Letting Go

I know I just posted, but there is still this itching feeling inside of me that says that I am not quite finished yet. But instead of adding to my last post I felt as if there was something different on my heart, maybe not altogether separate, but not unified enough for an addition to be made. Not like I know what it is that is itching inside of me like a hundred fire ants dancing on my heart.

So let me pause to think of what it could possibly be:

There is no better sound than children's laughter.

Forgiveness is less for the other person and more for ourselves.

The common cold really is vile.

These and a million other possibilities ran across my mind, but the one that struck the chord is the second, so I guess I am going to talk about that one.

Where to start?

Because it isn't an easy one.

The last month has not been easy on me emotionally.

I have dealt with disappointment.

I have dealt with betrayal

And heartbreak.

And I have just been trying to gather the pieces and recollect and reconstruct myself.

And I found myself waiting for an apology that might never come.

And in the midst of it all of a bitterness has been growing inside of my heart.

And along with it came this weight. Heavy and tedious to bare.

But I've realized that I can't wait forever. I can't need an apology in order to move on with my life, because then I might never move on.

Sure I can still hope one comes my way, but I can't be dependent on it. Because I've already spent far too long waiting, allowing the bitter seed to grow within me.

But even after convincing myself that said apology will never occur (because that is by far the surest way of allowing myself to be free of the need of one) the bitter weight still remained.

Because while I had allowed myself the freedom from that lingering, I did not allow myself the freedom of forgiveness.

That is until God spoke to me (in the clearest voice He has in a long time) telling me it was time to forgive.

I fought, not thinking I was strong enough.

He persisted.

Eventually I attempted.

I spoke the words, first shaky and unsure.

Then with every repeat the weight receded and my voice more confident.

And eventually it became true.

I forgive you

And although you are the one who was forgiven, I am the one who won. 

Aging Backwards

"And he said: “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.  Therefore, whoever takes the lowly position of this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.  And whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me'".

Matthew 18:3-5

Last night this passage consumed my thoughts. I wondered how old the child Jesus called over was. Most translations that specify state that it was a little child, but are not all children little? 


And as I was attempting to fall asleep I determined that the child must have been very little indeed. Because as a nanny I work with kids who are many different ages and I think the specification of little is necessary in this case.


I mean, say perhaps it was a child of ten. I feel like I am often a child when it comes to my faith, but I often think I am more a child of ten. Ten is the age when kids begin to pull away from their parents. They desire more freedom to make their own choices and they aspire to become individuals, completely apart from the parents who raised them. But when they grow sick, or get hurt by the cruelties of reality they run back into (typically) their mother's arms. 


At ten parents are there to protect you from your nightmares. But at ten a child is not dependent on their parents for everything.


Instead, I think this passage calls for us to become as toddlers, who are just finding our feet. We still depend on our Father to protect us, but we also rely on Him to feed and bathe us. While we have some independence we are never out of the watchful eye of our concerned parent, who will allow us to scrap our knees or bump our head in order for us to learn to be more cautious, yet one who is at the ready to stop us from playing near the fireplace or pool. 


As a toddler we still are free to make our own decisions, but we also depend on our parents for EVERYTHING, trusting them fully to love and care for us in the way only parents are able.  


So instead of being the ten year old who rolls their eyes at their parent's advice, why don't we age backwards and rely on Him fully once more?

How?

How can Your perfect eyes
bare to look at my shameful face?

How can You reward my sinful soul
with the gift of grace?

How can I dare compete
with those who are far more worthy than me?

How can You love such a despicable creature, that roams in the filth?

How can You possibly?

And even more, why would You want to?


I do not have the answer.

But the fact remains: You Do.

Infinite Possibilities

There are few things I hate more than an empty Word Document. 

I hate it because if I open a new one up I intend to write something down. Whether that be a paper for a class or simply something for here, something to satisfy the urge within me to put paper to pen, my intent is always to walk away with a feeling of "that couldn't have been said any better". 

So when the document remains utterly blank for more than a few moments, or worse gets a glimmer of black ink only then to be erased, I become frustrated enough to the point to where I quit (unless in the case of paper. Then I write something down and hope to at another day make it appear intelligent).

Now this may be hard to accept, but profound thoughts are not always floating around in my head ready to be recorded. In fact, there are very few intelligent things that come out of my brain. 

And so that is why I think I hate the look of a blank page. It reminds me of all that I should be able to think of as a (self-acclaimed) writer. 

I want to be one of those writers that help make sense of it all. The ones who I run to as my means of escape. 

Yet in these moments when I try to create some massive epiphany, it never comes, much to my shock and dismay.

 So I begin to resent the whiteness of my inability to take words and form them into coherent sentences.   

But I think instead, I need to just start writing. I need to abandon the concept of a theme to discuss or a topic to solve with my (probably ill-informed) opinion. 

Because who knows what will become of these little tidbits.

Maybe they will ultimately fit together like puzzle pieces.

Maybe they will lead to a very important conversation in the future.

Maybe they will spark a flame.

Or maybe they will just remain my senseless rants.

but who am I to say?

God could use them in a way I could never possibly guess.

So now, I am going to try and stop viewing the emptiness of the page as a reflection of my incompetence. But instead I will look at it as all it could be. All of the possible things that could result as my persevering to fill the page, even if it is less than perfect.

And I think this concept applies to more than just writing. 

Encouraging Words

I've always said that words hold the power to change our moods and lift our spirits. I love how someone who you might have never met, someone who could possibly even be long gone can explain to perfection how you feel. So here are some quotes that I've added to my collection to help let me (and possibly you too) that it will bet better.

"Patience and perserverence have a magical effect before which difficulties disappear and obstacles vanish. "
~John Quincy Adams



"No passion so effectually robs the mind of all its powers of acting and reasoning as fear."
~Edmund Burke


"Anger makes you smaller, while forgiveness forces you to grow beyond what you were."
~Cherie Carter-Scott


"What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within."
~Ralph Waldo Emerson

"Do not go where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail."
~Ralph Waldo Emerson

"Wisdom is like electricity. There is no permanently wise man, But men capable of wisdom,who, being put into certain company, or other favorable conditions, become wise for a short time, as glasses rubbed acquire electric power for a while."
~Ralph Waldo Emerson


"The greatest mistake you can make in life is to be continually fearing that you will make one."
~Ellen Hubbard


"When one door of happiness closes, another opens; but often we look so long at the closed door that we do not see the one which has been opened for us."
~Helen Keller


"Do you have the patience to wait till your mud settles and the water is clear? Can you remain unmoving till the right action arises by itself?"
~Lao-Tzu


"We are continually faced with great opportunities which are brilliantly disguised as unsolvable problems."
~Margaret Mead


"Perhaps our eyes need to be washed by our tears once in a while, so that we can see Life with a clearer view again"
~Alex Tan


"After winter comes the summer. After night comes the dawn. After every storm, there comes clear, open skies"
~Samuel Rutherford


"If God sends us on strong paths, we are provided strong shoes"
~Corrie TenBoom

Breaking the Façade

A few weeks ago I went to a new church. It was not because I dislike my current one but merely because I needed something new, that and right now I need all of the Jesus time I can get. 

The sermon was on Psalm 6, a morose lamentation of sorrow. Something that I think most of us miss nowadays. 

And the pastor said something to me that stuck with me: That we all need to break our façades. Especially within the church.

This is a concept that I have been dealing with the last year, but it seemed to hit home last night in the conversation with a friend.

We were talking about taking risks in the people we let into our lives and our hearts, who we show the true us. 

And, Surprisingly after the last few weeks, I was on the side that left me vulnerable. 

To harm, but also vulnerable to joy and surprise. 

I was, and am, in favor of an "open book policy."

As we were talking the concept of such a policy ran amok in my mind, creating a spiralling metaphor.

We are all books in the making. This is not a notion difficult to grasp due to humanity's narrative nature.

Now the people who build up walls and shut others out are like unpublished manuscripts. Unwilling to expose more than brief glimpses at their brilliance. They are unpublished usually because they are afraid. Afraid that they will get bent and frayed. Afraid that they will not be received well.

The problem with these manuscripts however is that while they never give people the opportunity to hate the pages and the words scribbled upon them, they also never give people the chance to devour each and every word and thought exposed. 

Now for myself, I would rather be a library book. Willing to open to anyone interested enough to check me out. 

And, sure, while I might become tattered and worn, stained and smudged, are not the books we love the most falling to pieces?

In the end all we have is our story. 

We can only choose how we share it. 

And while the risk is far greater, so is the reward.

And this is coming from a book who recently had hot coffee spilled all over a chapter. 

It is not destroyed to the point where it needs to be torn out, and the rest of the story would probably not make sense without it, but it is a chapter that must be closed and left to dry for the time being, to allow the new pages to be written. 

So I am now more than ever, attempting to break the façade, one page at a time. Yes, weakening myself to all of the negativities, but also making room for new possibilities. In fact one of my good friendships was born on a night where my guard was completely gone.

So if you see me around (in the appropriate setting, because after all books are only checked out one at a time) ask me how I am doing, that is if you honestly care. 

Because I am going to do my best to give you an honest answer.