stories of summer: the summer of "we"

I once thought braces were sexy. Not in the tousled hair, pouty lips kind of way, just…awesome, I guess. I was in the seventh grade. And aside from my then-unappreciated perfect vision, aligned teeth, & face-of-zits, I totally wanted braces. And glasses, too, but that is another story.

Everybody had them, those glowing metal railroad tracks that made their mouths beautiful. And I kind of thought it was magic—the foodstuffs once tucked between the rims & saliva that hung from the rubberbands was turned into a gleaming white smile when they finally got them taken off. And I was just left with straight teeth, sans crystal chicklets where my chompers were.

I’m sure there were other things before the braces: dolls & earrings & new snap bracelets from Claire’s in 1992 & sticky hands from the pizza parlor $0.25-prize machine. But the absurdity of me actually wanting them at age 13 is something laughable now as the first real, tangible thing that I’d considered saving my own pennies for. Dentists visits were never painful, only sourly disappointing when I heard the “welp, see you next time” & got a doggie bag of new flossers & a neon toothbrush without mention of referral to an orthodontist. I don’t remember laying awake at night or pining for the savory snacks stuck in those sweet colorful rims…but I do remember that them, the braces, the railroad tracks, the bleached chicklet teeth that came after, those were a big freaking deal.

And now, another 13 years later, I’m thanking my lucky stars that I have straight teeth (& no cavities thankyouverymuch). Which makes me wonder what I’ll look back on in another 13 years and laugh at the absurdity of my jealous tendencies toward something so…ridiculous.

I’m kind of like, growing up. Last week when I stepped on the scale, I realized (to my dismay) that the age of muscle-for-fat-exchange has come upon me. Those extra pounds don’t shed as easily. My ganglion cyst in my wrist joint has arthritic properties that make me feel like I’m 65 years old with arthritis-something-fierce. In case you were wondering, I still gets zits. And life? WOWZA. Nobody told us it would be this…this… challenging.

In many ways, with each passing birthday I feel like I return to that 13 year old straight-teeth-zitty-faced girl who looks at all the others with their shiny rims & newly-chicklet-ized teeth and wishes, if only it was me or mine or part of my life.

As a result, we are trying to be more intentional about our lives. I feel like I’ve gotten so caught up in wanting, in paying attention to things outside myself, that I’ve lost touch with who I really am. Kind of like stuffing yourself so full of corndogs & elephant ears at the state fair in August that you lose touch of what hunger feels like until October.

I was so proud of Jon when he agreed to get rid of cable. The TV sits silent in the evenings now & our dinner conversation is filled with well, conversation. I’ve committed to no more clothes-buying, which is difficult for me—although admittedly laughable that a twenty-something loves clothes this much. We’ve stopped buying pop & treats & sweets at the grocery store because we want them to be special again. Our dates, instead of dinners out, now consist of coffee & dessert outings—something our pant size & perfectly-full stomachs have thanked us for. And, though the process is long, we are both working on reducing our wants, paring down our yearnings, & focusing on what God wants us to have through what He’s given us right now.

The best part is that we’re on the same page, finally. In it together.

And so a couple of weeks ago when he came home from work and told me he had a surprise for me, I knew I’d like it.

The red car pulled into the parking lot with the red sign. We both got dipped cones, his chocolate & mine butterscotch. And we walked around the parking lot holding hands & eating our ice cream cones before they melted in the North Carolina heat.

Nothing fancy.

$3.78 later, I still had straight teeth. "You know, I really like this," I said to him.

"Good," he said, "we'll have dates like this again."

And with that, we both crunched on our cones, carefree of stored food specks during akward seventh-grade-dates.

It was perfect.

flower child.

Hey, How you doin’?, he said, the vowel of “hey” lagging in speed, voice smooth as black coffee. I was a little taken-aback by his greeting & even more shocked to find him lounging on an elbow wearing shiny metal-framed Blues Brothers sunglasses. His speech was slowed just a bit, vowels & syllables dragging here & there creating an accent I couldn’t quite pinpoint.

It didn’t take me long to figure out that he was a child of the 1970’s; a kid of peace, love, & rock-and-roll; a teen of smokes & drugs & all-you-can-get. At age 63, the youth had long been gone, but the cheeks below his tousled mop of thinning hair were rosy.

We learned he loved music—guitar, in particular. And I pictured him in a field of daisies, some blonde haired Farah Fawcett whirling around like in the opening scene from the Sound of Music. We learned he loved art…and I figured something odd like paint splattering or wood carving was probably his forte. We learned he loved traveling, & road biking, & Harley’s, & the Beatles.

We also learned that, in his days of freedom, he really loved his booze. He’d get drunk, shoot up, wander a bit, love on some lucky woman, sleep…& start it all over again. And suddenly my picture changed. Instead of fields of daisies & VW Vans & the happier scenes of Forrest Gump, my imagined pictures of his life turned gray, hazy, chaotic.

I couldn’t quite grasp it. Not him. Not the 1970’s. Not the drugs or sex or rock-‘n-roll. But I could grasp the fact that his abdomen was packed with fluid that would have to be drained. I could grasp the fact that his liver was failing, secondary to Hepatitis C he contracted sharing needles. I could grasp the fact that his lungs were destroyed, the consequence of smoke inhalation from years of sacred puffs. And I could grasp the fact that he had regrets.

“My mother told me never to touch the stuff”, the “o’s” & “th’s” lingered in the air, “and god I wish I would have listened.”

My words were gone. I stood silent, not knowing what to say, where to console, or how to encourage.

“But you know”, he said looking at me, “we sure had fun.”

Finally my smile came.

I’d run out of questions & continued my exam in silence. Meanwhile daydreaming about my own future, wondering if I’ll look back at age 63 & take the good with the bad, the life with the malady, the health with the sickness; wondering if I’ll cherish the residue of my memories & poorer decisions or choose to live in regret.

…wondering what substance in my life right now will propel me into remorse; wondering how to squelch it.

And wondering how to make it all more fun.

ugly confession.PATIENCE

He held the door open for me as we briskly walked out of the office. With a guiltless look on my face I said, “Jon, do I come across stand-off-ish or something?”

And he was honest. He told me that Yes, I did come across like I was just a bit superior to the lady working the desk; that Yes, I did treat her poorly like I was in a hurry to get the answer, and that Yes, I needed to work on it.

This whole experience in medical school, seeing patients, spending hours & days studying by myself, pulling myself through the firey ring of tests & exams & clinical experiences, all of this has undoubtedly changed me.

In many ways, it is for the better. I am more acutely aware of the fragility of life, the inevitability of death, and the gift of health. I look at my husband, my parents, my siblings differently—I see the life in them instead of focusing on the day I’ll lose them as I used to. I am more attentive to the darker side of life: the addictions, the illnesses, the horrible situations that surround the lives of some Biblical-Job-like individuals. And in an entirely different way, all of my experiences have culminated in me desparately trying to just be a better person: to throw aside my worries, to trust the One who put together my days, & to accept my life as it comes serving my Lord, my husband, & my community in the meantime.

On the other side of the coin, however, I have changed for the worse. And in many ways, the parts of my personality, my social-ability, & my compassion have been lost in the shuffle, consumed by the selfish requests of the masses of life-sucking patients.

I used to look at the store clerk, the grocery bagger, the retail assistant & pour out compassion on them. I used to try to relate to them, to be patient with who they are & to meet them where they are at.

But somehow, somewhere along the way, I’ve lost it. I’ve lost my compassion. I’ve misplaced my ability to kindly relate to them.

Each day when I head to work, I’m required to put a smile on my face. With my uterus cramping, my emotions on a roller coaster, my sinuses full of snot, my head pounding, it doesn’t matter: I need to put the patients first, to throw aside my own opinions & judgements & emotions & faith, I need to focus solely, completely, & totally on them. In the midst of listening to her complain about her sore fingernail & him complain about peeing too often & her tell me about her failing relationship & him boast about how many sexual encounters he has had in the last month, I have to reach into the depths of my love-tank & pull out another smile, another nod of approval, another ounce of patience. I’m expected to respond quickly. I’m required to welcome them back to the office. And it is vital I do all of this in 15-20 minutes. Per patient. Which means I have to be quick. I have to talk fast, work quickly, & make decisions almost immediately.

And all this serves me well—in the office or hospital. But outside of the medical environment, outside of those sterile white walls & hard hospital beds, away from the bleeps of machines & sobs of patients’ families, those traits that I’ve acquired to be a better someday-Doctor hinder me.

I’m short with the office clerk. I’m rushed when the grocery bagger bags my fresh produce. I’m particular & overly opinionated with the hairstylist. I’m all-too-degrading in my direction-giving to the man in line behind me at Starbucks.

I’ve changed. I’ve changed for my job, because of my job, & in many ways in spite of my job.

Jon told me I needed to work on better separating work & home, job & family.

I think he is right.

Where do you need a dose of change in your life? In what areas have you grown calloused toward showing the compassion of Christ through words, actions, or service? Who in your life is willing to be honest with you about your actions towards others?

ugly confession.WORK

I am not going to lie—not going to fib one little bit to anyone who asks me: medical school is horrid. It is rigorous, exhausting, overwhelming, emotional-breakdown-provoking, trying….really just horrid.

I’ll never forget the looks of approval I got when word got around that I had ‘gotten in’. The sweet ladies at church gave me hugs, their husbands shook my hand firmly; it was almost as if everyone had adopted me & was rooting for me. And although I still feel many of the prayers sent my (& Jon’s) way, it has become a much less “glamorous” experience than I originally thought I’d have.

For the past two years (last 9 months not inclusive), my days, nights, weekends, bathroom time, shower time, workout time, car rides, long drives, and airplane flights have ALL been spent studying. We’d go out to dinner: I’d have my notecards. I had to take a shower: I rigged an extra large plastic baggy with an over-the-shower-head hanging contraption so I could slip a piece of computer paper inside & study while I lathered my hair without ruining my color-coordinated notes. A two hour car ride was in the plans for the weekend: my iPod was full of lectures. A 45 minute stint on the elliptical at the gym meant 45 minutes of studying. IT NEVER ENDED—and actually, I’m coming to the perhaps even more horrid realization that it will never end.

I chose a profession of learning. And while I appreciate the challenge, enjoy the process, & crave new information (information other than this morning’s depressing headlines), I do have days where I’d like to shut my brain off & shut all my medical knowledge in a closet—or deep, dark dungeon. You see, this education has, in many ways, sucked the enjoyment out of many experiences. Stories about “gross stuff” aren’t as funny anymore because I know half of it recited by my friends totally couldn’t be true—the physiology or bacteriology or pharmacology or whatever-ology just isn’t possible. Sick people aren’t as interesting anymore because I’ve grown tired of hearing them complain about conditions they brought upon themselves (chronic knee pain in someone 115 pounds overweight, infected skin in someone who neurotically picks at scabs). Healthy people aren’t as exciting anymore because I know that my love for them in the future will be confounded by the lack-of-reimbursement by insurance companies for well-patient visits. And generally, LIFE has just lost some of its adventurous flavor with the broad knowledge base I know carry around like a ruck-sack strapped to my brain.

About two weeks ago when I was really struggling with my (& that of my family’s) future in medicine, I had to sit down & re-examine my motivations for applying to medical school in the first place.

Jon & I decided from the get-go that we would live solely off of his income—whatever it may be. So poverty line or plush-life aside, we are sticking to our original plan. My motivation for choosing medicine was largely for our children. I wanted to be able to do for them what my parents have done for me, which really came down to two things: support them throughout childhood, giving them ample travel & cross-cultural opportunities and support them financially throughout college, paying for their education in full & thereby giving them the freedom to choose a profession that they like. I figured as well that my working would give us more opportunity as a family to live just a bit more comfortably & travel more.

And those original motivations still hold true, absolutely. But I’m finding my greatest struggle in the balance between my work in medicine & my home life of the future. I’m finding the greatest irony in the fact that the profession I chose deliberately to make a better life for my family may very well be the thing that keeps me away from them. And I’m finding the greatest hesitation in working at all.

I feel the need to add in that I’m certainly not quitting, not throwing in the towel, not letting the poop hit the fan, not giving the fat lady a microphone or making wings for the pigs. I’m NOT QUITTING—in fact, at this point, quitting is not an option for us.

What I do want to get across, however, is that I’m struggling with this whole concept. The concept of balancing life & work & family & children & husband & creativity & writing & photography….it is overwhelming, absolutely. Overwhelming when the physician DISsatisfaction rate hovers around 70%, when the reimbursement for long hours worked continues to fall, when the loans for tuition continue to grow, & when the 24 hours God provided for each day just aren’t enough.

I know I’m not alone in this. I know I’m not the only woman feeling this way. I know many women are my secret heroes I haven’t met yet—the women who balance it all beautifully. I’m just not sure I can be one of those.

It is ugly. And this is my confession.

Jon is overwhelmingly supportive--& I can’t quite put into words how incredibly grateful I am for his support, his stand-by-me, & his tolerance of what I’m about to go through in residency. He is willing to co-parent, willing & wanting to be involved in the lives of our children. He is willing to work hard, extra hours, extra days to provide for us. And for all those things, I am indebted.

In the meantime, however, I am working on trusting God with the details. I am praying that I find a residency program that is family friendly. I am praying that we find affordable housing & are able to live on just a bit more than rice & beans (because beans give me horrible gas). I am praying that we find support in our community, both locally & spiritually. And most of all, I am praying that the Lord provides a job opportunity that allows more balance between a profession I am madly in love with (despite how horrid school is) and a family I am just giddy for.

Where are you most struggling with balance? Is it an event? A commitment? A relationship? A creative outlet? A habit? Did an original motivation exist that has been scewed, obstructed, or changed in the process? How are you coming to terms with its current state--& how do you resolve to change it?

ugly confession.JUDGEMENT.

It was a tough day in church for me yesterday. And actually, it isn’t the first time I’ve walked away with head full of thoughts & heart heavy with the sin of judgement.

It’s no secret that I’m human. And many times I’d like the change the saying “I think, therefore I am.” To “I think, therefore I JUDGE.” Because the truth is that I do. I look at the beggar on the streetcorner & fail to consider his past, his feelings, his hunger for something greater than food. I look at the morbidly obese woman who waddles into the office & my mind usually reverts to the stereotypical thoughts of “laziness”; in fact, I often find myself wondering how she let herself go that far. I see the rambunctious kids tearing down the magazines in the checkout aisle in front of me & judge the mother trying to “shoosh” them—often failing to consider the circumstances of their lives: the father they might have just lost, the stresses they might feel at home around a scantily clad dinner table.

I know that God calls us to be pure of heart, to love our neighbor as we love ourselves, to not judge, not covet, not want … but it is one area of my life I seem to have trouble with. Yesterday mornings' church service drove the point home…again.

Our church has two campuses—one is at the main campus & offers a more “southern gospel” style of praise music with a big (HUGE!) choir & lots of jumping in the aisles; the other (the one we attend) gives a more contemporary style & feel—it is housed in an old movie theater. The alternative service beckons a younger crowd—many college students & couples with young children.

Yesterday morning, the girl in front of us—barely thirty, if I had to guess—was obviously enjoying the presence of the Lord…by screaming. I have trouble closing my eyes & concentrating on worshiping the Lord in the first place (I like to watch the musicians)…but her jumping up & down wasn’t helping. Then, when she let out a scream that would have been better placed at a High School Musical performance from the mouth of a 13-year-old-Zack-Effron-crazed-fan, I really lost my ability to concentrate. Add to that the girl, also seated in the row ahead of us, who praised Jesus by swinging her hips like those of nightclub dancers…and I was really distracted.

The truth, though, is that I’ve let those screams & swinging hips distract me from more than praise during church. I’ve let the world’s distractions—clothes, houses, the internet, striving for the cultural standard of perfection—keep me from concentrating on the One True God.

I’m finding that I either need Spiritual earplugs or time away from distraction…

This week I’m trying the latter.

What people are you most prone to judging? When & in what situations do you find it most difficult to love people for who they are, despite all external circumstances? In what areas of your life could you use a pair of Heavenly Earplugs (or sunglasses??!)??

{be back after Easter…}

ugly confessions.

we all have them. ugly, hidden...shoved in the closet of our thoughts, the back of our minds...hidden from the world. and i'll be the first to admit that when i kindly arrange those sacred monsters in the back of my closet, more often than not i'm trying to hide them from God.

but He knows. He always does.

and i want you to know too. because i've hidden too many things for far too long. in many respects, these aren't earth-shattering, heart breaking, or even vaguely exciting. but i need to post them here. in this public place. one-by-one. because making them public, drawing them out & dusting them off makes them more apparent to me and me more transparent to you.

i started reading Idols of the Heart, kindly recommended by Beth P....and while the book is written in a straight-forward non-read-between-the-lines style, the message goes so much deeper. as i've slowly watched the page numbers grow, my life has been chopped up into tiny pieces...exposed, torn, & separated. and the things i've held dear for so long have come into question...habits, pleasures, guilt, anxiety, relationships....

we'll take these one at a time. i'm obviously not going to share all of them--i don't like airing my dirty laundry. but i feel the need to publicly share at least a few...hoping only to make more of a commitment to change for myself. i could do it with the pen of my journal...but this seems more permanent, more open. in the back of my mind, i feel like my own personal conviction to make the necessary changes will be challenged if i open myself up here.

first installment coming soon....

hindsight.

In the very early Spring of 2005, I attended a retreat at Gonzaga. Tucked away in a little town in Idaho, I learned that I'd been searching for someONE for far too long. And that was the weekend I realized that I would continue to seek my entire life in empty pursuits if I didn't put God first...if I didn't love myself for all He had made me. So I made a commitment to myself that from then on I would only seek ONE LOVE: God's. At the closure of the retreat, we had a few moments to pen a letter to ourselves--a letter that we would receive a few weeks later in the mail. I wrote. I licked the envelope. And I moved on with my life, with my tests, with my friendhsips.

A fury of photo organization & nearly four years later, I found that hand penned letter in a container of miscellaneous papers & photos. This is what it said:

April 10, 2005

J.

Well, it’s been a couple weeks now. Finals are most definitely rolling around—life is probably crazy. But if you remember only one thing, remember this: GOD’S LOVE IS SUFFICIENT.

Sufficient enough that you don’t have to worry too much. Sufficient enough that you shouldn’t be concerned about your future, the content of your character, your beauty, your heart, or even the faith that seems to be so highly acclaimed. What I am so excited about as I am writing this is the idea that YOU, Ms. Goody-too-shoes makes mistakes. But the best part is that GOD deals with them.

He knows already how your chemistry class will turn out, if you’ll get into med school, if you’re supposed to get into med school, WHO is out there for you…& what He created you for. You should be proud of your work ethic & grateful for the amazing amazing amazing community of people, believers, & brothers & sisters in Christ you have at Gonzaga. Carpe diem…because guess what??! There aren’t too many left in Spokane. Be able to look back with no regrets. And don’t waste your tiring neurons on empty thoughts or meaningless questions. Just trust…and know that GOD’S LOVE IS SUFFICIENT.

Keep LOVING, ~jlyn

"God's Love is Sufficient" became a mantra I repeated each day, each hour maybe. I had to realize that God’s, & ONLY God’s love is sufficient before He would let me grasp hold of the fact that someone else might love me too. I had to be content with MYSELF, with MY LIFE, with MY ABILITIES before He would let someone else discover them.

And He did let someone else discover them. Jon literally walked into my life almost 6 months to the day I wrote this letter. After literally months of prayer to grow more comfortable in my own skin, God ever-so-slowly let someone else see me as who I really was.

Oddly enough, the night of our first kiss, Jon told me to "Carpe diem" as well--a statement which has become a running joke in our household. Turns out, he wasn't too far off.

And that, my friends, is the AWESOME power of God's provision.

well.being

i've been indulging lately. in guilty pleasures. like poptarts. and licorice. and when i found out Hershey's makes Pumpkin Spice kisses, my stomach flipped with joy inside my abdomen.

and i'll admit that i haven't made the best choices for my own health lately. not eating balanced meals. each much too quickly for gradual digestion. and mostly not listening to my body when it is telling me its tired or hungry or too overwhelmed with food.

i found this post today on this incredible blog. the woman inspires me--with 6 kids & a farm to oversee, it makes my work days sound like walks on the beach. or walks through snotty-nosed-kid alley, take your pick ;)

and so today, i'm sitting in the guilty chair. perhaps similar to the "time out"chair i used to be forced to sit in. and i'm going to try my best to take better care of my body--to eat better, to exercise more regularly, and to get restful bouts of sleep at night.

here we go....

where did the time go?

people told me i'd be asking that question. but i didn't believe them. my elementary-school head couldn't wrap itself around the fact that, someday, summers wouldn't last 5 years. and Christmas break wouldn't be all about Santa & grandma's chocolate cookies. and then my middle-school brain couldn't wrap itself around the fact that someday i'd want to have a break from my friends for longer then 3 days at a time....or that just like recess ended when 5th grade closed & bras entered my closet, summer break would someday end & a husband would enter my life. and even in high school, i still didn't understand the full extent of just how fast life would fly by me.

but it does. it does fly. it does fly fast.

and so now i'm left wondering where the time went. the time when these two women blossomed. the time when they were still wearing Cinderella panties & eating Mac&Cheese each day for lunch. the time when their world's were still innocent & pure--when their friends weren't falling for cultural norms & when their minds weren't struggling with the temptations that high school inevitable brings. i'm wondering where the time went. the time when pink frills & oversized bows filled their closet. the time when their walls were painted with rainbows & trees. the time when they'd fit in my lap.

and i have a feeling that life will only start to spin faster. and soon enough, i'll be saying this about my own kids, reflecting on these days & how fast they are going.

thank the Lord this life doesn't end when our hearts stop beating. :)

i get it.

i get it now. i finally understand what they've been talking about for so long. and no matter how great the spoken lesson, it was one i had to experience, to feel, before i really, truly could grasp the ginormity of its importance.

i get it now. it all makes sense. the many years of feeling alienated. the many weekends spent alone. and the many, many struggles that God helped me face alone. i get that He wanted me to grow. to learn to depend on Him.

because He knew i would have to later.

and the things they've been telling us? the things about learning how to be fully & totally comfortable with yourself before you move on to being comfortable with someone else; learning how to love God with ALL your heart & soul & mind & strength--not just the part that isn't loving your spouse or family or friends, but loving Him with ALL that you have; learning how to put aside your own desires for those of Someone better & bigger & wiser than you'll ever be. i get it now.

because life is too big to deal with on my own.

and humanity isn't strong enough to conquer & quell the fears & frustrations & faults that have built up inside of me.

i get it. i need God.

and He needs me to give Him ALL i've got.

treasure.

We walk a fine line by living in the moment. Elders tell us to enjoy the journey. Friends encourage us to stop and smell the roses. Historians tell us to learn from the past—technologists say we should find hope in the future. But it is here, now, that often gives me the most trouble.

Just outside my door I found a small spider in the midst of a giant web. She must have spent all night—invested more energy than she could afford in building a home for herself. And now, she is resting. Living in the moment. Soaking in the glory of the silky mansion she has just built for herself.

We build mansions for ourselves, too. My closet, for one—full of more clothes than I could ever wear. And yet, this morning I showed up to class in sweatpants. It is my mansion. As if I am somehow judged by how spotless and wrinkle-free I present myself; as if it makes part of who I am. My bookshelf, another prime example. The textbooks sit there. Unopened. Unused. Un-learned-from. And yet, I continue to build my collection. With the hopes that someday osmosis might set in and my brain might suddenly be filled with pleasant banks of knowledge. And there are other people who literally DO building mansions for themselves. And there they sit. Behind streak-free windows. Atop hills and at oceansides. Basking in the glory of themselves, soaking in the accomplishment of what they have built.

Each mansion, whatever it may be, is an investment. Clothing. Books. Houses. Even worry, homework, cooking. And somehow, each in their own unique way pumps up our egos, gives us hope for the future. A future we are uncertain we’ll even have.

So today I am looking beyond the future. Beyond tomorrow. Beyond next week and next month. Focusing on eternity. Where God has built a mansion for us. A place where simply being in His presence is more satisfying than clothes and books and earthly houses. A place where homework doesn’t bring guilt, where board scores don’t matter, and where egos are broken by humility.

I’m placing my hope in that future. The only future I can be certain of. Because I can’t know what tomorrow will bring. In fact, no one can.

“Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth & rust destroy, and where thieves break in & steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heave, where moth & rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in & steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” –Matthew 6:19-21

so very {un}predictable

it is days like this--days where i shock myself with surprise emotion, days where i am overcome with "what if's" and "how comes"--that i am reminded how very {un}predictable life is. it is days like this that i am reminded how God controls this world. at His leisure. with us at the mercy of His pleasing. and it is days like this that i wish that i would have popped out of the womb with an instruction booklet and "how to do life" manual clutched in each hand.

But alas, i did not (probably to the relief of my mother).

i found myself crying today over tributes to friends lost to drunk drivers. over songs. over words, even. i could chalk it all up to stress, but i know there is something else there--something undefinable and un...grasp-able.

and so i found myself thinking. about how life throws so many curve balls. about my all-too-often selfish focus. about the man that Jesus was--and how incredible it would have been to know him. and i found myself thinking about just how fortunate i am. to have parents that love me. to have support and encouragement. to have my mom as my bestest girlfriend. and jon as my bestest boyfriend. to have my sisters as a spunky and refreshing support system. to havve lou as an incredible example of what a Godly man looks like. to have alec's energy & innocence. and a car to drive. and health. and a cozy bed to sleep in. and this crazy education. i was even thinking how fortunate i am to have lived past age 6--and each day after that. most of the worlds children die before they ever get to write their age as double digits, you know.

and so today i'm looking at life as a big box of surprises. and yeah, it'd be nice to have that "how to do life" manual. and i'd sure like instructions on some things--especially in light of what i'm learning at school these days.

but i guess that is part of the beauty of life. all the "what ifs" and "how comes". the emotions that surprise me...and make me thankful. because really, when it comes down to it, that is part of the beauty of knowing Christ--knowing that all really is so very {un}predictable...and knowing the One that makes it so.

reflection.

it isn't too often that i just lay in bed and think. but, whether it be my distracted psyche or misplaced mindset, i lately have found myself cozied up in between my sheets more often than ever before.

i can't quite pinpoint what it is, either. i know i am distracted. school seems to be a huge wet blanket that i can't quite get out from underneath. sometimes i feel like lewisburg is a cage--and that there is no escape from here. i don't know, really. i've just been uninspired lately. to read. to study. to socialize. to grow and learn and challenge myself.

it is a little disheartening, to be honest. i am not exactly sure what i was expecting when i signed up for all of this.....but it isn't panning out the way i thought it would. God has gotten ahold of my priorities and entirely realigned them, often making me question how things will work out in the end. i don't dare doubt my being here--God moved me across the country himself practically--but i do have a severe tendency to worry about the future.

perhpas--and i am hoping--that this is just a rutt. that christmas will be a nice recalibration. and i'll be back to my old self again in no time.

God is working now. i can't feel it at the moment, but i know He is. i just have to be patient enough to see the results.

heart.

it has been awhile. wayyy too long, actually since i last posted. and to be totally honest, i lost my username and password for awhile--THAT is how long is has been. but i am still here, still alive, still workin' away at life as it is thrown my way each day.

God has really been doing some cool things in my heart lately. you know that song by shawn groves?? the one about your heart being a 'house' that God comes in and remodels, throwing away all the junk and replacing it with unexpected things that you treasure much much more?

Welcome to this heart of mine
I've buried under prideful vines
Grown to hide the mess I've made
Inside of me
Come decorate, Lord
Open up the creaking door
And walk upon the dusty floor
Scrape away the guilty stains
Until no sin or shame remain
Spread Your love upon the walls
And occupy the empty halls
Until the man I am has faded
No more doors are barricaded
{Chorus}
Take a seat, pull up a chair
Forgive me for the disrepair
And the souvenirs from floor to ceiling
Gathered on my search for meaning
Every closet's filled with clutter
Messes yet to be discovered
I'm overwhelmed, I understand
I can't make this place all that You can

Lately I've been convicted of my Earthly tendencies. For things. For success. For respect from my colleagues and peers. For wealth. For temporary-ness. Maybe it is because I feel so isolated here. And I waste time on the internet, falling hook, line, and sinker for the cons of the do-their-job-well advertising companies that falsely tempt me into believing that i can't be whole or complete or happy until i have their product, and then another, and then another.

i recently listened to a sermon by Pastor Tim Lucas of Liquid Church, somewhere in NJ. The sermon series was titled "Money, Debt, & the Bible." In short, it was awesome. He talked about how we got to where we are today. That the average home in the 1950s, when people reported that they were generally most happy, was the size of today's 3-car garage. That we have moved from a society of purely "I need" (think pilgrims and food) to "I want" (look in the mirror). That we have largely fallen prey to a culture of vultures...to a culture where values and morals have been replaced by secular virtues and materialism.

i really don't want to be part of it. sometimes i seriously feel like moving to Africa. inspired by the story of Jim Eliot, i want my life to stand for something beyond myself, something out of this world.

"Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also."

(Matthew 6: 19-21)

i guess i have to ask myself: is my heart in the right place? am i here, in school, for the right reasons? am i continually striving to look past myself, my selfish desires, and into the heart of God. and each day, when i close my eyes, can i hear God whisper in my ear, "Well done, my faithful servant."

i think i have some work to do.