Haunting Memories

       I know that I should feel grateful for the things that I'm blessed with in life - and I am.  But may I say, that having my computer cease to function on me during a time in which thoughts are more numerous than usual is highly inconvenient.  Not being able to just instantly turn my compy on and begin to furiously type all the words which are overtaking my brain is extremely painful.  Now.  All that being said, on to what's been waiting to get out.

       This year, the holidays have been more difficult to bear and get through than just any average day.  The loss of someone so beloved has taken its toll much more than I expected.  More and more I'm finding it hard to muster the strength to pretend that all is well and jolly.

       There are times when I'm doing better than usual.  But then in a moment when my mind is unoccupied by any thoughts or sounds or distractions, memories come rushing at me.  The one which occurs most often is the day I heard about her passing.  How I had to pretend like everything was fine, because I was working as a counselor at a kids camp, and then right when I thought I would be fine, one of the mother's helping out comes running to me, and says "I heard the news.  Are you all right?"  Upon which I burst into tears, because no, I'm not all right.  How on earth could I have thought that death would be so easy to shrug off?

       And then there are times when during the day, my thoughts are clean of the painful memories, but the dreams that night brings are more painful than daytime recollections.

       For example, the dream I had last night.  It was random, as most dreams are.  It also contained a slight element of romance - something my mind seems to want to get out of me, but since I refuse to have any part of it during the day, dreams seem to be the only way it can surface and explore.  There was a very slight relation in its elements to the movie 27 dresses.  Nothing obvious, but a sense of it nonetheless.

       I won't waste time going through all the mundane details of all that happened.  Near the end, however, I was working my way to the top of a very steep stadium full of people watching some sort of live event.  I ran into a couple of people that I knew, but continued to push my way to the top.  (For to reach the top meant to be able to flee all the people, which is what I wanted.)  I had finally reached the last few rows when...I saw her.

       Here's where another movie influenced my dream.  For anyone who's seen The Time Traveler's Wife, you'll know how this ties in.  For those who haven't let me explain.  This man travel's in time - though not by choice.  It happens to him at random times, in random places, and he really has no control over it.  But he travel's to different places in his own personal timeline, both future and past.  At one point, he dies, leaving his wife and child to continue on in life.  After he dies, we see him encounter his daughter at an age which he will never see her reach, because at this point in her timeline, he's already dead.  But she (and her mother) are able to see him one last time.  So even though in their lives, he's dead, in his own timeline, he has yet to die, though at this point he knows he's going to die.

      As I reached those last few rows, I saw her.  And she saw me.  She said "Aimee Joy."  And I said "Oma," as I burst into sobs, and stroked the side of her face to make sure she was really there.  Then I saw sitting next to her, a very young version of me, and I realised that I had traveled in time.  Though the setting in which this took place never actually happened in real life, it apparently had in my "dream world."  I woke up after this encounter.

       And since then, my heart has been heavy all day.  For how can I ignore something that felt so real?  Memories that flood my mind during the day are hard to shove off, but they are easier to shove off than the dreams I have.  For memories are more of ideas, and I can prevent myself from getting lost in them.  Dreams, however, bring her face in front of mine, and there's no easy way to make myself wake up in order to stop them from progressing any further.

       "No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear."
                                           - C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed

Winter Weather

As Autumn comes to a close, it brings the entrance of Winter.  While because of where where I live snow is not included in this season, darkness is.  Partly because the days are much shorter, but also because rain falls very often.

If you're where I am (in regards to the state of mentality), the weather can be a factor in your mood.  If it's sunny, happiness is easier to reach.  If it's dark and stormy, it's hard to find any kind of enthusiasm for, well, anything.  

The weather complicates things for me, because if it's dark and rainy and cloudy and all kinds of "miserable" weather like that, my mental state is greatly affected; yet on the other hand, I dearly love the rain.  I also love the sunshine.  But sunshine isn't very common during this season.

So.  I've discovered a semi-decent solution.  Go outside.  I'm inside most of the time.  The only time I'm outside is when I'm going from one building to another.  No matter.  Despite if it's raining outside or not, if I go outside where there's some kind of natural light that I can be in (the window in my room that permits the outside like to come in doesn't count), it helps.  Not for long, obviously, since it is almost always too wet to sit anywhere.  The little difference of being outside, regardless of clouds, actually helps.

And a little bit goes a long ways, which helps.  Right?  Right.

Coping Mechanisms

Coping mechanisms. 

Every individual has their own way of dealing with the things that life throws at them. Grief, loss, pain, heartache – the way these things are handled varies from person to person. Some ways are healthy, other ways…not so much.

I can recall the last few weeks of when she was still alive. Different family members took turns of twelve hour increments in pairs watching over her. There was one family member whom I was most often paired with when watching over her who’s coping mechanism was laughter.

To watch the throes of death consume one so loved in a slow manner is extremely heart breaking. In my mind, it seems like the only options of dealing with such an emotion is either going mad with grief, or completely disconnecting any emotions whatsoever. This family member dealt with their grief and pain by laughing.

Please don’t misunderstand me. I am not saying that their way of coping was disrespectful, inconsiderate, or anything of that nature. It’s what they felt best to do in their situation. Instead of breaking down and crying, they took the situation and things that were happening, and found a reason to laugh (to be cheerful, you could even say) about it all.

I have my own ways of dealing with everything that has gone on. I can’t say they’re exactly healthy – or good, for that matter – but it’s what keeps me sane. There have been times when I’ve been at home and said something that I found to be amusing and witty; I laugh at what I had said, but then suddenly in the midst of the laughter, my eyes are filled with tears, and I feel if I just let loose, I would collapse on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. Usually I’m able to keep my head and stop the laughter before it goes one way or the other.

I know that I can’t break down. This grief is such a burden; this broken heart so heavy. But to dwell on it too much would mean going mad, in quite the literal sense. As far as ways of dealing with it, I see it as this: I could be either a depressed cutter, or a depressed drunk. Thankfully, I’m so vehemently opposed to the consumption of any alcohol whatsoever, that I've resorted to the former option. Clearly neither option is a healthy one, but I would dare argue that the one I rely on is better than the one I've chosen to abstain from (for numerous reasons, obviously).

Anyways, there you have it. People have different ways of coping with things. Mine may not be the best, but it’s what I know. Deadened emotions over madness.

Tiredness

I'm tired.

Of life, of emotions, of people, of everything.  And all this mental (even spiritual, I suppose) tiredness affects me physically.  I can get twelve hours of sleep, and still be tired all day.  I am tired all day, every day, no matter what.

If I could, I would just break all communication.  From everybody.  But that's impossible.  I've managed to keep it down to a minimum.  Only the people that I carpool with to school, or have classes with, are the ones I still talk to.  And that's because I have to.  If it were up to me, I'd completely ignore them as well.  But that would just be downright rude, seeing as how I come into physical contact with them.

I'm tired of people hearing what I say to them, but not listening to what I have to say.  There is a difference. I can say so much, yet nothing at all.  I can stay silent, but speak volumes.  Yet so often it seems that even when I do speak, no one listens.

I'm tired of having to say "That's not it," or "You don't understand" to people who clearly do not understand.  My lack of ability to fall asleep until after 2 a.m. is not because of a poor sleeping schedule.  It's because the night holds many terrors and I have to be dead tired before turning the light off.  It's also because a broken heart holds constant restlessness both in, and out of sleep.

I'm tired of talking.  People keep asking me how I'm doing, or what's wrong.  And I repeat the same damn thing over and over and over again.  But speaking about the same thing every time isn't going to change it.  It certainly will do no good for the person of inquiry.  Besides, since when has talking about a problem ever fixed it??  Writing will put things into perspective, but speaking will only more solidly confirm or make certain that which is already present.  And I don't want that.

I'm tired of having so-called friends who bother to talk to me, but stay in their same selfish mindset like the rest of the world.  I'm not saying they don't care, but good God, when I try to communicate things about myself as a person, and you go right ahead and contradict me or just sweep aside what I've just said because you think what you know is best, then please call yourself an acquaintance and not a friend.  Because friends are people who listen and accept things, not ignore and shape everything into their own perspective.

I'm tired of feeling so apathetic all the time.  Getting up isn't too hard (at least, not as hard as it was years ago), but finding the motivation to care is hard.  I don't care about failing an exam because I haven't studied enough.  I don't care about the incompleteness of my homework for my favourite class.  I don't even care if my sister hasn't called me in a while because she's been too busy with her life.

I'm tired.  I just want to be left alone.  I want to sleep forever and never wake up.

*A Dream

I walked into the dimly lit room. Unlike most nights, my little Café Kafka on the coast of Spain was actually crowded. Varieties of military men from many different countries were talking and laughing in quite a jovial manner. Rather shocking, I must admit, that they could still enjoy themselves with all that they have seen. War is a hard time for all.

I walked to the counter and ordered my usual sarsaparilla. I turned around with my drink so I could observe those around me. A few of the fellows also standing around the counter talking kept glancing at me. In a few minutes time, they sauntered over and attempted to engage me in conversation. They even were assisted by the bar keep. I did my best to sway them from their obvious goal, but it was to little avail.

In the midst of my polite, yet cold responses to these men with dishonourable intentions, a man sitting at the end of the counter interrupted their conversation by ordering a hot black coffee, two spoons of sugar, and a scoop of ice from the bar tender. This caused the men to stop speaking – and me to look in the direction of the voice – for none of us had noticed his presence until that moment. He smiles politely at all of us as he is handed his unusual order of a drink.

This causes the soldier boys to remember my presence and they once again begin to speak to me. They even ask me to dance, to which I of course decline. They still continue to press me. All of a sudden, the mysterious man at the end of the counter speaks up. “Hey, leave her alone, will you fellas? If she says no, she means no.” I smile at him gratefully.

He speaks even more. “Say, you wouldn't mind giving a lonely soldier a break, and give me the honour of a dance, would ya?” Before I am able to say anything in response, the boys crowded near me begin to mock and scorn him. He doesn't reply to them, and I am given no chance to speak my decision.

So I continue to sit and drink and face all the other strangers in the café who are sitting, dancing, or conversing with each other. Finally the group of soldiers begin to let off the stranger, and begin telling me that I’m smart for choosing to not dance with anyone, as opposed to dancing with “that loser” as they so spitefully call him.

I say nothing to them, but only look. I set my glass down on the counter, walk over to the end of the counter where this man is sitting in the shadows, sit down, and ask him if I can try his coffee. A wonderful smile slowly spreads over his face as he hands me his cup. The group of boys are stunned to silence. I sip his drink. The strange combination of hot, cold, and sweet shocks my taste buds in a delightful manner.

We begin to converse. I find out he joined the military out of love for his country…which is my country. He also comes from a long line of military men, and wanted to continue that tradition. As we continue to talk, we discover just how much we have in common. Even hailing from the same state back in the grand ol’ U.S. of A.

Because evening has approached, the band begins to pick up its musical pace. I speak as I hold out my hand. “I believe you asked me for a dance?” That gorgeous smile appears again. “Why, I believe I did,” he says. He takes my hand, and whisks me out on the dance floor as Louis Prima’s Sing, Sing, Sing is started by the band.

As we step onto the dance floor, that same group of boys begin to jeer and yell at us. He tries to remain discreet, but I see his actions anyways. He’s staring them down every chance he gets in the midst of our swings and turns. And it works. Their mocking begins to die down, and soon stops altogether.

As our feet are moving as fast as possible, we dance in an unbelievable manner. Gliding, twirling, swinging like no other couple ever has. A connection that cannot be explained snapped together the moment our feet hit that dance floor. We are out dancing all other couples there.

As the dance is nearing its end, a siren rings out. A messenger boy from one our American military branches comes rushing in to the café. And then more messenger boys from other country’s military charge in as well. Each begins to announce in his own language that the siren call is not just for French soldiers, but for ALL soldiers of all countries present.

Soldiers begin running out, pouring out of the café. All prior activity is forgotten with the sounding of this reminder of war. My soldier runs out as well. But I run out after him. Before he turns round a corner on the street, I call out to him. “Bill! Wait!” He stops. “When will I see you again?!” I cry out. He smiles that heart-melting smile again. “Tell you what! A year and a day from now! At this very place, on the hour when we first met! Is it a date?” I nod and smile. “A year! I’ll be waiting!” But as I drifted off with my sentence drowning in the noise of all the organized chaos of rushing military men, he had already disappeared.

‘A year and a day from now,’ I think to myself, ‘On June 6, 1945. I’ll be waiting, Bill. I’ll be waiting.’


*I had this dream on the night of 14 June 2012, but forgot to post it here.

Crimson Red & Tears of Glass

She was another face in the crowd; a girl, not very different from yourself. She attended her classes, received decent grades, worked hard. She lived life as normally as anyone else. Except…something was different.

There was something growing deep inside her. It used to accompany her every waking and sleeping moment for years - but then, through the hand of a Power higher than herself, she was released from it. And that was a miracle.

And then that moment occurred. A moment she had never thought she would experience so soon, so close, so personally. It shattered her life. Grief came. That’s when it returned. She had grown used to her life without it. But when it came back in a time of the harsh newness of reality, she welcomed it; a return of something familiar at last.

Crimson red.

It had only been with her for a few months…but as before, months - days, even - seemed like years. Now she could barely recall what life was like without it.

So many things ceased to exist in its presence. Genuine laughter. Emotions. Life. Instead, there was a void; a black canvas of sadness, lifelessness, apathy. She was alive, but she wasn't.

Tears of glass.

That was it then. Nothing in her life had any significance. Wake up, trudge through the day, toss and turn at night, repeat. And such was her life.

She was another face in the crowd; a girl, not very different from yourself. She attended her classes, received decent grades, worked hard. She lived live as normally as anyone else. Except…everything was different.

Life Hasn't Been Easy

It's past three in the morning, and I'm writing because it's been too long.  I still haven't determined if it's tip-toeing on the line of danger that I write my thoughts down in the still hours of the morning.  I am all at once (and yet not at all) monitoring what exactly it is that I put down, yet am recording every little thing.

Where to start?  There have been numerous times when I have wanted to sit down and type out my exact emotions and thoughts at an exact moment in time to discuss a reoccurring issue in my life.  But in the moment it comes up, I never rush to my keyboard to begin typing.  I hope it's because I'm prudent enough to wait until my emotions have settled down.  Then again, it could just be the cause of not having enough energy to type it all up.

As almost always, there are so many thoughts swirling around inside my head.  Being extremely tired makes it highly improbable that I'll actually write anything worth reading this time around.  But for the sake of just writing again, here I am.

Life hasn't been easy.  That is to say, it hasn't gotten any easier since my last significant post...back on August 15th.  In fact, I suppose you could say it's gotten worse.  Not that anyone would know...or notice, for that matter.

When I struggled with depression the first time, I wondered if I would ever live my life without it.  I wondered what life might be like without it.  And then I was delivered from it.  And soon the memories of waking up with it right there with me in the morning faded.  I began trying to remember what life was like with it, if only for the sake to remind myself of how I might help others who struggle with it in the future.

But ever since she left, it's come back.  As I've said before, it's different.  But because I haven't really done anything, it has continued to grow stronger.  I suppose I ignored it, because, in a way, it was like welcoming the return of an old friend.  Something I was familiar with.  And I needed something familiar, in such a time of drastic change in my life.

Now, here I am.  Waking up, and it's there.  I've begun to despise it again.  I don't feel hopeless, in the sense of never getting rid of it.  To be rid of it would be a matter of choice.  And I just haven't made the choice to do anything.  In a way, I don't want to.

It's mixed with a deep sadness that consumes me.  My heart that is permanently broken keeps me awake every night.  Tossing, turning, internally restless, unable to fall asleep until at least after 2 a.m.  Unable to speak of any of it to anyone.

So often people say, "My heart was broken."  But they don't really mean it.  Perhaps they think they do, but the phrase is overused so often.  I would say it's a much smaller number of people who know what it's truly like to have a broken heart.  It doesn't always have to be broken in the sense of romantic relationships, though.

Mine broke because of grief.  And loss.

It is broken.  There's no doubt about that.  It'll never heal.  Not fully, anyways.  But it's there, scattered in a million pieces like a thousand ripples across a pond upset by pebbles being thrown in by children.  I don't bring it up though.  People wouldn't believe me, or understand, if I were to tell them I have a broken heart.  Even my own parents wouldn't understand.  Which is why I keep it quiet, and feel frustrated so often from them not understanding why it's so difficult for me to fall asleep.  They think it's because of my sleeping habits, but it's not.  It's because of a broken heart.

It's easy to write about all of this.  But to talk about it is entirely different.  In the past, I would occasionally talk with others about cutting (not really depression), but it wasn't very often.  And it was never for very long.  I've still yet to understand how I can express my thoughts so easily on paper, yet stumble over them and ending up being misunderstood when I speak them.

And it's not something that's easy to talk about anyways.  I can't even talk about it with my best friend.  I either have to writer her a letter, or hope she reads what I blog.

Anyways, talk won't get me anywhere.  It won't help me, and it won't help the person listening.  Me, stuck in this place, always bring up the same issue every time I see a friend, because nothing has changed.

I remember back when I was in high school, and there were a few people that came along every so often that I told about cutting.  But I didn't talk about it often.  I feel like I did, but I think that's because I either wrote or thought about it every day.  And the thing is, the more you talk about something - as serious as it may be - the less people begin to listen to you.  Over-talking something kills the purpose and the power behind what exactly it is you may be speaking.  I suppose that's why I've decided I don't like to talk very much.  Not only because words hold power, but I want people to listen to me when I open my mouth.

I suppose that's it for this time.  Be warned, though, there will most likely be much repetition in future posts.  If only to try and explain myself in a different way.  There's so much more to say, but I want to get something out there for people to read.  To possibly understand if they can.  But the limitation of our experiences keep us from being able to completely understand a specific individual's position, much less even a large part of it, if we haven't gone through what they have.

Right.  Enough rambling.

The Future

I would say I spend a lot of time during my days thinking and contemplating and wondering.

Sometimes I think about my life; where I am now and what I'm doing.  And then I think about my future.  Not having any specific ideas of where I might be or what I may be doing, but the simple mystery of it all.  I must admit, it's all rather thrilling, not knowing where I will be in five years.  But what gets my heart racing is the fact that despite the unknown, I choose not to be afraid of it; rather, I greet it with open arms, for I know that my future is in the most capable Hands.

There have been several occasions in my past when an individual (or individuals) prophesied over me.  I have a small collection of paper and cards written by myself or others of what was spoken.  At times I read over them to remind myself of my Father's promises to me - to remind myself that I do indeed have a purpose.  Every time I read over these words, something within my spirit stirs.  These words ring true within me.  And they are not small, pretty, happy ideas.  I would dare say the majority of them hold the potential for great responsibility in the future.  It's all exciting and terrifying at the same time.

My life hasn't been one of complete normality.  There were several years of struggling with a darkness that constantly loomed over me.  By grace, I am now free.  And while I wouldn't wish upon anyone else to go through what I had to deal with, I would also not trade what I experienced for anything.  In a way, it was almost necessary for me to live through it all, for I would not be who I am today without it.

I feel like I was created for something great; something more incredible than anything my imagination can conjure.  I don't say this to boast.  I say this because there have been too many things in my life that have taken place to really believe otherwise.

Now you might be asking yourself, 'What brought all this up?'  I shall tell you.  A very simple conversation with my mother today, after I got home from school and asked her if she had made it to her appointment with our dentist.

She said she did.  Then she laughed and proceeded to tell me what the dentist had said about me.  She basically said that he is impressed with me, because most people my age don't have it as together as I do.  That he believe I will succeed in anything that I wish to try.

This man sees me twice a year.  Once every six months.  And only for about five minutes at that.  So for a total of ten minutes a year over the course of three years, that's on half of an hour.  One half of an hour that I've seen and partially conversed with this man, and he goes and states how he thinks I can do anything.

I don't even really know what to say.  I feel as though God is yet again speaking to me through another person who really has no idea to what extent the effect their words have made.  It's not the first time in my life that someone who barely knows me has made an observation that manages to ring true.

People that know my story have told me I have a powerful testimony.  That God's got an incredible plan for my life.  But honestly, I don't see how my story is as powerful as others make it out to be.  It's just me sharing what I've been through and how I'm alive because of God's grace.  I know He can use it for great things; He will use it for great things in the future, I'm sure.  I'm aware that it's been said that those who struggle more (or are attacked more), have it happen because of the potential they have.  Meaning, people who seem to go through so much, and struggle to no end for years, do so because God has an incredible plan to use them in unimaginable ways.  Is this the case for me?

Sometimes I have to ask, "Why me?"  Not out of false humility or not thinking 'how on earth can God use someone like me?' but out of sincerity.  Why me, of all people, of all humans, out of all my siblings, even, does God seem to have some incredible plan for my life?  I know that someone who has the mere job of being a janitor can bring just as much glory to God as someone who's in a high position of power.  And wherever He places me, I pray that I'll be content with being there, just to bring Him glory.

At the same time, I know that my future holds something really big.  What it may be, I've no idea, and I'm okay with that.  I know it's all in His timing.  But right now I feel so unsure.  I know I'm not ready to be in that place, but that's okay.  I'm where I'm supposed to be for now.  And along the way, He'll continue to mold me into the person that I need to be for whatever He may be calling me to do.

Yesterday (21.8.2012)

       Scents and sensory perceptions and sounds brought so many memories to mind. It was one recollection after another, barreling in like a dam that was too weak, and broke from pressure. Summer days and sounds of a child’s laughter, swirling with the feel of fresh air gently tiptoeing in from open windows, the smells of jasmine and fresh laundry dancing around lightheartedly, and the sky filled with soft shades of white and blue.
       It was as if the past was right in front of me. Seeing things that had once occurred, yet will happen never again. A painful reminder that the one who no longer is, will never again be with me. Feeling a sense of distant fondness with the fresh closeness of a broken heart. Memories that will forever be rooted within.

It was a day of melancholy and nostalgia.

Swimming in Sadness; And Other Random Thoughts

Being able to feel things so deeply can be a wonderful thing; yet, it can also be the result of many sleepless, restless nights. Unfortunately, when it comes to grief, I don’t see being able to feel it to such an extreme as a good thing. My heart will forever be broken by her now permanent absence in my life.

There’s this sadness that is swimming around within me. It’s threatening to drown me on a daily basis. Depression may be a state of mind, but it’s also an emotional state. The best way I can describe it is like this: it can either be a permanent sinking feeling – a pit of sorts – in your stomach, or it can be as if a heavy weight is placed upon your heart. Sometimes, it’s even both, as if this invisible line of twine is connecting the two. Experiencing both at once is worse than experiencing one or the other singularly at a time.

It’s different this time. Those three years that it was with me was intensely a spiritual aspect, on a very large scale. This time, I suppose it’s more of a cause of both intense grief, mixed with crazy emotions; each having their own colour, and each scribbling their own messy pictures of tangled yarn on the white paper that is my soul.

Needing ten hours of sleep is bad enough when I’m not dealing with internal chaos; but when dealing with a mixture of so many things, ten hours doesn’t even begin to be close to what I need. How am I to explain that to my parents though? Their insistence that I get up in the morning is bad enough, but to try and explain something they aren’t able to understand (due to lack of experience) is even worse.

Can you really be free from something if you still secretly wish it was currently in your life? Maybe, but I don’t think so. So then, does that mean I was not truly free? Or was I free, but when the desire for it to be there mean that I am not as close to Jesus as I should be? For by being close to Him, it means desiring Him above all else – especially that of a past which no longer has me bound.

I know that by returning to this, and taking matters into my own hands, that I’m not entrusting it all to Jesus. Which is wrong. So why am I afraid to just release it all to Him? Perhaps because of the so many recent occurrences of feeling out of control, I need something to do in order to make me feel calm and secure. Of course, this isn’t the best way, but it is what I know.

And how do I explain it to people who have only recently come to my acquaintance? Those who have known me for years and have seen the things I’ve written or heard the things I’ve said or even watched the actions that I put forth, know and understand to a certain extent the things that I say. But those who haven’t known me for long, may not be able to understand how to take it. I’m not even sure if I would be able to actually explain things to them.

You would think that I would have known better than to return to something that can be so captivating and tormenting all at once. And I did know better. But I still chose to ignore rational thinking, logic, and hindsight (as well as that still, small voice), and charged right on ahead – returning to the old way when emotions and stress and lack of control became too much.

There’s no way I can explain any of this to those who are in authority over me. I hold my privacy very dear in the first place. Talking about emotions of this kind isn’t something that I do often (much less like to do). Take that, plus not being able to explain to them the deepness of these emotions, the brokenness of my heart, and the return of the past, and you’ve got one big mess. Because these things just can’t be explained.

I feel trapped. I don’t know what to do. I wish I could just travel for a bit, get out of town (preferably state), and then come back with that crisp, fresh perspective that always seems to greet me at home after I’ve been gone. But not being able to go, having no way of getting out, no place to actually go, and no money to get there has made things rather difficult. I’ve been here too long without leaving for a small break. And when a person is in one place (and a difficult one at that) for so long, it’s of little wonder as to why tension keeps building up.

Many more topics have yet to be processed and recorded. This one is filled with cryptic ramblings that most people who read will not understand. And that’s okay. It’s more for myself than any one, but to the ones it’s for, you know me well enough to understand my references.

A later time will uncover more subjects.

Late Night Thoughts

I’ve been in this place before. Having these distinct marks on my body, and wanting someone to see them. Not just anyone, mind you. Usually I have a specific person in mind. But I’ve realized, that maybe it’s not necessarily wanting an individual that I’ve found myself attracted to, to see. I suppose it’s more just wanting someone to grab my arm, see these cuts, look me in the eyes, and then draw me into a hug; not speaking a word, but at the same time, saying everything through that one action.

I feel like Connie Kendall. “I guess I just expect too much out of these moments.” Not once can I recall in my life that a specific scenario that I’ve imagined in my mind, has played out exactly as I envisioned it. Life never was, nor will it ever be a movie. Things to not happen in the manner in which I directly them internally. I know that I cannot expect others to understand or care…and I haven’t expected that for years. I’ve learned that it is best to keep silent and not speak of it. I don’t want pity. I never have. Perhaps, though, I have occasionally yearned for genuine sympathy.

I do not do this for attention. I never have. I do admit it is an easy escape. But what does it matter? Nothing else has worked. I suppose that goes to show that I’m not letting Jesus control things or fix what is broken. Yes, this does mean that I’m taking things into my own hands…but at this point, I feel as if I must. What other way is there? Presently, I feel as though this great heaviness upon my heart shall never be lifted. Therefore, a distraction is necessary…vital, even. But to what avail? Shall I give in once more to these demons that capture me with just one kiss of a sharp edge? And that one time shall lead to another, and then another, until freedom will look bleak, as it did before.

Is there no way to escape this pain?

Fail-safe Mode: Emotional Shutdown & Abounding Maybes

So maybe I don't know how to deal with grief.  Maybe I'm sick of emotions.  Maybe I'm scared to dream and scared to allow myself to love and be loved.  Maybe I don't want to live with this broken heart for the rest of my life [even though it's inevitable].  Maybe after having not cut for over a year, I am back to day one.  Maybe I can't handle stress and pressure when it comes from family members.  Maybe I'm pushing Jesus away. Maybe I'm pushing everyone away, because I just can't take it anymore.

Despite it all, I will do what must be done.  I will break contact with people; no, not to be dramatic or try to gain attention, but because at the moment, it's what's best for me.  And for them.  I'm not safe to be around, currently.  I won't be for a while, I imagine.  I just need to sort things (everything) out.  My emotions are currently shut down, in fail-safe mode, because I can't handle them.  I can't really handle much of anything.  Not that I mind.  It's nice to be dead to things for a while...

Personal Ramblings on Hate & Love

Life.  Why do we make it so much more complicated than it has to be?  Lately it just seems that I want to hate every one and every thing.  And how ridiculous is that?  My energy drains so much more quickly when I'm angry and upset, as opposed to when I'm happy and content.  And yet I still allow myself to be affected by the smallest of things.

I could say that I have no idea why I'm acting this way.  But that would be a lie.  I'm acting this way because of a very simple reason: I am allowing my self, my flesh, to control my actions and my decisions, as opposed to letting God control my life.  It is because I am not letting myself grow in my relationship with my Saviour...rather, I am doing nothing at all to draw nearer to Him.

Maybe I find it easier to hate than to love.  To love means pain and hurt.  It means disappointments and the breaking of promises.  Don't misunderstand me - I know that love can also be a wonderful thing to possess.  But hating everything means a very small chance of being hurt, no expectations will be crushed, and my life can't be ruined (yes, I know that makes no sense to you).

Is it, perhaps, that I'm scared to be loved?  I have no problem loving other people.  Loving others is something that I love to do.  Of course, there are those people in my life (even some family members) that I find it hard to love.  And I am far away from being perfected in love.  But that's why God called me home.  To learn to love certain family members fully with His heart, so that I will be able to fully love those who aren't family with His heart.  I'm sorry to say it's something that I've failed to make any sort of progress in within my past year of living at home.  I'm even more sorry to say that it's something I'm currently failing at in this present time.

But what happens when I reach that point?  The point of being perfected in love?  To say that it's impossible would be a falsehood.  It is possible to be perfected in love, otherwise the Bible wouldn't have said it to be so.  And once I'm perfected in love, that means my life will be void of fear.  What would that even feel like??

Today's culture and society has such a twisted view on love.  I know it could be very easy for me to fall into the twisted mindsets that so many others have trained themselves to think in.  Things such as:

'What if I'm broken and find it hard to love?  Maybe when someone comes along and sees me as I am, they'll love me for that.'

'I don't ever want to fall in love.  It's too much work.'

'Marriage is a terrifying thought.  I don't ever want to get married.'

'What if they love me and I change?  Will they still love me then?'

It's very possible that I am the reason why I'm not being perfected in love.  Wait.  Let me rephrase that.  I am the reason why I'm not being perfected in love.  I'm not allowing God to rule over every area in my life...especially my heart.  And if I'm not submitting to Him, then of course I cannot attain that which I hope to achieve.

But it's more than that.  My fear of being loved by someone else may be what's keeping me from wanting to fully love others.  I can't even wrap my mind around the idea.  And how can I accept the love of some other human individual, if I can't even accept the complete, total, and unconditional love of Jesus?  Is that my problem?  That I won't allow others to love me?

Here I was, thinking that my self-esteem has come such a long way from what it used to be a year ago (and believe me, it has).  But apparently, I still have much further to go.  How can I love others if I won't allow others to love me?

There's so much to think about, to ponder, to contemplate.  I don't even know where to begin.  I don't even know if I want to begin.

That's all for now.

On Why I Don't Want To Fall In Love

Falling in love.

For some people, it happens so easily. They’re friends, they begin to feel attraction, they date, they marry, the end. It can happen in a romantic setting, it can happen in a very plain and simple way. It may even “just happen.”

But this is something that I struggle with. It’s funny, because I didn’t used to. Growing up, I was just like every other little girl who planned to someday marry (and possibly start a family). Even just a little over a year and a half ago, love and marriage was something that I wanted. Lately though, it’s something that I’ve been fighting against. Let me give you some history.

Growing up, I had my share of “crushes” on guys. Back when I was in middle school, I was okay with the idea of dating. When I got into high school though, my perspective and standards began to change. Due to a talk with my cousin and a couple of dreams, I realized that my first kiss is important to me. What came with that was the desire and firm decision that should I ever date, I would do so with marriage being the end goal in mind. That being set, any time I found myself liking a boy, I would go through a certain process to compress and eventually disintegrate the emotions completely. I first asked myself: is he a Christian? In all instances it was a no. But on the one or two occasions that it may have been, I would remind myself that I was not ready to get married. And so after that, with prayer, determination, and help from God, those emotions would quickly squander away.

As I found myself growing older with age, more often random bouts of loneliness would occur. In my limited knowledge and perspective, I thought this was an ache that would one day be filled with I found my future spouse. Until then I was resigned to just deal with the [occasionally extreme] internal pain…often expressing it though bouts of sobbing.

One day, through being in a highly God-centred environment where my knowledge was broadened and perspective changed, I realized something. That ache that I had was not something that could be filled with the love of a spouse. It could really only be filled by God. Which may not make sense, seeing that God was already a part of my life since birth. But I realized the truth of it. That ache could only ever be fixed when I became satisfied with Jesus and His love. There was also something else I realized that coincided with loneliness. There were times in my life when I felt as though God was far away from me. Hidden, gone, whatever other ways there are to describe it. When reading the book Passion For Jesus, by Mike Bickle, he wrote about the times when we feel lonely and as though God is far from us. He likened it to a father with his little child. When a dad plays hide and seek with his son in the backyard, and hides behind a tree, he makes sure that a part of him – perhaps a leg, or a hand – is sticking out, so that the child will easily find his parent. It’s the same way between us and God. God will purposely hide himself from us; not to make us feel lonely or punish us, but so that when we feel as if He’s away from us, instead of ignoring it or giving up trying, we’ll push forward and pursue seeking Him. When we do so, He’ll reveal Himself in a way that will be incredible. So both of those things helped me realize that I don’t have to feel lonely anymore. And I haven’t ever since.

There was one time, almost two years ago, when I found myself falling for someone. Through a series of events and occurrences, I began to believe that they were the person I would eventually marry. Now, even though I thought this, I did not act on anything. I kept my thoughts to myself, and surrendered my emotions over to God on a daily basis.

You know how when you like someone, you look for little hints or signs that may show how they’re “the one?” I fell victim to that, but not in the normal way. I won’t go into specifics, out of concern that the same might happen to whoever may be reading this, but to me – at the time – they seemed rather logical and sensible. One of them was something to the effect of ‘I’m not looking to like anyone right now. I just want to focus on God. These feelings don’t seem to want to go away. Does that mean something?’ I have always been able to curb my emotions when I didn’t want to deal with the unnecessary need of liking someone. But these feelings seemed…different. Obviously, things did not go the way I thought they would. And I’m glad. Because it wasn’t right; it wasn’t God’s plan.

Don’t misunderstand me though. Due to my extreme caution and awareness with the possibility that things may not work out like I thought they might, and through the daily surrender of emotions to God, and keeping my focus on Jesus, my heart wasn’t broken. It was never in a place where it could have been. I know now that it was a very good thing that things didn’t happen as I wanted them to. Because what my Father wants for me and has planned for my future is better than anything I could think of or want.

Now though…now I don’t want to “fall in love.” I don’t ever want to fall into the game of anticipation and misery. Wondering if he likes me, thinking he does, letting my feelings progress, feeling devastated when I realize it was all in my mind. Love is a fiend and trickster.

I don’t ever want to let my hopes get up prematurely. Thinking about someone and letting those thoughts wonder, only to later feel miserable and turmoil from the tug of war that love has pulled you in to is something I will no longer deal with. Despite what a friend of mine told me years ago, you can control whom you like.

There are multiple reasons for why I do not want to fall in love. I suppose the biggest reason of all is this: When I find myself becoming attracted towards someone, I have the potential to let my mind dwell only on thoughts and feelings toward that individual. That being the case, my focus and my love no longer rests solely on Jesus. Instead, it deters from Him and in placed on someone else. From the past experience of putting someone in the place that only God should take in my life, I don’t ever want to go back there. My main worry and desire is that I should be in a place where I’m satisfied through dissatisfaction, and my relationship with Jesus is so strong, that there will never ever be the danger of someone taking His place in both my heart and my life.

I would rather remain single until the day I die learning to be satisfied in Him, than to marry and let my spouse take the place of God in my life. So until I reach the point of pure dedication and complete devotion to my Saviour, I pray that I will not be distracted with love and its tricks. Should I ever dare to fall in love, I hope against all hope that every single step will be clearly seen and understood by both people involved. That the path I may go down will be by His leading and that He will be the one guiding me down it.

The Best Father In the World (A True Story)

Let me tell you a story.

     Several years ago, there was a young girl who was struggling both with depression and self-harm. One night, after finding out that a letter she had written to a friend had been read by both her mother and father, she freaked out. At the time, she was home alone with her dad. When she heard the news, she was determined to walk out that front door, and never return. But before she could open it very far, her father placed his hand on the door and shut it. This caused her to begin screaming and crying, running around the house trying to get out every possible way she could, over and over again. At each exit, her father was there to block her. Then, at one point between the door to the garage and the front door, she was standing still, screaming, drowning out the words her father was trying to say to her. Then before she knew what was happening, she felt the palm of her hand harshly strike his left cheek. There was a long moment of silence. And then he spoke. “Go ahead. Hit the other one.”

     My father is an amazing man. Highly intelligent, full of wisdom and knowledge, logical, hard-working, caring, speculative, extremely humourous, a leader, humble, always ready to give advice, a man of God…and so much more. He is that man in the story written about. I am the girl. And I will never, as long as I live, forget that moment when my father lived out a Biblical principal right before my eyes. (“…But whoever slaps you on your right cheek, turn the other to him also.” Matthew 5.39)

     My dad is my hero. And he and I are a lot alike. We think the same way, approach many things in life in a like manner, enjoy the same foods and activities, have the same sense of humour…you can tell we’re related. ;)

     Growing up, there were things I did that put my parents through hell. And yet they still manage to love me and be there for me no matter what. And they still are. I love how I can approach my dad any time, about any topic. I can go to him as he’s about to drift off into sleep and ask him to pray for friends of mine that he hasn’t ever met, and he’ll do it. I love how when I call him and I’m away from home, our “short” phone calls are at least a half an hour long. I love it how in any conversation we have, he always brings the topic around to Christ, and how we should incorporate things into our daily lives. When he speaks, people listen, because they respect him and his opinion; he doesn’t use his words in a frugal manner. His words show where his heart is – centred on Christ and living his life for Him. In general, he inspires me.

     So here’s to you, dad. For working as often and as hard as you need to so that you can support us and give us a life without needs. For loving me despite my faults, my immaturity, and my mistakes. For showing your love for me when you discipline me, because you care about me too much to leave me the way I am – and how in your discipline, you are an example of how God is a Father to us all. (“My son, do not despise the chastening of the Lord, nor detest His correction; for whom the Lord loves He corrects, just as a father the son in whom he delights.” Proverbs 3.11,12)

     Thank you for all that you’ve done, all that you are doing, and all that you will do. Thank you for being an upright, Godly man who is full of integrity. Thank you for being an example and inspiration to me. Basically…thank you for being you.

"I'm in love with the idea of falling in love, but not with the actual occurrence of it.  With a human, at least.  I can say that I fall in love on a daily basis - with the way shadows from the trees dance on the grass, with the smell and sight of spring blossoms, with the sound of a gentle breeze teasing the redwoods - I find it all romantic and inspiring.  But to fall in love with a person?  No thank you."

A Tribute

This is my grandma. Or Oma, which is the name I’ve known her by all my life. Today is her birthday. She’s 87 years young.

My Oma is an amazing woman. I can confidently say that I can count on one hand the number of women in my life that I have found to be such an incredible example and unceasingly inspiring to me. And Oma has to come at the top of that list.

Whenever I sit down and talk with her, such a myriad of subjects come up. She’ll tell me stories of her childhood in the old country (Germany). She’ll recount to me occasions of her life after moving to the States. And always, always, she will bring up God - what He’s spoken to her, what He’s done in her life, and just words of encouragement and extreme wisdom of things that she has learned in all her years of living.

The very fact that our conversations always drift towards God and who He is, is one of the greatest examples of just how incredible Oma is. In Luke 6.45 it states “A good man out of the good treasure of his heart brings forth that which is good; and an evil man out of the evil treasure of his heart brings forth that which is evil: for out of the abundance of the heart his mouth speaks.” Basically, whatever you put into your heart, whatever you spend the majority of your time doing, watching, etc. is what will come up most in everyday conversation. And by speaking with my Oma, and God always coming up in our conversations, it truly shows what is in her heart.

But it’s more than that. Her life is just one example after another of obedience to God, her love for Him, and what it truly looks like to live for God. It’s not as if she’s gone through torture or years of suffering, but what she has been through, she has allowed her eyes to always be focused on the Lord and obey Him when He speaks to her.

If I will ever become half of the woman that she is, I would be more than blessed. I love you, Oma. And I’m so blessed to call you family. I look forward to the years we have together - both here on this earth, and in our eternal home. Thank you for being who you are; an incredible woman of faith, a loving mother and grandmother, an inspiration, example, and, well, you.

Happy Birthday.
I love you.
<3

One Year, and the Meaning of it All

       There are a lot of things that have gone on in my past that most people don’t know about. And that’s okay. Because it’s in the past, and all of those things aren’t happening anymore in my life; therefore, there is no need to neither focus on them nor speak about them.

       But my past defines me. What has taken place, who I’ve met, what I’ve done – all of it, every single bit, both good and bad – has shaped me into the person that I am at this very moment. And what is happening, what will happen, who I know, who I will know…will all continue to shape me and define who I am.

       Exactly a year ago to this day, I did something. Something that I no longer do. Something that has been absent from my life for exactly 365 days. I cut for the last time.

       For those of you who have known me for only a short time (from now, up to the past two years), you don’t really know what I used to struggle with. You don’t know what kind of person I was. How every time I cut off communication from people – whether it was not replying to e-mails, or deactivating my Facebook account – the friends of mine who had known me for a few years, were instantly worried. Every single time. They had to wonder if I was just too overwhelmed with depression to even try to make the effort to keep in touch, or if I had finally committed suicide.

       Among other things, I struggled with severe depression and cutting for three years. Every day depression was there to greet me. Every day thoughts of suicide overwhelmed any other thoughts I might have had. Every day made me wonder if there really was any hope left to behold.

       Through a series of what can only be defined by God-oriented events, I was placed in an environment where God was the centre of everything. Which is when He really began to change my life. I gave up cutting. Months later, I was prayed over, and was freed from depression as a result of those prayers.

       Sometimes we fall though (despite our best efforts not to). After six months of not cutting, through very different and difficult circumstances (and a moment of weakness due to frustration, anger, and the feeling of being out of control), I cut. And the moment I did, I knew it was a mistake. It set me back very, very far. It made the next week or so extremely difficult, I cut off contact with everyone I knew, and I felt like such a failure. I felt that I couldn’t approach God because I did something I knew I should have never done.

       But because of His unending and unconditional love, His grace is always there to save us. I spent the better part of this past year just working back up to where I had been before I cut. Through all of that time, and the difficulty of it, God was always faithful. He was always there to provide me with strength, guidance, wisdom, encouragement…basically, all that I needed.

       Currently, I have reached and passed where I was a year ago, in the spiritual sense. It took a long time, with many setbacks due to my own selfish nature, but here I am. I’m better, healthier, and happier than I ever was before.

       I know who I am. I know that I am the child of the Creator of the universe. I know that I have a Father who loves me no matter how many times I fall or fail. I know that He provides for me, that He heals me, that I live by His strength and not my own (2 Corinthians 12.9), that I owe Him my life, that He is always, always faithful (2 Timothy 2.11-13). He has done so much in my life, and even what He’s doing currently is so overwhelming, so wonderful, so humbling, and I am in a constant state of awe because of it.

       A year. Three hundred sixty-five days. Five hundred twenty-five thousand six-hundred minutes. Two years ago, I never thought this day would come into existence. But here it is. All due to God’s grace and love, I have not cut for an entire year. I don’t want a day to go by in my life where I don’t [sincerely] thank God for the grace He’s given me. I want to continue to be so humbled by His grace, that I am drawn to tears like I am now, thinking about the grace He’s given me.

       So thank you God, for Your grace. Let me never take it for granted. And let me give those around me the same amount of grace – if not more – that You’ve given me. Help me to continue to serve You with my very being. To continue to surrender every area of my life over to You. Let me be just as faithful to You, as You will be faithful to me for the rest of my days. So be it.


You gave Your life for mine, so how can I not do so in return?

An Introvert's Woes

I'm a major introvert.

And if there were a scale to measure the extremity (or lack thereof) of how introverted an introvert might be, I would be on the extreme end. Like, a 15 between a 1 to 10. Or 150% from 1% to 100%.

Basically, I like to be alone. A lot. All the time, if I could. But school, God, and other things keep me in places and situations where I need to be around people.

Depending on the individual or group of persons, the group dynamic, the place, and so many other factors, I tend to get drained easily by being around people. Sometimes it takes no more than 5 minutes. Sometimes I can go for a few hours. But never have I been able to go for more than 5 than needing to get away and be by myself, if not just for a few moments.

I used to tell people that I met (and became friends with), that I'm an introvert. That I can only stand being around people for so long. With that explanation of my type of person, I have gotten a range of reactions over the past couple of years:

"What? That's dumb."
"I know you've mentioned that, but I guess I just don't believe you."
"I think you think you're more of an introvert than you really are."
"What's wrong with you?"

We live in a world that is primarily filled with extroverts. I understand that. I understand that when you come across someone who actually enjoys being alone for days on end, it may be hard to understand from someone's perspective of loving to be around people or hating to be alone.

{Perspective determines reality.}

Just because we live in a world of people who get their energy from being around others, doesn't mean we have to call those who are different from us strange. Or think that there's something wrong with them. Or that they need to be fixed. Because they don't. It's how they were created, and it's okay that they're like that. It's okay that they're introverted.

Should they let it be a crutch? No. Sometimes life calls for being around people for hours on end. Sometimes God has something else in mind for us and wants us to be around people to encourage them and spend time with them and show them that we care for them (and when that's the case, He always gives us the strength we need to complete that task).

We get by. We survive. But we shouldn't let our introvertedness become an excuse to not spend time with people.

For the most part, I've accepted that people will not understand me when I tell them about my perspective of group settings as an introvert. And because of that, I've stopped explaining it to them. Sometimes there's a moment when it feels like an appropriate time to bring it up, and I will. At those times, people either get it, or they don't. They usually don't.

I have to admit, though, it has been rather hurtful and disappointing when I've told both friends and acquaintances about my major introvert self, and they've responded in disbelief or negatively (usually the only other friends who actually get it are fellow introverts). I know it's hard for them to see how it can actually be true that people drain my energy levels.

It would be so appreciated though, if someone were to actually hear what I was saying to them, and say, "I understand." To have an extroverted friend not say that something's wrong with me, or that they don't believe me, but to actually treat me like I'm just like them, but with different ways of dealing with people. To say that they believe me, that I'm still normal, and that hey, if I need to leave the group in the middle of something, I don't have to worry about people chasing after me thinking somethings wrong, when all I need to do is be alone to re-energize. That people wouldn't feel obligated to come up to me and talk to me in a group setting when I'm standing outside of the group, or am by myself in a corner observing everyone else, because they feel obligated to engage me in conversation.

I know that these issues will continue to happen during my life. And for the most part, I've accepted that others won't really accept the fullness (or any) of what I've explained to them about being an introvert. Which is okay. Because as long as I (and God) know my limits, I can take care of myself when I need to, and just step away from people when the time comes for me to be alone.

To be an introvert.

Today (22.3.2012)...

Has been crazy.

Last night I went to Bible Study at the Gents, because I had been looking forward to it ever since Spring Break began (Wednesday nights are the highlights of my week, usually). I then arrived home, ate dinner, and set in to working on catching up my reference book in order to turn it in for the test I had today in math, as well as double checking to make sure I knew what I needed to know to do well on the test.

At 2 a.m. I decided to take a "I'm gonna make chocolate chip cookie dough to eat!" break. That lasted for about 15 minutes, give or take a few. And then I went back to working on math things, listening to Leeland in the background, occasionally stopping to worship God and bask in His presence, and then continued math. I stayed up until 4.30 a.m.

Morning came, and I woke up at 8.30 a.m., which was admittedly tough to do. However, I (as always) immediately put on worship music, got my focus on God, and just instantaneously stepped into that place of relying on His strength (as I well should have, for this semester has been all about that), and not my own to sustain me.

{As always, He was faithful, and I felt quite rested and functional, despite the lack of sleep.}

I made it to the bus stop, took the bus to school, and took my math test (I did pretty well on it, though I don't have that "solid A" feeling like I had last time).

After math, I was in the library, composing a letter to a friend, posted my rendition of "To Shave or Not to Shave" on Tumblr, and met with my group members from my speech class to figure out some finalities of our project. I then wrote a little more, and caught the bus back to town.

As I was walking home from the bus stop, I was contacted by a kid I knew in Fort Bragg who now lives in town and was interested in going to Solid Rock (his cousin was with him as well). Running on four hours of sleep, and wanting to take a nap at home before starting on this evening's homework, I wasn't planning on going anywhere. But for the sake of being a friendly face in a crowd of unknown people, I decided to go to Solid Rock.

It's funny how Jesus just throws us in for a loop at times. I wasn't unhappy about this turn of events, and I knew that deciding to go was my choice. I also knew that it's what Jesus had in mind for me, and so I was happy to oblige. Walking home, running on four hours of sleep, basking in the glorious sunshine of today, and rejoicing that He knows what's best. I can't tell you how exceedingly happy I was to go to a place I didn't plan on going to for the sake of being a friend and risking going into the negetive levels of energy by being in a social setting.

{'Tis so sweet to trust in Jesus <3}

I tried finding a ride, but it seemed like it wasn't going to work out. After having exhausted all my options, I was about to let my friend know that I wasn't able to make it, when he texted me, and said he wasn't going to be there this time around because he was going to do something with his family. I laughed. From the beginning, instead of being put out by a change of plans (and that's a biggie for me, because change and I are mortal enemies), I rejoiced in being able to live and follow God's plans, as opposed to my own. And in the end, it was really a test of obedience. Which I was happy to oblige.

I was able to take a nap (a necessity this semester, it seems), and then woke up feeling much more rested and being able to focus on tonight's homework.

All in all, God is incredible. I am so glad that I am in a place where I was willing to obey and follow Him at a moment's notice, as opposed to wanting to do my own thing. I am in awe that He has allowed me to rejoice in something that I saw as a trial (for in ways, it was).

{Every day is one day closer to becoming like Christ. And every day is filled with a deeper passion to live a life of holiness and purity.}

Goodbye 2011; Hello 2012!

So.  An old year has passed, and a new one has begun.  An event like this can certainly be cause for reflection - and I am no exception to this result.

A new year can be seen as many things.  A time of fresh perspective, multiple opportunities, potential adventures, another year to add to life...just to name a few.  And the passing of an old year can be seen as having the chance to learn from what we experienced; not to let our past hinder us, but instead give it the room to shape us into better people, to help us learn what not to do in certain areas (and what to do in others).  And both the passing and coming of years gives us the chance to be thankful for so many things: new friend, the continuation of old friendships, family, life...who knows what else, because there's so much to be grateful for.

It is an intense experience for me to look back on this past year, and see where I have come from.  Starting out 2011 with traveling out of the States for the first time in my life.  Spending two months abroad in three different countries on a missions trip; discovering a lot about myself and some of the less-than-lovely aspects of my personality in some situations because of that.  But also having the chance to live in a different culture, and to start friendships with people who live half-way across the world from me.

Then there was coming back home, and getting used to being back in an environment different than the one that I had been living in for seven months.  Back home where the struggles that I had been freed from, held the strongest reminisce.  It definitely took a few months for me to get back into the swing of "normal" living (especially since change itself is something that is hard for me to used to).

Another aspect of being back home was because it's where God was calling me to be.  To love my family - but, more specifically - to love my mom.  I've never really gotten along with her, and there have been some rough run-in's in the past.  During my time of attending my DTS, and praying that God would give me His eyes to see others as He sees them, and to give me His heart to love others as He loves them, He showed me that until I'm able to love my own family, fully and completely with His heart, I wouldn't be able to fully love those who aren't family.  So that was a big reason (the only reason, really) for my returning back home.

In April/May, there was the family road trip: crossing four states to reach the Midwest to visit some of my older siblings, and see one of them graduate from college.  That was a very trying time.  Exhausting, drama-filled, and I was definitely not up to par spiritually-wise.  It's not the fondest memory I have of the year.

Occasionally, there were the trips down to the little coastal town a few hours away to visit relatives and multiple friends, as well as getting a break from home and all its changes, and just resting, seeking God, and getting re-energized.  A couple of those trips resulted in quietly going back home much sooner than expected due to one reason or another.  (Okay, so sometimes I have a flare for the dramatic...it's definitely toned down from the level it was at back when I was in high school.  Ha.)

And then in the summer returned two old acquaintances of mine - school and work.  I took a few summer college courses online, to get back into that little niche.  Also, my dad needed my help at his business, so I was there quite a bit as well.  I was quite a bit more diligent in work, going when he needed me, not complaining as I did when I was younger.  My perspective changed.  I saw it as an opportunity, and took advantage of it.  More than just an opportunity though, it was God giving me the chance to be faithful in something, and I think I proved that I could be faithful to work when it was needed.

Through the experience of work, I realized, with my newly shined lens on life, that I needed to pay tithes.  You would think growing up in a Christian home all my life would mean that I already knew that I should do something like that, but it didn't.  (You'd think it would have had even more of an effect being a preacher's kid, but it still didn't.)  So I began to do that.  Every check, every gift of money, any and all sources of finances...I payed tithes.  Joyfully.  It is because I was beginning to see that my source of income was only happening because God was giving me those opportunities.  So with that amazing realization, I was decidedly determined (and still am) to give back to God, what He's given to me.  And I love doing it.

Summer came and went.  The fall semester of college started.  All of my classes [again] were online, because I was still getting used to being back in a learning environment (in the case of schooling, classes, and regular homework, inter alias).

There was also the discovery, via my sister, of an amazing, encouraging, overall wonderful Bible study that takes place on Wednesdays, and I began happily attending.

Another significant occurrence was that of God providing a semi-regular job.  I say semi-regular, because it's only every other Saturday.  I have the wonderful opportunity to get on my knees and scrub, clean, and make everything sparkle at a little barber shop in my city.  When that opportunity presented itself, I saw it as God saying "You've been faithful in giving to me more than what I ask of you to in tithes, so I'm going to - once again - prove My faithfulness to you, and give you this job for some income that you need."

My sister was another wonderful thing about this year.  After graduating from college, and then returning to Israel for her third time, she came home the day before my birthday.  And she's been home since.  It's been a little rough at times having her back, because we've both changed (me, more than her, because I'm not who I was at all when she left home for college).  But I've loved having her back.  She's good for me.  Most of the time I'm serious, and I approach life that way.  She gets me out of that mode.  Makes me laugh a lot, makes me sound way more obnoxious than I really am, gets me out of the house sometimes to be social (otherwise it really would never happen).  I'm so thankful for her, and for her being able to be home for a few months, instead of her normal time of a couple of weeks or so.  And in March, she'll be shipping off to boot camp for Marines, so I'm trying to get as much time with her as I can. :)

In the midst of such a crazy and event-filled year, between all the ups and downs of my spiritual life, and during all the harsh and beautiful moments of life, God was there.  He's been there for every bit of it.  I've learned so many things from Him.  Some highlights are as follows:

- No matter how many times I've left Him, abandoned Him, denied Him, or whatever the situation may be, He Himself has remained faithful to me. (2 Timothy 2.11-13)
- He is my provider.  From giving me a small source of income because I was proving faithful through paying my tithes, to answering a prayer about money.  (It was actually getting Government funding for school...money which, by all natural standpoints and circumstances, should not have been granted to me...but it was all the same.)
- He's given me so much more grace than I deserve.  Which is why it's called grace (or unmerited favour).  I don't deserve it, yet He has given it to me, is giving it to me, and will continue to give it to me.  (Now we're working on me extending that same grace - and more - to those around me, whether they deserve it or not).
- He showed me how to be perfected in love, that I might not dwell in fear.  I've had some pretty big fear issues in the past...the biggest one being the fear of death.  When reading the book of 1 John multiple times one week in March, I was reading over the verse that says perfect love casts out fear (1 John 4.18).  In wondering how to be perfected in love so that all fears would leave me, I was reading over chapter four, and a few verses prior to verse 18, it gives the answer!  It says "...If we love one another, God abides in us, and His love has been perfected in us (verse 12)."  What a wonderful realization, and one that has been so relevant to my life, especially being back home and learning to love my family with God's heart.
- Prayer.  It's such a powerful tool - it can be argued that it's the most powerful tool that we, as Christians, have access to.  It can change people, change nations, change the spiritual realm.  It's incredible, and I'm sure I've barely scratched the surface in my discovery of just how powerful it is.
- The armour of God.  I realized how vitally important it is that I arm myself with it every single day.  Because on the days that I don't, I'm more susceptible to attacks from the enemy - whether it be him trying to push depression back on me, getting irritated easily, or any other number of things.  It's a good thing to remember that we are always in a spiritual battle, and if we don't properly arm ourselves, it can only bode ill.
- God uses me.  And I'm so humbled by it.  He can use me to pray for others, to encourage them, or even to just lend a listening ear.  I want Him to continue to use me in any way possible, without my own self getting in the way (or my pride, which is even more likely).  He's spoken through me to encourage others in such minor, and even major, ways that have helped them in some way, shape, or form.  And when I find out about times when I've talked with someone, or even just said something that I didn't think mattered at the time, God has taken what I've said or done, and used it to help a friend.  Every time I think about it, I am so honoured that He would choose to use me in such ways, as small as they may seem.  Because they aren't small to the people who have been affected, and they aren't small to me, because any way that He can use me to reach others, is something that I am willing to have happen.

I'll leave it at that for now.  Those are only some of the highlights that I can think of, but I'm sure there's so much more that God's done - both big and small, but all significant.  I'm so grateful for everything that has passed with 2011.

And so here's to the new year, my dear, dear friends.  Here's to a year that beholds the unknown.  Here's to a year that is filled with seemingly impossible dreams waiting to be fulfilled.  Here's to a year that is just waiting to be lived.  Here's to a year that holds the unthinkable.
Here's to the past; not that we might live in it, in it's regrets and mistakes, but that we may learn from our less-than-honourable choices, and use them as road maps to guide us to make better choices.  Here's to the present; may we use it properly in the sense of not letting such a gift go to waste.  Here's to the future; no matter what it may have in store, we know that we can remain in God's peace, because when we surrender our lives to Him, He will make sure to keep us safe, healthy, joyful, prosperous, and every other wonderful thing.

“My love be with you all in Christ Jesus.”
- 1 Cor. 16.24