I Am Changed

There have been too many gray days as of late.

I wish I weren’t so easily swayed by

                        the presence of sun or clouds or rain or snow or sand, but I am.

From the way I say “Hello” to the way I brush my teeth, I am changed.

Yes, I hear your teasing

but no, I don’t agree.

From the earliest light, the once white clouds grew heavy with perspiration and stooped low towards the earth.  The grey clouds huddled together as if preparing for a big game.  Little could be seen above and beyond them—they sought center stage.  Without the warning of a sprinkle the heavens erupted with hydrant-like rain.  It was not a vicious rain—like some days when the rain falls sideways and your umbrella fights like a girl against the onslaught.  And it wasn’t a gentle rain that lingers with the unique rhythms of a modern ballet dance.  This was a rain that brought back recollections of Sunday school lessons of a man named Noah.  Puddles joined together to form rivers and lakes and oceans of the sweet-smelling nectar.  At the same moment I wanted both to cower inside—afraid of the hassle of wet jeans and running mascara—and to race outside to join the rhythm of pitters and patters and pops and splatters.  I wanted to open my mouth wide to the heavenly liquid.  I wanted to wade into the river, testing just how far I could go without being washed away. 

           

                                            It was a cleansing rain.

Then, nothing.  With the abruptness of a last inhaled breath, the downpour stopped.  Its absence left an odd wondering of if it ever occurred in the first place—having been so intense and yet so short-lived—like a whirlwind summer romance.  The grime had washed down the drains and the streets and sidewalks were left sparkling with the lingering sequins of the rain.  The sun appeared with a striking heat and dried all final trademarks of the earlier morning.  The chimes on shop doors on the neighboring streets began to ring, signaling the return of normal operations.  The lives that were forced to press pause resumed at twice the speed, making up for lost time and rescheduling appointments.  It was easy to miss.  But if you walked outside to the bench on 12^th and Sycamore Street, breathed in deep, and opened your eyes wide—you would have seen a world cleaned by undeserved means.

People cleaned by undeserved means—that too often forget to see.

An Exact Replica of The Last Four Months

I live in between the great thought and the great carry-through.

I assure you it’s not lonely here; there are plenty of things to keep me company.

But on that blue moon, I question the advice you once gave me.

You told me to live for today.  So I did. 

Each day I consult my minimalist to-do list.

It lists tasks only imperative to today—not tomorrow and most certainly not next week.

Work?  Check.  School?  Check.  Homework (due tomorrow)?  Check.

When all is complete, I am licensed to squander my time as I see fit.

This is when living for today becomes living for immediate gratification.

So I spend four straight hours communing with Netflix.

When a call comes in from a friend I press ignore, knowing they probably need something from me I am unwilling to give—my time, my energy, a listening ear.

How does giving of myself impact the here-and-now?  I determine it does not.  I press continue.

I serve myself another slice of chocolate cake.  I don’t have time to count calories.

Another hour on Netflix.

Months go by and I feel the robot sneakily emerge and take over. 

I wrap this package and tie it neatly with a bow:

“I’m performing satisfactorily at work.

I’m excelling in my schoolwork.

I see my family a decent amount per week.

I’m not obese. 

I’m presentable.”

Yet there are holes and tears and rips all in my wrapping.

No one can see them.  Only I feel them.

This robot becomes faulty.  Slip-ups occur more often now.  Then one day, the glass menagerie falls from the shelf and shatters.

I feel the weight of being human.

The need to be human.

The gift of being human.

<Insert the great thought.  Though I suspect I’ve thought it before.>

What if I ceased this lackofsubstance abuse?

What if I purposefully sought substance to fill my days?

What if I considered each moment an investment into eternity?

That…sounds like a lot of work.

Surely,

if I made some repairs and oiled the machine,

this robot would last me a bit longer.

<Insert today.>

Idol

The weight of the keys being orchestrated beneath my touch is sensory overload.  My brain has reached its oxygen—breathe.

These letters that represent utterances are strung together like a string of Christmas lights.

I tighten the final bulb and watch the room illuminate.   

The withdrawal haunts me during darkest nights.

I awake to ragged breath and racing heart, fingers black with ink

As I thumb the pages of dictionaries, to find what does not exist

Words

that allow the caged bird to sing.

But she does not sing today,

Nor will she tomorrow.

She is too blue.

The idol of the grind remains in place—its gold contrasting with the distant sunlight—

In the view of the rearview mirror

I rub the fog from the windshield and am confronted with the same sight.

As I drive to work I am nearsighted, struggling to see beyond the red light that has me stopped.

Like a splinter in my eye I see clocks—everywhere.

The infection grows in my ears as each tick-tock invades my day.

I punch the clock.

As I drive home I am farsighted, unable to see the picture you drew that lies in my lap

—a field of daisies, with children lying on their backs admiring a rainbow.

I seethe green.  

A weighted blanket—a gag order—suffocates my cries

Neighbors knock on my door and ask if I am well, for they have heard noises.

I lie.

My lies are laced with the pleasant fragrance of an overpriced floral bouquet—

distracting and not-long-lasting.

I draw a rose to my nose and hope the smell will intoxicate me like it once did.

I am immune.

I crawl between cold sheets, sobbing into a soggy mattress.

I reach out beside me and feel the empty space.

My eyes squeeze tight and I will myself to sleep.  I dream

I punch the clock.

And the tick-tock stops.

HE IS

I've identified a new fault of mine:

I avoid writing when I'm experiencing a phase where my thoughts are lost in incomplete, incoherent mess.


The remedy:  to write anyways.

For it is then that thoughts fall into submission, organization of ideas become possible, and a genuine product worth posting is born.

In the midst of my fog, there have been two overwhelming thoughts that have been front and center, loud and clear.

To explain the first requires a small amount of back-story.  I was reminded yesterday of something God had asked of me that I had still yet to obey.  About two months ago I was seeking God about my future.  I was not seeking out of fear or anxiety, but rather excitement.  I wanted to be given a word from God, an assignment--anything to go and do. 

For beginning next May, I will be newly graduated, free from obligation to any specific city or significant other.

I was like a paused image of the roadrunner, ready to sprint off in any direction. 

Credit

But I hadn't been given a direction.

Cue the one thousand questions I began to ask God.  (As if He needs me to give Him ideas for what I am to do)

At the climax of my excitement and anticipation (and at probably about the 1,001 question)...

...God answered.

His answer?

"I AM."

My response? 

"Come again?"

It took me awhile to understand the weight of His answer.  I proceeded to pretty much ignore Him (smart cookie, huh?) and ask a few more questions.  But I continued to receive the same response.

"I AM."

So I stopped asking questions.  I recalled in Exodus where God had answered the same to another man of many questions.  Moses.

Exodus 3:14  "God said to Moses, "I am who I am.  This is what you are to say to the Israelites: ‘I am has sent me to you.""

I also recalled a forgotten thirst of mine:  to know who God is.  

To learn His personality, but also to experience it.  

God had put this desire on my heart within the past year or so, but I realized now that I had pushed it aside.  It was time to return to that hunger.  To see it fulfilled.

God had given me my direction:  to be still and know that He is God.  

To be still before the I AM.  (slightly contrary to my common roadrunner approach)

Before I can know the many facets of who God is, I have to be content in knowing that HE IS.

HE IS GOD.

Not HE IS GOD and...

Simply, HE IS GOD.

I realized the honor it was to know even that much:  He is God.

It was humbling.

With this realization came an avalanche of revelations:  Who am I, that God would be mindful of me?  Who am I that He would reveal Himself to me?  Who am I that I can speak and He hears me?  Who am I that He answers me?  Who am I that I can glimpse His glory?  Who am I that He would buy me back at the highest price:  His only Son?

And then I thought on this, my second prevalent thought:  Who am I that He would know me?

He knows me better than I know myself.  He knows my thoughts and my desires more clearly than I know them myself.  When others may forget my likes/dislikes and preferences, He knows them all:  my favorite color, food, etc.  He knows my laugh.  He knows my cry.  He knows my voice in the midst of a crowd.  He knows the number of hairs upon my head.  He knows when I rise in the morning and when I lay down to sleep at night.  He knows when I fall.  He knows every scratch and splinter.  He knows wherever I go.  

But He is the great I AM!

Who am I that He would know me!

It is time to awaken that hunger once more.  A hunger and thirst to know God as intimately as He knows me.  To obey.  To be still before Him as he reveals His glory.  And know, that before I can know anything else, I must know...that HE IS.

Join me?

Finding Comfort

I used to live in fear of my future.

I feared that God would call me to a boring life.

I wonder if any have felt that fear before?

I knew the fear was not a good thing, so I would fight against it with rules and logic.

I would tell myself, I will obey and grow content with whatever God calls me into.

Not a terrible logic, but a faulty one.

I felt guilty for my fear.  I knew even then that it wasn't just fear I was struggling with.  It was distrust.  It was also my inability to wholly surrender.

Then I began to think on the entire concept of "discovering your calling."

And I realized that before you know your calling, you have to know yourself.

Why?  Because the two are intertwined.

God did not create us and then write out our stories.  He did the two simultaneously.  There was never a time when He did not know us, nor a time when He did not know the entirety of our stories.

Discovering who God created us to be is a prerequisite to discovering what God created us to do.

Which brought about a revelation.  God does not call a pig to fly.  Nor a monkey to swim.

Those may be juvenile examples, but they illustrate the point perfectly.

What God calls us to do relates to who He has already created us to be.

Yet have you ever heard a story where a person was called to do something that was polar opposite to their personality?  I've sure heard some stories like that.

Like the shy guy who God calls to preach.  Who obeys.  And years later, as he shares the gospel to a crowd of thousands, discovers that he feels more like who God created him to be than ever before.

Sometimes, when we feel God is calling us out of our comfort zone, it is really that God is calling us into who we were created to be -- and it is our flesh and our fear that holds us back.

When we surrender and allow God to mold us, in the end we feel more comfortable than before.

Comfort in where you are in life is not a negative thing, as the sentiment is sometimes portrayed.  But be open and receptive to times when God may bring you through a time of discomfort...

...and then into a place that feels even more like home.

Thinking these thoughts through brought me to the realization that God will not leave my desire for fun and adventure unfulfilled -- for it is a desire He has placed within me.

I can rest assured that I will find fulfillment and contentment in my future, for it is tailor-made to who God has already made me to be.

A Brewing Of New Things

I've been in a very unique mood since arriving back home this past Sunday.  The only way to effectively describe it would be to say I feel like myself again.  Yet a better version.

Which is a feeling I've lacked for some while now.

I feel light.  Hopeful.  Inspired.  Determined.  Strong.  Excited.  Playful.  Optimistic.

And if you've read any of my previous accounts you'll know that those feelings have been absent in my life as of late.

But no more.      (<---  I love that I'm finally able to truthfully proclaim that!)

He is true to His Word.

He restored my soul.

He made all things new.

----------------------------------------------------

Mid-July I left on my first ever road trip all by myself.  I was adequately prepared and adequately excited.  The idea of pushing myself to do something new (and the prospect of succeeding) held so much appeal.  I was headed off on a eight hour drive to Tennessee.  I arrived by the afternoon-time and felt like I had conquered the world.  There had been no traveling disasters, nor the smallest hiccup in plans. 

I traveled to Tennessee to be a counselor at an annual youth camp I have attended for the past seven years.  Having begun attending as a camper, it was hard to pass up the opportunity to return for the past couple of years as a counselor.  The camp's design is to bring teenagers closer to God through times of ministry and fellowship---plus an intense competing of teams in a variety of crazy games.

Having not felt I had done my best as a counselor last year, I was determined to do my best this year.  It is a struggle to lay aside personal desires and agendas and focus solely on allowing God to use you to impact the lives of a hundred or so teens.

From day one God poured out grace upon grace and I fell in love instantly with the girls assigned to my cabin and with all the campers (boys and girls) assigned to my team.  It wasn't a struggle to want to spend time with them or to talk and get to know them---God blessed me with a great group of people to fellowship and compete with.  Additionally, the co-counselors assigned to my team were people I had either grown close to in previous years or whom I had grown close to by the end of the week.  We were a very harmonious team.

The further along we got in the week, the more emptied I felt (and I mean that in the best way possible).  Come Wednesday night (the final and most exciting night of camp), I felt that I finally knew the importance of John 3:30.  Becoming an empty vessel for God to fill up and pour out to others is one of the most refreshing feelings ever.  And finally seeing God become more prominent in my life than me and my struggles held such restoration.

The last day of camp came, bringing those dreaded goodbyes and the feelings of not wanting to return home yet.  But this year, unlike years before, I was able to act on my own desires.  So I drove six hours to North Carolina for the weekend and spent some time with an awesome group of people, before returning home on Sunday.  The weekend gave me the opportunity to grow even closer with one of my co-counselors from camp---her sense of humor is so beautiful!

Choosing to travel to NC was a spur of the moment, and honestly risky decision.  But I felt empowered to take the risk, knowing God had my back no matter what happened. 

That last sentence is really what has been stirring inside of me for the past week.  A desire to utilize my time as an unhindered single woman to 1) be an empty vessel for God  2) embrace risks.  I have one more year at the local university before I will graduate and be faced with the cliche decision of what to do with my life.

And I have never before been so unafraid and excited about the fact that I have no clue what to do.

It's so unlike me. 

Perhaps I should say it's so unlike the old me.

God is growing me and making me new.

And golly gee I love Him for it.

Journey to Joy

I wouldn't blame you if you've read any of my previous content and were left desiring more of an uplifting, encouraging read.  I feel the same.

Though I've chosen not to present a fake smile and write honestly about the here and now, I too desire a place of joy I can turn to when my life has been void of any itself.

I know that joy is found in the Lord, but I've never felt like I've known how to access it or handle it.  When I've felt joy in my life previously I found that I felt no control over when it came or went.  I don't think that's how joy is supposed to work.  I've heard that joy is supposed to be beyond our circumstance and feelings.  Why then, when my circumstances become grim, joy flees?  Was I not truly experiencing joy?

I'll stop there, before delving too deep into philosophies and such.  Summary:  I don't understand joy, but I want it.

Conveniently enough, while on a random trip to Target, I came across a book titled, "One Thousand Gifts" -- written by Ann Voskamp.

(I wonder if there are any others out there who feel guilty when they are faced with a problem and, before seeking Scripture, seek self-help books -- because I find myself in that boat more often than I'd like to admit.)

I recognized the cover as a book I had seen in many bookstores -- Christian bookstores included.  I had no clue what it was about, but I flipped to the back and read the synopsis:

"Discover a way of seeing that opens your eyes to everyday amazing grace, a way of living that is fully alive, and a way of experiencing the constant presence of God that will bring you deep and lasting joy. There is purity in simplicity and a breathtaking beauty that can be found even in life's slightest details. Ann Voskamp welcomes you in to explore her grace-bathed life of farming, parenting and writing and encourages you to draw nearer to Him and experience your own life in a deeper way, no matter where you are. Renew your appreciation for the beauty that permeates all creation with the wisdom-soaked pages of this Christian Living treasure."

Those words:  amazing grace, fully alive, deep and lasting joy -- they caused me to drool.  A life full of those things was exactly what I was thirsting for. 

So I placed the book back on the shelf and went home.

The End.



Just kidding.  I bought the book with an excitement I hadn't experience in awhile concerning any sort of literature and cracked it open the next day during my break at work.

I'm not sure if it was the rain that was beating the windows outside or the relaxing music that played softly in the room, but I felt so at peace and at home in those first few pages.

By the end of Chapter One I was convicted and determined:  I would find joy.

Though my journey to joy is still in its meager beginnings, I'd greatly love to share the few gems I've discovered so far (not in Ann Voskamp's graceful language, but in my own):

All too often I end my days discouraged, thinking I had lived yet another day without doing something crazy for Christ or something glamorous enough to share with the world of Facebook.  I've diminished the glory and grace buried in the everyday.  And let me emphasize the buried part, for that glory and grace is reserved for those brave and determined enough to find it.

Next, joy is directly linked to thanksgiving.  Joy is a free gift from God, and though I can receive it, I will not be fully experiencing that joy until I learn to give thanks in everything.

Thanksgiving must be learned.  To learn something requires continual and daily practice.

Those three things are what author Ann Voskamp discovered within that first chapter of discovering joy just like I did.  Which led her to endeavor to list one thousand gifts, or blessings.  This very act of thanksgiving opened her eyes to the joy-filled life she already lived in.

Though I've not instantaneously started a one-thousand-gift-list of my own, I am convicted to practice this foreign art of thanksgiving -- which is the key to true and lasting joy.


*This post is in no way an advertisement for Ann Voskamp's book, but rather a sharing of a helpful tool that has opened my eyes in many ways.  Though I am instantly partial to any being who shares the name Ann (spelled without the infamous E)