him

 "and then the dreams break into a million tiny pieces.  the dream dies.  which leaves you with a choice: you can settle for reality, or you can go off, like a fool, and dream another dream." | nora ephron

he exists.

i believe with all of my heart he does.

i never wanted to be someone who just waits.  so i decided to live with purpose, to build a life of my own and to be okay with wherever the path of solitude lead me.

and so i've arrived on this day.  and my heart is hurting and longing and feeling unexpected feelings.  they are feelings i didn't know resided deep within my heart. 

it was a look, a touch, an asking that caused the bubbling up and then the overflow.

i could not stop it even if i wanted to.

i won't lie anymore. i won't say that i am okay when i am clearly not.  i am not okay.  one pinch, a slight tearing and i am a mess again.

and while that is my truth today, the bigger truth is that i will be okay.  and my worst "what if?" still equates to, in the end, being okay.

i will hold on hope.
i will find strength in pain.
i will be okay.

and that is a truth i can speak with a no matter what tacked on to it. 

His desire, His intent is for my good and i am trusting in that even when it hurts.

This New Life of Love//Never Forget

 

 (The Freedom Tower mid-construction circa summer 2011)

(Fallen beam in the shape of a cross-since moved to the WTC museum)

Every American who was ten years old or older and was cognizant of the events of 9/11 as they unfolded, more than likely has a clear and visceral memory engraved in their minds of exactly where they were, what they were doing, and who they were with when the attacks happened that day.  We hear this all the time: "I remember," and "Never forget".

But I DO remember and I will never forget.

September 11th is such an important day to me, but even more important is September 12th.  It is a day I remember and cherish since 2001.

I was a senior in high school when the events of 9/11 took place.  I remember the outfit that I wore that day.  It was pre-planned.  I was a stickler for preparation in high school.  Everything: lunch, backpack, sports bag, outfit was planned and packed the night before.  I had laid a black shirt with a sequenced New York skyline across the chest that held the twin towers in its midst on a wicker chair in my room.  I wore a red, black and white nylon skirt with it.  I did not know when I got dressed that morning what had already occurred.  My parents told me.  They had the news on as I was getting ready to leave for school.  I remember my mom saying something like, "The pilot must have had a heart attack."  Because well, at that point in time, events such as these must be accidents.  We never even considered the unthinkable answers that were minutes away from unfolding.

No, no...wait.  The second plane hit.  This was intentional.  It was deliberate.  We are under attack.

I went to school still.  And that day was strange.  We prayed together.  All of our teachers halted their lessons.  We just talked.  We brought in televisions and watched the news.  I was numb.  How was I supposed to feel?  What might happen next?

My friend was a mess that day because she had received a call from her father that he would be flying to New York to help out.  He was a firefighter.  She was so scared.  I had never seen anyone so scared.

But it stopped.

Thousands died.

T-h-o-u-s-a-n-d-s.

We, as Americans, we grieved.

But on 9/12 we got up.  School was cancelled that day.  We were urged to stay at home with our families.  So we did.  My friend came over.  I remember we watched Christmas movies to help her feel comforted, and really for me to feel comforted as well.

I looked to our President for guidance and hope, and you know what, he brought it.  If anyone speaks ill of George W. Bush and his presidency, I stand by the fact that no other President could have possibly led us the way he did when these attacks happened.

And soon, if not immediately, we were a nation united.  We stood together.  And my heart, which had never really known or understood patriotism, so suddenly did.  My heart swelled with national pride and a deep and grounded belief in a sovereign God.

Today we remember these events that took place 15 years ago.  As I pore through my instagram and twitter feeds I find comfort in those that lived and saw and grieved and still remember and appreciate and believe that we can be united.

When news channels are consistently covering Clinton and Trump and the great divide within our nation, it is refreshing to take pause and replay what happened 15 years ago in spite of the tragedy, utter beauty unfolded.

We stood united.  We believed in who we once were and who we could be again.

This morning at church we talked about the tragedies taking place all over our world today.  A simple mention of a word or phrase can evoke in our minds and hearts the sights and feelings of the horrific events taking place in our world today.  ISIS, Syria, mass shootings, race, war, violence, distrust, hate...it can get pretty overwhelming.  I, for one, know that I often like to run from where these stories and events pervade the most.  So I turn off the t.v., I don't look at the paper, I avoid the conversations, because it is all too painful.

But something about today draws my attention back.  And it isn't scary.  It is sacred.  It is a reminder of a sacred call on my life.  You see, this morning at church we were talking about prayer that moves mountains!  I look at the world, I think about 9/11 and I often wonder.  God, can it get better?  Will it?  I sometimes don't pray because I don't hope for it.  But today I am reminded that we serve a patient God.  We serve a God who is merciful and just.

We serve a God that wants us to pray!

Wow.  I serve and love a God who wants me to pray.  He wants to interact with me.  He doesn't call me to look at the world and analyze it according to my own expected outcomes.  Instead, I am called to "a new life of love" this Christian life, in which I am chosen by God and called to live differently from the rest of the world that does not love and serve Him.

Sometimes I get muddled up in the world.  I know I am a daughter of the King.  I know He loves me and hears my prayers and sent His Son to sacrifice His life for my sin.  I know I love Him.  But.

But.

Sometimes I get muddled up in the world and I forget.  I forget to align my heart to His.  I forget to begin each day knowing I am a daughter of the King.  I don't actively pray.  I don't wait with the expectation that the God of the Universe is going to move and do more than I can ask, think or imagine.  Instead, I wait rather impatiently and disgruntled and more often than not in confusion.

But that is not living in the new life of love.

And this is where I find myself today.  15 years since the attacks of 9/11.  15 years from a day I will never forget.  I won't ever forget.  I won't forget what happened on 9/12 and the days thereafter.  I won't forget that God brought light out of pitch black darkness. I won't forget that when everything seemed dismal and darkness seemed without end, He pierced through with the light of His love.

So, even today, 15 years later when much still seems broken and our nation feels so very fragmented, I believe the Lord can heal and restore and unite as he did 15 years ago.  His patience does not grow thin.

I pray, as I continue to press on, I will never forget, and walk the days that follow September 11, 2016 in this new life of love with a prayerful and believing heart.

to live in the light.

notice what is good. 

it is there, i promise.  

once i decidedly began to notice, to look for, see and acknowledge the good, my life changed.  

i smile back.

i say, "thank you" and i really try to show that i mean it, that those two words are not empty, but so very full of deep and heartfelt gratitude.

i tip well.

i show appreciation at any opportunity no matter how seemingly insignificant it may be.

i am patient when it is most difficult.

i do my best to overlook inconvenience and consider the situation fully before i deem it intolerable.

i try not to perpetuate the hate that can be done so benignly. we often unconsciously do so with our thoughts influenced by heavy doses of biased media and the careless words we often let slip out not fully considering their meaning and effect.

but a conscious awareness, an attentiveness to the deep promptings in our soul can alter the paths we take, the words we speak and the thoughts we think.

for every evil i may stand witness to, be the victim of, or become entrenched in, i intentionally vow to retaliate with a kindness of sorts, so as not to condone, but not to lower myself to a life that exists in darkness and negativity that is devoid of love and light.

it is not intended to be conceit; it is simply an attempt to live into the light.

A Prayer for America//Overcoming

Because power corrupts, society's demands for moral authority and character increase as the importance of the position increases. John Adams
Read more at: http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/authors/j/john_adams.html

Because power corrupts, society's demands for moral authority and character increase as the importance of the position increases. John Adams
Read more at: http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/authors/j/john_adams.html

Because power corrupts, society's demands for moral authority and character increase as the importance of the position increases.
Read more at: http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/authors/j/john_adams.html

Because power corrupts, society's demands for moral authority and character increase as the importance of the position increases.
Read more at: http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/authors/j/john_adams.htm

Girl America

Lyrics by Mat Kearney

(Best expresses the heart, prayer, and hope for our country)

I love the country that I live in.  I feel beyond blessed to be born here and to be raised in a nation that was founded on the ideals of freedom and independence.  To think upon where we've come from is a beautiful pondering.  To think of where we are today is heart-wrenching.  However, this does not negate my gratitude for this country and it does not deter my hope of what we are and what we can still become.  The intention of this post is not to detail all my grievances with the current state of our nation, but rather take a moment and pause and appreciate what this nation has been built from and reflect on the dreams and hearts of our nations founders and leaders. 

This summer I am reading several presidential biographies.  I wanted to grow my patriotism and delve into the lives and minds of our past leaders and see just what it was that led them to faith and hope for our country and caused them to chase down the dream of leading our nation, whether it be through times of initial development, times of peace, times of upheaval and war, times of economic crisis as well as times of unity and landmark decisions.

I find it so inspiring to read about the lives of these men and leaders of our country.  It reminds me of the privilege and duty it is to be an American.   It calls to mind the heart of living life in freedom and the responsibility that comes with it.  To me, being an American is a tale of overcoming.  It is overcoming odds and obstacles and darkness with light and hope and goodness.  It is really a beautiful tale to live in this country and to absorb its history.  We've come so far but I am certain we have a challenging journey ahead of us.

So, as we roll into the commemoration of the birth of America, I choose to celebrate the fact that this in heart is a beautiful country and the unity that comes from our history, from recent tragedies as well as a belief in the principles that began this country is something I really do treasure.  I pray that America would be a nation that would be a light in the world.  At least I pray that the people of this country would live out and share a voice and character of goodness and hope.  And though it may seem far reaching and dismal to hope for such a thing, I believe we are more than our President and government leaders.  We are 50 states of citizens who can overcome evil with good.  So I pray we would stand united and embrace who we were meant to be.  We can be more and do more and become more. AMERICA, I pray for you everyday, I believe in you, I dream for you, and I aim to live a life worthy of an American.

on teaching, expanding and ownership.

It is easy to forget why you do what you do.  Blame it on the mundane day to day, or the discouraging response of students, perhaps a lack of progress, and simply being overwhelmed by an endless set of tasks.  It blinds you to the purpose and reason for becoming a teacher.  It makes you forget your "white hot why".

I have been a teaching since the fall of 2010.  I took the 2011-2012 school year off because I never found the right teaching job.  Since the fall of 2012 I have been teaching high school English in some capacity. 

This fall I will be walking into my fifth full year as a teacher. 

I recently finished my first year teaching at a charter school, which initially began as a journey I thought I would never learn to love, but as the year wrapped up I found myself adjusting to the new and embracing my role as 11th grade English teacher.

From September to December 2015 I drove to school almost everyday fighting back tears each morning and praying for the gumption and grit to make it through each school day; it was a rough go to begin with.  I regretted leaving my previous teaching position and couldn't see how I would grow and become a better educator.  I hadn't made much headway with my students and was consistently overwhelmed with all that my role demanded of me.  The truth is, I like to work.  I enjoy it.  I don't mind the grading, I love the planning and developing the classroom environment as well as working to build a rapport with my students.  However, none of it comes easy.  The rapport is hard fought and must be intentionally cultivated.  The grading is doable if you keep up with it.  I think what was the most taxing with this new role was simply catching onto the culture and fast moving train of added duties that I was not familiar with.  It is an amazing school where I work, with fabulous educators in which I feel lucky to be selected to be a teacher alongside of, but it is a difficult adjustment regardless.  I had high, perfectionistic expectations of myself going into this role and the more I failed and let myself down, the more I felt I was letting my students and peers down.  I am notoriously hard on myself, and this role felt detrimental rather than expanding.

However, when June rolled around I found that I had not only grown to love what I do again because I was seeing the purpose and meaning in my role, but I had also grown in grit and resilience, in learning that failures lead to success and most importantly that perfection is never the end all-be all, rather progress is the gold that we get in the end.  We find as we reach each new end, we have changed.  We are different.  And I am different.  I am better, bolder, I cope differently, I am less afraid and more willing to take risks in the environment I am in.

So, as I press on and pursue growth in a similar role as teacher I am thinking and plotting how I will grow and expand not only as an educator but as a human being in the roles I play.  If we are not growing and expanding, then what the heck are we doing?  

For 2015-2016, growing and expanding took hold in venturing into this new role that was daily trial by fire.  Now that I am more into my groove, I decided that I need to grow and expand in new ways as I progress in this teaching role.  So over this past week, I spent in training with 25 other educators who want to transform their classroom/school culture as well as themselves.  It was thrilling to partner with people who love what they do and are passionate about doing it better.

So, together we examined what it takes to be effective educators.  We delved into simple but powerful classroom management strategies, character education, memory skills, developing moral beliefs and practicing engaging and effective lesson planning in both design and delivery.  We looked at the importance of learning in a variety of ways.  As the Benjamin Franklin quote at the top of this post notes, students learn best when they see, hear and can do.  These lessons and reminders made for a transforming week.  More than anything I feel changed as a person.  I am challenged to simply be a better person, thereby a better teacher.

One of the most powerful lessons from this week that I am using and applying to my personal life as well as my classroom is that of ownership.  Ownership is a key of excellence in the training model we went through, and ownership is something that my life and teaching lacks.  I am the kind of person, who in my own mind often does not find fault in what I do and how I choose to act.  While I am a perfectionist and see the imperfections in much of what I do and who I am, I still choose to point to other people and circumstances as to the why behind the imperfections.  It is my student's fault for not listening to my directions (blaming).  I didn't complete that task because I wasn't sure about the expectations (justifying).  I didn't know that's what was expected (denial).  I don't think I have what it takes, I am not enough (quitting).  These are the four go-to's of someone who does not live and practice ownership and they are very true of me.  I am quick to justify, blame, deny and/or quit.  I think because my inclination and preference is towards introverted expression these sorts of responses are not always vocalized, but I find them being the track running through my head about most things. 

Instead ownership calls us to live above the line.  Living above the line sounds like "I" statements.  I didn't give directions clearly.  I didn't complete the task on time.  I knew what was expected but I forgot and now know what needs to be done to complete the task efficiently.  I have what it takes and I am enough!

Living above the line looks like power, freedom and trust.  It is beautiful thing.  I know on the surface it probably sounds cheesy, but this was a life transforming idea for me.  I think too often we walk through our day to day life too busily unaware of what our self-talk is and what our given responses are to the circumstances we run into moment by moment.  It is easy to live unconsciously aware of what we are doing and why we are doing it, but if we want to grow and expand, it is no way to live.

Ownership allows us to choose.  When we choose, we change.  Life is the choices we make so I am choosing to take ownership over all that I do.  I will own my teaching and own my health.  I will own my growth spiritually, mentally, physically and emotionally.  I will take ownership in my relationships instead of making myself small.  There is so much to unfold from this life lesson. 

I want to see my students take hold of this life lesson.  I want to impart this knowledge to them not necessarily with my words but through the model of how I live inside and outside my classroom. 

So, here's to a summer of growth and a school year of expanding and ownership!

modern romance//blind dates//and the hope of a good man

“I see people my age…getting married to people they’ve known for like a year and a half. A year and a half? Is that enough time to get to know someone to know you want to spend the REST of your life with them? I’ve had sweaters for a year and a half and I was like ‘What the fuck was I doing with this sweater?" ~Aziz Ansari, Modern Romance

I just finished this delightful gem of a book #summerreadsbook2, and truly, I enjoyed the heck out of it.  I am dying to get my friends to read it, so we can discuss, of course all of my friends are married, and I bet they'll be thanking their lucky stars that they are by the time they finish. So perhaps instead I need to discuss this with a worldly single friend who maybe gets this whole 2016 dating scene a little better than I, but alas, I will take to my tiny little corner of the internet and share what I think about the scary truths presented in this tale.

First of all, yikes!  I don't think Aziz set out to scare his single readers, but man oh man, dating now, feels like the most undesirable thing ever. For starters, I guess I should remind myself and my few and far between readers that I reside in a comfortable station of singleness.  It is very much a chosen singleness, mostly because I am not the biggest fan of dating and am not too apt at traversing the mysterious lands of 21st century dating.  Instead, I wait and I "do me" as my students would say, and hope that someday a good man and I will cross each other's paths and think each to ourselves, my gosh, where the heck has this person been all my life?  Wouldn't that be romantic?  I envision us meeting across stacks of potatoes, or in front of red meat at the grocery store, or perhaps while perusing books at barnes and noble, or maybe at dog beach while our pups play about, or one Sunday he will take the seat next to me at church and we'll just know. Or I suppose I can be taken by surprise some other way, but since that about sums up my life, I don't really see how else it will happen unless I start doing the things Ansari notes are the ways of meeting and dating nowadays.  

This book did not inspire me to take up tinder, or match, or instagram stalk a potential date.  Instead it led me to believe that might be the most unlikely and dismal way to find a potential mate.  So I accept my singleness as I am, as it is.  And really, I am okay.  Sure a girl in her early thirties ought to probably be a little more proactive considering my baby making years are lessening each passing day, but here I am feeling as unrushed as ever to find my man.  I suppose I can chalk that up to hope.

To be honest, when I closed the cover of Modern Romance, I cried.  I cried for awhile actually.  This wasn't just stream of tears crying, but rather heaving sobs.  What unleashed from within was this knot of deep seated fears and the unruly emotions that have been wound tightly to them.  

I let go and gave in hoping to find their root. I came back to a similar statement I've lamented in a recent post and that is this: I am not the most important person to any human being on this planet that is living.  

This fear is very real.  I took comfort recently when I watched The Intern starring Anne Hathaway and Robert Deniro.  The following scene is beautiful, albiet not the best version, but you get the jist:  



I love how vulnerable she is in this scene.  It is indeed a scary sidebar, but she puts a voice to a real and weighty fear, no matter how ridiculous it might feel to say it aloud.  We all fear aloneness.  We do.  I imagine there are a lot of married and loved people out there who feel what I feel.  

What I came to realize is that the fulfillment that I am seeking, the love I think I need, the idea of being so important to somebody, will never be found in a person I strike up a conversation with in the grocery store, or the man I meet on match.com.  I can see myself ten years down the road with a ring on my finger and two kids to boot, and that nagging fear being stirred up again, because my husband's job is more important and my kids treat me like shit, and I'll find myself seeking out the dog for that unconditional affection (which is pretty stellar by the way).

The point is, when I came out of the emotional tailspin my reaction to Modern Romance sent me spinning down, I realized this is not where God intended me to reside.  My life, romantic life or not, will not be dictated by the rules of dating in 2016.  My personal history with men and friends does not write my future story.  

Rejection and bad dates do not define my person.  When I got to this truth I realized that was another piece of the emotional puzzle that had been plaguing me.  I recently went on a blind date with a man a co-worker of mine set me up with.   The timing of it all seemed perfect.  I had a deep respect for my co-worker, therefore felt that his friends and his judge of character to be of quality.  So I agreed.  My blind date did not want to meet in person right away. Instead he wanted to get to know one another via email, then phone conversation, with a bit of texting thrown in.  All seemed well.  I felt like I was getting to know a good man.  More than that, I felt hope.  That hope that somewhere in my heart spoke that this was the good man I had been waiting for.  And then, a few weeks in, we met.  After that, silence.  To be fair, the silence was on both our ends.  He never reached out again, and I did not have the desire to either.  Regardless, that slightly stinging rejection weighs in and thinks, how dare he not like me!  In reality what existed on paper between us, and what had been cultivated on the phone fizzled out in person to person meeting.  Something told me that this guy, well, he actually wasn't it.  

After that, I kind of gave up on the idea of the mysterious him that may or may not exist.  Barring set ups though I really began to wonder how the heck we would ever find each other.  But one thing I can most assuredly say, as of today, beyond a shadow of doubt, I am contentedly single.  I don't want to settle for the boring blind date.  I don't want to put myself out there in the way that modern romance dictates.  Tinder and match seem to say, "Hey, I am ready to throw down."  Which, dear sir, I am not.  

My best date happened in December of 2013.  Yikes, almost three years ago!  I met a man in the grocery store parking lot who saw me struggling with my many grocery bags.  As the baguette and wine bottle started to slip, he stepped into save the day, literally.  He carried them to my car and what followed was, well the best damn thing a woman could hear.  He asked me to dinner and I said yes.  He was bold and I liked that.  He thought I was beautiful, and well, it's nice to hear, because so many guys seem to want to keep that idea to themselves if it is what they are thinking.  

A few nights later we ate dinner together at a quaint Mexican joint and I was on cloud nine.  And then, he suggested we take things to his place, and when I made it clear where I stood on how the rest of the night would go, his face fell.  We agreed their was physical attraction brewing and we agreed that we had fun, that we laughed, that we enjoyed ourselves, but this is where it would end.  Too different we were.  And yet, it still stands as a great date, and well, he is still a good guy in my book, just was not the guy for me.  

So, here is where I proceed. Modern romance and I, well we don't mix too well.  And maybe blind dates aren't my thing, but I won't say no to the next offer.  And the hope of a good man, I'll hold onto that, probably until my dying day.  And in the meantime,  I'll fight for the contentment that I can so wondrously have in my season of singleness. 

me before you//a lesson in empathy

(via celebuzz)   

Last weekend held a long anticipated event for me.  Since I read Me Before You by JoJo Moyes in January 2015, I built up extraordinary expectations to see the pages of this beautiful story brought to life on the screen.  

Me Before You is one of those books that shifted something inside of me, altered my thinking and has stuck in my heart and soul since I first closed the cover.  It is not an entirely rare thing for a story to have such powerful impact in my life but this is one that I think on often.  It is partially a realistic story of love but greater than that it is a glorious picture of empathy, alive and well.

When I finally saw the film it did not disappoint one bit.  However, there is a lot of backlash currently as to how the film addresses the disabled amid the topic of euthanasia.  I don't know what to say for that.  I don't know much, but I abhor holding authors and filmmakers to a level that must appease everyone.  Sometimes it feels like people can be too damn sensitive.  Can a story just be a story and not a piece of propaganda or a entirely realistic representation of a people group as a whole?  I don't believe an author approaches a story with the intention to deeply offend a sect of people, but this is a day and age where everyone seems to take offense to every little thing.  

Ultimately, it feels like the beauty of a story is lost when we force finding ourselves in it in a manner that pleases us most.  I have tried in the last few years to watch films, read books and befriend people that are a bit outside of my comfort zone, that is, I don't have to find everything in them agreeable.  It seems like a pretty easy undertaking, but in reality it was a difficult venture at first.  I couldn't find enjoyment in what I didn't agree with.  Thankfully, I am beginning to shed this seemingly innocuous values system because I realized that I was becoming so close-minded about what I would allow myself to delve into and because of that I was missing so much.  This doesn't mean that I blindly accept the values and beliefs put forth in what I read, watch, listen to or who I interact with.  Instead now, I am hearing them, I am thinking about their side and I am feeling with and for them.  This is how I grow in empathy.  And this is what I gleaned from reading and then watching Me Before You.

I can't exactly pinpoint what it is that struck a chord so heavily in me when I read this story.  If we had a conversation on the topic of euthanasia prior to this story, I would have said, "never."  Never should someone no matter what state they are in devalue the sanctity and preciousness of human life and choose to end their days prematurely.  And truth be told, the story hasn't changed my mind on that.  However, it has changed my judgments on others for choosing to do so, or choosing to support another in doing so.  I am so utterly thankful to writers and storytellers like Moyes who can tell such a difficult story as this one with compelling compassion and grace.  In truth, what the reader more than likely is left to grapple with is that they cannot fault Will for the choice he made.  Especially if God and a firmly rooted belief in the Creator is not the guidance behind his life and thereby his decisions.  Instead what I admire in the end is Lou.  Lou who selflessly loves Will and so very tenderly walks with him on his chosen journey.  I admire Lou willing to sacrifice her own fervent desire to keep and have Will and instead love him through perhaps one of the most painful choices anyone can ever make. That in itself is a making for one of the most gripping love stories.  It is a love that quickly removes the happily ever after and instead offers up a choice: How much can love overcome?  What is real love?  Perhaps, love looks differently in any given circumstance, and ultimately the act of love means to feel with the person rather than feel for that person.  Empathy opens doors that we generally like to keep closed.  Empathy takes us to unsafe and vulnerable places that often result in the greatest demonstrations of authentic and true love.  So it seems that empathy, alive and well, rooted in love remains the only sound answer in all things.

If this is what a story can impart, I think it is magic.  I am thankful to writers and creators, artists and storytellers that follow their call, embrace honesty and truth-telling, chasing down their gift to shaky and unsure places.  What is birthed in that grey mess of morals and emotions often come the most impacting and life-changing of tales.
  

 

a long absence//5 learnings & leanings

Long absences can be good.  Perhaps they mean you've been living life well.  Or perhaps they reflect a season of busy that may not quite feel like living, but in retrospect, one can see the life that has unfolded from such a season.

As the calendar turned and we walked into 2016, I had plans and dreams to really do something with my little corner of the internet.  Instead, the dates I marked on my calendar to actually construct a post turned into days of grading, working, or maybe doing a little bit of that living life well stuff.

A few months in, I am wondering what has become of me and 2016.  I am seeing the last year of my life with clearer eyes.  Much like the end of December, the weeks leading towards my birthday turn me into a more reflective being, and I really consider where I am headed and where I have been.

So, the absence from this blog and the thinking and living that has been happening over the past year I think is encapsulated best in these five learnings & leanings that I want to take with me from 31 and into 32.   I have, what I believe, is an authentic hope that 32 will lead me deeper into cultivating this life and my continual, moment by moment walk with the Lord.

 Five Learnings and Leanings//Walking into 32

1.  Over the last year, and if I really want to be specific, since May 23, 2015 I have been learning to "trust" the Lord in everything.  This specific date served as sort of a turning point for me, in which I realized God really does desire good for us.  With that realization ushered in an existence where I don't spiral out anymore, that instead of falling deep into an abyss of darkness and despair, I stay and choose to walk on the path of peace that He calls me to.  There are so many lies I have lived in that I believed as truth.  These lies defined me and the core of my existence.  Slowly but certainly surely, over the last eight years or so, the lies have been shattered one by one.  And I am most definitely plagued by a few more, but I have learned that those lies lose their power when I choose to "trust".  For me, trust is such an overused word.  In the Christian community it might even be on the verge of meaninglessness.  So I sought to deepen the meaning of "trust" when I fully realized and accepted that the only way for me to really live this little life of mine well, was to walk in "trust".  So, this is what I figured out: Trust is not just a verb, it is a noun.  I know, I know...a bit simplistic, but I never had really thought about this before.  I always saw trust as action on my part, but in reality trust is a thing...a very tangible thing.  You see, I have trust.  I have a God in whom I am confident in, in who fully rely on the integrity, strength, surety, and promises of.  While trust is something that I do and can exhibit, I also have a trust.  I have in and with me the most sure and valuable thing in all the universe.  And my goodness, if that doesn't transform one's thinking and the matters of one's heart, I don't know what will.  Even though I've walked with Jesus, in knowing Him, for the majority of my life, the truth of trust and trusting in Him has never quite resonated with me as it has this last year of my life.  So, I have learned and am leaning into trusting Him and leaning on my trust with all of my heart, with everything I am, with every hope, dream, cry, disappointment, and expectation, I am laying out in "trust".
2. Discipline is key.  To my teenage self, discipline=perfection. To my early twenty-something self discipline=pretty much non-existent.  As I matured, discipline took on many forms.  At times I rebelled against the big "D" and at times I embraced it with my whole being.  As I've entered my thirties I have become painfully aware of the areas of my life in which I lack discipline.  At times it varies and discipline vacillates between particular areas of my life.  In some places I am holding strong, while in others I weaken at the slightest temptations, whether it is staying in bed for just five more minutes, skipping a workout, missing a quiet time, eating that unhealthy snack, or in the way I view finances, discipline has basically been a bit vague in the last couple of years.  I am finally figuring out that discipline does not mean I am or I have to be perfect.  Phew. I think that is what makes my heart,  mind and tummy for that matter go all topsy turvy when I think about living a life of discipline. I immediately go to my default of needing perfect or nothing.  I have long since given up on this all or nothing life, but it still tries to find its way into things.  Discipline looks different now.  But discipline means I have a plan.  It means I am living with intention.  It means I have goals that I am going for.  It means I am hoping for new and better outcomes and actually working towards them.  Discipline looks like prayer and accountability.  So I am leaning into discipline with joy, rather than despair.
3. I don't need answers or acceptance.  Okay, just typing those words was hard.  I wasn't sure how to phrase this one.  I could probably think of better words later, but for now, this sums it up best.  One of my greatest laments that has taken hold of my heart in the last few years is that, "I am not the most important person to anyone"  or, "Nobody loves me the most."  It sounds whiny, when I actually quote it and that is a bit cringeworthy.  But these two quotes have been a continual cry in my heart.  I spent most of my twenties with no desire for marriage or children.  I weathered two broken hearts and stitched myself up and moved on.  Part of me, was determined to singleness.  It was easier then.  Now, not so much.  On the brink of 32, I find myself moving to a whole other viewpoint on these matters.  One I find best expressed in the words of Mindy Kaling found in her recent book Why Not Me?: "Until I realized: this long expanse of free time to rekindle friendships is not real.  We will never come home to each other again and we will never again have each other's undivided attention.  That version of our friendship is over.  And when I remember this...I slid into a melancholy that i know is somehow tied to a deep-seated fear about not being married or having kids myself.  Because, at its heart, my annoyance or impatience with my friends' weddings (and having children) stems from my own panic and abandonment issues.  Why are you leaving me behind like this, friend?  What am I supposed to do all by myself now that you are gone?  It is traumatizing to think that a best friend could become just a friend.  That's because there is virtually no difference between acquaintance and a friend.  But the gulf between a friend and a best friend is enormous and profound."  I leave off the hopeful not she ended on because I think it is important for me to sit in the reality and truth of what she has written here that reflects my own life and heart.  At almost 32, this is where I am.  All of my friends married in their twenties or early thirties.  Most have started families.  We are no longer in that phase where we are each other's #1's.  They found theirs and I am left behind.  And truly, I do "trust" the plan and process for me.  There are reasons.  There are always reasons.  But it doesn't negate the difficulty of facing it head on.  I have built a career for myself and am working towards being wholly independent.  That is to say, I am financially secure and unafraid of building my life solo.  For me that looks like having a place to call my own, that contains a couch I have invested my own money into and the comfortability of living month to month without fearing the need of asking for a help.  I am getting there.  That pesky student loan debt isn't quite such a monster to reckon with anymore.  But I think, or I more recently hoped that somehow my solution to all of these things would be a husband.  A husband would be the answer and the acceptance that I needed.  With a husband I wouldn't feel like the outsider to it all anymore.  I would have my way back "in" to the lives of all the others.  I would have that person who loved me and I loved "the most".  Because of some amazing people who see beyond societal expectations and love the Lord immensely, I have had truth spoken over me, prayers for me and encouragement that has led me to figure out that I really don't need the answer and acceptance I think I do.  Instead I am choosing to pursue the life that I have.  Building a life does not look like waiting around for things to happen.  I am going for it, with or without the answers or acceptance.
4. Small joy is worthy.  Along the lines of my #3 learning and leaning, I often determine worth of my life, who I am and what I do by that of who my peers are and what they are doing.  No one said it better than Theodore Roosevelt, when he said, "Comparison is the thief of joy."  The truth of those words is unmistakable.  I may have thought I had a good weekend, that was until I heard another teacher's story around the copy machine.  I may think I had a great day until I go on Instagram and see someone else had a better day.  I often let the joy of others deter or determine the measure of my joy.  My joy is never large, that is if you measure joy's size by marriage, kiddos, or European travels.  As I stand witness to the lives of others, I am tempted to believe the grass is always greener.  In reality, my joy, my day to day little life's joy, cannot be stolen unless I let it.  So I am figuring out that my small joys are worthy.  So dark roast coffee, lit candles, fresh flowers, late evening walks, puppy kisses, open windows, the thump of the washing machine, dinner in the backyard, three hours of Netflix, reading with abandon, audio books to accompany my morning and evening commute, unrushed grocery store trips, book perusing on Sunday mornings, online clothes shopping, songs in the shower, if these things are my small joys, they are worthy, and nothing can steal that away from me.
5. Making things happen.  I often take the backseat and let things go.  I don't say much, or stand up for myself, thinking it's probably better that way.  At least I won't be rejected, hurt, disappointed, screw up...whatever it may or may not be.  It is a safe existence overall.  But where does it get me?  I began 2016 with the words "figure it out" on my heart.  The idea of that being "figure it out" had this crucial element of intention and follow through.  At its core, it reflected action on my part.  That is, this year is not about sitting back and waiting for a, b, or c to happen and instead I would play a more active role in my life.  How that looks is never quite clear to me, but in its own ways it has taken on a life of its own.  I've been doing and that has required a lot of figuring it out.  There are definitely days, weeks, months, seasons of waiting and praying and less action, but there is something for 2016 and 32 that I believe require elements of action and proactively figuring things out rather than sitting back and letting it all unfold.  So as I look ahead, I am pondering, planning, dreaming, scheming and praying how to make things happen.  This idea stretches itself across all aspects and facets of my life from finances to fitness to future husband...so here I am, still early in 2016, still 31, still learning, but leaning into more, to better and deeper life with Him.

a poem that contains the whole of life

He said, "Write what you know."

It felt like a lofty but limiting thing as I humbly admitted that I didn't know much.  He just laughed and said that he never heard words more false.  That is where he left me.

I went home that night and sat at my desk and I realized I wanted to write the world.  I had words to fill the deep vast and vacant spaces within my heart and I bore a heavy sadness, which I now realize, at least for me, is the greatest inspiration.  And so I thought about all of the things that weighed heavy and the sadness that threatened the spaces of creativity that were beginning to come alight and alive.  As I considered it more, it wasn't so much sadness that was pervading my thoughts and feelings and overall demeanor, but rather worry.

It was then that I decided to list all of the things I was worried about.  The list came up rather short and contained a few people and a few unknowns.  I wanted to call them and have them assure me everything was okay, but what was really the good in that?  Would that really relieve the worry within me?  It was more cathartic to crumple the list and toss it in the trash.  I prayed.  I asked God to give them peace and hope.  I prayed that I too could experience only a peace that comes from Him.

He answered my prayer because it was then that I began to think a bit more clearly and the words that were bubbling up were not tainted by worry and sadness.  Now, I do think great words can come from worry and sadness, but that isn't the place where my words were coming from and I feared that if I wrote what I knew, it would never be honest and true if I were to write from a place of worry.

Then I began to type.  I wrote words that felt sincere and unforced.   They flowed freely for hours upon hours. As I began to run dry, I remembered something he had said to me earlier that night, so I began to write an email to him.  Subject line: "Write What You Know".  I started with a single line, "This is what I know..."  and then proceeded to copy and past what I had written that night.  With no hesitations I sent the email and climbed into bed.  Sleep came fast and easy.  The writing had brought such profound release that I was able to let go of the day and resign myself to a dream I may or may not remember.

The next morning I expected a reply.  Surely he would be waiting for my email.  Surely he would have read it by now.

Nothing.

Days later, nothing.

Weeks and months passed.  Nothing.

I could not forget that I shared with him the truest words I had ever written.

Did they require comment or reply?  I suppose not.  The point was to put them "out there", to follow the challenge he set forth, to not only write what I know, but to share it. For some reason, in that season of my life, it had only felt right to leave my truest words in his hands.  And that is where they remain.

After such an outpouring of truth, it seemed for a time that words, sincere and true eluded me.  What I wrote from then on felt to be a bit forced, lacking in the originality of an honest look at life and the world around me.  I didn't know what to write anymore.  And so I let it be.  I still would write, even when it felt so undesirable and uninspired.  I did not give up on the effort.

Before the new year began, I went through the usual pains to clean and organize my little nest.  I wanted to rid the clutter that had accumulated in 2015.  I went through a desk drawer stuffed with old mail, letters and magazines, dumped it all on my bedroom floor and sat in the midst of it.  As I worked my way through what to keep and what to trash I came across a note from him.  It was a crumpled post-it, one in which he wrote on when we shared a cup of coffee together. I probably had the thing in my possession since June or July.  On it was scribbled something I couldn't quite make out, damaged by a splash of coffee, but then followed these words: "there is no specific time in your life in which things are supposed to happen."  I could only vaguely remember the context of our conversation, but I was certainly remembered why he had written these words down. He wanted me to have them so that I could carry them with me, and hold them in my hands when I needed the reminder.  The funny thing was, they didn't mean much to me at the time.  They felt like words intended to placate the disastrous direction my emotions were headed, and to be honest I felt offended.  But what useful words these suddenly were.  In emotional upheavals words like these hold little value or meaning, but on days of clarity they suddenly make so much sense. 

I sat in the middle of my bedroom floor surrounded by paper, cards, letters, trash and keepsakes and I felt a burden lift.  I resolved to keep everything.  I gathered it all up and placed it back in its proper drawer in a slightly more organize fashion and then I texted him.

What do I write when I feel uninspired and have no distinct direction?

I didn't expect a reply.  I just wanted to send the words out into the universe hoping for some kind of answer, tangible or not.

My phone buzzed.
He had replied within the minute.
I held my breath as I read his text: write a poem that contains the whole of life.
I sighed, displeased.

He replied again.
I gathered myself up, trying to eliminate any sense of profound expectation before I read his next text.  Exhaling as I read: the world is awake, pulsating and pounding, thumping and throbbing with the thrill of life. just write what the world offers you.

And that was all.  And that was enough.

The night is alive

briefly aglow with 

the candle of hope.

The moon-beholders and 

the star-gazers; they

find their buoyancy 

in vast and scattered landscapes 

of speckled black and white.

This is the thrill of life:

A vast expanse of natural beauty

and the eyes and heart awake enough to see it. 

I keep this poem of sorts posted behind a clutter of notes and news clippings above my desk. 

It is not worthy of anything more than a simple reminder that for me it contains the whole of life. 

on feelings and intentionality.

an old gem compiled from words and pictures from glamour magazine

the term feeling has a myriad of different definitions. they are as follows: an emotional state; a belief, especially a vague or irrational one; the capacity to experience the sense of touch; a sensitivity or intuitive understanding of...

i find the idea of a feeling being a vague or irrational belief to be the most fascinating classification of the word.

feelings are a mystery to me at times.  where they come from, how they come and go, the way in which they elude and often haunt...they are intriguing little devils.

i've written before about my inclination towards feelings and how they often dictate much of my person.  according to they myers-brigg inventory i am a 100% feeler.  feelings tend to rule my being.

because of that it often feels as if i am on an eternal mission to capture good feelings.  i know where they come from. good, pure, joyous, peaceful feelings are a result of time in nature, of puppy cuddles, of sweet intimate time with someone i care about.  these sorts of feelings are also the result of reading a good book, or watching a beautiful film or being near the ocean.  they are the result of a run or any form of endorphin inducing exercise.  they come about after a massage or really good rest and relaxation especially when it is much overdue.  good, pure, peace-giving and joy-filled feelings are also the result of someone's care and compassion, someone's kind words, or someone simply taking notice.

the problem with feelings is that they are fleeting.  and it is often the ones that hurt us, that cause us sadness, despair and loneliness that we tend to dwell on.  not everybody is dictated by their feelings, but i think that many are whether they realize it or not.  it is hard when all the feelings that one can seem to capture are those that are of a darker nature, no matter how vague or irrational they may be.

when i was 18 i wrote out a to-do list for my life.
it was highly idealistic.
i dreamed of so many things...graduating from college, going to graduate school, getting a tattoo, having a place of my own, writing a book, getting married, traveling to another country...and i felt, in my heart, that they were all possible.

at 18 i wasn't bogged down by the feelings associated with adulthood...i was a youth that still had so much faith and hope in this world and in my life and what it could be.  things such as finances, the hard work of university life and post grad academics, the permanency of ink on one's skin, the promise to another human being of forever no matter what, the discipline of writing, the cost and need for a good partner when traveling abroad, the fear of living in a terror ridden world, all of those things, they didn't factor into my decision making and my feelings.  at 18 i just didn't understand it all.

it was a beautiful ignorance in many ways.

but now feelings seem to dictate all of these desires, choices, hopes and plans.  sometimes feelings become the battle just to get through the day to day.  i've noticed i've classified almost everything in my life according to my feelings about them rather than the truth of their realities.  and wow, it is such a very skewed perspective.  i cannot count all of the times in the last six months when i've muttered to myself, "i don't feel like it." 

but sometimes, when i pray,  when i really lean on the Lord for strength and understanding,  i have the courage to stand up and declare, "to hell with the feelings", and i do it anyway.  and often what results is magic.

but when i let the feelings dictate my existence, i find, day after day, month after month, i am no better off than i was at the start.

feelings are unruly and while the pursuit of good ones is certainly worthwhile, the banishment of the bad ones isn't necessarily so.  for, in some way they all serve their purpose.  i suppose the question that plagues me is whether i will continue to let my feelings...whatever they are, be the ruler of my existence, the determiner of my joy, the overwhelming factor in my decision making?  it hasn't worked out all that well for me, necessarily.

so i began to wonder how do i tame the little devils and instead choose to walk in trust and joy, no matter what? 

i don't know if it means working to the root and instigators of all of these feelings that so easily overwhelm and entangle me in their mess. 

because my feelings inform so much of who i am and so much of what i do, i think it necessary to go back to doing the hard work of figuring out my feelings and the thoughts and words and day to day events that act as their instigators.  it is something that is easy to suppress and just get by managing them and numbing them in the day to day.  but that is no way to live.  it is definitely no way to grow.

so, in 2016, i am committing to the work of feeling.  to the effort of thinking to get back to the root of the feelings.  in 2016, while it is still new, i want to be committed to the idea of being kinder to myself and speaking truth over my life.  in the same way, i would want to be kind and speak truth over others, i want to be intentional in doing with myself.  it is a feat that requires the utmost focus.  it demands the necessity of daily time for reflection, which means not turning to those things which make me shut down or off, but instead chasing after that which calls for an honest inward look.  that is, accountability, nature, and time in the Word and prayer...things that i must also be intentional about to see truly happen on a daily basis. 

my self-worth is such a fickle little indicator of my true being.  so much can strip or give me value in my inner being.