've suddenly got stage fright, like they're shy children who refuse to say out loud what they've whispered to their mother in the privacy of their own home.

But God said, "Write." The message was direct--and confirmed many times. The most recent time was perhaps an encouragement for me to do so, sure, but sometimes, his confirmation feels overwhelming, and I think, "How in the world will I ever write anything worthy of what You want me to say?" Part of me has wondered if this desire in me was born of my own selfishness, but the more I think about it, the more I realize that my desires are lining up with God's dreams for me--and isn't that the way it should be? Before, His gentle encouragement felt like Him saying, "Sure! Go ahead and write." But now? I feel a sense of urgency, like it's a sort of command--like I need to do it, like I must do it, like something's on the line and I need to do my part--and I don't want to disappoint. Oh, how easily I could disappoint the God of the universe. The Creator of the universe. The ultimate in creativity. He's got endless reserves of it. There's no end to it. How can my piddley little mind create anything worthwhile? Anything of particular interest or wonder? I'm just me, little ol' me, with a heart desperate to write, and words bubbling up to the surface and falling into a jumbled mess.

The problem is that there's simply so much to say, and I honestly don't know where to start. I have stories--several, in fact. But they live inside of me, they're mine--and to put them to paper risks someone else sharing them. Which, I suppose, is exactly what a good author would want, isn't it? Isn't that the point? To create something for another to enjoy, or to enjoy right along with someone else? Watching the face of my daughter as I read a story to her that I've written, seeing her smile as she points to the picture that makes her breath catch in her throat, knowing that her uncle drew it for her to enjoy? Knowing that somehow my experience could encourage or inspire someone who's encoutering the same sort of heartache that I've walked through? It all feels so important, so overwhelming, so necessary, so difficult.

I think that people assume that writing is easy. It's not. It's perhaps one of the most difficult things in the world, but like anything, if you love it, or if you're good at it, it comes a lot more easily than for those who do not share the same sort of sentiment toward it. As for me, I love it. I love it so much that I pray that one day it will be my occupation. To write, to read, to raise my children, and to serve my Lord. Perhaps somehow they'll all be related.

For now though, I must not be morose when I do have an opportunity to write. Slunking around feeling sorry for myself that I cannot do what I love simply won't work. Instead, stealing every moment possible, writing down every last thought or idea that happens to cross my mind during the course of a normal day, exploring thoughts and ideas on paper or on screen--someday it will count for something. And someday starts today.

I admit it: I stole this from Mel.

I was stalking Joey back in the day...when I didn't really know him yet. I found this video on his best friend Mel's myspace page and I stole it (thanks, Mel!)It was titled "Joey's Bubble Mess" and I thought it was hilarious.

And now? I love it that I get to kiss him. Bubble mess and all.

Journal Keeping

I just came across these thoughts I jotted down on keeping a journal. . .

I remember writing in my journal, furiously trying to record every last thought that entered my over-active imagination. Sometimes my mind would get so far ahead of my pen that I'd scramble to catch up. Other times my pen was eager to do the work, but my mind decided to go on vacation. It's not easy to record your thoughts when your thoughts aren't cooperating. Maybe there are some that are eager to get out, fully-formed and ready to be introduced to the world. Then there are others that aren't quite ready to make their debut. They're still being formulated, perfected, evolved. They'll come spilling out on the page when they're ready. Best not to push them too hard.

Selflessly Selfish

The worst question my mom could ever ask me when I was a kid was, "Honey, have you had enough alone time?" I hated the question, usually because I knew that when she asked it, it was because I was being a brat. I'd either start crying at the sound of her words, or make a snide comment and storm off into my room, fuming from the frustration of feeling overwhelmed by people, of having to interact one too many times with another person. I needed to recharge, to sneak away from the noise of the world and retreat into the safety of my own thoughts. It's always been like that. The older I've gotten, the more I like being around people though. I see the value of shared experience, a good long conversation, the joy of simply going through life with another person beside you, but when things get off balance, I get off balance.

I've been struggling with how to balance my life these days, now that there's someone I'm sharing it with. Even before marriage, two lives begin to merge together. His plans become my plans, my plans become our plans, and our plans start taking precedence over time spent with others--even time spent by myself. I've known this would become an issue, but I've felt selfish, like rest for my weary soul was something that was self-serving and unfair to anyone, especially Joey.

I got an email from my dad this week. He'd read between the lines of an email I wrote to my mom, and he felt compelled to encourage me to take care of me first. If I don't do that, I won't be up to the task of taking care of and further developing other relationships. His timing was perfect. He said, "Rachel needs alone time. She recharges her batteries by being alone. If she doesn't get it, she is not happy. She feels pulled in too many directions. (Remember, I lived with you for 21+ years!) She feels like she is running on empty if she doesn't have enough time alone with herself. God made Rachel like this. He designed her to be the wonderful, godly, talented, beautiful, smart, caring and centered person that she is. But, she can get thrown off center by not taking care of herself. And, if she is not taking care of herself, everyone else can be seen as an intrusion...
And . . .
Rachel tends to have a fearful and private side. If God is leading you to Joey, you can trust God. You will grow in faith and love in the process. Your analytical side is stronger than your feeling side (you have a feelings side, but tend to lean more on analysis). But, love is more feelings than analytical. So, it will take you a bit longer to grow into trusting your feelings. But, if God is leading, you can trust them. "

Funny how parents know us better than we realize. Even our Daddy God, He knows us better than we give him credit for. Sure, we know it in an obtuse "God knows everything about everyone" sort of way, but He actually knows the ins-and-outs of everything we're going through at any given moment of any given day. He's attuned to it, and He's communicating with us through it all the time. Whether or not we hear Him, or recognize his voice, well, that's another thing. I wanted--I needed-time alone last night. An empty house never sounded better. And you know what? that's exactly what I got. What a gift straight from my father's heart to mine. And this morning, when I opened my book that I read in the mornings to reflect on and connect with the Lord before my day begins, it was all about being centered, needing rest, not over analyzing, but trusting my Father and Friend completely. Oh, how timely this was. It was another gift straight from His heart to mine. It said:

Alive in Jesus
Living out of the center enables us to blend for a moment into a greater background than our own fears, to merely be still, and to know that God is God. It means that I don't figure out, I don't analyze. I simply lose myself in the experience of just being alive, of being in a community of believers, simply knowing that it's good to be there, even if I don't know where "there" is or why it's good. An inner stillness assures me that it is enough right now to be centered, to be in Christ Jesus, and that gratefulness is both the heart of living and the heart of prayer.
Psalm 23

So today I resolve to be selflessly selfish by staying centered on Jesus. If I do that, I know he'll tell me when I need to sneak away from everything and spend time with him, and with myself. Only when I am full can I have anything left to give.

A New Harvest

The summer's nearly over now. The last few days of August will soon give way to September, and the promise of another harvest season warms me from the inside out.

This past summer changed my life. This fall, I'll bring in a new harvest, the fruit of which has been growing for nearly two years--even though I didn't even realize it. It's been steadily ripening over the past few months, and it's poised to reach its peak this fall. What a beautiful metaphor for love. In the Message, Galations 6:9 says, "At the right time we will harvest a good crop if we don't give up or quit." How many times have I been afraid I'd end up running away from Joey because I'm scared of being vulnerable? But time and time again, Joey shows me that I can be vulnerable with him. And the truth is, I can be more vulnerable with him than I've ever been with anyone. It's not easy, but it's good. Very, very good. I wouldn't trade it for anything.

The leaves are changing. I didn't notice it at first, but as I rounded a corner driving through the canyon yesterday, a burst of firey orange leaves appeared up in the middle of a lush cluster of green trees. So obvious, that change. Do you think it noticed? The trees around it could tell, but could it tell until the leaves fell?

I didn't know my feelings were so obvious. I couldn't tell until I started falling. My feelings felt sudden, and a completely unexpected change of heart that I fought against longer and harder than I care to admit. Looking back on it now, I can't imagine how I could have missed it.

I never thought of myself as a stubborn person, but the past two years have proven me wrong. When I met Joey, my perception was skewed, distorted by my own obstinate unwillingness to open my heart to a stranger.

And now? I'm in love with him. I'm sure of it--but I'm afraid to tell him. Is there a perfect moment I'm waiting for? Well, in a way, yes, but I'm not waiting for a sweeping romantic unrealistic moment. I'm waiting for my heart to catch up with my spirit, to be at peace with this just as much as my spirit is. I have a deep knowing about him, one that words can't capture. And while this whole thing is still new, they're amazingly good. And while life isn't perfect, and my circumstances are still very much the same, I'm happy. Very happy.

Figuring out you love someone doesn't cure the ails of discontentment. It doesn't suddenly make everything in the world right again, and it isn't even a dream come true. Instead, it's a dream that keeps coming true in the midst of other dreams that seem far-off, unreachable, or previously unfathomable. It's joy and pain, happiness and sadness, irritation, forgiveness, togetherness, and company. A witness to your life and a partner in crime. It's a lesson in friendship, in vulnerability, in justice and in truth. Cooperation, compromise, and commitment. Love is a constant struggle that's worth every moment.

Carnival Mirrors

Last night I realized that I struggle with inferiority. At least, last night my struggle with inferiority was named. It's something I've lived under for as long as I can remember. Even though I could feel it, it's name was something that I couldn't figure out on my own. And I didn't even figure it out on my own last night. The Lord made it clear to me.

We were sitting in our small, intimate Walking with God group last night talking about spiritual attack. We realized just how little we all knew about it, how little we'd been taught, how skewed our vision of it has been. It doesn't even occur to us that something spiritual is involved. We rationalize, hypothesize, fantasize, ostracize. But we don't exorcise--until now. We're being challenged to see our lives with new eyes, view what happens to us through the lens of the Lord, not our own.

After sitting and discussing for awhile, we went around the room to share one particular struggle we've been having lately, one particular "weak spot," a place where we've come to realize we're being picked off by the one who has the most to lose. I didn't want to share. I couldn't think of anything. Even though I knew there's been a cloud over me, one that covers pretty much every area of my life, I couldn't name it. I had such a hard time coming up with what exactly it was. So I asked the Lord to help me. I asked him to tell me what it was I was dealing with. It wasn't immediate, but soon I knew exactly what it was. Inferiority.

I feel inferior in who and what I am. I feel inferior to the people around me, who always seem to have it more together than I do. The ones who seem to be preferred, chosen over and above me. I feel like I'm not good enough, smart enough, savvy enough or creative enough to follow through with the things that my heart is bursting to do, the things that I know the Lord has called me to. I feel like he's made a mistake, that if he only knew, he'd realize that I was not up to the task, that I'm inferior to his high calling.

But the truth is that's just a lie. Who would have a vested interest in keeping me away from my calling? The one who fears me most. The one who knows he has something to lose if I rise to the challenge and fulfill my God-given destiny.

So back to last night. At the end of it all, we were going to contend for each other. We were going to pray about all the issues that were raised, deal with them right then and there. When it was my turn, I was so open to what the Lord had for me. Scared, maybe, but only because I knew that hearing truth requires action. And I was scared that I wasn't up to the task. But I persevered anyways because I was hungry enough for the truth. I'm tired of living like this, and I was ready for revelation and release.

There were many things spoken over me, but the things that I remember the most clearly are carnival mirrors. My perception of myself is so skewed, so misshapen, so wrong. It's not true to the way the Lord sees me. Not by a long shot. I've always seen myself differently than he sees me. I may have glimpses, but that's all they are. glimpses. I see a distorted version of myself.


The lord said to me, Oh, if only you saw yourself the way I see you. So pray to see yourself through my eyes so that you can see yourself the way I see you.

Inferiority was broken off of me that night. The truth is that I'm who I am because this is the way the Lord chose to make me. I'm not inferior. I'm beautiful to Him.

I've been looking at myself through Carnival Mirrors; I've been looking at a distorted version of myself, it's kept me from feeling like I can do what I know deep in my bones that I need to do. I don't know how to do it, but I do know that the Lord is not going to let me fall. I know that he'll provide for me. I won't pretend to know how. But what I do know is this: If I stop looking in the mirror and start looking through the Lord's eyes, I might get a clue.

Letting go of all things trivial

Perhaps my dreams are too lofty. But didn't I just read somewhere that God may see our dreams as not being lofty enough? Where did I read that . . . . I think it might have been in a june 18th entry of my A Year with C.S. Lewis book.

When I think about my life, my choices, where I've been and where I'm going, I realize there isn't much of a common theme stringing things together. At least, there hasn't been much of a theme up to this point, anyway. Unless you count complete and utter indecisiveness. I make one choice--laboriously, I might add--only to discover that I'm unsatisfied with it. Something goes wrong and it feels like a bad decision. Something goes right, but the feeling is fleeting, and soon I'm left wondering what the next step is.  I think I've been plagued by indecisiveness. 

In the past few years, though, I've started to make bigger decisions, more sweeping ones that change the course of my future. And I've found myself in some situations that I never dreamed I'd be in. But is this really it? Is this really all there is for me? Maybe my "big" decisions that helped make my dreams become a reality were really selfish. Maybe God knew that they were things I really wanted, so He allowed me to make my choices. And now that I've done things on my terms, where has it left me? Am I any happier than I was when I wondered what it might be like to actually live the life I thought I wanted? 

But this isn't what I always wanted. It is a life borne out of "could-have's" and "hasn't happened yet." It's a life filled with, well, filler, things that keep me moving in the direction of my future, but things that I never really wanted to do in the first place. It's not that I'm lazy, but I've never really wanted to work. Not in the traditional Corporate American sense, at least. To be a high-powered career type was not something that sounded remotely like me, and to be honest, it never appealed to me much. When it became painfully apparent that I would be taking care of myself indefinitely, a career was unavoidable. And today as I write this, my heart hurts a little at the notion that I felt that it was career or nothing. There's all sorts of in-between stuff that's good stuff. Things that I wish I could spend my time on instead of going to the soul-killing office every day. 

And that's what its' doing. It really is. My soul, the deepest,  most real part of me is dying a slow death. Suffocation. Drowning. Exhaustion. Starvation. Atrophy. You name it, it's killing me. 

And yet.

There are so many beautiful moments in my life, like the sound Brennan trying desperately to talk to us. Like the look on my mom's face when I surprise her with something. The smell of a dark, rich coffee brewing in the dark of the morning. Birds chirping as they fly past my window. How can life be so bad when there's so much good going on around me every moment of every day?

The problem is that I want to be part of it, the beauty, I mean. To let myself in and poke around for awhile, admiring what I see and inhaling the sweetness while the scent still lingers. How quickly it dissipates. I don't want to miss it.

I don't want to miss it. I think that's what's plaguing me most. The fear that my time is limited, and if I don't get started, I might miss my chance. My chance at happiness, at love, at joy, at doing something meaningful with my life. This is the only shot I've got. I don't want to miss it because my own selfish ambitions are in the way. God, I don't want to miss it. I don't want to miss it. I want to be here, be present, be attuned to what He's saying to me in every moment of every day, in every interaction, reaction, frustration and celebration. I want to know more, to know more often, to be sure of the things that I don't see. Certain of what I don't know yet. I want to have Faith. Real, true, knock-down drag out faith. The kind that can move mountains, the ones that get in the way of living out my destiny. 

God, how do I do that? How do I get past the mountains in my life? What do I do? Where do I go? How do I change my circumstances? And if I can't change my circumstances, how can I change my attitude? How easy it sounds, how difficult it actually is.

Lord, break my heart for the things that break your heart. Lord let me let go of all things trivial. (Thanks to Andy Smith of World Vision for these simple prayers.)

On waiting (and expecting)

The hum of the space heater. The leaves rustling in the wind. The tap tap tap of the keyboard as i type. All of theses sounds keep time for me these days. And time goes by so slowly when I'm anticipating something, waiting for something to happen. I'm on the cusp of something new. I can feel it. I know it deep down inside, in the most hidden part of me that even I have never seen. What is it exactly? I don't know. I'm really unsure. What I do know is that I'm waiting, sometimes patiently, other times quite impatiently, to be honest. And sometimes I feel like I can take it, like I'm not so desperate for change after all. And then there are days like today. My work ethic is stunted, I feel absolutely uninspired to do much of anything except sit and write (and write and write and write some more).

Perhaps the Lord is calling me to give up the drudgery of this job. Perhaps I'm being challenged to do it (and do it well) despite my feelings. But this is more than a feeling. It's a deep longing, a sort of sorrow that with each tick of the clock reminds me that my time is limited. There's only so much time we're all given, and there's really not much we can do to prolong what little of it we have left. There are so many things my heart yearns for, so much so that the time I do spend rarely feels like time well-spent.

There are moments, though, in which things seem just as they should be. It is in those moments that I gain my strength because I know that there is more than this. So much more. The problem is that I don't want to deplete my balance of hours left by spending too many on things I don't care about. I want to stock them away for another day, another project, another time. And yet here I am, stuck providing a service so that I can afford to keep coming to the office to provide a service. What a truly flawed system we've gotten ourselves into. How can this be life to the full? How can this even be life?

Life is full of tears and frustrations, yes, but it's also full of the beauty of redemption, of forgiveness, of the joy that comes when song birds rouse me from my slumber and welcome me to a new day. The simple pleasure of a good cup of coffee sipped over an engaging book. The warm sunlight flickering through the window panes as the BART train passes overhead. In those moments, somehow I know it will all be ok. That it will all work out. That a life lived out of the depths of my heart is the only way to really live.

Today, I choose to live, despite the fact that it's a struggle to survive.

Lately I've been feeling very useless, like all my dreams have been forsaken in favor of what's immediate. Dreams are not instant. Well, that's maybe not true. Seeing dreams  become a reality is not instant. In fact, it's about as opposite of instant as it could possibly be. That's probably why so many dreams get forgotten, left behind, buried beneath years of impatience and disappointment.

Today my dreams are on my mind. Don't give up the dream. Don't let it go. That's how I've been feeling. But what about acting on it? "Should I act on my dreams?" I ask. I don't get an answer. Maybe it's not the right question. "Should I give it a try?" Why not, I hear. 

This morning I woke up to a hot sun and a sunny disposition, something that hasn't been the norm in recent months (well, years if I'm being honest). I felt curious, interested to see how the day would pan out, not skeptical of it before it even had time to unfold. I remembered an old notebook I used to jot ideas down in when I worked at my old job, the one that a lot of down time (and threatened to suck the passion right out of me). What I found in this notebook surprised me. There were a lot of interesting ideas, mostly not formulated much farther than a sentence or two. But one entry had a fairly well-developed thought written. It inspired me to find that girl again, the one who voraciously wrote down every thought simply because she knew that's how inspiration emerges. The more one writes, the more gold there is to mine out of coal.

HEre's what it said...

"I never knew. I spent my whole life in California, grew up here, went to school here, drove down I-5 more times than I could count, and I never knew.

"I'd heard of the dust bowl, but pretty soon it got lost in the shuffle of all the other bowls around--the Rose Bowl, the Orange Bowl . . . I'd be curious how many kids today think it's a football game. But it wasn't. 

"When I was a senior at San Jose State University, I took a Steinbeck course and read The Grapes of Wrath for the first time. That's where I learned about the horrific events that happened in my own backyard just a few decades before I was born. Migrant workers, shantytowns, starvation and rotting fruit all coexisting in the trenches of over-traveled roads spanning the length of the California Central Valley.

The Power of the novel was not so great because it won the Nobel prize, but because of the author's ability to tap into the human heart. 

Listen to the sound of the old jalopy. Listen to it as it creaks and moans, feel the shifting of the gears. . . . tune into what it's saying.

When the cars finally gave out, was anyone listening? The plight of man--did anyone care? What was so "other" about these hard-working souls? Though they had little, they were generous with what they did have. In the face of poverty, they found plenty.

Here I am sitting in my tiny apartment, thinking about how I don't have space in my closet to fit my shoes, and how I don't have enough shoes, so where will I put my new ones if I can't even fit what I do have in the closet? My plight pales in comparison. Only when I have nothing do I have everything.

Listen to the sound of the old jalopy. The poor. The helpless. The broken. The needy. What do they need? If you listen, they'll tell you. But the first thing they need is our attention. How many times have I refused to give away even a quarter to someone who asked for it simply because I wasn't sure they'd use it for something other than drugs or alcohol? So many adults used to tell me to be careful who I gave to--but a couple of weeks ago, while sitting in North Beach eating gelato, a needy man asked for change. Joel reached into his wallet and gave him every penny he had--without hesitation.

I was thirsty and you gave me a drink. 

How do we offer drink to those who don't tell us they're thirsty? Listen. Listen to the hum of the engine.

We may never know what our act of kindness does, the repercussions they have in the recipients' lives, days, weeks, months, or years in the future. We don't have to know. That's not the purpose. Showing kindness, showing love, treating fellow man with loving kindness is al our concern should entail. Not glory for us, but glory for God through us.

We can add water to the radiator when it gets dry. We can tighten a screw when it gets loose. We can take a warm rag and wipe down the windshield, cleaning the bugs and dirt off so that the driver may see clearly again. Sometimes we can see what needs to be done, but other times we simply need to listen. Listen to the heart of the driver."

I concede that this does not represent my best work, but even this small entry holds the potential for developing a great and powerfully meaningful and moving piece of art. Don't give up the dream. Take hold of it. 

Dare to Desire

Yesterday I read an excerpt from The Journey of Desire, another fabulous book by John Elderidge. I was feeling really, well, blue is the only word I can think of, and I reached for The Ransomed Heart, a collection of short vignettes from the majority of Elderidge's books. My bookmark was on page 194, "Life Without My Closest Friend." I began to read, thinking that I'd flip through the book to find a vignette that actually spoke to the place I was right now, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I've been living the past couple months without my closest friend Christy. Sure, we share an address, but other than that, we seemed miles apart. The night before, we'd finally laid the cards on the table and agreed that there was a wedge that needed to be removed. So we removed it. But there's still a wedge between me and the rest of my life, and I think that it's disappointment. Disappointment with the way my life is going. Disappointment in people. Disappointment that the desires of my heart are going unmet. Disappointed that I'm not where I'd like to be. And I think that the Lord was trying to tell me something with this little excerpt. Here's what it said:

"'Despair,' wrote James Houston, 'is the fare of the desiring soul.' Or as Scripture says, 'Hope deferred makes the heart sick' (Prov. 13:12 NLT). How agonizing it can be to awaken desire! Over the past year I have wrestled deeply with what it means to go on. God has come to me again and again, insisting that I not give up the dream. I have ranted and railed, fought him and dismissed him. It feels crazy to desire anymore. What does it mean to live the rest of my life without my closest friend? I think of Lewis and Clark, those inseparable wilderness explorers, how we cannot think of one without the other. Lewis said of his companion, 'I could neither hope, wish, nor expect from a union with any man on earth, more perfect support or further aid in the discharge of my mission, than that, which I am confident I shall derive from being associated with yourself.' I know I shall never find another like him.

"But I am not alone in this. Most of you will by the this time have lost a parent, a spouse, even a child. Your hopes for your career have not panned out. Your health has given way. Relationships have turned sour. We all know the dilemma of desire, how awful it feels to open our hearts to joy, only to have grief come in. They go together. We know that. What we don't know is what to do with it, how to live in this world with desire so deep in us and disappointment lurking behind every corner. After we've taken a few Arrows, dare we even desire? Something in me knows that to kill desire is to kill my heart altogether." (The Journey of Desire, 22-23)

So what was the Lord telling me? Don't kill the desires. Don't kill your heart. Your heart matters. Your desires matter. Dare to desire.

Erratic Emotions

"You don't have to face this on your own. . . ."

Well then why do I feel so alone? And if my feelings aren't necessarily truth, then why are they so hard to disregard?

Living beneath a cold wet blanket of melancholy is not so fun. People who say melancholy people are sophisticated and poetic must never have lived this life. It is suffocating. I so want to get out of it, but I can't seem to. Sometimes I feel fine. Other times I feel like I'm losing it. Literally one minute I'll really feel as though my life is so great that I never want it to change, and the next I feel like it's all about to come crashing in on me. I can't regain my footing. It's like I've lost the path.

When we set off on life's journey, we think there's a destination. We all know that it's not so much about the destination as it is the journey (how many times have you heard that?) But for me, the journey seems to be really, well, laborious. Toiling in the hot sun, laborious. Trying to build a shelter in the pouring down rain, laborious. Straining to give birth to something--anything--laborious.

I know that God's marked me out for something. What, I'm not sure exactly yet. I feel like I'm really pursuing this, trying to get in tune with him and hear him, really really hear him, but I keep hearing nothing. Or is it that I'm not hearing what I think I should be hearing?

Last night I think I might have heard, You feel like you are unloveable. Is that the root of all my problems?

I'm unsatisfied. Sitting at my computer answering emails or looking up ISBNs isn't satisfying. Not talking to people all day isn't satisfying. Feeling like I have to stifle what's really going on in my heart is exhausting. I don't want to feel alone anymore. Is that what it is? Do I just feel alone? Well, yes. Even though my brain knows the truth, I'm in constant conflict. Like I said, one moment I'm sure of what I'm sure of, and the next I feel like I'm insane for questioning anything at all.

Lord, what is it that's attacking me? What is this that I'm dealing with? What is it?

God, why won't you speak? You said you would, so why can't I hear you? You said that if I asked, you would tell me great and mysterious things, things I could never figure out on my own (Jeremiah 33:3). So I'm asking, Lord. Tell me those great unknowable things. Tell me the things that my heart needs to hear. I'm ready. I'm here. I'm desperate. Please, Lord. Please. I'm your little girl all grown up needing to hear from her Daddy. Please, God. I know you're good and that you aren't holding out on me, so I'm asking you to come through for me. Come and get me, rescue me from this burden of belonging. Remind me that I belong to YOU, and everything else is peripheral to that.