Have you ever had that good friend who you've known for years and years on end, and they had feelings for you but you never thought of them as more than that good friend who you've known for years and years on end?
Or on the opposite side of the spectrum, have you ever had that good friend who you've known for years and years on end, who you had crazy intense feelings for but no matter what you did they never thought of you as more?
I've been a part of both situations. There have been several guys who I've known seemingly forever, who have had crushes on me for several years and I never noticed a thing... or even noticed them to be someone who even thought of me that way. Oops. And then there has been one situation where I liked one of my guy friends for... how long did it last... I don't know, five years?
It was agony, let me tell you. I did a lot of things for him. For years I went out of my way to speak with him, to make him laugh, to listen, to be close by. I often dreamed about what it would be like the day he realized I was the perfect girl, the love of his life. It never happened, but I had hope that one day I would emerge from the friend-zone in his mind.
False hope, it turned out to be. It was indeed the hope that makes the heart sick--the kind of hope that is blind and which turns out to be fruitless because the only thing that keeps the hope alive is a mere wish that things will magically change because you want them to, not because there is any sort of reality behind it.
It took a long time for me to realize that he didn't like me, that he had no intentions of liking me, and that there was absolutely no point in liking him anymore. It was sickening, to be sure. And I did cry a little. But oddly, there was relief in letting those emotions for him go. More than relief... it was like a heavy burden--one which had developed over time, so slowly that I had never noticed it--had been taken off my shoulders. For the first time in years, I felt quite free. Happy, too... because now it could be just me and God.
That was months ago. And I wouldn't have posted this online for all to see except the fact that I'm finally realizing something that I should've realized then. Better late than never, though.
What if... okay, wrong way to start out that sentence. I'm pretty sure God feels this way, but I'll still say it as a rhetorical question. What if... this is similar to how God feels about us? What if He loves us unconditionally for years and years, before we were even born, no matter what we've done or what we do or what we're going to do? And what if we just think of Him as someone in the friend-zone?
There's no question as to if He loves us that way. He does. He loves us more than we can fathom, He loves us so much He sent His son to shed blood for us.
But I think a lot of us only view Him as a friend. I know I do. I tend to view Him as someone I've known for years, as someone I've grown up with, as someone who has become a great friend in more recent years. God is someone I trust (most of the time), someone I talk to and confide in, someone that I enjoy spending time with. I have a great friendship with Him.
But I haven't been in love with Him. To fully be in relationship with God, we must not only be great friends with Him but we must be deeply in love with Him. I never understood that until very recently. We must be completely in love with Him.
Thinking about it, it's hard to understand why I've never loved Him before. Why not? He's done so much for me that it's astonishing--He always makes me laugh. He's given me worth and beauty just because He made me. He's listened to everything I say. He tells me the truth even if I don't want to hear it. He protects me. He guides me. He has a wonderful plan for me, far better than anything I can imagine (and I have a pretty good imagination). He's healed me in places where I was deeply hurt. He's forgiven me for everything I've done and everything I will do. He's forgiven me for neglecting to think about Him and for not being obedient. He's always been there to sit with me, either silently or not so silently.
All this and more God does for me. And really, there's no reason for Him to make the effort. This is the dude who made the stars and the earth and the sky and the sun and the ocean and the mountains and all the intricate things of the universe. Sounds pretty intimidating, right? And yet all He wants is me. Us.
The more I think about it, the more amazed I am that I've placed God in the friend-zone for so long. For heavens sake, why have I done that?? No person could ever do all those things for me. Not even the best spouse in the world could come close. The best spouse in the world wouldn't have the strength to do that all the time, anyways.
I can feel my world shifting. I can feel my perspective changing, the same sort of thing that happens when you look at someone you know with fresh, new eyes. I can feel something happening inside of me, in my soul and my heart and my mind and even in my very skin. I can feel myself falling in love with God. The God who loved me first, who has always been with me through the years, who has never wavered from my side. The God who has never changed but who I'm suddenly viewing in a new way.
An hour ago I was lying in bed at the end of a very long and revolutionary day, pondering all of this. "What can I do for God?" I thought. "What can I do to share this love I'm feeling, the joy I'm finding in the knowledge that it will forever be mutual? What can I do to spread this to other people so that they can find this great love too?"
And an answer came. You could write about it.
"Um, now? It's midnight. I'll do it tomorrow."
Or you could do it now, while it's fresh in your mind.
The things I do for love. I turned on the light, opened my laptop, and settled down for a long period of writing that has now lasted an hour and ten minutes. I am now officially tired. My butt is sore, my legs are stiff, I have to pee, and I am beginning to feel brain constipation take over.
But you know what? I have a God that is completely worth all that and more and who deserves to be the love of my life, dang it.
Hopefully this is first of many ways I can share that love. Because you're the love of His life too.
And I bet He's not a bad-looking fellow, either.
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
Sunday, May 6, 2012
Be Satisfied With Me
Relationships have been on my brain lately. By that, I mean two things--both the human relationship between a husband and a wife, and the relationship between ourselves and God.
I've discussed both with multiple people. Whenever I ask married people questions about marriage, whether it be theirs specifically or in general, I often get a curious stare that says "Why are you asking? You don't need to worry about this stuff yet." My response to that is "You don't know that. Neither do I. I might as well start asking now before I KNOW I have to worry about this stuff."
My frustration with all this relationship nonsense began March 25th. I remember it because it was the Sunday before my birthday and this occurred while my mom, stepdad, younger brother and I were going out to eat for a birthday dinner that evening. And I remember the date because it was the last Sunday of the month, and every last Sunday of the month my church has an evening service at six. Anyways, there was a specific moment that day in which my frustration peaked, and it was while I was in the car, waiting outside of Outback Steakhouse for my family to arrive.
That day, I had thought and thought about relationships until my head ached. And the more I thought, the angrier I became. I had read and heard so much advice about relationships and marriage that it all at that moment threatened to overcome and smother me. There was so much to think about that I had begun to feel like there was too much to remember to be worth it. Then there was the matter of relational coldness I had witnessed in my own family and outside it. I thought to myself, Who needs relationships? Who needs people? It wasn't worth it to have a relationship and have a family. Only destruction would come out of it.
Something snapped inside of me. There in the car, I made a well-planned, flawless decision that was in no way marked with hasty rage. I literally threw up my hands (don't worry, I was parked, remember?) and yelled to God, "I WILL NEVER GET MARRIED! I WILL NEVER DATE, AND I WILL NEVER START A FAMILY!"
And that, I decided, was that.
Honestly, I don't know why it came as such a surprise that God would interfere, but it did. And He did.
So I had dinner with my family and made it in time for evening church. Worship went on, communion went on, everything went well and expected.
Wanda, one of the women from the church, stepped on stage to speak. She gave her testimony and told us about her life, her previous marriages, how she came to know Christ. It was very well-told and eye-opening, getting to hear her story.
Then she started speaking about how she came to marry her husband she has now, the husband that God picked out for her. And this is where things became interesting for me.
The first time she talked to him, she knew that he was her husband. He didn't know it at the time, but eventually God told him the same thing. And here's the thing that was different than her previous relationships... this time, she had God. She loved God. She loved God so much she wanted to embrace Him. And God told her that this is exactly what marriage is--when you love God so much that you yearn to hold Him, and so He gives you someone to hold.
My brain circuitry fizzled and blew out. All I could do was sit there and gape at her. In my mind's eye, I could practically see God looking at me with a huge smirk and saying in a rather smug tone, "Marriage doesn't sound so bad now, huh?"
I've thought about that particular saying many times since then. The funny thing is, I've often thought it before but not quite in such official terms. What I mean is.... there have been so many times I've complained to God "It's so hard to love you when you aren't tangible and when I can't see you or touch you or hug you..."
"That's why I give you other people," He replies.
I've just never thought of it in a marital concept before. But it makes sense that God would give us a particular person to be intimate with, to share everything with, and to have every right to hold and who has the right to hold us too. It wouldn't mean a lot if we did the same with every single person that crossed our path... it wouldn't be meaningful and special at all. It wouldn't be a special and unique and ultimately loving relationship... the same relationship we have with God.
I don't believe in soul mates. I don't believe that there is one person we are chemically designed to be with. I don't believe that there is strictly one person for another one person. I lean more towards the concept of "we never marry the 'right person'... rather, they become 'the one' when we marry them, when there is complete commitment towards them." This would make it easier to understand why all kinds of different people--Christ-followers, non-Christ-followers--are able to stay together for all of their lives. It's all about commitment. At the same time, I don't believe we could marry just anyone.
Anyways, I don't quite believe that there is a specific person designed for us, and I don't quite believe that we could marry anyone we want to. Some people are obviously more compatible than others. And here is where God is involved. I believe that God knows each and every one of our hearts, and that He knows what each person needs and the right timing for them. And then He begins to work and see who would bring out the best in this other person. Sometimes we need several people to work with before we get it right, and other times we get it right the first time.
I'm not going to pretend to know everything. Obviously I don't. In fact, I've got a headache right now from trying to wrap my head around it so much. I know that God knows everything in our future before it even happens, I know He knows who we will all marry, yet I don't think He made only ONE SINGLE PERSON to be compatible with. I don't know. This is all just me rambling. Maybe I'll find out someday, huh?
All I know is, God keeps track of us. He lets us know when someone isn't good for us, when someone is only there to prepare ourselves for a spouse, and when we find our future spouse. Even though I don't believe in the one person thing, I believe He specifically tells people "Yeah, go ahead and get married, you'll move mountains together" or "No, don't do it, the thought of you two together makes me physically ill." I believe He lets both people know if He'll bless their future together or not.
So recently I felt a strong pull on my heart to talk to Wanda. I pulled her aside last week and we had a long talk about marriage. I told her about my screaming in the car and how I thought I had the last word in not getting married. She said "Are you kidding? Marriage is a wonderful thing! I can't see why anyone wouldn't want to get married." (Personally, I can see some pros and cons to both the married and single life, but that's just my own cynicism.) Her enthusiasm about marriage was refreshing to hear, as opposed to the world around us which grimaces at the very thought.
Anyways, she emailed me a document on Monday. (Today is the Sunday after.) Since then, I have read it countless times, printed it out to keep at my bedside table, and have printed it out for multiple people too. It's something I want to share with everyone, because it's blessed me and it's something everyone should know anyways. It's tough to hear and tougher to do, but at the end is a promise of the relationship we all dearly want.
And it's this.
I've discussed both with multiple people. Whenever I ask married people questions about marriage, whether it be theirs specifically or in general, I often get a curious stare that says "Why are you asking? You don't need to worry about this stuff yet." My response to that is "You don't know that. Neither do I. I might as well start asking now before I KNOW I have to worry about this stuff."
My frustration with all this relationship nonsense began March 25th. I remember it because it was the Sunday before my birthday and this occurred while my mom, stepdad, younger brother and I were going out to eat for a birthday dinner that evening. And I remember the date because it was the last Sunday of the month, and every last Sunday of the month my church has an evening service at six. Anyways, there was a specific moment that day in which my frustration peaked, and it was while I was in the car, waiting outside of Outback Steakhouse for my family to arrive.
That day, I had thought and thought about relationships until my head ached. And the more I thought, the angrier I became. I had read and heard so much advice about relationships and marriage that it all at that moment threatened to overcome and smother me. There was so much to think about that I had begun to feel like there was too much to remember to be worth it. Then there was the matter of relational coldness I had witnessed in my own family and outside it. I thought to myself, Who needs relationships? Who needs people? It wasn't worth it to have a relationship and have a family. Only destruction would come out of it.
Something snapped inside of me. There in the car, I made a well-planned, flawless decision that was in no way marked with hasty rage. I literally threw up my hands (don't worry, I was parked, remember?) and yelled to God, "I WILL NEVER GET MARRIED! I WILL NEVER DATE, AND I WILL NEVER START A FAMILY!"
And that, I decided, was that.
Honestly, I don't know why it came as such a surprise that God would interfere, but it did. And He did.
So I had dinner with my family and made it in time for evening church. Worship went on, communion went on, everything went well and expected.
Wanda, one of the women from the church, stepped on stage to speak. She gave her testimony and told us about her life, her previous marriages, how she came to know Christ. It was very well-told and eye-opening, getting to hear her story.
Then she started speaking about how she came to marry her husband she has now, the husband that God picked out for her. And this is where things became interesting for me.
The first time she talked to him, she knew that he was her husband. He didn't know it at the time, but eventually God told him the same thing. And here's the thing that was different than her previous relationships... this time, she had God. She loved God. She loved God so much she wanted to embrace Him. And God told her that this is exactly what marriage is--when you love God so much that you yearn to hold Him, and so He gives you someone to hold.
My brain circuitry fizzled and blew out. All I could do was sit there and gape at her. In my mind's eye, I could practically see God looking at me with a huge smirk and saying in a rather smug tone, "Marriage doesn't sound so bad now, huh?"
I've thought about that particular saying many times since then. The funny thing is, I've often thought it before but not quite in such official terms. What I mean is.... there have been so many times I've complained to God "It's so hard to love you when you aren't tangible and when I can't see you or touch you or hug you..."
"That's why I give you other people," He replies.
I've just never thought of it in a marital concept before. But it makes sense that God would give us a particular person to be intimate with, to share everything with, and to have every right to hold and who has the right to hold us too. It wouldn't mean a lot if we did the same with every single person that crossed our path... it wouldn't be meaningful and special at all. It wouldn't be a special and unique and ultimately loving relationship... the same relationship we have with God.
I don't believe in soul mates. I don't believe that there is one person we are chemically designed to be with. I don't believe that there is strictly one person for another one person. I lean more towards the concept of "we never marry the 'right person'... rather, they become 'the one' when we marry them, when there is complete commitment towards them." This would make it easier to understand why all kinds of different people--Christ-followers, non-Christ-followers--are able to stay together for all of their lives. It's all about commitment. At the same time, I don't believe we could marry just anyone.
Anyways, I don't quite believe that there is a specific person designed for us, and I don't quite believe that we could marry anyone we want to. Some people are obviously more compatible than others. And here is where God is involved. I believe that God knows each and every one of our hearts, and that He knows what each person needs and the right timing for them. And then He begins to work and see who would bring out the best in this other person. Sometimes we need several people to work with before we get it right, and other times we get it right the first time.
I'm not going to pretend to know everything. Obviously I don't. In fact, I've got a headache right now from trying to wrap my head around it so much. I know that God knows everything in our future before it even happens, I know He knows who we will all marry, yet I don't think He made only ONE SINGLE PERSON to be compatible with. I don't know. This is all just me rambling. Maybe I'll find out someday, huh?
All I know is, God keeps track of us. He lets us know when someone isn't good for us, when someone is only there to prepare ourselves for a spouse, and when we find our future spouse. Even though I don't believe in the one person thing, I believe He specifically tells people "Yeah, go ahead and get married, you'll move mountains together" or "No, don't do it, the thought of you two together makes me physically ill." I believe He lets both people know if He'll bless their future together or not.
So recently I felt a strong pull on my heart to talk to Wanda. I pulled her aside last week and we had a long talk about marriage. I told her about my screaming in the car and how I thought I had the last word in not getting married. She said "Are you kidding? Marriage is a wonderful thing! I can't see why anyone wouldn't want to get married." (Personally, I can see some pros and cons to both the married and single life, but that's just my own cynicism.) Her enthusiasm about marriage was refreshing to hear, as opposed to the world around us which grimaces at the very thought.
Anyways, she emailed me a document on Monday. (Today is the Sunday after.) Since then, I have read it countless times, printed it out to keep at my bedside table, and have printed it out for multiple people too. It's something I want to share with everyone, because it's blessed me and it's something everyone should know anyways. It's tough to hear and tougher to do, but at the end is a promise of the relationship we all dearly want.
And it's this.
Be Satisfied With Me
Everyone longs to give themselves completely to someone
To have a deep soul relationship with another,
To be loved thoroughly and exclusively
But God, to a Christian, says:
Not until you are satisfied, fulfilled, and content with giving yourself totally, and unreservedly to me;
with having an intensely personal and unique relationship with Me alone,
discovering that only in Me is your satisfaction to be found,
will you be capable of the perfect human relationship that I have planned for you.
You do not want to be reunited with another until you are united with Me exclusively of any other desires or longings. I want you to stop planning, stop wishing, and allow Me to give you the most thrilling plan existing, one that you cannot imagine. I want you to have the best. Please allow Me to bring it to you.
You just keep watching Me, expecting the greatest things and keep experiencing the satisfaction that I am. Keep listening and learning the things that I tell you. You just wait, that's all.
Don't look around at the things others have gotten or that I have given them.
And when you are ready, I'll surprise you with a love far more wonderful than any you'd dream of. You see, until you are ready, and until the one I have for you is ready (I am working even at this moment to have you both ready at the same time),
Until you are both satisfied with Me exclusively and the life I prepared for you, you won't be able to experience the love that exemplifies your relationship with Me, and this is the PERFECT LOVE.
And dear one, I want you to have this most wonderful love. I want you to see in the flesh a picture of your relationship with Me, and to enjoy materially and concretely the everlasting union of beauty, perfection, and love that I offer you with Myself.
Know that I love you utterly,
I AM GOD!
BELIEVE IT AND BE SATISFIED
Monday, April 9, 2012
Plants
I found this quote just now and it made me laugh out loud. So I thought I'd share it...
“He had heard about talking to plants in the early seventies, on Radio Four, and thought it was an excellent idea. Although talking is perhaps the wrong word for what Crowley did.
What he did was put the fear of God into them.
More precisely, the fear of Crowley.
In addition to which, every couple of months Crowley would pick out a plant that was growing too slowly, or succumbing to leaf-wilt or browning, or just didn't look quite as good as the others, and he would carry it around to all the other plants. "Say goodbye to your friend," he'd say to them. "He just couldn't cut it. . . "
Then he would leave the flat with the offending plant, and return an hour or so later with a large, empty flower pot, which he would leave somewhere conspicuously around the flat.
The plants were the most luxurious, verdant, and beautiful in London. Also the most terrified.”
― Neil Gaiman, Good Omens
Is it cruel that I would love to grow gardens with that tactic?
“He had heard about talking to plants in the early seventies, on Radio Four, and thought it was an excellent idea. Although talking is perhaps the wrong word for what Crowley did.
What he did was put the fear of God into them.
More precisely, the fear of Crowley.
In addition to which, every couple of months Crowley would pick out a plant that was growing too slowly, or succumbing to leaf-wilt or browning, or just didn't look quite as good as the others, and he would carry it around to all the other plants. "Say goodbye to your friend," he'd say to them. "He just couldn't cut it. . . "
Then he would leave the flat with the offending plant, and return an hour or so later with a large, empty flower pot, which he would leave somewhere conspicuously around the flat.
The plants were the most luxurious, verdant, and beautiful in London. Also the most terrified.”
― Neil Gaiman, Good Omens
Is it cruel that I would love to grow gardens with that tactic?
Friday, February 24, 2012
CULTURAL!
So there's a Chinatown in Houston, and Mom and Kyle (my little brother) and I go there occasionally to get our oriental fix. We really miss the Asian food we used to eat all the time in California, with our Asian family... the vegetables, the cookies, the pastries, the dumplings, and all kinds of stuff that are delicious but that I don't know the names of. Where we lived in California was freakin' Asianland, so all the food we loved was right there. I never realized how much I took it for granted until years after I moved to Texas.
When we go to Chinatown, we immediately go to the Chinese bakery to buy different types of bread I love and some coffee cake stuff. Then we walk to a Chinese restaurant where Mom orders all her favorite foods and I scarf down my bread and whatever Mom hasn't eaten. Then we head to the grocery store where Mom buys dumplings and other food that don't matter because I only have eyes for the cookies/crackers I've loved as a child. We load everything up, and then full and happy, we drive back home.
I'll never forget the first time I went to Chinatown. I had the bright idea to play a game called "Count The Asians" and Kyle enthusiastically (a little too much so) joined in. I even had my phone out, keeping track of the numbers on the notepad. Because believe it or not, there are a lot of Asians in Chinatown.
I think I gave up after 70 or so Asians. Kyle bravely continued until close to 200.
Last time Mom and I went a couple of weeks ago while Kyle was at school. Oh man, he was upset! He wanted to come with us so badly... haha, sucker!!! I mean, just kidding Kyle, we'll bring you back something. (We did--while wandering around a store, Mom found a clock with Snoopy in hockey gear and bought it for Kyle's next birthday.)
So we arrived in Chinatown, and head through our usual parking lot. I was looking out the passenger window, looking out at all the stores and the dog on the parking lot and the Tapioca House and--wait, a dog? I did a double take, but at that point we had completely passed it.
"DID YOU SEE THAT?" I said to Mom.
"See what?" she asked, mystified.
"That dog!"
"What dog?"
"Mooooooooooooooooooooom, can you turn around? Look at it!"
So she turned around in the parking lot and drove back the way we came. I'm sure I was pretty inconspicuous, the way my face was pressed up against the glass. And then... yes! We saw---
You know how when dog owners need to run inside a store, they'll usually leave their dogs in the car with the window cracked for air? This owner must have looked at them with haughty derision and decided "Not me!" Instead, they had left their dog outside in the REAL air. Seriously, the dog was just chillin' there on the parking lot next to the car. Don't worry, the dog was on a leash... the problem was, the rest of the leash was locked in the trunk.
HUH?? I'm really hoping the owner didn't just drive off without putting the dog back inside the car. But it's Chinatown, dogs aren't expected to be treated well there.
(I reserve every right to make fun of Asians since I am very much one. That's what I like about being multiple ethnicities... I get to make fun of all kinds of things.)
Mom saw the dog this time, and burst out laughing. We stopped right in front of it, I cranked the window down, and very subtly took a picture.
You know what I like about my mom? Not only did she stop to let me take a picture, but she dug around her purse for her phone, handed it to me, and told me to take a picture on that too.
Anyways, we went through our usual ritual of going to the bakery. The funny thing is, my mom has known the old woman who is always at the counter for years. Every time we walk in, the woman jabbers away in Chinese to my mom about how pretty she thinks I am, and what a great relationship Mom and I must have. It's kind of embarassing, but she's a nice lady.
We continued on our journey to the Chinese restaurant. We sat down, Mom orders her usual ten plates of food while I unwrap my bread and begin my blissful eating. Mom and I chatted about different things, the waiter came and went, food started disappearing as quickly as they came.
Halfway through the meal, my attention was drawn towards the music playing overhead. Huh, it sounded strangely familiar... I hadn't heard this song in forever, what was it? I strained my brain, trying to remember. Suddenly the woman in the song started singing and I immediately realized what song was playing. Simultaneously, as I recognized it, I choked on my food. Mom looked at me quizzically as I burst into laughter, probably spraying food everywhere.
The song was "My Humps" by the Black Eyed Peas. For the uncultured out there, it's PRETTY inappropriate and it's all about a woman's.... figure. I've never been a fan; in fact, I question how this song came into existence in the first place.
Honestly, it was absolutely hilarious to me that half the people in the restaurant probably didn't know enough English to understand the lyrics.
What made it better was when the waiter came over, looked at me (practically crying at this point), frowned, and asked Mom in Chinese what was so funny.
She shrugged and responded, "I don't know, I think it's the song."
Only in Chinatown... well, I'm very much sure this would happen in Nicaragua too.
When we go to Chinatown, we immediately go to the Chinese bakery to buy different types of bread I love and some coffee cake stuff. Then we walk to a Chinese restaurant where Mom orders all her favorite foods and I scarf down my bread and whatever Mom hasn't eaten. Then we head to the grocery store where Mom buys dumplings and other food that don't matter because I only have eyes for the cookies/crackers I've loved as a child. We load everything up, and then full and happy, we drive back home.
I'll never forget the first time I went to Chinatown. I had the bright idea to play a game called "Count The Asians" and Kyle enthusiastically (a little too much so) joined in. I even had my phone out, keeping track of the numbers on the notepad. Because believe it or not, there are a lot of Asians in Chinatown.
I think I gave up after 70 or so Asians. Kyle bravely continued until close to 200.
Last time Mom and I went a couple of weeks ago while Kyle was at school. Oh man, he was upset! He wanted to come with us so badly... haha, sucker!!! I mean, just kidding Kyle, we'll bring you back something. (We did--while wandering around a store, Mom found a clock with Snoopy in hockey gear and bought it for Kyle's next birthday.)
So we arrived in Chinatown, and head through our usual parking lot. I was looking out the passenger window, looking out at all the stores and the dog on the parking lot and the Tapioca House and--wait, a dog? I did a double take, but at that point we had completely passed it.
"DID YOU SEE THAT?" I said to Mom.
"See what?" she asked, mystified.
"That dog!"
"What dog?"
"Mooooooooooooooooooooom, can you turn around? Look at it!"
So she turned around in the parking lot and drove back the way we came. I'm sure I was pretty inconspicuous, the way my face was pressed up against the glass. And then... yes! We saw---
You know how when dog owners need to run inside a store, they'll usually leave their dogs in the car with the window cracked for air? This owner must have looked at them with haughty derision and decided "Not me!" Instead, they had left their dog outside in the REAL air. Seriously, the dog was just chillin' there on the parking lot next to the car. Don't worry, the dog was on a leash... the problem was, the rest of the leash was locked in the trunk.
HUH?? I'm really hoping the owner didn't just drive off without putting the dog back inside the car. But it's Chinatown, dogs aren't expected to be treated well there.
(I reserve every right to make fun of Asians since I am very much one. That's what I like about being multiple ethnicities... I get to make fun of all kinds of things.)
Mom saw the dog this time, and burst out laughing. We stopped right in front of it, I cranked the window down, and very subtly took a picture.
You know what I like about my mom? Not only did she stop to let me take a picture, but she dug around her purse for her phone, handed it to me, and told me to take a picture on that too.
Anyways, we went through our usual ritual of going to the bakery. The funny thing is, my mom has known the old woman who is always at the counter for years. Every time we walk in, the woman jabbers away in Chinese to my mom about how pretty she thinks I am, and what a great relationship Mom and I must have. It's kind of embarassing, but she's a nice lady.
We continued on our journey to the Chinese restaurant. We sat down, Mom orders her usual ten plates of food while I unwrap my bread and begin my blissful eating. Mom and I chatted about different things, the waiter came and went, food started disappearing as quickly as they came.
Halfway through the meal, my attention was drawn towards the music playing overhead. Huh, it sounded strangely familiar... I hadn't heard this song in forever, what was it? I strained my brain, trying to remember. Suddenly the woman in the song started singing and I immediately realized what song was playing. Simultaneously, as I recognized it, I choked on my food. Mom looked at me quizzically as I burst into laughter, probably spraying food everywhere.
The song was "My Humps" by the Black Eyed Peas. For the uncultured out there, it's PRETTY inappropriate and it's all about a woman's.... figure. I've never been a fan; in fact, I question how this song came into existence in the first place.
Honestly, it was absolutely hilarious to me that half the people in the restaurant probably didn't know enough English to understand the lyrics.
What made it better was when the waiter came over, looked at me (practically crying at this point), frowned, and asked Mom in Chinese what was so funny.
She shrugged and responded, "I don't know, I think it's the song."
Only in Chinatown... well, I'm very much sure this would happen in Nicaragua too.
Friday, February 10, 2012
For those that miss
I feel that all of my recent blogs have been so serious. I keep meaning to write something light-hearted, but honestly, it keeps sliding out of my head! Plus I don't think anything can compete with the series of "for Jules" posts, about strange things witnessed in Nicaragua.
Unfortunately for anyone who might be hoping for something comical, you're at the wrong post. However, I have an idea for my next post inspired by a visit to Chinatown in Houston recently. I'll try to write that tomorrow, or even tonight if I write this one quickly enough.
Not too long ago, I was browsing on Facebook. One of my Facebook friends is in New York (she is from Texas too), for college I believe. She wrote on her most recent status, "I want to go home." Very simple, very straightforward, yet containing so much emotion. And the more I think about it, the more my heart goes out to her.
It feels like I've spent my whole life missing people. Growing up, I lived in California but flew back and forth to Texas to visit family. That's how I met the church I'm a part of now, and how I met many close friends. And it was hard, having wonderful friends and family in two different states that I loved. I will always remember how frustrated I often was, and how much I wished it was possible for everyone I loved to be in one place.
That was bad, but it got so much worse in Nicaragua. It's one thing to miss some people all the time while simultaneously being in the company of other people that you've missed too. But it's a rude awakening to suddenly be in a foreign country, away from everyone. That doubles the size of people you miss, and the amount of pain, the amount of missing.
"We miss you so much," the Kolbs and I were told all the time. While it's great to hear, it's also a melancholy thing. Everyone only missed a few people--we missed everyone.
A. A. Milne, the author of Winnie the Pooh, writes “How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.” Yeah, inspiring. It makes you feel better when you think of it that way. But you have still said goodbye to them, and it still hurts regardless.
And so it kind of does something deep inside of me, thinking about my friend who wants to go home. The feeling is all too familiar. It's painful, when you're gone and sitting there wondering what everyone is doing and what they are talking about and what inside jokes and memories are being made and what good times are you missing out on and are they thinking about you at all. It's incredibly painful, especially if you have nothing going on at your end. Every Sunday morning, I'd look at the time and think about what people at church were doing. I'd do the same on Wednesday evenings, when youth group always occurs. I'd think, "Oh, worship will be going on there. I wonder who's playing. Now they'll be doing ministry time, now they'll be playing games, now they'll be doing a sermon, now..."
It gets easier as you get to know more people around you and begin to gain a busier schedule. It's no less painful, just easier to bear.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to have a mourning pity party here. This post was completely spontaneous and in fact, I didn't even realize I had all of this inside of me until I sat down to write. It's just... soothing to write it down. To record it.
I began counting down the days on the calendar until my flight home. By that, I mean I started counting just a few weeks into my almost three month stay. Preston and Carrie noticed, and when I was asked about it, I explained that it was somehow comforting to pinpoint a number of days.
One day, Carrie sat down and asked me, "Are you happy here? Because you're counting down the days."
I looked at her, bewildered. "I'm not counting down the days until I leave. I'm counting down until I get to see everyone again."
And man, I was diligent about that. We didn't have a calendar until two months into my stay, so I made my own calendar at the back of my journal. I'd write down what happened each day, little reminders, and faithfully crossed out each day before going to sleep. I counted the days backwards so I knew how many days were left.
Sometime in August, I was told about a youth event that was going on at church the day I was meant to fly back to Texas. It started Friday evening on September 23rd, lasted all night, and went on until Saturday evening the next day. I was scheduled to fly in at about noon, Saturday September 24th.
I got a brilliant idea. I would show up Saturday afternoon and surprise everyone! Chris Nelson, one of the youth leaders who had informed me of the event, became my accomplice. I explained my plan to him and he promised to send information about the schedule so that I'd know when to arrive. He didn't tell anyone else, and I didn't either except for Tammy (to make sure it was alright) and Jessica Knox (she asked if I was going and I wasn't going to lie). Actually, I take that back. While I told hardly anyone in Texas, I told just about every Nicaraguan who could understand English about my plan. I was just a little excited.
God bless my parents, they were so understanding. I was hesitant to ask my dad and stepmom, because I didn't want to deprive them from family time. It took a while to gain the courage to ask permission for my plan. Wonderfully, they said yes. I almost fell over with the laptop when I heard their agreement to my selfishness. Then came the matter of how I was going to get to the church and back. "Should I drive myself over there?" I asked Aunnie (my stepmom).
"We'll all go together," she replied.
Somehow, things became more bearable after confirming the plan. I was so excited to go through with it that I made a point of telling a lot of people how sorry I was that my flight was that day, and that I couldn't make it to the event. Sure, there was a little guilt after they expressed their disappointment, but... they'd see.
Whenever things got hard, I'd think about the upcoming reunion and my spirits would lift. I often lay on my air mattress at night and imagined what it would be like, walking through the doors unexpectedly. I imagined a brief moment of shocked silence, and then yelling and the flurry of bodies hurling themselves at me for a hug. It was such a sweet daydream.
I'm going to get to the point and fastforward to that moment. Fresh from Nicaragua, with newly red hair, a beach tan, and a shirt that advertised the Managua Vineyard Church, I leaped from the car and marched through the church doors where everyone was inside the Fellowship Hall, playing games. I walked right in, and stopped, looking around with a broad grin at all these people that I had missed.
It was just how I'd imagined. The moment of silence, the silence being broken by friends bellowing my name. The image of friends running at me, and the sensation of being knocked around, held, and ultimately dog-piled. That entire afternoon and evening was amazing. Being back with everyone, knowing how loved and missed I had been, was priceless. Even now, the memory makes me smile and feel warm inside. I wouldn't trade it for anything. Hell, I'd go back to a foreign country again, gladly, since I know how great the reunions are upon the return.
So yeah, missing hurts. Going to new places is always tough. There's always people to miss, and to leave behind. But there are always people to meet, and there are always people everywhere to make you feel lucky to have such hard goodbyes to. And after all, no one said it was easy to be loved.
Unfortunately for anyone who might be hoping for something comical, you're at the wrong post. However, I have an idea for my next post inspired by a visit to Chinatown in Houston recently. I'll try to write that tomorrow, or even tonight if I write this one quickly enough.
Not too long ago, I was browsing on Facebook. One of my Facebook friends is in New York (she is from Texas too), for college I believe. She wrote on her most recent status, "I want to go home." Very simple, very straightforward, yet containing so much emotion. And the more I think about it, the more my heart goes out to her.
It feels like I've spent my whole life missing people. Growing up, I lived in California but flew back and forth to Texas to visit family. That's how I met the church I'm a part of now, and how I met many close friends. And it was hard, having wonderful friends and family in two different states that I loved. I will always remember how frustrated I often was, and how much I wished it was possible for everyone I loved to be in one place.
That was bad, but it got so much worse in Nicaragua. It's one thing to miss some people all the time while simultaneously being in the company of other people that you've missed too. But it's a rude awakening to suddenly be in a foreign country, away from everyone. That doubles the size of people you miss, and the amount of pain, the amount of missing.
"We miss you so much," the Kolbs and I were told all the time. While it's great to hear, it's also a melancholy thing. Everyone only missed a few people--we missed everyone.
A. A. Milne, the author of Winnie the Pooh, writes “How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.” Yeah, inspiring. It makes you feel better when you think of it that way. But you have still said goodbye to them, and it still hurts regardless.
And so it kind of does something deep inside of me, thinking about my friend who wants to go home. The feeling is all too familiar. It's painful, when you're gone and sitting there wondering what everyone is doing and what they are talking about and what inside jokes and memories are being made and what good times are you missing out on and are they thinking about you at all. It's incredibly painful, especially if you have nothing going on at your end. Every Sunday morning, I'd look at the time and think about what people at church were doing. I'd do the same on Wednesday evenings, when youth group always occurs. I'd think, "Oh, worship will be going on there. I wonder who's playing. Now they'll be doing ministry time, now they'll be playing games, now they'll be doing a sermon, now..."
It gets easier as you get to know more people around you and begin to gain a busier schedule. It's no less painful, just easier to bear.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to have a mourning pity party here. This post was completely spontaneous and in fact, I didn't even realize I had all of this inside of me until I sat down to write. It's just... soothing to write it down. To record it.
I began counting down the days on the calendar until my flight home. By that, I mean I started counting just a few weeks into my almost three month stay. Preston and Carrie noticed, and when I was asked about it, I explained that it was somehow comforting to pinpoint a number of days.
One day, Carrie sat down and asked me, "Are you happy here? Because you're counting down the days."
I looked at her, bewildered. "I'm not counting down the days until I leave. I'm counting down until I get to see everyone again."
And man, I was diligent about that. We didn't have a calendar until two months into my stay, so I made my own calendar at the back of my journal. I'd write down what happened each day, little reminders, and faithfully crossed out each day before going to sleep. I counted the days backwards so I knew how many days were left.
Sometime in August, I was told about a youth event that was going on at church the day I was meant to fly back to Texas. It started Friday evening on September 23rd, lasted all night, and went on until Saturday evening the next day. I was scheduled to fly in at about noon, Saturday September 24th.
I got a brilliant idea. I would show up Saturday afternoon and surprise everyone! Chris Nelson, one of the youth leaders who had informed me of the event, became my accomplice. I explained my plan to him and he promised to send information about the schedule so that I'd know when to arrive. He didn't tell anyone else, and I didn't either except for Tammy (to make sure it was alright) and Jessica Knox (she asked if I was going and I wasn't going to lie). Actually, I take that back. While I told hardly anyone in Texas, I told just about every Nicaraguan who could understand English about my plan. I was just a little excited.
God bless my parents, they were so understanding. I was hesitant to ask my dad and stepmom, because I didn't want to deprive them from family time. It took a while to gain the courage to ask permission for my plan. Wonderfully, they said yes. I almost fell over with the laptop when I heard their agreement to my selfishness. Then came the matter of how I was going to get to the church and back. "Should I drive myself over there?" I asked Aunnie (my stepmom).
"We'll all go together," she replied.
Somehow, things became more bearable after confirming the plan. I was so excited to go through with it that I made a point of telling a lot of people how sorry I was that my flight was that day, and that I couldn't make it to the event. Sure, there was a little guilt after they expressed their disappointment, but... they'd see.
Whenever things got hard, I'd think about the upcoming reunion and my spirits would lift. I often lay on my air mattress at night and imagined what it would be like, walking through the doors unexpectedly. I imagined a brief moment of shocked silence, and then yelling and the flurry of bodies hurling themselves at me for a hug. It was such a sweet daydream.
I'm going to get to the point and fastforward to that moment. Fresh from Nicaragua, with newly red hair, a beach tan, and a shirt that advertised the Managua Vineyard Church, I leaped from the car and marched through the church doors where everyone was inside the Fellowship Hall, playing games. I walked right in, and stopped, looking around with a broad grin at all these people that I had missed.
It was just how I'd imagined. The moment of silence, the silence being broken by friends bellowing my name. The image of friends running at me, and the sensation of being knocked around, held, and ultimately dog-piled. That entire afternoon and evening was amazing. Being back with everyone, knowing how loved and missed I had been, was priceless. Even now, the memory makes me smile and feel warm inside. I wouldn't trade it for anything. Hell, I'd go back to a foreign country again, gladly, since I know how great the reunions are upon the return.
So yeah, missing hurts. Going to new places is always tough. There's always people to miss, and to leave behind. But there are always people to meet, and there are always people everywhere to make you feel lucky to have such hard goodbyes to. And after all, no one said it was easy to be loved.
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Of machetes and ice skates and who you are
Three years ago during January 2009, I discovered who I am.
Well, sort of. I was told who I am, and quite promptly forgot about it until September of last year, while still in Nicaragua. I remember when I first remembered. The Kolbs were at the hospital, visiting kids with cancer, and I had gotten up at some ungodly hour that morning with a lesson in my head for my youth group. I'd scrambled out of bed, ran to pee, and then sat down and wrote an entire lesson about Nicaragua. Soon I moved to type everything down on a laptop, in order to organize my thoughts better. I typed frantically for what seemed like forever. Finally, I took a breath and sat back in my chair to evaluate what I'd written. Was there anything I had missed?
Suddenly, so quickly I barely noticed it sliding into my head, I had a flashback.
Tammy, one of my youth pastors, got a vision for me during a youth event we were participating in called D Now (Disciple Now). I'd describe D Now, but well, I assume everyone reading this has the internet and can open up another tab to look it up (I'm cruel to my few, loyal minions that read my blog). The actual event was... not that great, but there were beneficial things indeed that happened. I remember sitting in a room surrounded by other girls, Carrie, and Tammy, discussing what we felt God was calling us to do in our lives. No one else said anything, so I went first.
Out of the blue, Tammy spoke up, saying God had given her a vision for me. I was in the midst of a jungle... with a machete. I was wielding that thing, hacking and slicing away and forging a path in the jungle. God told Tammy, "Ashley is a trailblazer. She will go to places no one else will go, to places everyone is afraid to go. She will make a path for herself, and for others to follow. She is my trailblazer."
At the time, I was more interested in the idea of me being a leader, and being a total, if you pardon the expression, badass with a machete. Seriously, how great is THAT for a vision about you? It wasn't until that moment in Nicaragua--sitting at the kitchen table in a house silent except for my racing thoughts, the echo of my fingers pounding on a keyboard, and multiple fans blowing cool air into the humid world--that it hit me. And when I say it hit me, I mean it punched me in the stomach so hard that it took my breath away.
About a month later, I was back in Texas and sitting across from Bill (Tammy's husband and fellow youth pastor). We were discussing this same lesson, preparing it. He loved it from the start. When I mentioned the vision and the trailblazing part, he proclaimed enthusiastically "Man, I think it's so awesome that you're figuring out who you are at such a young age! I bet if you went around and asked a lot of adults you know, they wouldn't be able to tell you who they are!"
That struck me, and it stuck. I'd never considered it was discovering who I am... in fact, it had never crossed my mind to discover who I am. Is it true, I wondered, that some or most adults don't know who they truly are deep inside? Why didn't they know? How come I'm figuring that out at my young age? Why me? Why not everyone else as well?
I gave my Nicaragua lesson January 4th, 2012. I wish I had a recording, or a good retelling for the curious who weren't present, but honestly, nothing will ever live up to the original. I could give a brief summary of my lesson, I could send you my notes and my powerpoint, but nothing could ever replace being there. My lesson was based off of the vision and the trailblazing part, where I did my best to encourage everyone to forge paths and not to be afraid of making mistakes.
At the end of the lesson, Bill stood up and crossed the room to stand beside me before everybody. "I'm going to put you on the spot," he told me ("I'm already on the spot," I said wryly) before announcing to everyone, "Ashley is a trailblazer." He said some other stuff, but mainly I sat there, face burning and heart swelling with pride at this confirmation.
Now I've gotten a reputation with it. This past weekend at another youth event, Acquire the Fire (stop your groaning, dear readers, this is the last thing I'll make you look up due to my laziness of descriptions!), I apparently drove people to near madness. Whenever we were told to meet up at our cars for snacks, or to go inside the church for worship, I would immediately set off on the quest. Mind you, we were in a huge church surrounded by hundreds of kids pushing and shoving to get past each other in a manner that invoked memories of mob violence, and everyone in our youth was told to stay together. Yeah, well, that "everyone in our youth" would walk incredibly slowly because of the amount of kids in our youth we were trying not to lose. Everyone would walk a few feet, and then stop, then walk a few feet, and stop. Being the impatient person I am, I'd begin walking quickly towards our destination. "Follow Ashley!" was the universal cry, but most everyone found it impossible to follow me due to the large crowd of kids we were fighting our way through, and also the fact that I'm one of the smallest and can squeeze between people quite easily.
"Slow down!" I was told--more than once. "Stop that trailblazing for a second and slow down!"
Out of everything at Acquire the Fire, that small thing impacted me greatly. If I can fight my way easily through a large crowd of kids heavily influenced by mob psychology, what else could I do with "that trailblazing"?
Tammy got another vision for me last night, at the very end of Acquire the Fire. Funny thing was, it was while one of my friends was asking for prayer. Tammy waited until he was done describing the pain in his shoulder before leaning over to me and saying to me, "I just had a vision."
Well, sort of. I was told who I am, and quite promptly forgot about it until September of last year, while still in Nicaragua. I remember when I first remembered. The Kolbs were at the hospital, visiting kids with cancer, and I had gotten up at some ungodly hour that morning with a lesson in my head for my youth group. I'd scrambled out of bed, ran to pee, and then sat down and wrote an entire lesson about Nicaragua. Soon I moved to type everything down on a laptop, in order to organize my thoughts better. I typed frantically for what seemed like forever. Finally, I took a breath and sat back in my chair to evaluate what I'd written. Was there anything I had missed?
Suddenly, so quickly I barely noticed it sliding into my head, I had a flashback.
Tammy, one of my youth pastors, got a vision for me during a youth event we were participating in called D Now (Disciple Now). I'd describe D Now, but well, I assume everyone reading this has the internet and can open up another tab to look it up (I'm cruel to my few, loyal minions that read my blog). The actual event was... not that great, but there were beneficial things indeed that happened. I remember sitting in a room surrounded by other girls, Carrie, and Tammy, discussing what we felt God was calling us to do in our lives. No one else said anything, so I went first.
Out of the blue, Tammy spoke up, saying God had given her a vision for me. I was in the midst of a jungle... with a machete. I was wielding that thing, hacking and slicing away and forging a path in the jungle. God told Tammy, "Ashley is a trailblazer. She will go to places no one else will go, to places everyone is afraid to go. She will make a path for herself, and for others to follow. She is my trailblazer."
At the time, I was more interested in the idea of me being a leader, and being a total, if you pardon the expression, badass with a machete. Seriously, how great is THAT for a vision about you? It wasn't until that moment in Nicaragua--sitting at the kitchen table in a house silent except for my racing thoughts, the echo of my fingers pounding on a keyboard, and multiple fans blowing cool air into the humid world--that it hit me. And when I say it hit me, I mean it punched me in the stomach so hard that it took my breath away.
About a month later, I was back in Texas and sitting across from Bill (Tammy's husband and fellow youth pastor). We were discussing this same lesson, preparing it. He loved it from the start. When I mentioned the vision and the trailblazing part, he proclaimed enthusiastically "Man, I think it's so awesome that you're figuring out who you are at such a young age! I bet if you went around and asked a lot of adults you know, they wouldn't be able to tell you who they are!"
That struck me, and it stuck. I'd never considered it was discovering who I am... in fact, it had never crossed my mind to discover who I am. Is it true, I wondered, that some or most adults don't know who they truly are deep inside? Why didn't they know? How come I'm figuring that out at my young age? Why me? Why not everyone else as well?
I gave my Nicaragua lesson January 4th, 2012. I wish I had a recording, or a good retelling for the curious who weren't present, but honestly, nothing will ever live up to the original. I could give a brief summary of my lesson, I could send you my notes and my powerpoint, but nothing could ever replace being there. My lesson was based off of the vision and the trailblazing part, where I did my best to encourage everyone to forge paths and not to be afraid of making mistakes.
At the end of the lesson, Bill stood up and crossed the room to stand beside me before everybody. "I'm going to put you on the spot," he told me ("I'm already on the spot," I said wryly) before announcing to everyone, "Ashley is a trailblazer." He said some other stuff, but mainly I sat there, face burning and heart swelling with pride at this confirmation.
Now I've gotten a reputation with it. This past weekend at another youth event, Acquire the Fire (stop your groaning, dear readers, this is the last thing I'll make you look up due to my laziness of descriptions!), I apparently drove people to near madness. Whenever we were told to meet up at our cars for snacks, or to go inside the church for worship, I would immediately set off on the quest. Mind you, we were in a huge church surrounded by hundreds of kids pushing and shoving to get past each other in a manner that invoked memories of mob violence, and everyone in our youth was told to stay together. Yeah, well, that "everyone in our youth" would walk incredibly slowly because of the amount of kids in our youth we were trying not to lose. Everyone would walk a few feet, and then stop, then walk a few feet, and stop. Being the impatient person I am, I'd begin walking quickly towards our destination. "Follow Ashley!" was the universal cry, but most everyone found it impossible to follow me due to the large crowd of kids we were fighting our way through, and also the fact that I'm one of the smallest and can squeeze between people quite easily.
"Slow down!" I was told--more than once. "Stop that trailblazing for a second and slow down!"
Out of everything at Acquire the Fire, that small thing impacted me greatly. If I can fight my way easily through a large crowd of kids heavily influenced by mob psychology, what else could I do with "that trailblazing"?
Tammy got another vision for me last night, at the very end of Acquire the Fire. Funny thing was, it was while one of my friends was asking for prayer. Tammy waited until he was done describing the pain in his shoulder before leaning over to me and saying to me, "I just had a vision."
She had gotten a picture of ice skates... ice skates that belonged to ME (I don't own ice skates). In order for me to go out on the ice, in order to work right, in order to use the skates the way they were meant to be used, it needed sharpening. God is telling me to sit still ("CRAP!" I thought) and to wait because He is sharpening my skates before I go (wherever that takes me), and He's getting me ready to leave. Mind you, it's no fun task sharpening skates: you have to grind a rough edge against the rough blades in order to make them sharp enough to function right. He's sharpening my skates so that my path will be as smooth as possible. Maybe not smooth, but smoother than the alternative.
When I heard that, my mind went back to Costa Rica, to the small church where I was on my knees with Jules next to me, saying that my looks blended in with different cultures and made me accessible to places that tall white gringos can't go.
It all goes together. People not being able to tell what culture I am, my trip to Nicaragua, Tammy's two visions, even though they were three years apart, and Julie's words. It's all going together, separate pieces beginning to form one big picture. The picture of my future. The picture of who I am.
Now I want you to think. Who are you? What has God created you to be? Do you know, do you have an idea, do you have no idea? There's no shame in not knowing. What are you going to do if you don't know who you are? Will you wander off on your own journey to figure it out, or will you go directly to God and ask?
If you know who you are--are you living up to it?
Who are you?
Now I want you to think. Who are you? What has God created you to be? Do you know, do you have an idea, do you have no idea? There's no shame in not knowing. What are you going to do if you don't know who you are? Will you wander off on your own journey to figure it out, or will you go directly to God and ask?
If you know who you are--are you living up to it?
Who are you?
Sunday, January 1, 2012
Happy(?) New Year
I can't describe how relieved I am that 2011 is over. It was a pretty crazy year: full of wonderful things (being a senior, prom, graduation, driving, Nicaragua, being viewed as someone maturing into an adult, discovering a lot about God and myself) and some incredibly crappy things (problems with friends, graduation, Nicaragua, being viewed as someone maturing into an adult, insane spiritual attacks, the job situation, etc).
While there was a lot of good out of the last 12 months, this past month has probably been the worst out of them all--and if it's not the worst, it's pretty high up on the list. So feeling that way right now, I'm rating 2011 (probably unfairly) to be a rather bad year.
Earlier, I shut off my laptop and climbed into bed to get as much sleep as I can get before church occurs in approximately 8 hours. I've been trying to build a habit of talking to God for at LEAST 5 minutes before turning off the lights, but with it being past 2 in the morning, I didn't think I'd make it.
So I lay there, trying to sum up everything inside of me into a more suitable amount of words. Finally I came up with "Lord... just let this next year be better."
I was about to leave it at that when I heard something odd, literally seconds after the words left my lips. It was a slight rustling noise coming from outside...and it was growing louder, and more audible.
It was rain. Raindrops, pattering on the street and the sidewalk and the driveway and then on the roof of the house. How strange, it hasn't rained all day and all week and it's not even meant to come up in the forecast as far as I know. Yet the rain threw itself down.
And then I got a random thought in my head. That's all it was, just a thought, yet I knew instantly that I had not come up with it myself.
"Do you hear that rain?" the thought said to me. "That's what I want to do inside you. I want to cleanse you. I want to pour myself into you to cleanse and heal the wounds. I want to wash away all the hurt and the anger and the bitterness that's grown in the past year, and I want to take it away so that you can have a new start for this new year. But you're going to have to want it too."
It was a startling thought, but it made sense. I looked through drawers to find something to write on and, failing that, reopened my laptop to type everything down. During that time, while I had gotten off the bed to search my room, the rain had quietly ceased.
Since I'm here, I might as well share something I found today. Neil Gaiman (author of the novels Coraline, Stardust, American Gods, Neverwhere, and more) is one of my favorite writers. He has such a way with words that just really strikes me deep inside. Because, well, no one writes quite the way he does. He gets right to the matter and twists and bends words and sentences to do his bidding, and I deeply admire (and covet) that.
Anyways, here is an excerpt from his blog today:
And for this year, my wish for each of us is small and very simple.
While there was a lot of good out of the last 12 months, this past month has probably been the worst out of them all--and if it's not the worst, it's pretty high up on the list. So feeling that way right now, I'm rating 2011 (probably unfairly) to be a rather bad year.
Earlier, I shut off my laptop and climbed into bed to get as much sleep as I can get before church occurs in approximately 8 hours. I've been trying to build a habit of talking to God for at LEAST 5 minutes before turning off the lights, but with it being past 2 in the morning, I didn't think I'd make it.
So I lay there, trying to sum up everything inside of me into a more suitable amount of words. Finally I came up with "Lord... just let this next year be better."
I was about to leave it at that when I heard something odd, literally seconds after the words left my lips. It was a slight rustling noise coming from outside...and it was growing louder, and more audible.
It was rain. Raindrops, pattering on the street and the sidewalk and the driveway and then on the roof of the house. How strange, it hasn't rained all day and all week and it's not even meant to come up in the forecast as far as I know. Yet the rain threw itself down.
And then I got a random thought in my head. That's all it was, just a thought, yet I knew instantly that I had not come up with it myself.
"Do you hear that rain?" the thought said to me. "That's what I want to do inside you. I want to cleanse you. I want to pour myself into you to cleanse and heal the wounds. I want to wash away all the hurt and the anger and the bitterness that's grown in the past year, and I want to take it away so that you can have a new start for this new year. But you're going to have to want it too."
It was a startling thought, but it made sense. I looked through drawers to find something to write on and, failing that, reopened my laptop to type everything down. During that time, while I had gotten off the bed to search my room, the rain had quietly ceased.
Since I'm here, I might as well share something I found today. Neil Gaiman (author of the novels Coraline, Stardust, American Gods, Neverwhere, and more) is one of my favorite writers. He has such a way with words that just really strikes me deep inside. Because, well, no one writes quite the way he does. He gets right to the matter and twists and bends words and sentences to do his bidding, and I deeply admire (and covet) that.
Anyways, here is an excerpt from his blog today:
Saturday, December 31, 2011
My New Year Wish
May your coming year be filled with magic and dreams and good madness. I hope you read some fine books and kiss someone who thinks you're wonderful, and don't forget to make some art -- write or draw or build or sing or live as only you can. And I hope, somewhere in the next year, you surprise yourself.
...I hope you will have a wonderful year, that you'll dream dangerously and outrageously, that you'll make something that didn't exist before you made it, that you will be loved and that you will be liked, and that you will have people to love and to like in return. And, most importantly (because I think there should be more kindness and more wisdom in the world right now), that you will, when you need to be, be wise, and that you will always be kind.
And for this year, my wish for each of us is small and very simple.
And it's this.
I hope that in this year to come, you make mistakes.
Because if you are making mistakes, then you are making new things, trying new things, learning, living, pushing yourself, changing yourself, changing your world. You're doing things you've never done before, and more importantly, you're Doing Something.
So that's my wish for you, and all of us, and my wish for myself. Make New Mistakes. Make glorious, amazing mistakes. Make mistakes nobody's ever made before. Don't freeze, don't stop, don't worry that it isn't good enough, or it isn't perfect, whatever it is: art, or love, or work or family or life.
Whatever it is you're scared of doing, Do it.
Make your mistakes, next year and forever.
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