real

I want to be profound. To write about things that make people sit back and ponder how someone could have strung those words together into "that" thought. But the bottom line is, I'm not feeling profound. In fact, I'm not really feeling anything at all.

Things have been eerily silent in my world for almost a week now. At first I wasn't bothered, as I figured it would end eventually. And then I was really saddened by the silence. I was angry. And now, I'm nothing. Guess I've been working through the stages of grief, and I'm not even sure (1) what I'm grieving about and (2) if there's really anything to grieve at all.

Now, in the aftermath, as the emotions have worn down and the ashes are cold, I have this nagging fear. What if in dealing with this "death" as it were I lost the strength to dream again? Will I ever be able to have that kind of dream? And what did all of this mean? I know it wasn't for nothing, and that nothing is lost, but I'm feeling a bit lost myself, wondering when the lesson will show its face and I'll be able to see what this has all been about. Because right now it just feels like an excruciatingly long lesson in being abandoned. And I thought I'd already learned that one.

crossroads

Finally, after weeks and months of questioning myself and worrying about what I should do, if I was making the right decision, etc., I have finally reached a crossroads. You know, one of those places where you have to make a decision, not only in order to move forward, but also to stay alive.

For the past several months I have sat on my hands and stapled my lips shut, always in hopes that things would resolve themselves and relationships would progress. But that just hasn't happened, and it isn't likely to. Yesterday I learned volumes about one of the people in my circle. I learned that there's no reason to keep watching and waiting. Things aren't going to change, unless I change them. And when they do change, it's not going to be the progress I was hoping for. Instead, it will be a release, letting go of a dream that is long-since dead.

Am I okay with this? Obviously I would love for the outcome to be positive, that the relationship would be where it should be. But I am ready to face the reality that it's time to call the time of death on things. I know there will be lots of pieces of me and my heart that are left over, but God can deal with those. For now, I need to take action.

Wish me luck.

perspective

I've been spending the past couple of days with my family. We, like pretty much every family I know, have our quirks. Every visit usually consists of the same handful of events and conversations. I know I will eat too much - partially because of some mad cooking and baking skills I'm in the vacinity of and partially because it helps me to diffuse the stress a bit. And then in a few days I'll go home and everything will be back to normal.

But I was realizing last night that for all the anxiety and stress and sheer frustration of it all, being away from home is so good for me. I'm separated from my normal routine by hundreds of miles.

It almost feels like I'm in a plane that's just taken off. And for those first several minutes, as the plane climbs into the air, I can see the roads for the tiny grids that they are. Hundreds of acres of land are little checker block-sized squares.

And from this distance the grid of this word and that word, this action and that action, takes its place in the grand scheme of things. I find the stuff that worries me is not the end of the world, by any stretch of the imagination, even if it seemed like the biggest deal just a couple days ago. It's part of the road I'm on. And I can accept that, because I know that (1) I can't do anything to take back what I did or said and (2) it's all going to work out in the end. It may hurt or be hard on the way there, but it will end.

I just hope I can keep this outrageously healthy attitude when I get home.

direction

I am lost. I'm not afraid to ask for directions, I just don't know where I'm going or what I'm going to do when I get there.

Why does it seem like my prayers are falling on deaf ears? And why can't I just rest in the knowledge that it's all going to work out in the end?

I just can't see past all these darn trees to the edge of the forest.

trust

It's been a while since I've written. Not that I haven't had anything to say, I just haven't had the time to type it out. I'm going through another one of those times when I'm overwhelmed with all sorts of emotions, and most of them aren't the greatest.

Fear. Anxiety. Doubt. Frustration. And somewhere in there, between the tiny cracks that knit all these feelings together, is a glimmer of hope. It's not a spark, so I'm not sure if it'll catch or not, but it's there, wishing for the air it needs to grow into a flicker and maybe even a flame.

It centers on trust. I was talking about life and things with my friend Amy yesterday and she reminded me that we cannot place our trust in people. I'm not talking about that I-hope-you-remember-to-do-what-you-said-you'd-do trust. I'm talking about the abiding you'll-never-let-me-down kind. Which can't come from a human. Because we all fail. I fail. You fail. Even the most successful people fail sometimes.

This is hard for me to accept. I want to trust the people in my life, especially those closest to me, but they are always letting me down in some way, shape, or form. So how can I learn to place that trust in God, and still love the people whose trust I was counting on?

I need to learn to let go of control. To test (or train) myself to relax, to rest in the arms of the One who I can always trust to do what He says. This is even harder than accepting the trust thing.

Guess I need to keep praying for the strength to do this. Before I do something I'll regret.

vacant

I'm in a weird place. I usually am really excited because there's something on the horizon, or I'm really sad because I've been disappointed by myself or someone else. But today, I just don't feel anything. I'm not happy. I'm not sad. I just am. I am looking 30 square in the eye and while I'm not excited about it, what can I really do? The day is going to come whether I want it to or not, so I can either wallow and whine and complain, or I can accept it, treat it like any other day of the week, and let it go.

I guess part of me wants that day to matter to someone. Maybe part of me just wants to matter to someone.

see-through

I just did something they tell writers NEVER to do. I deleted something I wrote completely. Not because I wasn't feeling what I felt when I wrote those words, but just because feelings like I'm having right this minute need not to be strained through the spaces of old letters and words but to be given the freedom to flow as needed. Thus, the mass delete.

My birthday is in exactly 8 days. I will turn 30, and I have never not wanted to celebrate a birthday as much as I don't want to celebrate this one. And it's not so much that I want the day to come and go without decorum, as I want the day not to come at all. Last night getting ready for bed this realization washed over me with such force that I found myself in tears. Not the silent tears that stream in slow motion down your face, but the sorrowful mass of salty drops that surround a heart that is truly in pain.

I met my friend Meg for coffee last night and she noticed that my eyes looked sad. There is nothing more disturbing than to be told that you look sad in a part of you that you can't control. The haunt of loneliness or grief or whatever can only be hidden to certain point. And I guess mine boiled over.

I'm hanging on for dear life here. I am dangerously close to the edge of a cliff of sorrow that I can't get back on top of. I want to hang on, and the rawness of my fingertips confirms that fact. But I'm afraid that if things continue like this for too much longer, I'm just going to let go. Don't let me.

groundhog day

Don't be disappointed. This post isn't about February 2nd, or the Bill Murray movie.

Today is Friday. And like almost every Friday for the past several months, I have NO CLUE what most of my plans are for the weekend. Granted, this weekend is different than most because I do have some stuff to do tomorrow and Sunday. But I'm out here hanging, because a friend of mine wants to get together at some point this weekend to hang out, but I have yet to find out when yet. And it's after 3pm. My weekend officially starts in less than 2 hours.

Now I know that I can be type A when it comes to having plans together, but really. Is it asking too much to have more than 5 minutes notice on plans for the evening? I guess it's my own fault for feeling the need to have plans. But when someone says they want to get together, shouldn't you assume that that's what they mean and that they'll respect your time enough to set up plans?

Maybe I'm just old-fashioned. One thing's for sure. I'm definitely frustrated.

in a rut

I'm stuck.

I'm stuck in this unending pattern of watching and waiting. Only it's not the really holy kind of watching and waiting they tell you will lead to God's perfect will for your life. It's the kind that gets snarled with barbs or doubt and fear. Maybe the waiting is in vain. Maybe there's nothing to watch. Maybe it's the voices in my head telling me to keep waiting or stop waiting or whatever.

Gracious. I'm tired just thinking about it.

But here I am. Watching. And waiting. And hoping like crazy that I won't wake up tomorrow and find out that this was all a gigantic mistake.

Analysis Paralysis

I always laugh when I hear the title of today's post. It's how we in my office describe the powers-that-be who think an idea to death and then end up doing what we were already doing in the first place. It can be pretty demotivating to see a great idea get stuck in the mire of worry and overthinking.

But I realized that I'm guilty of it in my own life. I've been thinking about making some big changes in my life for a while and every time I think I get to the place where I'm ready to make a decision and make my move, I chicken out. I've been considering buying a house for over a year. Over a YEAR. But I've done little more than a casual online search. Because I'm afraid. Of getting in over my head, of having to do all the fix-it stuff myself (I'm power tool-challenged).

And I guess taking the plunge and buying a house is sort of admitting defeat in a way. I've always thought that I would have a house with the person I married - whether it was already his or we bought it together. But if I bought my own house I would be saying, "I'm giving up on the marriage thing." Is this a logical train of thought?

Maybe I'm paralyzing myself in analysis. Again.

divine touch

I'm writing this down before it slips through my grasp again. It's something I've been thinking about for the past few days, an image I can't get out of my head. So it probably needs a place to grab a bit of air.

I was listening to a pastor over the weekend (I wish I could remember who) and he was making the distinction between God asking me to put my hand in His versus Him saying I'm holding your hand. I never really thought about the difference between the two, but it's comforting to know that when I'm too weary or defeated to stretch out my hand, I don't have to. Because His hand is right there, guiding me through the valley. And He won't let go.

Basketful of Eggs

Every time I think I know what I’m going to write, some other compendium of thoughts comes to the forefront, and I can’t do anything until I’ve managed to round them up and get them down on paper.

I’ve been thinking about the old song “I’m putting all my eggs in one basket…” and how much it relates to my life right now. Over the past year I have gone from having a life that was surrounded by baskets of lots of different people and activities, to one that has essentially centered around one basket. It’s been a basket that’s been warm and cozy at some points, and that’s been downright painful at others. It’s been bright and shiny, and it’s been dark and dingy. And this week it seems to have gone missing.

So my question is, how can I remove my eggs from that basket if I can’t find it? Does that mean I’m lost? I know I probably should have played my cards differently on this one, but I was so resistant to the idea of playing in this situation that I ended up losing the game — and myself — in the end anyway. The scary thing is, I can’t decide whether it’s better to stop looking for the basket and start over or to hunt the basket down so I can empty it.

Scarier still, what if the basket doesn’t realize it’s missing?

Thanksgiving

I’ve been thinking a lot about this Thursday. When this week began, I was actually dreading the holiday for the first time in several years. I was lamenting that I don’t have family in the area, that it’ll be such a quiet holiday, and that it seems like every other person I know is doing something special or fun to celebrate. You got it: I was feeling sorry for myself.

But I realized that this is pretty silly, if you think about it. If I stop to evaluate things, I have so much to be thankful for. I have the day off. I have a mom who loves me more than anything. I have a place to sleep, to keep my stuff warm and dry. I have food to eat. Food I like to eat. I have a car to get me places. And even though they will be off celebrating with their families, I have good friends. Friends who think I matter. Who care about me. I’m healthy. I have a job that gives me enough money to pay for what I need. I have a God who loves me even when I am so unbelievably hard to love.

But still, in the dark corners of my heart a slight residue of sadness remains. Why am I not more thankful?

disappointment

Recently I’ve been feeling disappointed a lot. I was getting ready to write that someone had disappointed me a lot recently. But can a person really do that? Or am I really doing it to myself? What I mean is, am I disappointing myself because I’m letting this person have control over this emotion? Because when I feel disappointed, it’s not just “Oh, that’s too bad that this person didn’t do fill-in-the-blank.” It’s, “that’s too bad, and I wonder what’s wrong with me, and what should I have done differently.” It’s always my fault.

My friend Amy said over the weekend that she feels responsible for people’s feelings. Like if someone came out to support something she was doing, she would want reassurance that they were having a good time. Their good time would help her to have a better time. I can really identify with that. The source of this disappointment, assuming it’s not me and is the person who triggers it, probably has no idea. But because I want to be sure that person is feeling well, I never tell the person what they’re doing. What sense does that make? It seems like it should be so easy to just get it out there and move on. But it's not.

I’ve been trying to conquer this negative emotion by thinking about the One who can never disappoint. Because right now, if I knew that absolutely NO ONE was incapable of disappointment, it would be hard to go on. In fact, knowing this is probably the only reason I made it out of bed today. The problem: my head knows it, but my heart is still clueless.

So I cling with all my fingernails to this truth, and pray for peace to make it 5 more minutes. Another hour. Another day. I pray tomorrow is better.

Roller coaster

It's been a long week. I had a sort of "circle of life" experience on Monday. A friend of mine lost her dad to leukemia on Monday morning, and then my good friend delivered her long-awaited baby girl in the afternoon. I know that people die every day and babies are born every day, but I was just struck by the timing of it all. At the beginning of the week there were tears of joy at the hospital, holding a new, wrinkly, soft bundle of arms and legs. And yesterday there were tears of sorrow at the graveside for my friend as she faces a future without her daddy.

My friend Chris asked me if the sad tears were about unresolved family issues of my own. And maybe he's right about that. But I think this week also brought me face to face with the reality that it could be my mom one day. In the back of my mind, I still have 50, 60 years to hang out with her. But this man was younger than my mom. We're just not as young as we think we are.

This week has been a mirror for a situation I've been facing for the past couple of months. The highs of something new and fun and extraordinarily amazing. The lows of something that seems to be coming to an end. I know there's a lesson tucked in here somewhere. I just haven't figured out what it is yet. Nobody tells you about this stuff when you're growing up.

Greensleeves

I am never more aware of living in the far country than at this time of year. It's barely November, and everywhere you turn is already blanketed in Christmas music and decorations. But it's always during the next 6 weeks or so that I feel torn between the commercialism of the TV specials and shopping and the reason we celebrate in the first place. Every year I vow to be more "holy" in my remembrance, and every year I fall far short of my goal.

This year I'm cautiously optimistic. I just hope I don't wake up on December 26th wishing I'd done it all differently. It is just another reminder of how much I need and receive His grace.

So Lord, with 47 days to go, give me the wisdom and clarity to bask in the joy and love that led You to send Your Son to be flesh and dwell among us. Let my eyes not get crossed in the Charlie Brown lights and shiny wrapping paper, but let them focus instead on a humble manger, with a baby already cross-bound. Let me not be so focused on finishing my Christmas shopping that I miss opportunities to serve those who need Your love. And let whatever progress I make toward this goal be offered to You as a sacrifice of praise, because we both know it's not my efforts. I am just the vessel.

Life in the Far Country

What does "Life in the Far Country" mean? It's a nod to an artist whose music I am especially fond of these days. He wrote a song called "The Far Country" and named his album after it. It's based on Meister Eckhart's quote "God being at home, while we are in the far country."

The more I think about that, the more its truth pierces me. I live in a world that is not my home. And every day I struggle against the desire to find satisfaction and approval here. Meanwhile, a mansion is being prepared for me. And how many days do I walk through this life as though this were the end. Thank goodness it's not.

That home gives me hope.

My First Real Blog

My friend Amy has been telling me for years now that I should jump into the waters of the blog river. Why blog, I thought. Who will read this stuff? Is having a blog just having an indulgent page out there in space? But for some reason, now it just makes sense. With every day that passes, every hour that evaporates, I am losing pieces of memories and experiences that make me who I am.

I may never have visitors to this site. But I somehow feel a sense of relief just knowing it's here. Like a good friend at the end of a hard day.

Welcome.