Thursday night was a rough night for me.
I had an almost-closing shift at work, and then was scheduled to open the next morning. This meant that by the time I got home, I had about one hour to do things like eat dinner and wash my hair before heading to bed if I wanted to get a decent amount of sleep. That didn't happen.
While I could have used my time more wisely doing things I actually needed to do, I instead spent some time re-energizing. I also decided to talk to my dad about something I wanted him to pray about for me, and that took longer than intended as well. By the time I was heading to bed, it was well after 2200.
But as I was climbing in bed with the intent to go to sleep, I found that sleep was the last thing on my mind. Instead, I was feeling anxious, internally restless, and a lack of peace. This was probably thanks to the topic of conversation I had with my dad, and talking about it brought all these things.
To clarify, I was asking him if he could be praying for me for help with getting my stupid emotions under control. The past couple of months there's been this boy (man...whatever) with the most adorable smile coming in to my work. And by cause of my stupidity and carelessness, I have found myself building up my feelings more than intended, both by thinking about this boy and talking about him to other coworkers too much. And if I had paid more attention to where things were going, I could have easily squelched any feelings that came up, but now that it's gone on for a decent amount of time, I find that I'm having trouble letting them go.
So while I have prayed and given these things up to God, I still find myself thinking about that smile, and thinking about it means I'm taking these feeling back into my own hands. That isn't something I want. So here I am praying and giving all this over to Jesus every time it comes to mind.
And that's what was causing the chaos inside of me Thursday night.
But it's funny. Because as I was climbing into bed, thinking about these feelings and how I want them to go away, a more prominent desire resurfaced in my mind: I want to fall in love with Jesus. It completely overtook my being.
So there I am, sitting in bed, knowing that I won't be able to fall asleep because of the lack of peace I'm feeling, but also because I have this burning desire within me to just spend time with Jesus right this instant. And after making a quick journal entry, that's what I do.
I open my Bible and begin to read. Chapters that I know and am familiar with, that will encourage me in my faith and my walk with God, chapters that will remind me of the peace which surpasses all understanding, chapters that tell me how to be perfected in love so that fear will be cast out. And I read and read and read.
And I continued reading until that anxiety, and lack of peace, went away, and my spirit was calm and reminded of the truth and goodness of God.
It was an encouraging thing for me. My emotions were all over the place, inside my head was a canvas of chaos, but my spirit reminded me of the thing I long for most. That while I was having trouble and difficulty giving up feelings I let build up that I shouldn't have let build up, I am at a place in my walk with Christ where my deepest desires remain the same. Where one thing matters more to me than any thing else - to seek Jesus first and foremost, and pursue Him above any one or any thing.
I read my Bible, giving up sleep because I knew that spending time in the word was best. Spending time with Jesus is best. So while I didn't fall asleep until after 2300, and woke up at 0400 the next morning, getting those 4 hours of sleep was little sacrifice. Knowing, remembering, that spending time in the presence of God not only brings fullness of joy, but also peace.
"Funny, though. I find that even though this stupid thing is going on, my mind thinks all the more 'Jesus. I want to fall in love with Jesus.' I take heart in this. Now it is up to me to spend more time with Him, being in His presence, hearing His voice. It is He, more than any other, that I desire."
(20 November 2014, Thursday, 2215, #284)
Saturday 22 November 2014
Monday 10 November 2014
Confidence
When I was a teenager, my self-esteem was non-existent.
You know how people pretend to have low self-esteem, or are falsely humble, and say things like "Oh, I don't think I'm that pretty. Just average looking, really," and other such things? They're only saying things like that to be complimented, or to be affirmed in regards to how good looking they think they are. I said things like that, but the difference between me and those people, is that I wasn't pretending.
I thought that I was worthless. I thought that if people knew the real me, they would be scared off and run away. I had to act like I was happy, instead of showing my sorry, sad, depressed self, because I was being a "downer." No matter if people complimented my looks or not (and it didn't happen that often), I definitely did not think I was pretty. Don't get me wrong, I didn't think I was hideously ugly or anything, just average-looking; but that was pretty much the same thing in my mind.
My, how things have changed.
My confidence did not come overnight. It did not come quickly. It still can be shaken every once in a while, but I surmise that is because that area of confidence was found in the wrong place, and was a part of pride.
In fact, I think it's safe to say that my confidence did not fully spring up until after I was 22. It started getting better when I was 19, when things changed in major ways in my life. But it still had ups and downs between the ages of 19 and 22. It was still determined by sources that were loosely grounded, that crumbled easily. And so it got shaken a lot.
Now, I cannot tell you how people see me. I don't know if they see someone bursting with confidence when they look at me. I can only tell you of things from my perspective, and how I see me.
My confidence is found in a foundation that is strong, safe, and unshakable. It is found from the one constant thing in my life, the One thing that remains the same yesterday, today, and forever. My confidence stems from who I am in Christ.
Who am I in Christ? you may ask. I'll tell you. In Christ, I am:
- Alive
- Free from the law of sin and death
- Holy and without blame before Him in love
- I have received the spirit of wisdom and revelation in the knowledge of Jesus
- I lack nothing because God supplies all my needs according to His riches and glory in Christ Jesus
- I can do all things through Christ
- I am more than a conqueror
- I am the light of the world
- I am healed by the stripes of Jesus
- I don't have the spirit of fear, but of power, love, and a sound mind
- Etc. etc. etc.
Now I no longer worry about things like what people think of me, whether they like me or not, or if I'm seen as beautiful. I have found that I can be completely and totally myself - my completely strange self - because I am confident of who I am. If people don't like me, that's fine. I will still love them as Jesus commands me to do in John 15.12. If people think bad of me, that's okay. I'm not here to make others happy - the only thing I'm worried about is whether or not I'm properly reflecting Christ to those around me.
As for being seen as beautiful, that's something that I never really think about anymore. Sure, my imperfect complexion still - on occasion - makes me feel less presentable. But I have to remind myself that it's not about how I look. If people judge me based off my looks, they aren't the kinds of people I want to be around or concern myself with anyways. As long as I'm presentable and my looks fit for where I'm going (work, hanging out with a friend, etc.), that's all I care about. I don't look in the mirror and pick apart my face, like how big my nose looks, or my imperfect skin.
I no longer judge myself based off of my beauty or lack thereof.
And let me tell you, it is the most freeing thing. Being unconcerned with my looks and even my body figure gives my mind so much more freedom. I am able to think about things that matter, things that hold more value. I joke a lot about my looks ("Gosh, it's so hot in here" "Oh sorry, I'll leave"), but I'm not egotistical or vain. To me, looks no longer matter. I still don't think I'm gorgeous or beautiful, and would place myself on the "slightly pretty" side of the scale. But that's not the point.
The point is, is that looks don't matter to me. I don't concern myself with where I stand in that regard. I don't care if people see me as pretty or not. It's as if my mind doesn't register or focus on that subject anymore. And it's changed how I look at people around me, too. I still acknowledge if someone has good looks, but it's not my primary focus, you know? Words are what I listen to; actions that speak for the person. These things are much better ways to judge the character and integrity of a person, rather than how good they look or not.
I have found confidence, and the source from where it comes. It means I can be me, completely, and it gives me freedom. There is no one better to find your confidence from, than the Creator of the universe. The one who sees you as perfect, complete, whole. The one who knows your future, the greatness you're capable of, the person you are meant to be.
There is no surer thing than the confidence you find, when you know who you are in Christ.
You know how people pretend to have low self-esteem, or are falsely humble, and say things like "Oh, I don't think I'm that pretty. Just average looking, really," and other such things? They're only saying things like that to be complimented, or to be affirmed in regards to how good looking they think they are. I said things like that, but the difference between me and those people, is that I wasn't pretending.
I thought that I was worthless. I thought that if people knew the real me, they would be scared off and run away. I had to act like I was happy, instead of showing my sorry, sad, depressed self, because I was being a "downer." No matter if people complimented my looks or not (and it didn't happen that often), I definitely did not think I was pretty. Don't get me wrong, I didn't think I was hideously ugly or anything, just average-looking; but that was pretty much the same thing in my mind.
My, how things have changed.
My confidence did not come overnight. It did not come quickly. It still can be shaken every once in a while, but I surmise that is because that area of confidence was found in the wrong place, and was a part of pride.
In fact, I think it's safe to say that my confidence did not fully spring up until after I was 22. It started getting better when I was 19, when things changed in major ways in my life. But it still had ups and downs between the ages of 19 and 22. It was still determined by sources that were loosely grounded, that crumbled easily. And so it got shaken a lot.
Now, I cannot tell you how people see me. I don't know if they see someone bursting with confidence when they look at me. I can only tell you of things from my perspective, and how I see me.
My confidence is found in a foundation that is strong, safe, and unshakable. It is found from the one constant thing in my life, the One thing that remains the same yesterday, today, and forever. My confidence stems from who I am in Christ.
Who am I in Christ? you may ask. I'll tell you. In Christ, I am:
- Alive
- Free from the law of sin and death
- Holy and without blame before Him in love
- I have received the spirit of wisdom and revelation in the knowledge of Jesus
- I lack nothing because God supplies all my needs according to His riches and glory in Christ Jesus
- I can do all things through Christ
- I am more than a conqueror
- I am the light of the world
- I am healed by the stripes of Jesus
- I don't have the spirit of fear, but of power, love, and a sound mind
- Etc. etc. etc.
Now I no longer worry about things like what people think of me, whether they like me or not, or if I'm seen as beautiful. I have found that I can be completely and totally myself - my completely strange self - because I am confident of who I am. If people don't like me, that's fine. I will still love them as Jesus commands me to do in John 15.12. If people think bad of me, that's okay. I'm not here to make others happy - the only thing I'm worried about is whether or not I'm properly reflecting Christ to those around me.
As for being seen as beautiful, that's something that I never really think about anymore. Sure, my imperfect complexion still - on occasion - makes me feel less presentable. But I have to remind myself that it's not about how I look. If people judge me based off my looks, they aren't the kinds of people I want to be around or concern myself with anyways. As long as I'm presentable and my looks fit for where I'm going (work, hanging out with a friend, etc.), that's all I care about. I don't look in the mirror and pick apart my face, like how big my nose looks, or my imperfect skin.
I no longer judge myself based off of my beauty or lack thereof.
And let me tell you, it is the most freeing thing. Being unconcerned with my looks and even my body figure gives my mind so much more freedom. I am able to think about things that matter, things that hold more value. I joke a lot about my looks ("Gosh, it's so hot in here" "Oh sorry, I'll leave"), but I'm not egotistical or vain. To me, looks no longer matter. I still don't think I'm gorgeous or beautiful, and would place myself on the "slightly pretty" side of the scale. But that's not the point.
The point is, is that looks don't matter to me. I don't concern myself with where I stand in that regard. I don't care if people see me as pretty or not. It's as if my mind doesn't register or focus on that subject anymore. And it's changed how I look at people around me, too. I still acknowledge if someone has good looks, but it's not my primary focus, you know? Words are what I listen to; actions that speak for the person. These things are much better ways to judge the character and integrity of a person, rather than how good they look or not.
I have found confidence, and the source from where it comes. It means I can be me, completely, and it gives me freedom. There is no one better to find your confidence from, than the Creator of the universe. The one who sees you as perfect, complete, whole. The one who knows your future, the greatness you're capable of, the person you are meant to be.
There is no surer thing than the confidence you find, when you know who you are in Christ.
Tuesday 14 October 2014
To Be a Servant of All
It's a funny thing how once your focus in life shifts, that the things you think about shift as well.
About a month ago or so I decided to set aside apathy and giving in to sadness, and to set my priorities straight. To get my eyes back on Jesus, and to - once again - make Him the centre of my life. Partly because I was done living day to day doing nothing to strengthen myself spiritually, and partly because I wanted to begin to prepare myself for this coming winter. What with the sun rising later and setting sooner, the hours of daylight become limited, and that means not so much time in the sunshine (if there aren't any clouds blocking it). I'm one of those people who is somewhat affected by the weather and lack of sunlight. So focusing on Jesus and building up my spirit is a preemptive strike to stay strong in the coming months.
As this change has been happening, and my focus has become sharpened and fixated on the One who is stronger than me, my thoughts have been changing. In just a couple of weeks I went from responding to things (in my head) angrily and with not-so-good words, to being more at peace, and having no problem or temptation to saying things that don't reflect Jesus in a good light. I think about things like healing and faith and what true surrender really looks like.
These aren't new topics to me. I've thought about them several times before. But they have always been subject to contemplation when my life is surrounded by the intent to look to Christ. These are the same topics that I thought a lot about when I was in my DTS. They are the things I think about now as I'm striving and seeking to serve God.
Serve.
When I was in my DTS, I tried to stay behind the scenes a lot. People mistook that as me trying to serve and be like Martha in the New Testament. Really, it was just me more wanting to be out of the line of sight of as many people as possible, and still get things done. I love being anonymous, being behind the scenes, doing good, but not letting people know that I'm the one doing the things I'm doing. If that makes sense.
I did also seek to serve during that time. To serve the people around me. Especially those I didn't really like or get along with. Because what better way to see people as Christ sees them, and to love them as He loves them, than to serve them?
Serving others has been one of the many things I've been thinking a lot about. How to be a servant to others. What opportunities are there to serve? And where? For me, work is the main answer to that, as I spend most of my time there. Not only to serve the customers, but to serve my fellow coworkers as well. Looking for opportunities to help others out. To live by the phrase I once heard and had strived to live out before: "If you see a need, meet it." Whether that means seeing an area that needs to be swept and no one else is bothering to sweep it, to make someone else's bed if they forgot, or to volunteer at a community even that is desperate for help - things like that.
A couple of weeks ago I was reading in the gospel of Mark. Chapter 10, verse 45 says this:
"For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give His life a ransom for many."
This is what I want. To be like Jesus; to be a servant of all. To be led by His voice and guided by His hand and to serve in any way I can. To be a light in the midst of darkness. To glorify Him in all that I do. To be so completely and wholly surrendered to Him that I am a complete reflection of Christ.
Because if Jesus came to serve and serve all those around Him, that is what I want to do as well.
About a month ago or so I decided to set aside apathy and giving in to sadness, and to set my priorities straight. To get my eyes back on Jesus, and to - once again - make Him the centre of my life. Partly because I was done living day to day doing nothing to strengthen myself spiritually, and partly because I wanted to begin to prepare myself for this coming winter. What with the sun rising later and setting sooner, the hours of daylight become limited, and that means not so much time in the sunshine (if there aren't any clouds blocking it). I'm one of those people who is somewhat affected by the weather and lack of sunlight. So focusing on Jesus and building up my spirit is a preemptive strike to stay strong in the coming months.
As this change has been happening, and my focus has become sharpened and fixated on the One who is stronger than me, my thoughts have been changing. In just a couple of weeks I went from responding to things (in my head) angrily and with not-so-good words, to being more at peace, and having no problem or temptation to saying things that don't reflect Jesus in a good light. I think about things like healing and faith and what true surrender really looks like.
These aren't new topics to me. I've thought about them several times before. But they have always been subject to contemplation when my life is surrounded by the intent to look to Christ. These are the same topics that I thought a lot about when I was in my DTS. They are the things I think about now as I'm striving and seeking to serve God.
Serve.
When I was in my DTS, I tried to stay behind the scenes a lot. People mistook that as me trying to serve and be like Martha in the New Testament. Really, it was just me more wanting to be out of the line of sight of as many people as possible, and still get things done. I love being anonymous, being behind the scenes, doing good, but not letting people know that I'm the one doing the things I'm doing. If that makes sense.
I did also seek to serve during that time. To serve the people around me. Especially those I didn't really like or get along with. Because what better way to see people as Christ sees them, and to love them as He loves them, than to serve them?
Serving others has been one of the many things I've been thinking a lot about. How to be a servant to others. What opportunities are there to serve? And where? For me, work is the main answer to that, as I spend most of my time there. Not only to serve the customers, but to serve my fellow coworkers as well. Looking for opportunities to help others out. To live by the phrase I once heard and had strived to live out before: "If you see a need, meet it." Whether that means seeing an area that needs to be swept and no one else is bothering to sweep it, to make someone else's bed if they forgot, or to volunteer at a community even that is desperate for help - things like that.
A couple of weeks ago I was reading in the gospel of Mark. Chapter 10, verse 45 says this:
"For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give His life a ransom for many."
This is what I want. To be like Jesus; to be a servant of all. To be led by His voice and guided by His hand and to serve in any way I can. To be a light in the midst of darkness. To glorify Him in all that I do. To be so completely and wholly surrendered to Him that I am a complete reflection of Christ.
Because if Jesus came to serve and serve all those around Him, that is what I want to do as well.
Thursday 7 August 2014
Secret Dreams
All day today I have spent feeling absent-minded, distracted, in my own world, my heart pounding.
I've been dreaming of the future.
I'm sure there that most of us have secret dreams that we wish we could live out. Things that we wouldn't waste another breath before saying yes to, if all the circumstances were right. Things that we don't bother chasing because of one reason, one excuse, that is in the way of our ability to go hard and fast after what we really want to do.
Over the years, there have been many things that I've wanted to become, to do with my life. But, as time goes on, those things have changed. Still, a few of those dreams still linger in the back corner of my mind.
At work today, I spent most of my spare time pondering one of the things that I wanted to be when I was younger. Something that is still a secret dream of mine today, should I be forced to admit it. People have told me that I should enter into this particular field of work, and I jokingly agree with them (while seriously wishing that I could have this particular job). I did some research on what it would take to go into this field, and, as expected, the requirements and guidelines are heavy. However, they are still attainable. Which means it's a possibility for me to actually make it into that line of work.
And so I spent today dreaming about what would happen should I actually seek to make it into that kind of work industry. My heart pounded. I felt sick to my stomach. But I also felt really, really excited. It is completely out of my comfort zone. Something that I have dreamed of doing on and off throughout the years, but never seriously considered. It was as though it was an unattainable goal for me. But researching it, poking my nose around to see what it actually entails, made me realise that it could actually be possible.
Though, as I mentioned already, thinking about it makes me feel sick to my stomach. It would require doing things new and unknown to me. Adventure, travel, and the like. Perhaps some risk and danger. As a loudly-proclaimed homebody who is hobbit-like in the sense of disliking adventure, it is exactly the opposite of what I would seek to do. At the same time though...it is something I think I would excel in; something I would really love to do.
So who knows? It's a dream. Like all dreams, no matter how crazy they seem, it is attainable. I figure at the very least, I can make plans for the next five years, including trying to get into this profession. Applying, and if it works out, it works out! If not, I can say that I tried. And even if I try and it works out, I can still change my mind. It's not set in stone, it's not the only path I will be allowed to stay on for the rest of my life.
I think it is time to seek and pray and listen. To make plans, to have goals set, but to be willing to change what needs to be changed to fit God's will. If the time isn't now, or isn't in the near future, that doesn't mean that it won't ever be time. It just means that I will have to remind myself to wait and be patient.
Now.
Back to dreaming.
I've been dreaming of the future.
I'm sure there that most of us have secret dreams that we wish we could live out. Things that we wouldn't waste another breath before saying yes to, if all the circumstances were right. Things that we don't bother chasing because of one reason, one excuse, that is in the way of our ability to go hard and fast after what we really want to do.
Over the years, there have been many things that I've wanted to become, to do with my life. But, as time goes on, those things have changed. Still, a few of those dreams still linger in the back corner of my mind.
At work today, I spent most of my spare time pondering one of the things that I wanted to be when I was younger. Something that is still a secret dream of mine today, should I be forced to admit it. People have told me that I should enter into this particular field of work, and I jokingly agree with them (while seriously wishing that I could have this particular job). I did some research on what it would take to go into this field, and, as expected, the requirements and guidelines are heavy. However, they are still attainable. Which means it's a possibility for me to actually make it into that line of work.
And so I spent today dreaming about what would happen should I actually seek to make it into that kind of work industry. My heart pounded. I felt sick to my stomach. But I also felt really, really excited. It is completely out of my comfort zone. Something that I have dreamed of doing on and off throughout the years, but never seriously considered. It was as though it was an unattainable goal for me. But researching it, poking my nose around to see what it actually entails, made me realise that it could actually be possible.
Though, as I mentioned already, thinking about it makes me feel sick to my stomach. It would require doing things new and unknown to me. Adventure, travel, and the like. Perhaps some risk and danger. As a loudly-proclaimed homebody who is hobbit-like in the sense of disliking adventure, it is exactly the opposite of what I would seek to do. At the same time though...it is something I think I would excel in; something I would really love to do.
So who knows? It's a dream. Like all dreams, no matter how crazy they seem, it is attainable. I figure at the very least, I can make plans for the next five years, including trying to get into this profession. Applying, and if it works out, it works out! If not, I can say that I tried. And even if I try and it works out, I can still change my mind. It's not set in stone, it's not the only path I will be allowed to stay on for the rest of my life.
I think it is time to seek and pray and listen. To make plans, to have goals set, but to be willing to change what needs to be changed to fit God's will. If the time isn't now, or isn't in the near future, that doesn't mean that it won't ever be time. It just means that I will have to remind myself to wait and be patient.
Now.
Back to dreaming.
Sunday 3 August 2014
In the months of May-August, weddings are pretty common. And when you're in your twenties, everyone around you is at that age of getting married and then starting a family. Well, not everyone, but it certainly seems to be everyone with how often it happens.
I have noticed that people who are my age, single, and female, tend to get emotional over weddings. They sigh, they laugh, they cry, they watch the joy of the bride and groom, wishing that they were the ones up there. Instead, they're alone, single, not taken. And as much as they love the sappy romantic atmosphere of a wedding, it also reminds them how alone they feel in the world.
I am not one of these girls.
I have no desire to be married, or be in a relationship. When I think about the things that marriage entails: companionship, intimacy, sex, sharing everything with someone else...none of these things appeal to me. I have tried not to be outspoken about my desire to stay away from marriage, because I don't want to seem like I speak out against it so much because I actually want to be married.
It's as if people don't seem to understand that a person would actually choose to be single. Some people long for someone to call theirs. Others cannot fathom not being in a relationship, so they go from boyfriend to boyfriend or girlfriend to girlfriend and are incapable of discovering who they are as an individual without someone by their side.
I am saying all this because I just got home from attending a wedding of two friends. Two people who very clearly love each other and couldn't wait to start spending the rest of their lives together. Who will probably begin a family within their first year of marriage.
But when I go to weddings...when I was at this wedding...I was there to celebrate for them. With them. But I wasn't stirred up with a longing to have someone by my side. I didn't have the desire to fall in love and find some dashing older man to call "dear." I was reminded of how I am content to be where I am, and happy that I don't have to deal with the turmoil of emotions that accompany being infatuated with someone.
However.
I did find my emotions stirred up in another way. I so easily and so willingly push away the desire to love and be loved by the people around me. Not from bitterness (never from bitterness), but from the fear of getting hurt. Of being too soft, too vulnerable, too open.
This is something I am trying to fix. To work on, to grow in, to surrender. But it is not easy. In attending this wedding, and hearing the words that were spoken, seeing the looks on the faces of the people, I did feel something stirring within me. Like Christ was there, softly speaking to my heart, trying to help push me in the right direction, showing me that love is worth it.
Because honestly, that is the one thing I struggle with most.
To know that love is worth it.
And truth be told, I know that love is worth it all. I know that Love is the most powerful thing in the world; Love is what conquered death. But knowing all these things in my head, is very, very different than knowing them in my heart. Once the full knowledge of these truths penetrates my heart, that - THAT - is when things can begin to move and change.
Perhaps I am standing in the way of myself. Deliberately refusing to let the truth sink in to where it can stir things up, begin to change them. It seems that fear is what is often the source of my being able to let things begin, go where they need to go.
And what a complex circle. For as it says in 1 John, "There is no fear in love; but perfect love casts out fear, because fear involves torment (4.18)." So to live a life absent of fear, I must be perfected in love. But learning to love is something I fear, so I prevent myself from being perfected in love.
I don't know. I am tired, exhausted from all the human interaction of the day, and I have to go to work tomorrow. I am sure things will be more clear, less confusing, and more logical in the morning.
I have noticed that people who are my age, single, and female, tend to get emotional over weddings. They sigh, they laugh, they cry, they watch the joy of the bride and groom, wishing that they were the ones up there. Instead, they're alone, single, not taken. And as much as they love the sappy romantic atmosphere of a wedding, it also reminds them how alone they feel in the world.
I am not one of these girls.
I have no desire to be married, or be in a relationship. When I think about the things that marriage entails: companionship, intimacy, sex, sharing everything with someone else...none of these things appeal to me. I have tried not to be outspoken about my desire to stay away from marriage, because I don't want to seem like I speak out against it so much because I actually want to be married.
It's as if people don't seem to understand that a person would actually choose to be single. Some people long for someone to call theirs. Others cannot fathom not being in a relationship, so they go from boyfriend to boyfriend or girlfriend to girlfriend and are incapable of discovering who they are as an individual without someone by their side.
I am saying all this because I just got home from attending a wedding of two friends. Two people who very clearly love each other and couldn't wait to start spending the rest of their lives together. Who will probably begin a family within their first year of marriage.
But when I go to weddings...when I was at this wedding...I was there to celebrate for them. With them. But I wasn't stirred up with a longing to have someone by my side. I didn't have the desire to fall in love and find some dashing older man to call "dear." I was reminded of how I am content to be where I am, and happy that I don't have to deal with the turmoil of emotions that accompany being infatuated with someone.
However.
I did find my emotions stirred up in another way. I so easily and so willingly push away the desire to love and be loved by the people around me. Not from bitterness (never from bitterness), but from the fear of getting hurt. Of being too soft, too vulnerable, too open.
This is something I am trying to fix. To work on, to grow in, to surrender. But it is not easy. In attending this wedding, and hearing the words that were spoken, seeing the looks on the faces of the people, I did feel something stirring within me. Like Christ was there, softly speaking to my heart, trying to help push me in the right direction, showing me that love is worth it.
Because honestly, that is the one thing I struggle with most.
To know that love is worth it.
And truth be told, I know that love is worth it all. I know that Love is the most powerful thing in the world; Love is what conquered death. But knowing all these things in my head, is very, very different than knowing them in my heart. Once the full knowledge of these truths penetrates my heart, that - THAT - is when things can begin to move and change.
Perhaps I am standing in the way of myself. Deliberately refusing to let the truth sink in to where it can stir things up, begin to change them. It seems that fear is what is often the source of my being able to let things begin, go where they need to go.
And what a complex circle. For as it says in 1 John, "There is no fear in love; but perfect love casts out fear, because fear involves torment (4.18)." So to live a life absent of fear, I must be perfected in love. But learning to love is something I fear, so I prevent myself from being perfected in love.
I don't know. I am tired, exhausted from all the human interaction of the day, and I have to go to work tomorrow. I am sure things will be more clear, less confusing, and more logical in the morning.
Monday 16 June 2014
The Effect of Cooking (Alternate Title: This Isn't About Adam Young)
I don't know what it is, but there's something about cooking and baking that makes me feel nostalgic and reflective. As I'm sitting here typing this, my bedroom window is open to let the approaching Spring night's air into the house, greeting me like an old friend with its slight coldness and sweet smell. The house is filling with aromas of lemon and herbs and garlic as dinner is close to being finished.
Whenever I begin to create something, whether it be food or photography or artwork, the business of my hands often leaves my mind open to think and wander. Which is funny, because when I was younger, I used to love to think. To be left alone with my thoughts and ponder the things I have observed in life, the allegories I saw around me that could allude to our walk with Christ. But where I'm at now in life, being left alone with my thoughts and the heaviness of nostalgia is one of the last things I want to happen.
I am going to admit something here. As much as I love Owl City and the witty lyrics and the vibe Adam's music gives off (happy music is a good thing), I hate it just as equally. Why? Because it makes me want to fall in love. It doesn't even have to have anything to do with the lyrics. The sound of his music makes me want to experience that moment of being head-over-heels in love. Which is why I have done my best to not listen to his music for the past year and some few months.
Pair Owl City with cooking, and my thoughts go on a roller coaster of insanity.
Life is changing so quick and so swiftly lately. And for someone like me, change is hard to deal with. Of course, it depends on the type of change - little things here and there I can cope with. Big, life-altering moments that happen to the people around me that I'm close to, and you can't spell disaster any more clearly.
Is it possible to fall in love with someone whom you have never met? No. Because that's not really love. You only see a very small window of who that person is, and no matter how good they appear, they are still human and still have their faults. To love someone is to know both the good and bad about them, and choose to love them anyways. Choose. It's a choice to love, not an accident, not magic, not something you fall in to. It's a conscious decision.
At this time right now, I want nothing more than to shun love forever, to lock up my heart and throw away the key, to forever be done with the possibility of getting hurt. Life happens, people change, they come, they go, they promise to be around and then aren't. Depending on people, is a ridiculous thing. We are fickle creatures, white hot with passion one moment, and coldly dark the next. That isn't to say you shouldn't have friends that you can go to and build relationships with. You just shouldn't depend on them in ways that they will inevitably let you down.
So where does that leave me?
I am so torn between wanting to love without abandon, risking the cost of being hurt, if it means that it'll draw me closer to Christ. But at the same time, to love and to be loved - completely, fully, purely - scares me to death. And I can't help but wonder if it's worth the risk.
But then, I see people around me. People who have found love and who are so evidently joyful of what they've found. People who have loved and lost that love, yet still press on, hopeful that love will come again, that it is still worth loving.
And here I am, a person who has never been deeply hurt by a broken heart, taking preemptive strikes against the possibility of being hurt by refusing to make myself vulnerable.
I see people who are in my life, and people - like Adam Young - who are watched by the whole world; each person that I see desiring to seek God more, pursue Him first, and let love rule their decisions. And I want to be like that. I admire people who are so evidently hungry for more of Christ, and who feed that hunger by praying, worshiping, loving with all they have. I want to be like them, but ultimately, I want to be like Christ.
But my life is a twisted road going up and down hills. I seek Christ, something happens, I try to fix it on my own or lose focus, and then lose the progress I made. And back and forth.
I am sick of living like this. Of being up and down all the time. Of relying on myself more than I rely on Christ. My heart is screaming to be let out, to take off like a bullet, chasing after Jesus. To seek Him first, foremost, and always. This desire, this hunger, is waiting to be filled. To keep my eyes on the prize, not walking to the finish line, but sprinting towards it. To forget everyone else around me and only be concerned with what He thinks. To never be satisfied, never let go, but to use the tenacity that I've been given to struggle and fight for holiness, for purity, for love.
Perhaps it is time to take the risk.
Whenever I begin to create something, whether it be food or photography or artwork, the business of my hands often leaves my mind open to think and wander. Which is funny, because when I was younger, I used to love to think. To be left alone with my thoughts and ponder the things I have observed in life, the allegories I saw around me that could allude to our walk with Christ. But where I'm at now in life, being left alone with my thoughts and the heaviness of nostalgia is one of the last things I want to happen.
I am going to admit something here. As much as I love Owl City and the witty lyrics and the vibe Adam's music gives off (happy music is a good thing), I hate it just as equally. Why? Because it makes me want to fall in love. It doesn't even have to have anything to do with the lyrics. The sound of his music makes me want to experience that moment of being head-over-heels in love. Which is why I have done my best to not listen to his music for the past year and some few months.
Pair Owl City with cooking, and my thoughts go on a roller coaster of insanity.
Life is changing so quick and so swiftly lately. And for someone like me, change is hard to deal with. Of course, it depends on the type of change - little things here and there I can cope with. Big, life-altering moments that happen to the people around me that I'm close to, and you can't spell disaster any more clearly.
Is it possible to fall in love with someone whom you have never met? No. Because that's not really love. You only see a very small window of who that person is, and no matter how good they appear, they are still human and still have their faults. To love someone is to know both the good and bad about them, and choose to love them anyways. Choose. It's a choice to love, not an accident, not magic, not something you fall in to. It's a conscious decision.
At this time right now, I want nothing more than to shun love forever, to lock up my heart and throw away the key, to forever be done with the possibility of getting hurt. Life happens, people change, they come, they go, they promise to be around and then aren't. Depending on people, is a ridiculous thing. We are fickle creatures, white hot with passion one moment, and coldly dark the next. That isn't to say you shouldn't have friends that you can go to and build relationships with. You just shouldn't depend on them in ways that they will inevitably let you down.
So where does that leave me?
I am so torn between wanting to love without abandon, risking the cost of being hurt, if it means that it'll draw me closer to Christ. But at the same time, to love and to be loved - completely, fully, purely - scares me to death. And I can't help but wonder if it's worth the risk.
But then, I see people around me. People who have found love and who are so evidently joyful of what they've found. People who have loved and lost that love, yet still press on, hopeful that love will come again, that it is still worth loving.
And here I am, a person who has never been deeply hurt by a broken heart, taking preemptive strikes against the possibility of being hurt by refusing to make myself vulnerable.
I see people who are in my life, and people - like Adam Young - who are watched by the whole world; each person that I see desiring to seek God more, pursue Him first, and let love rule their decisions. And I want to be like that. I admire people who are so evidently hungry for more of Christ, and who feed that hunger by praying, worshiping, loving with all they have. I want to be like them, but ultimately, I want to be like Christ.
But my life is a twisted road going up and down hills. I seek Christ, something happens, I try to fix it on my own or lose focus, and then lose the progress I made. And back and forth.
I am sick of living like this. Of being up and down all the time. Of relying on myself more than I rely on Christ. My heart is screaming to be let out, to take off like a bullet, chasing after Jesus. To seek Him first, foremost, and always. This desire, this hunger, is waiting to be filled. To keep my eyes on the prize, not walking to the finish line, but sprinting towards it. To forget everyone else around me and only be concerned with what He thinks. To never be satisfied, never let go, but to use the tenacity that I've been given to struggle and fight for holiness, for purity, for love.
Perhaps it is time to take the risk.
Sunday 1 June 2014
It's another moment in time where the morning is approaching. I've been awake for hours, wanting to write, but not entirely sure how to go about turning the hurricane of words in my head into proper sentences. This has been my problem of late: wanting to write, but either having nothing to write about, or struggling with where on earth to begin.
But here is my attempt.
I'm sure I've mentioned before how for some reason, being up so late (early) my guard with my words is down. I become more open, more honest, more raw. My thoughts cannot be caged at this time, unlike during the day when I'm able to trap them and ignore their cries to escape by staying busy with work or other things.
You know the saying "be careful what you wish for," right? Or the more "Christian" version, "be careful what you pray for?" You pray for patience, but instead of God granting you exactly that, He'll present you with opportunities to exercise patience; and thus by exercising what you lack, you gain exactly what you prayed for.
I haven't prayed for patience, or anything at all, for that matter. I have, however, been seeking God in an area that I [so very clearly] desperately need changed. With anything, only so much progress can be made depending on my willingness, and just how much I actually hand over to God to be changed.
I suppose I can say progress has been made. Well, progress in the sense that I'm more open to being changed. And have prayed for those who struggle with the issue of not being fully open to love as well.
But then things happen. Event occur. Life changes. And these things make me want to seal up my heart more tightly than ever before, and be done with the whole process. Who needs love? Why risk getting hurt so deeply and so often? It's not worth it. Not if things like this are going to keep happening over and over and over again.
And I hate every single thing.
Then the emotions and the drama pass. And I'm able to calm down, to try to think about these things logically. While I have not been praying for opportunities to be open to love, or to accept that the possibility of being hurt is a part of love and life, I have been seeking change. Trying to let God have complete control over that area of my life. And it's kind of the same situation.
Events happen, and instead of building the walls I have already built up to new heights, I need to step back. Of course these things happen because life happens, and it's a normal part of life. But instead of hiding in a corner hoping it will all go away, will I do the right thing? Will I bring my cares, my worries, my insecurities, my wounded heart, my childishness to Jesus and surrender it all to Him? Will I cast them at His feet, letting it all go, and rest in His peace, knowing that whatever happens I am safe in His presence?
I so desperately wish that my initial reactions to the hard things that life throws at me would be to pick them all up, turn around, and run straight to Jesus. But I'm afraid that is not what I do. I pick up each thing, examine it from every angle, try to fix it with thoughts and logic. I wait until I am completely weary, broken, crushed, wounded, and still try to fix things on my own. It is only until I have no more strength to fight, when I give up.
But it's only just giving up. Not giving up and turning to Christ. Simply "I can't do thing anymore," and I set it all down and ignore it. I still don't turn to Jesus for help. And I am saddened that I don't do this.
So here I am. Awake, and the rest of the world is dreaming. The birds outside are beginning to wake, singing their morning songs. It's getting light. My thoughts are still jumbled, my heart still heavy, the world still feels upside down.
And yet, as always, there is hope. Because I know what my problems, what my weaknesses, are. And knowing this means that I know what needs to be fixed. I know what I lack, and Who to go to for help in the midst of all the chaos. Now it is only a matter of choosing what to do when the time for help comes. Will I once again try to fix things on my own, or will I turn to Jesus, who so obviously cares and loves me enough to take my burdens from me?
I sincerely hope that I will do what is best for me. That surrender will become second nature. That I'll once again rest in the peace which surpasses all understanding (Philippians 4.7).
"I feel your love that surrounds me
My world can shake but it won't drown me
'Cause I'm trusting you
No matter what I'm going through
That even when my heart breaks
And everything's shaken
I'm left alone in the rain
You won't, you won't, won't
You won't let me go
When life's insane
And everything's crazy
You carry me through the pain
And you won't, you won't, won't
You won't let me go."
Won't Let Me Go - Addison Road
But here is my attempt.
I'm sure I've mentioned before how for some reason, being up so late (early) my guard with my words is down. I become more open, more honest, more raw. My thoughts cannot be caged at this time, unlike during the day when I'm able to trap them and ignore their cries to escape by staying busy with work or other things.
You know the saying "be careful what you wish for," right? Or the more "Christian" version, "be careful what you pray for?" You pray for patience, but instead of God granting you exactly that, He'll present you with opportunities to exercise patience; and thus by exercising what you lack, you gain exactly what you prayed for.
I haven't prayed for patience, or anything at all, for that matter. I have, however, been seeking God in an area that I [so very clearly] desperately need changed. With anything, only so much progress can be made depending on my willingness, and just how much I actually hand over to God to be changed.
I suppose I can say progress has been made. Well, progress in the sense that I'm more open to being changed. And have prayed for those who struggle with the issue of not being fully open to love as well.
But then things happen. Event occur. Life changes. And these things make me want to seal up my heart more tightly than ever before, and be done with the whole process. Who needs love? Why risk getting hurt so deeply and so often? It's not worth it. Not if things like this are going to keep happening over and over and over again.
And I hate every single thing.
Then the emotions and the drama pass. And I'm able to calm down, to try to think about these things logically. While I have not been praying for opportunities to be open to love, or to accept that the possibility of being hurt is a part of love and life, I have been seeking change. Trying to let God have complete control over that area of my life. And it's kind of the same situation.
Events happen, and instead of building the walls I have already built up to new heights, I need to step back. Of course these things happen because life happens, and it's a normal part of life. But instead of hiding in a corner hoping it will all go away, will I do the right thing? Will I bring my cares, my worries, my insecurities, my wounded heart, my childishness to Jesus and surrender it all to Him? Will I cast them at His feet, letting it all go, and rest in His peace, knowing that whatever happens I am safe in His presence?
I so desperately wish that my initial reactions to the hard things that life throws at me would be to pick them all up, turn around, and run straight to Jesus. But I'm afraid that is not what I do. I pick up each thing, examine it from every angle, try to fix it with thoughts and logic. I wait until I am completely weary, broken, crushed, wounded, and still try to fix things on my own. It is only until I have no more strength to fight, when I give up.
But it's only just giving up. Not giving up and turning to Christ. Simply "I can't do thing anymore," and I set it all down and ignore it. I still don't turn to Jesus for help. And I am saddened that I don't do this.
So here I am. Awake, and the rest of the world is dreaming. The birds outside are beginning to wake, singing their morning songs. It's getting light. My thoughts are still jumbled, my heart still heavy, the world still feels upside down.
And yet, as always, there is hope. Because I know what my problems, what my weaknesses, are. And knowing this means that I know what needs to be fixed. I know what I lack, and Who to go to for help in the midst of all the chaos. Now it is only a matter of choosing what to do when the time for help comes. Will I once again try to fix things on my own, or will I turn to Jesus, who so obviously cares and loves me enough to take my burdens from me?
I sincerely hope that I will do what is best for me. That surrender will become second nature. That I'll once again rest in the peace which surpasses all understanding (Philippians 4.7).
"I feel your love that surrounds me
My world can shake but it won't drown me
'Cause I'm trusting you
No matter what I'm going through
That even when my heart breaks
And everything's shaken
I'm left alone in the rain
You won't, you won't, won't
You won't let me go
When life's insane
And everything's crazy
You carry me through the pain
And you won't, you won't, won't
You won't let me go."
Won't Let Me Go - Addison Road
Sunday 13 April 2014
An Excerpt
"...I became fed up. Tired of waking up to depression, feeling foggy-minded all the time, knowing that my life wasn't the way it was supposed to be. So I started to force myself to read the Bible first thing after waking up. I forced myself to pray because I needed to. And I force myself to look to Jesus in all situations.
"I know 'force' sounds like I'm unwilling to do those things, and I suppose I was to some extent. But it is mostly referring to the fact that I didn't FEEL like doing those things. And I didn't. And I still don't, at times. But I know that it is not about how you feel and that feelings are the last things you want to follow or rely upon for accuracy. To force yourself to do something will turn it into a habit, and then emotions will follow later on.
"David in Psalms commanded his soul to rejoice. This is the same concept. I am commanding my mind and spirit to be disciplined, and as I continue to do these things, they will follow suit, and it won't even be a matter of conscious choice anymore. I'm not at that point yet, but I am getting there. And Jesus is remaining faithful every step of this journey..."
15 September 2013; 1656
Sunday 30 March 2014
Sometimes Being Sick Is A Good Thing
It is about an hour away from midnight. I'm sitting in my room, cat curled up on my lap purring contentedly, my window is open just a smidgen, letting the fresh night air in. I heard a bird sing for a moment outside, and it lifted my spirit immensely.
I'm getting over being sick. Wednesday night I came to realise I had the flu, and I had to skip two days of work to recover. And as much as I disliked missing out on work and earning money that I need, it was nice to actually relax (as if you can call recovering from sickness relaxing) and catch up on some reading.
I don't know what anyone else is like when they get sick, but I get really loopy. I mean reallllllly loopy. Puns galore. I laugh at everythin- no, wait, I already laugh at everything I say...I just laugh 10 times more. And then the next day, everything that transpired between the time I was getting sick, to the time I actually was sick, is kind of a blur. I remember it, but not as detailed as I remember things when I'm not sick. I imagine that's what's like being drunk. And if it's that stupid, I don't want any part in it.
Moving on.
While recovering from sickness, everything just seems...amplified. And at the same time, it all seems really foggy and disoriented. If that makes any sort of sense. My brain is fogged and things aren't as clear as they should be. And the things that are amplified are fears and worries and things I don't like to think about because otherwise I get way to stressed and anxious and that is obviously not good.
I rather dislike it, actually. Being sick, having no work to keep my brain occupied, and suddenly things I've shoved aside and try to avoid thinking about are all over my thoughts and rushing around in circles. They build up and overwhelm me and I feel like I'm drowning in a sea of terror and anxiety. Which is not a lovely feeling at all.
And now I come to my point. Stress, anxiousness, worry - those are things that I do because I'm human. Because all humans feel these things. The problem, however, is that despite being human, I serve a God who is a God of peace which surpasses all understanding. Who tells me not to worry about tomorrow, because it's in His hands, and all I need to do is simply trust in Him. And when I do things like worry, fear, and stress, it shows that I'm taking things into my own hands, and not trusting Him, or surrendering those things that bother me over to Him. And that, very simply put, is wrong. Because if you had the choice, would you rather stress and freak out for the rest of your life, or very simply put your trust in the One who you know will never let you down and rest in His peace, never having to worry again? Personally, I'd go for the latter.
I suppose I'm saying I'm thankful that I got sick. Because in the midst of all the amplified fears and worries, it reminded me that feeling those things means I'm not trusting in Christ. And that reminder was needed. I'm glad my sight was pointed back in the right direction, on the One who is always faithful, who promises peace. And I'm going to do my best to put - and keep - my trust in Him.
I'm getting over being sick. Wednesday night I came to realise I had the flu, and I had to skip two days of work to recover. And as much as I disliked missing out on work and earning money that I need, it was nice to actually relax (as if you can call recovering from sickness relaxing) and catch up on some reading.
I don't know what anyone else is like when they get sick, but I get really loopy. I mean reallllllly loopy. Puns galore. I laugh at everythin- no, wait, I already laugh at everything I say...I just laugh 10 times more. And then the next day, everything that transpired between the time I was getting sick, to the time I actually was sick, is kind of a blur. I remember it, but not as detailed as I remember things when I'm not sick. I imagine that's what's like being drunk. And if it's that stupid, I don't want any part in it.
Moving on.
While recovering from sickness, everything just seems...amplified. And at the same time, it all seems really foggy and disoriented. If that makes any sort of sense. My brain is fogged and things aren't as clear as they should be. And the things that are amplified are fears and worries and things I don't like to think about because otherwise I get way to stressed and anxious and that is obviously not good.
I rather dislike it, actually. Being sick, having no work to keep my brain occupied, and suddenly things I've shoved aside and try to avoid thinking about are all over my thoughts and rushing around in circles. They build up and overwhelm me and I feel like I'm drowning in a sea of terror and anxiety. Which is not a lovely feeling at all.
And now I come to my point. Stress, anxiousness, worry - those are things that I do because I'm human. Because all humans feel these things. The problem, however, is that despite being human, I serve a God who is a God of peace which surpasses all understanding. Who tells me not to worry about tomorrow, because it's in His hands, and all I need to do is simply trust in Him. And when I do things like worry, fear, and stress, it shows that I'm taking things into my own hands, and not trusting Him, or surrendering those things that bother me over to Him. And that, very simply put, is wrong. Because if you had the choice, would you rather stress and freak out for the rest of your life, or very simply put your trust in the One who you know will never let you down and rest in His peace, never having to worry again? Personally, I'd go for the latter.
I suppose I'm saying I'm thankful that I got sick. Because in the midst of all the amplified fears and worries, it reminded me that feeling those things means I'm not trusting in Christ. And that reminder was needed. I'm glad my sight was pointed back in the right direction, on the One who is always faithful, who promises peace. And I'm going to do my best to put - and keep - my trust in Him.
Saturday 22 March 2014
Time For Change
Sometimes I just get really, deeply, intensely sad. Usually there's no reason for it, and I try not to think about the reason for why the sadness comes. Most of the time, it's shown by how much tea I drink. Don't ask me why, but I tend to drink a lot of tea when I get sad. A good sort of therapy, I suppose.
Tonight is one of those nights. Sadness has descended, and I am writing this post three cups of tea later. Forgive me if what I type is messy or incoherent. Late-night hours and being drunk on tea make for less than clearly executed written up thoughts.
I've mentioned before how love is a thing that terrifies me, and, for numerous reasons, marriage is something I never want to happen to me. This still stands. But in a culture that is so obsessed with "love" and being in the age bracket that I am, relationships, engagements, marriages, families are things that seem to be popping up left and right. So of course it's not really something I can avoid thinking about, because it's right in front of my face day after day.
But, there is a problem. Not wanting to love out of fear of being hurt, is not a healthy thing. I know this. I know that my dislike (fear?) of romantic love also is mixed with general love - as in, loving friends and family. I love the people in my life. Fiercely. But my fears keep me from loving them as much as I could. Or should. My heart is greatly capable of loving largely and deeply. But I don't allow it to reach those deepest depths of love. And I also suppose it keeps me from receiving love as much as I can as well.
I have never been hurt in the sense of romantic love. I mean, when I was younger, yes, there were the stupid junior high crushes that I had and cried over when finding out the boy didn't like me. But those were silly, childish things. And nothing that I haven't recovered from.
The only instance that I can think of being hurt to such an extent was when she died. And how painful it still is knowing she's gone forever. And while this has added to my preemptive strike of building up walls and keeping myself from loving too much, these walls were already in progress before her spirit left this world.
As much as I hate it, and as much as I don't want to let it go, I know I need to. I need to reach a place of being vulnerable, and allowing myself to accept the probability of pain that goes along with love. Not just for my own sake, but for the sake of those in my life. Friends. Family. God.
I hate saying this, but I need to let this happen. Let the Master Sculptor chisel away at the walls that I've built up so high, and form a new creation from the old. I can only make so much progress in my life, relationships, and walk with Christ before hitting roadblocks that I've set up. I'm getting in my own way.
I hate being soft. Or vulnerable. And I hate being hurt. I love cold, hard logic over irrational, stupid love. But how am I supposed to love like Christ if I'm keeping myself from loving or being loved in return? This isn't to say that I'm now ready for marriage. That is still a firm no in my mind. However, that no may change over time. It probably will, if I let my heart be shaped into its proper form.
I know I'm not the only one afraid of pain and hurt and loving fully. I have friends who feel the same way. And I know that one of the best forms of spiritual warfare, or ways to break things down, is to pray for others who have the same struggles or problems that I have. So. If you're reading this, and allowing yourself to love fully and be vulnerable is an issue for you, please let me know. I want to pray for you. And in turn, I hope you'll pray for me. And that way, by praying for each other, we'll make progress towards being more like Christ. More vulnerable. More open. More loving.
Tonight is one of those nights. Sadness has descended, and I am writing this post three cups of tea later. Forgive me if what I type is messy or incoherent. Late-night hours and being drunk on tea make for less than clearly executed written up thoughts.
I've mentioned before how love is a thing that terrifies me, and, for numerous reasons, marriage is something I never want to happen to me. This still stands. But in a culture that is so obsessed with "love" and being in the age bracket that I am, relationships, engagements, marriages, families are things that seem to be popping up left and right. So of course it's not really something I can avoid thinking about, because it's right in front of my face day after day.
But, there is a problem. Not wanting to love out of fear of being hurt, is not a healthy thing. I know this. I know that my dislike (fear?) of romantic love also is mixed with general love - as in, loving friends and family. I love the people in my life. Fiercely. But my fears keep me from loving them as much as I could. Or should. My heart is greatly capable of loving largely and deeply. But I don't allow it to reach those deepest depths of love. And I also suppose it keeps me from receiving love as much as I can as well.
I have never been hurt in the sense of romantic love. I mean, when I was younger, yes, there were the stupid junior high crushes that I had and cried over when finding out the boy didn't like me. But those were silly, childish things. And nothing that I haven't recovered from.
The only instance that I can think of being hurt to such an extent was when she died. And how painful it still is knowing she's gone forever. And while this has added to my preemptive strike of building up walls and keeping myself from loving too much, these walls were already in progress before her spirit left this world.
As much as I hate it, and as much as I don't want to let it go, I know I need to. I need to reach a place of being vulnerable, and allowing myself to accept the probability of pain that goes along with love. Not just for my own sake, but for the sake of those in my life. Friends. Family. God.
I hate saying this, but I need to let this happen. Let the Master Sculptor chisel away at the walls that I've built up so high, and form a new creation from the old. I can only make so much progress in my life, relationships, and walk with Christ before hitting roadblocks that I've set up. I'm getting in my own way.
I hate being soft. Or vulnerable. And I hate being hurt. I love cold, hard logic over irrational, stupid love. But how am I supposed to love like Christ if I'm keeping myself from loving or being loved in return? This isn't to say that I'm now ready for marriage. That is still a firm no in my mind. However, that no may change over time. It probably will, if I let my heart be shaped into its proper form.
I know I'm not the only one afraid of pain and hurt and loving fully. I have friends who feel the same way. And I know that one of the best forms of spiritual warfare, or ways to break things down, is to pray for others who have the same struggles or problems that I have. So. If you're reading this, and allowing yourself to love fully and be vulnerable is an issue for you, please let me know. I want to pray for you. And in turn, I hope you'll pray for me. And that way, by praying for each other, we'll make progress towards being more like Christ. More vulnerable. More open. More loving.
Monday 3 March 2014
Rain
It's past 1 a.m. and it's raining outside.
I hear the drops of water, pounding on my window, almost as if they're trying to force their way inside.
Have you ever thought about rain? I mean, yes, it comes down from the sky and gives life to plants and humans alike. But have you ever thought about it outside of its proper function?
Perhaps rain pounds against the windows because it has heard the pounding of a hand upon a door, and is trying to imitate the sound.
Maybe it wants to come inside, because the dryness of the air makes it cold, just like the rain itself makes us cold.
Could it be that rain has a different life span? Its life begins the moment it leaves the cloud, and ends the second it hits the ground. But what seems to us to be just few seconds in time, could be an entire lifetime to that single droplet of water.
What does rain see when it falls to the earth?
Does it feel the rushing of the air upon its body? Does the shape of the rain drop come from the speed at which it falls, and the air forced on it? Does it convey what it sees to the other rain drops around it, or all they all alone, unable to communicate with each other?
I'm sure if rain could speak, it would have marvelous tales to tell. Witnessing the homecoming of a lost soldier, the burial of a loved one, the birth of a new life. So many stories.
But perhaps being unable to speak, is what adds to the mystery of the rain.
Its silence of what is sees is somewhat a comfort.
For while it still seems to pound and sing as its life passes by, it brings feelings of warmth, coziness, and nostalgia to those who are inside, listening to its song.
It just may be, that next time you're outside in the rain, it would do you some good to put down your umbrella and just stand there, face up to the sky. To listen to the whispers of the rain. And let your being reflect upon those tiny droplets of water, making yourself a part of their seemingly short-lived lives.
I hear the drops of water, pounding on my window, almost as if they're trying to force their way inside.
Have you ever thought about rain? I mean, yes, it comes down from the sky and gives life to plants and humans alike. But have you ever thought about it outside of its proper function?
Perhaps rain pounds against the windows because it has heard the pounding of a hand upon a door, and is trying to imitate the sound.
Maybe it wants to come inside, because the dryness of the air makes it cold, just like the rain itself makes us cold.
Could it be that rain has a different life span? Its life begins the moment it leaves the cloud, and ends the second it hits the ground. But what seems to us to be just few seconds in time, could be an entire lifetime to that single droplet of water.
What does rain see when it falls to the earth?
Does it feel the rushing of the air upon its body? Does the shape of the rain drop come from the speed at which it falls, and the air forced on it? Does it convey what it sees to the other rain drops around it, or all they all alone, unable to communicate with each other?
I'm sure if rain could speak, it would have marvelous tales to tell. Witnessing the homecoming of a lost soldier, the burial of a loved one, the birth of a new life. So many stories.
But perhaps being unable to speak, is what adds to the mystery of the rain.
Its silence of what is sees is somewhat a comfort.
For while it still seems to pound and sing as its life passes by, it brings feelings of warmth, coziness, and nostalgia to those who are inside, listening to its song.
It just may be, that next time you're outside in the rain, it would do you some good to put down your umbrella and just stand there, face up to the sky. To listen to the whispers of the rain. And let your being reflect upon those tiny droplets of water, making yourself a part of their seemingly short-lived lives.
Tuesday 18 February 2014
Bonds of Love
I once wrote a post about how, for me, sharing memories is like baring a piece of my soul to someone. It's revealing who I am, making myself vulnerable by telling you a very personal and specific story from my past. This blog post is exactly that.
For the past few weeks, a certain memory has been on my mind. I have no idea why. Nothing significant has happened to bring this memory up, but yet, up it has come. It's from a very hard time in my life, and I suppose its purpose is to remind me how close my ties to my sister are. Because this memory stars her.
I was sixteen years old at the time. I had been cutting for several months already. Depressing had started, and was growing stronger and stronger, accompanied by suicidal tendencies.
Being around people was difficult. I always found myself anxious, jittery. Needing to constantly move, or escape and cut, just to wake myself up from the nightmare I was living.
This one particular night was no different. I was in the town next to ours, at a youth/college group with my sister and her friends. I went to this place a lot with her, but they were always her friends, them being her age and knowing her better then they knew me.
It was a really rough night. I felt like I was suffocating being around these people. Nothing wrong with them, just my inability to handle human interaction at the time. Which actually, was odd, because I needed to be around people to distract myself from the darkness that surrounded me, but being around people seemed to make it worse at the same time. Huh.
Anyways.
I couldn't take being around them any more. So, like always, I escaped to "go to the bathroom," and took my razor blade with me. My security blanket that I carried around with me everywhere. And used it everywhere.
I was sick of being alive. I was depressed. I didn't want to go to sleep that night, because I knew it meant having to wake up the next day and continue life.
I sat in a stall in the bathroom and held the razor blade in my hands. Contemplating slitting my throat. Wondering how deep would I need to cut (could I cut that deep?) in order to be able to bleed quickly and die soon. Thinking about who might find me and who would have to clean up.
I continued to sit there. Should I do it? Can I do it? I don't want to die, though. But I do. But I'm terrified of death.
I was tormented.
As close as I was to slitting my throat, I didn't. I say - and this is true - that I didn't because of my fear of death was stronger than my desire to stop living. But I am completely convinced that this fear (while all fear is not of God, and thus from the enemy) is what saved my life. An ironic situation created only by the grace of God.
The decision not to slit my throat being made, I opted to cut my upper arms several times on both sides. And after doing so, I just sat there and cried. Sick of life, sick of facing life, sick of my inability to end it all.
I was gone for a while. My sister, after 20 minutes or so, finally came to check up on me. She, being the sort to avoid intruding, stood outside the stall door, talking to me, asking me what was up, to come out and join everyone else, etc.
I was sitting on the floor, and my feet could be seen from the other side of the door. I quietly unlatched the lock and just let it sit. I didn't respond to anything she said.
After another 10-ish minutes, she finally opened the door. And she saw me. She saw my arms; saw the blood.
And then she did what she did next. Took some paper towels, dampened them with water, and cleaned me up as I continued to sit on the floor and quietly cry.
She cleaned me up.
And this is the memory that has been haunting my mind for several weeks.
People may or may not wonder why we're so close. But we are. She's my best friend. (She didn't used to be.)
But when you share your life with someone in a long season of darkness and struggle, you create a bond with that person. A bond that not many people know the strength of. Or how it came to be. A type of bond that is not easily or quickly created, nor one that can be broken with a soft tug.
We're close. We're sisters. Best friends. And I'm convinced that we wouldn't have the relationship we have today, if it weren't for her being by my side for most of the length of the darkness I went through.
I remember that moment and it pains me. What she had to see, to deal with. But it also speaks to my heart in ways that nothing else can.
She saw me at the lowest of lows, and instead of turning away or becoming sickened by the sight of what I had done, she stayed. She made it better. She used her actions to show me how much she loved me.
Her actions that night will never be forgotten for the rest of my life.
For the past few weeks, a certain memory has been on my mind. I have no idea why. Nothing significant has happened to bring this memory up, but yet, up it has come. It's from a very hard time in my life, and I suppose its purpose is to remind me how close my ties to my sister are. Because this memory stars her.
I was sixteen years old at the time. I had been cutting for several months already. Depressing had started, and was growing stronger and stronger, accompanied by suicidal tendencies.
Being around people was difficult. I always found myself anxious, jittery. Needing to constantly move, or escape and cut, just to wake myself up from the nightmare I was living.
This one particular night was no different. I was in the town next to ours, at a youth/college group with my sister and her friends. I went to this place a lot with her, but they were always her friends, them being her age and knowing her better then they knew me.
It was a really rough night. I felt like I was suffocating being around these people. Nothing wrong with them, just my inability to handle human interaction at the time. Which actually, was odd, because I needed to be around people to distract myself from the darkness that surrounded me, but being around people seemed to make it worse at the same time. Huh.
Anyways.
I couldn't take being around them any more. So, like always, I escaped to "go to the bathroom," and took my razor blade with me. My security blanket that I carried around with me everywhere. And used it everywhere.
I was sick of being alive. I was depressed. I didn't want to go to sleep that night, because I knew it meant having to wake up the next day and continue life.
I sat in a stall in the bathroom and held the razor blade in my hands. Contemplating slitting my throat. Wondering how deep would I need to cut (could I cut that deep?) in order to be able to bleed quickly and die soon. Thinking about who might find me and who would have to clean up.
I continued to sit there. Should I do it? Can I do it? I don't want to die, though. But I do. But I'm terrified of death.
I was tormented.
As close as I was to slitting my throat, I didn't. I say - and this is true - that I didn't because of my fear of death was stronger than my desire to stop living. But I am completely convinced that this fear (while all fear is not of God, and thus from the enemy) is what saved my life. An ironic situation created only by the grace of God.
The decision not to slit my throat being made, I opted to cut my upper arms several times on both sides. And after doing so, I just sat there and cried. Sick of life, sick of facing life, sick of my inability to end it all.
I was gone for a while. My sister, after 20 minutes or so, finally came to check up on me. She, being the sort to avoid intruding, stood outside the stall door, talking to me, asking me what was up, to come out and join everyone else, etc.
I was sitting on the floor, and my feet could be seen from the other side of the door. I quietly unlatched the lock and just let it sit. I didn't respond to anything she said.
After another 10-ish minutes, she finally opened the door. And she saw me. She saw my arms; saw the blood.
And then she did what she did next. Took some paper towels, dampened them with water, and cleaned me up as I continued to sit on the floor and quietly cry.
She cleaned me up.
And this is the memory that has been haunting my mind for several weeks.
People may or may not wonder why we're so close. But we are. She's my best friend. (She didn't used to be.)
But when you share your life with someone in a long season of darkness and struggle, you create a bond with that person. A bond that not many people know the strength of. Or how it came to be. A type of bond that is not easily or quickly created, nor one that can be broken with a soft tug.
We're close. We're sisters. Best friends. And I'm convinced that we wouldn't have the relationship we have today, if it weren't for her being by my side for most of the length of the darkness I went through.
I remember that moment and it pains me. What she had to see, to deal with. But it also speaks to my heart in ways that nothing else can.
She saw me at the lowest of lows, and instead of turning away or becoming sickened by the sight of what I had done, she stayed. She made it better. She used her actions to show me how much she loved me.
Her actions that night will never be forgotten for the rest of my life.
Sunday 9 February 2014
Grace I've freely received, grace I will freely give.
Sometimes you need to be reminded of things that have happened in your life so you don’t forget where you’ve come from. How you’ve gotten to where you are today. And, in my case, why I’m still alive.
Now and then people will come along in my life, or situations will take place, and I find myself sharing my story. What has happened to make me who I am today. Where I’ve come from. What I’ve struggled with and how, by God’s miraculous grace, I am still here.
And people who hear my story will thank me for sharing. Some who know it have told me, and then reminded me again, how what I’ve gone through is a powerful thing, and it will impact people for good. Which is a wonderful thing to hear.
But I, as everyone else who lives and breathes and exists, sometimes struggle with doubt. What makes my story so great? Why do people keep telling me that my story is a powerful one? What makes is that way? How do they know? It’s just me. My past, my struggles, my redemption. There’s nothing special about it.
I have to remind myself, though, that by the telling of what God has done in my life, it will influence people for the better. How? I have no idea. But simply by sharing the dark times that I’ve experienced, and then showing how the Light shattered the darkness, it can make a difference. It’s not that my story is a unique one, but there’s redemption. There’s grace. There’s hope. There’s life after the darkest moments.
It’s not something I share a lot, and definitely not something I tell everyone I meet. But every time I go through the details of when this happened, and then that happened, by the time I’m at the end, I have to step back. I look at my life and what it was, and I am reminded that God’s grace saved me. Because I know – I know – that I wouldn’t be alive right now without it. I wouldn’t be who I am without it. Without Him.
And it is just something that keeps me in awe. I find myself lacking in words; my heart overwhelmed with…with thankfulness. And I am drawn to tears. Because I see the grace of God in my life. I know it’s there. I know it’s in my life now. And it is not something that I ever want to take for granted. Ever.
So it’s good for me, to tell my story. Perhaps it may be a blessing to others, but I think it is a blessing even more so to myself. I need to remember, to never forget, His grace. And even more, I need to take the grace that I’ve been given, and extend it to others – to an even fuller amount than what I’ve received.
“But none of these things move me; nor do I count my life dear to myself, so that I may finish my race with joy, and the ministry which I received from the Lord Jesus, to testify to the gospel of the grace of God.” Acts 20.24
Now and then people will come along in my life, or situations will take place, and I find myself sharing my story. What has happened to make me who I am today. Where I’ve come from. What I’ve struggled with and how, by God’s miraculous grace, I am still here.
And people who hear my story will thank me for sharing. Some who know it have told me, and then reminded me again, how what I’ve gone through is a powerful thing, and it will impact people for good. Which is a wonderful thing to hear.
But I, as everyone else who lives and breathes and exists, sometimes struggle with doubt. What makes my story so great? Why do people keep telling me that my story is a powerful one? What makes is that way? How do they know? It’s just me. My past, my struggles, my redemption. There’s nothing special about it.
I have to remind myself, though, that by the telling of what God has done in my life, it will influence people for the better. How? I have no idea. But simply by sharing the dark times that I’ve experienced, and then showing how the Light shattered the darkness, it can make a difference. It’s not that my story is a unique one, but there’s redemption. There’s grace. There’s hope. There’s life after the darkest moments.
It’s not something I share a lot, and definitely not something I tell everyone I meet. But every time I go through the details of when this happened, and then that happened, by the time I’m at the end, I have to step back. I look at my life and what it was, and I am reminded that God’s grace saved me. Because I know – I know – that I wouldn’t be alive right now without it. I wouldn’t be who I am without it. Without Him.
And it is just something that keeps me in awe. I find myself lacking in words; my heart overwhelmed with…with thankfulness. And I am drawn to tears. Because I see the grace of God in my life. I know it’s there. I know it’s in my life now. And it is not something that I ever want to take for granted. Ever.
So it’s good for me, to tell my story. Perhaps it may be a blessing to others, but I think it is a blessing even more so to myself. I need to remember, to never forget, His grace. And even more, I need to take the grace that I’ve been given, and extend it to others – to an even fuller amount than what I’ve received.
“But none of these things move me; nor do I count my life dear to myself, so that I may finish my race with joy, and the ministry which I received from the Lord Jesus, to testify to the gospel of the grace of God.” Acts 20.24
Sunday 2 February 2014
Honesty Hour
It's almost 4 in the morning, and now is about the time when my thoughts become brutally honest and my guard of what I may or may not write is let down. I try to avoid extremely personal topics due to the amount that I value my privacy, but this is something that I just need to write out. Perhaps by doing so, it'll cease plaguing my mind for a while.
I am not the kind of person to get emotional and wishy-washy about romantic things. It's a bit of a contradiction, but I consider myself to be a hopeless romantic and a stone-cold realist. Because you can, believe it or not, be a hopeless romantic without liking things of the typical romantic nature. Really, it's actually possible.
I have no desire to get married. Ever. After seeing how marriage changes people and their behaviour, I've become disgusted with its lack of "good qualities" that so many people claim marriage to have. Marriage changes people (and not for the better from what I've experienced), it's a case of take a lot, give a little, and creates its own seclusive club to where if you're not married, people won't talk to you, because you're not in the "marriage club."
In my eyes, there are just too many negatives in relation to the effect marriage has on people, and I want nothing to do with it.
When I say to people "I'm never going to get married," I try to make it come across as a light joke. But honestly, I speak that statement with every ounce of good intent to follow through on it. I have too many issues with matrimony that would ever make it possible for me to consider it at this point in life.
I'm not inclined to sentimentality. I don't cry over wedding videos or cheesy romantic comedies. I'm not easily wooed.
But every once in a while, my guard is let down (it must be), and I find my heart yearning for something more. To have someone look at me as if I'm their whole world. To be held in the strong arms of a man who loves me immeasurably.
And then after a few moments of experiencing this lack of judgement and sanity, those feelings pass, and my guard is up once again.
Lately though, I don't know what my problem is. My emotions have not been as in control as I would like them to be, and I'm completely baffled as to why this is. Perhaps it's because of things happening in my personal life that I have no control over, and not being able to control some things, it causes me to lose focus and thus lose control over the things that I actually can control - like my emotions.
More and more these moments happen. And the fact that this is so, irritates me to no end. I don't have time to dream about a life that I don't want.
I know that my heart is hard. I know that this isn't healthy, and isn't supposed to be so. But I will not sacrifice logic and friendships for something like romantic love and marriage. The exchange is not worth it.
Still. With a hardened heart, and walls built a mile high, how am I supposed to be vulnerable? How am I supposed to learn to fully love those who are in my life, as well as letting myself be completely loved in turn?
I can't. It isn't possible. There is no both/and. In this case, it is either/or.
So do I choose to let down those walls, and let my heart once again become soft and vulnerable to pain in order to let Christ wield me to grow as I need to? Or do I remain closed and protected, keeping both pain and unconditional love from affecting me?
Obviously I know the answer. Because what other choice is there, if I want to be fully and completely surrendered to God? There really is only one option.
And perhaps I'll make the right choice someday. Let myself become susceptible to the possibility of pain - and love - again. Right now though, is not the time.
Because I know why I've shut myself down. As a preemptive strike - they can't hurt me if I'm guarded against them. But also because love equals loss, and loss equals pain. And I've had enough of that for one lifetime. I don't want to experience the pain of losing a loved one again. It was too much the first time, and I don't know if I could (ever) handle it again.
I can't say I don't know what to do, because that'd be a lie. I do know what to do. But I don't have the courage or strength to actually go through with it right now.
I just...need to not focus on this for a while.
I am not the kind of person to get emotional and wishy-washy about romantic things. It's a bit of a contradiction, but I consider myself to be a hopeless romantic and a stone-cold realist. Because you can, believe it or not, be a hopeless romantic without liking things of the typical romantic nature. Really, it's actually possible.
I have no desire to get married. Ever. After seeing how marriage changes people and their behaviour, I've become disgusted with its lack of "good qualities" that so many people claim marriage to have. Marriage changes people (and not for the better from what I've experienced), it's a case of take a lot, give a little, and creates its own seclusive club to where if you're not married, people won't talk to you, because you're not in the "marriage club."
In my eyes, there are just too many negatives in relation to the effect marriage has on people, and I want nothing to do with it.
When I say to people "I'm never going to get married," I try to make it come across as a light joke. But honestly, I speak that statement with every ounce of good intent to follow through on it. I have too many issues with matrimony that would ever make it possible for me to consider it at this point in life.
I'm not inclined to sentimentality. I don't cry over wedding videos or cheesy romantic comedies. I'm not easily wooed.
But every once in a while, my guard is let down (it must be), and I find my heart yearning for something more. To have someone look at me as if I'm their whole world. To be held in the strong arms of a man who loves me immeasurably.
And then after a few moments of experiencing this lack of judgement and sanity, those feelings pass, and my guard is up once again.
Lately though, I don't know what my problem is. My emotions have not been as in control as I would like them to be, and I'm completely baffled as to why this is. Perhaps it's because of things happening in my personal life that I have no control over, and not being able to control some things, it causes me to lose focus and thus lose control over the things that I actually can control - like my emotions.
More and more these moments happen. And the fact that this is so, irritates me to no end. I don't have time to dream about a life that I don't want.
I know that my heart is hard. I know that this isn't healthy, and isn't supposed to be so. But I will not sacrifice logic and friendships for something like romantic love and marriage. The exchange is not worth it.
Still. With a hardened heart, and walls built a mile high, how am I supposed to be vulnerable? How am I supposed to learn to fully love those who are in my life, as well as letting myself be completely loved in turn?
I can't. It isn't possible. There is no both/and. In this case, it is either/or.
So do I choose to let down those walls, and let my heart once again become soft and vulnerable to pain in order to let Christ wield me to grow as I need to? Or do I remain closed and protected, keeping both pain and unconditional love from affecting me?
Obviously I know the answer. Because what other choice is there, if I want to be fully and completely surrendered to God? There really is only one option.
And perhaps I'll make the right choice someday. Let myself become susceptible to the possibility of pain - and love - again. Right now though, is not the time.
Because I know why I've shut myself down. As a preemptive strike - they can't hurt me if I'm guarded against them. But also because love equals loss, and loss equals pain. And I've had enough of that for one lifetime. I don't want to experience the pain of losing a loved one again. It was too much the first time, and I don't know if I could (ever) handle it again.
I can't say I don't know what to do, because that'd be a lie. I do know what to do. But I don't have the courage or strength to actually go through with it right now.
I just...need to not focus on this for a while.
Saturday 18 January 2014
Things They Don't Tell You
There are things about death that people don't talk about. Maybe because it's too difficult to bring up. Or perhaps because everyone deals with death in different ways. Or maybe I'm just really not equipped to deal with death.
They say it gets easier with time, and you know, I suppose they're right. But what they don't say is that it still remains difficult. How you're walking down the street one day, enjoying the sunshine and fresh air, and suddenly you're reminded that the person is no longer alive and in your life.
And while some may actually go and forget that person is gone, and will pick up the phone to give them a ring, you never forget. But still you can't help catching yourself in the midst of a thought that starts out in present tense and then ends in the past. Just like they are. In the past, gone, behind in your memories, but no longer living and therefore no longer present.
Or how you'll never know if you really would have wanted to be present at their passing or not. How you hate the fact that you were away, doing something good, something you were supposed to do, but making you absent nonetheless. How you only heard about the last moments of their life from the accounts of others, and the news of death was given through a mobile call.
And how the grief will be so strong, and such a new experience, that you won't know how to deal with it. How you'll still have other emotions like anger and pain, but the good things like happiness and contentment seem to be just a little on the dim side. Or how you'll still laugh at things despite how recent the death is, but you'll laugh louder and longer than you should, showing how you're actually not doing well, and in the midst of all that laughter, you find yourself choking up, wanting to break out into uncontrollable sobs, but keep yourself from doing so, because you know that once you start, you won't be able to stop.
Or how you'll fall asleep at night, thinking of nothing in particular, when it hits you that they're gone, and you're wide awake, crying as silently as you can, because you don't want others to hear you and know how much it hurts.
And how even after a year after death, you still haven't visited the cemetery, because the pain is too much, still too strong, and seeing the reality of it would break you. Or when before you could see death in films and telly shows and it would mean nothing to you, now you have to look away, because it reminds you too much of everything, and you know you'll cry, not because of the scene you're watching, but because of the scene in your own life that it reminds you of.
And of course death is a natural part of life and there is no way to escape it. But there seems to be very few ways to deal with it in a sane manner. Perhaps, though, it is more that I cannot deal with it in a sane manner. And knowing that as I grow older, and become acquainted with more people during my life, it means that I'll see death occur more and more. And this thought terrifies me, because if I can't handle it now, how will I handle it in the future?
There are things that they don't tell you about death. Things that you have to figure out on your own. And it's something you have to do, otherwise the grief and pain and heartbreak will destroy you and leave you as a mere shadow in the darkness of what you once were before in the light.
They say it gets easier with time, and you know, I suppose they're right. But what they don't say is that it still remains difficult. How you're walking down the street one day, enjoying the sunshine and fresh air, and suddenly you're reminded that the person is no longer alive and in your life.
And while some may actually go and forget that person is gone, and will pick up the phone to give them a ring, you never forget. But still you can't help catching yourself in the midst of a thought that starts out in present tense and then ends in the past. Just like they are. In the past, gone, behind in your memories, but no longer living and therefore no longer present.
Or how you'll never know if you really would have wanted to be present at their passing or not. How you hate the fact that you were away, doing something good, something you were supposed to do, but making you absent nonetheless. How you only heard about the last moments of their life from the accounts of others, and the news of death was given through a mobile call.
And how the grief will be so strong, and such a new experience, that you won't know how to deal with it. How you'll still have other emotions like anger and pain, but the good things like happiness and contentment seem to be just a little on the dim side. Or how you'll still laugh at things despite how recent the death is, but you'll laugh louder and longer than you should, showing how you're actually not doing well, and in the midst of all that laughter, you find yourself choking up, wanting to break out into uncontrollable sobs, but keep yourself from doing so, because you know that once you start, you won't be able to stop.
Or how you'll fall asleep at night, thinking of nothing in particular, when it hits you that they're gone, and you're wide awake, crying as silently as you can, because you don't want others to hear you and know how much it hurts.
And how even after a year after death, you still haven't visited the cemetery, because the pain is too much, still too strong, and seeing the reality of it would break you. Or when before you could see death in films and telly shows and it would mean nothing to you, now you have to look away, because it reminds you too much of everything, and you know you'll cry, not because of the scene you're watching, but because of the scene in your own life that it reminds you of.
And of course death is a natural part of life and there is no way to escape it. But there seems to be very few ways to deal with it in a sane manner. Perhaps, though, it is more that I cannot deal with it in a sane manner. And knowing that as I grow older, and become acquainted with more people during my life, it means that I'll see death occur more and more. And this thought terrifies me, because if I can't handle it now, how will I handle it in the future?
There are things that they don't tell you about death. Things that you have to figure out on your own. And it's something you have to do, otherwise the grief and pain and heartbreak will destroy you and leave you as a mere shadow in the darkness of what you once were before in the light.
Wednesday 1 January 2014
Another Year Ends
The end of another year. Finally. Most of the time, time seems to go by too fast. And while that is more or less the case for this year, I can honestly say that it didn't go by soon enough.
I have a pretty good memory, so believe me when I say I can't recall ever having a year as bad as this past on was in my life. 2013 started out terribly and continued that way with one bad thing after another. Ugh.
Don't get me wrong, and to be cliche, I'm going to say that yes, every cloud has a silver lining. Sure, some good things happened. And I'm not trying to dismiss those. But while some good happened, it seemed as if the majority of what happened was awful.
I won't mention specifics, because I don't want to dwell on the bad. But seriously, worst year ever. I'm not going to have exceedingly high expectations for this coming year, but I *do* expect it to be better.
I don't like to sit down and make a list of goals for the coming year, because doing that when I was younger kind of killed the [good] effect it was supposed to have. But I do have general things I want to keep in mind and accomplish this coming year. The biggest, I suppose, is to try to regain focus and, above all else, surrender all to Christ on a daily basis. Surrender, trust, glorify.
I write this on an airplane, travelling with my brother to Norway, where we will be to welcome this new year. It's a nice ending to a rather disposable year. I hope the end is better than the beginning for us all.
And I warmly welcome 2014.
I have a pretty good memory, so believe me when I say I can't recall ever having a year as bad as this past on was in my life. 2013 started out terribly and continued that way with one bad thing after another. Ugh.
Don't get me wrong, and to be cliche, I'm going to say that yes, every cloud has a silver lining. Sure, some good things happened. And I'm not trying to dismiss those. But while some good happened, it seemed as if the majority of what happened was awful.
I won't mention specifics, because I don't want to dwell on the bad. But seriously, worst year ever. I'm not going to have exceedingly high expectations for this coming year, but I *do* expect it to be better.
I don't like to sit down and make a list of goals for the coming year, because doing that when I was younger kind of killed the [good] effect it was supposed to have. But I do have general things I want to keep in mind and accomplish this coming year. The biggest, I suppose, is to try to regain focus and, above all else, surrender all to Christ on a daily basis. Surrender, trust, glorify.
I write this on an airplane, travelling with my brother to Norway, where we will be to welcome this new year. It's a nice ending to a rather disposable year. I hope the end is better than the beginning for us all.
And I warmly welcome 2014.
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