Trust

Why is that such a hard word to say?  It's 5 letters.  One syllable.  It's not like it's "antidisestablishmentarianism," or "zugunruhe," or for heaven's sake "Annaliese."

Why is it such a hard concept to internalize?  Shouldn't it be simple? Shouldn't it just be easy?  You can make a character judgement, and if they are upstanding, loyal, kind, and honest...can't you just trust them?

Why is it so hard to really trust in the process?  Trust in whatever it is that gets you through the day?  Has that thing ever let you down?  If it has...no wonder.  If it hasn't...why is it still so hard?

My God has never abandoned me.  My God has never, ever, left me without at least a tiny bird of hope in my soul.  And yet I doubt.  And yet I am afraid.  And yet I do not see--or understand--the end of the tunnel, for the road is long and dark.

"Courage, dear heart."

Trust.  Trust in the doctors.  Trust in the medication.  Trust in the Lord, that he knows the outcome and has planned it to show his great love.  Trust that everything is to work out as planned.

Trust that you are not alone.  Trust that there is a perfect, beautiful result to these trials you experience.  Trust the refining process, that it will yield a more beautiful, polished, you.

These words are beautiful.  They should bring hope to my soul.  They should fill me with a peace.  And yet I doubt.  I am afraid.

Even more, it breaks my heart to hear that someone else I have always trusted to lead me is struggling with this too.  Maybe not trust, so much as hope for a bright future.  Despair in the voice of someone you have always run to for comfort and strength...it. is...hard.

Sometimes roles reverse, I suppose.  Role reversal isn't always easy, or something that is desired.  How do you take the lead for someone that has always lead you in the way that is right?  How do you trust you will have the strength to be there?

"'I wish I were braver.'  'If you were any braver, you'd be a lioness.'"

This is where I start reciting what it is I know to be true.  I think that anyone in a difficult situation, should call upon their life truths.  What is it I know, in my heart of hearts to be true?  To be real?  To be trustworthy?  Maybe something in that list will spark a fire of trust once again.

I believe in a perfect end.  Not what I can envision, because I am not perfect.

I believe in a God who loves us more than I can conceptualize, and I can conceptualize a lot of love.

I believe that everything happens for a reason.

I believe that we are called to live for the truth, regardless of what kind of path it becomes.

I believe there is always hope for the future.  Always.  I have to, else I'd crawl into a hole today, and not come out.

I believe that...even when we cannot see the good in something, it is there.  Perhaps to be understood tomorrow, perhaps only by our succeeding generations.  But it is there.  And that has to be enough.

Romans 8:18-39: 

18 For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us. 19 For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the sons of God. 20 For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of him who subjected it, in hope 21 that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to corruption and obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God. 22 For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now. 23 And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. 24 For in this hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees? 25 But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.

26 Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words. 27 And he who searches hearts knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God. 28 And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose. 29 For those whom he foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son, in order that he might be the firstborn among many brothers. 30 And those whom he predestined he also called, and those whom he called he also justified, and those whom he justified he also glorified.

31 What then shall we say to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us? 32 He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things? 33 Who shall bring any charge against God's elect? It is God who justifies. 34 Who is to condemn? Christ Jesus is the one who died—more than that, who was raised—who is at the right hand of God, who indeed is interceding for us. 35 Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword? 36 As it is written,

“For your sake we are being killed all the day long;
    we are regarded as sheep to be slaughtered.”


37 No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. 38 For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, 39 nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

A True Love, not a Blind Love

Some time ago, I wrote a blog on being a hopeful romantic...instead of being a hopeless one.  I re-read it this morning with some surprise at how similar my situation, and my opinions are.  My core group has pretty much all paired off.  That's not a complaint, merely an observation.  Sure, I wish I was done with the dating scene, but that is (probably) largely a function of the choices I've made along the way.  And let me tell you, some of those choices were too easy...and some were too hard.  I've broken hearts and experienced heartbreak.  It's not fun, or easy, or pretty to go through either side of that.  I continually ask myself why I put me into situations where we end up in pieces.  What do you learn by breaking hearts?  What do you accomplish, besides pain and torment?  What do you teach yourself or your partner?

The hopeful romantic in me yearns for the one, for the man I can wake up to from now until forever.  The man I can pour out my love to, because I have so much I want to give.  Years ago I had a friend tell me that he just wanted to find the one to love, because he has an ache inside him to shower her with the love he has, the love he has been given.  It took me a while to understand that, but I get it now.

I'm not looking for someone to treat me like a queen...although that is nice.  I'm not looking for someone to take care of me...I can take care of myself--says the fiercely independent woman.  I'm not looking for someone so that I am a "typical member of society"...I've never been "typical", and probably never will.

I'm looking for someone I can love; I'm not talking about the rosy-colored feelings, I'm talking about the action verb.  I long to be there for someone, to be there to listen to their opinions, to banter, to minister to, to adventure with.  I long for someone I can show just how valuable the are, and how important they are in this great wide world.

You know, one of my favorite things about Jesus's life is his constant love for those around him.  His mercy, compassion, and love for those he came in contact with is something I strive for daily.  I fail, often, and I am sometimes blinded by those same characteristics.  But, nonetheless, a marriage (by some world-views' standards) is modeled after the way He loved his people.  Ephesians 5:21-33 gives pretty detailed instructions on how married folks should treat each other.  She is asked to submit to him (we'll hold feminism off for another time, I've got other points to make here), trusting that he is leading her as he should, in what is right and pure.  He is asked to love her as Christ loved his people.  Let's be honest: this is a sacrificial love, Christ died for his people.

That's dedication.

But just after, it says he is to present her holy and blameless.  That's big.  That's a lot of respect for her.  He is to push her to be right, and strive for perfection, just as I believe she is to push him.  He is to respect her body, her mind, her spirit.  He is to keep her safe and whole: blameless in the eyes of the World and God.

I think that sometimes I get so lost in building others up, I forget that I am allowed to expect others to build me up.  Did not God create us all to minister to one another?  To build each other up?  It is a requirement for me to give all to minister to someone I love?  Well, not exactly.  I can give whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable...but that does not include things like, my integrity, my body, my sense of self, my moral code...you get the picture.  In dating, there is a line.  A line, that in the thick of things, is hard to see, and easy to cross.  Particularly when you desire so much to share your love, and when you see the beauty in someone.  I get lost in making sure people I love know they are loved, valued, and respected for who they are: sometimes I forget to see if I am also respected, loved, and valued for who I am--and pushed to be a better, right-er version of myself.

This.  This is the hard part.  I confess that often, I have died to myself too much: not necessarily for Christ, but for others.

That is not the point...

It's taken me a long time to understand the difference.  In fact, I'm not sure I understood it until I just wrote it.  Christ died for us so that we might live with the hope of tomorrow, the hope of being redeemed for what we have done-or inevitably will do-that is apart from His will.  Christ did not die so that we who follow Him continue to die for others.  He did that.  We're covered.  To die to self is to die to the carnal self, not to give up yourself to people, but to give up yourself to God.  For His perfect purposes, not for peoples' imperfect ones.

The realist in me sort of gets this, but struggles with how to show love without giving up myself entirely.  What's the point?  Clearly I've failed at this many times.  Maybe I should just keep that big ole heart to myself.  Maybe it's just easier to be a friend, and to stay out of that whole love thing.  Get a dog.  Drive my dog and myself into the sunset and live alone, somewhere, out of my truck.  If I just stick with that, I can't hurt anyone else by getting in too deep only to realize it's not the forever kind of relationship.  I can't hurt myself by spreading myself too thin, giving up myself to prove...to prove what?  That I have love?  *Gibbs slap*  That's not the kind of love I'm supposed to be proving.

Then, what?  What kind of love am I to be proving?

I am reminded of my parents.  They are two of the most loving people I know.  They are kind, merciful, compassionate, gracious, forbearing, and quick to forgive (I imagine those last two qualities are what makes them such stellar parents...especially with two headstrong, free-spirited children).  But, when the time is right, they do not hesitate to tell me when I am wrong, when I am making mistakes, when I doing things outside of what they know I believe is right and true.  They love me enough to be merciful toward my faults...but they love me enough to expect better of me.  To expect me to always be seeking the truth, the right, the correct way.

That is a truer love than a blind one.  That is a truer love than one that accepts normalcy without expectations of perseverance, dignity, self preservation, and truth seeking.  It is a love not only of your character, but of your soul: a love that longs to see the soul be redeemed, cleansed, and perfected.

Maybe one day I'll figure it out, by the grace of God.
Maybe one day, I'll be where they are, able to give not a full love, but a true love.
In the mean time, I'm not ready, yet.  In the mean time, I'll keep my nose in the Book, feet on the ground...and arms out to those with whom I come into contact.
I might not be ready for the one, but I in the meantime, I can give a little bit of the love, the compassion of Christ to everyone.

Be Still, and Know that I am God

Be still, and know that I am God.

   I struggle with understanding what that means, sometimes.  I know you exist in my heart of hearts.  There is no question.  you mean more than that.  "God."  That word is capitalized.  Not "a god."  Just "God."  The great I AM.
   I am still, at the edge of this pond.  Quiet.  Listening for you.  I see where the Native Americans understood god to be Nature: nature is neither good, nor bad, it just is.  The trees can be nothing other than themselves.  It is not so with humans.  We can be whoever we choose to act as.  Therefore, I see why we seek that which is honest and true and unchanging . . . because we are not.  I see why so many of us run to the woods when we seek clarity; it is the clearest place, free from the burdens of pleasing society. free from the realization that you will let someone down.  You will falter.  It is here that we can gaze upon simple existence, and, for a time, escape the inevitability of the marred human life.
   It is here that the hole we have dug ourselves into, or are hiding in, or are trying to escape from, levels out and for a time disappears.  But.  It is also here that the reasons behind that hole being there become inescapable.  When faced with the honesty, the unashamed truth of nature, one cannot hide from the honesty of one's own life.
   My heart is unclothed in the woods.  I can cry, I can grin.  I can wring my hands in sorrow, or worry, or guilt, or anxiety here without fear of judgement by the honest trees or squirrels.  Even so, I come face to face with my own hypocrisy, my own dishonesty, my own imperfections.  That is me.  I cannot escape myself.

Be still, and know that I am God.

   The trees, in their honesty, cannot be here solely by disorderly, unknown, entropic chance.  If so, how does the forest work so much like a well oiled machine?  Ecologists recognize not merely a tree, or a stand of trees, but a system.  A system which they simultaneously affect and are affected by.  It is an interesting observation that the system did well on its own until imperfect humans began to alter it; as if we know, better than a tree, how to be a tree.  And yet, here we are, acting upon the land, as it is our duty.  In a sense, our mere existence necessitated our caretaking of this land, as a means of counteracting our own effect on it.  Funny cycle, that.
   It is indeed a testament to the power which keeps nature here, that even our best efforts cannot affect nature wholly.  It stands stalwart, though we may rail against it.

Be still, and know that I am God.

Be still, here in this landscape, and know that in spite of your own best--if imperfect--efforts, you are still loved.  You are still presented with the honesty of nature to reveal your faults, to comfort your soul, and to give you hope.  Hope that one day, when you stop trying, and just be my creation, you too, can stand stalwart in my presence and live, and know that you are loved.

A Village

"It takes a village to raise a child."

Everyone has heard this saying, and everyone probably agrees.  I still want to talk about it...so just grin and bear the trite beginning, because I think there's some new goodness to be found in it.

I have a 16 month old godson.  He's the greatest.  He's happy-go-lucky and smart.  Everyone who meets him instantly loves him.  His parents are part of my "village" here in college, so we do many social events together.  They bring FJ with them often, which no one minds because he's already one of us, even at such a young age.  But it has really hit me at the last couple of events he's attended, that it doesn't matter where he is, he is always being looked after by everyone.  It's not just his parents that are trailing him around, it's everyone.  Whoever we meet or spend time with happily becomes part of the FJ "monitoring," not that he needs much, he's a fairly independent kid.

For instance, on Saturday night I had roughly 20 people in my house, and every time I saw FJ he was talking to or being held by someone else.  He "read" to people, he helped people grill, he helped them plug or unplug their various cell phones, and he definitely helped cook and eat all the food possible.  Not only does his parents bringing him to things enhance his social skills, it also gives them a chance to be blessed with an assurance that they aren't solely responsible for chasing after him.

Everyone helps, because he's one of us and we love him.

I'd like to suggest that it doesn't' only take a village to raise a child...it takes a village to just be.

This is where I insert another trite saying about how "I don't know who I'd be without my friends," but I legitimately mean it.  I have made many mistakes, taken wrong turns, fumbled through conflicts, but I manage to come through it by the grace of God and the love of my friends and family (those things are not mutually exclusive).  If it was just me out here in this Post-modern world, I wouldn't be able to pull through what I have already overcome.  It takes a village for emotional support, yes, but also sometimes just to make dinner come together.

Saturday was an Oktoberfest party.  I planned out pretzel bites, various dips, pumpernickel, potato salad, potato pancakes, chicken schnitzel, pork schnitzel, sauerkraut, bratwursts, kielbasa, two types of cheese strudel, apple pie, and black forest cake.  One cannot do that alone, especially if the food is going to taste good and be fresh.  I had wonderful friends bake the desserts and other baked goods, as my oven is temperamental and bakes unevenly.  

But I thought with careful planning I'd be able to handle the rest alone.

Wrong.

Thank the good Lord I had two amazing helpers ALL DAY Saturday, who were graciously at my beck and call.  They stood alongside me in the kitchen washing, peeling, slicing, dicing, tenderizing, boiling, mixing, whipping (as in, just with a whisk!), cleaning, organizing, and keeping me sane with simultaneously deep and hilarious conversation.

By 45 minutes before go-time we thought we had it handled...then a breaker went...in the kitchen.

The fridge, water heater, stove, and all the kitchen outlets went down.  We had 10 pounds of raw chicken and pork in sitting in the dead fridge waiting to be breaded and deep fried.  After much breaker flipping, nothing happened, and guests began arriving.  I was in full panic-mode.  But again, thank God I was surrounded by people who rose to the occasion.

Some of them moved the deep-fryer into the living room and began a relay system: a breader in the kitchen, a runner, and a fry cook.

Someone else managed to get the circuits working again.  Another guest started frying the potato pancakes without being asked: he just took it over.  It all came together: hot, fresh, delicious, authentic, and 100% a group effort.

It's humbling.

I had a grand plan to have everything done precisely by 7pm, when people were supposed to arrive.  I had friends show up early ready to help, and I had friends that were problem solvers when I was too absorbed with how this was not working out the way I had envisioned.

The rest of the evening was filled with glorious laughter, great food, conversation, dancing, and such a love among everyone that it was palpable in the air.  Mind you, this wasn't a village who'd known each other for decades.  Some of us had only known each other for 2 years, or 2 minutes.

But between the food, the kid, and the compassion for one another, what we experienced that night was something special.

It was a beautiful reminder that who we are is defined, yes, by what we do, but also with whom we do it.  I am who I am because of the influences in my life, for better of for worse.  Okay, just for the better. ;)

FJ will become who he is because of who he's with, and how they treat him.

I think if he's with this village, he'll turn out pretty okay.

Vulnerablility

I am the strong one.

That is a self-imposed title.  But if I look at my life, look at those I know and love, everyone else has something bigger going on than I do.  I'm not going to air laundry here, but that's just how it is.

Well, until this big thing happened in my own life.  But I've spent a while making myself be strong for everyone else, being the one who has it together so that if someone needs to talk to me, they can without fear of my interjections with my own sagas.  I've spent long enough that sometimes I'm not sure I know how to be broken anymore...I'm not sure I know how to let myself...be vulnerable.

Don't misunderstand, I haven't been burned by someone, well, ever.  Maybe once, but that blame isn't totally on the other party.  To be honest, I've probably done my share of the burning; I think my mission to be "strong" became a spirit of "I don't need anyone," somewhere along the line.
Pro-tip: those two are not the same.  They can sometimes feel the same, when you're the one emoting, but...I can bet they don't feel the same to everyone else.

So now here I am.  Broken, tired, and weak.  But the wrinkle is that currently, it's the inner layer that's broken.  Like a burned-out light bulb: you look at it, you shake it and you can hear the burnt filament, but the outer glass is fine.  A cursory glance probably won't tell you it's broken.

In my heart of hearts, I know I need to be totally broken to be rebuilt.  Yes, I get it.  Break me down to the raw building blocks, then put me back together.  But I've spent so long willing my blocks together, they are not falling down easily.  They haven't fallen down yet, not all of them, anyway.  I know how,  I guess.  The very thing (me) holding myself together is the thing that needs to let me go.
Ever tried that?  I've got news for you if you haven't: it ain't easy.  It's not fun.  It takes a whole lot of courage to go toddler-mode and knock those blocks down.  And frankly, I'm not feeling very child-like.

But as for me, I am poor and needy;
    may the Lord think of me.
You are my help and my deliverer;
   you are my God, do not delay.

Zugunruhe

October is only six days old, and yet it feels like an old friend greeting me with open arms.  With it comes orange leaves, crisp breezes, and Oktoberfest--Okay, so let's forgive the fact that the München festival is over...and just pretend that Oktoberfest actually happens in October--
Thoughts of that festival always bring me back to my own roots: Wien, Kaffee, topfenstrudel, sauerkraut, and so forth.  Thus awakens my adventuring spirit.  Crisp air, good food...these things are hard to experience inside an office.

I want to go to Vienna again!  The Alps!  I want to see the Rockies in the fall!  Big Sur! Yosemite! Colorado Springs!  Albuquerque!  Flagstaff! Boundary Waters! Black Hills! North Woods!  Everywhere!  Let me go!  Let me see new things, experience change! Oh to be a bird on the annual migration, able to cross the country and land someplace new, yet familiar!

I have found that often August and September are a mad rush of change, excitement, and preparation for October.  That is not to say that activity slows in October, it just settles into a familiar bustle.  The months preceding this one are hectic and jumbled: crammed full of planning, moving, new clothes, new books, new goals...You get restless.  You get tired of the way things are.  You yearn for a new place, a new space, a new season.  You re-arrange the living room.  You run off on a weekend excursion.  You get new art, maybe on your body, maybe for your house.  You make plans: some to keep, some to forget.  You rearrange the furniture...again.

Ecologists have a word for this in the animal kingdom.  It's Zugunruhe.

You see it in animals as they prepare to take off across the landscape.  They prepare for the change.  They get excited.  They bustle around.  They stay up later.  They eat more.  They make small moves out and about.  If they had clothes, they'd pack.  And unpack.  And repack.
The thing to notice about zugunruhe, is that it's not just a restlessness.  It's an excited preparation to make a change.  It's a readying of the body to embark on a journey.  It's purposeful restlessness.
This concept in itself is remarkable, given that the animals affected have such delicate metabolisms.

Even hummingbirds go through this.  Hummingbirds!  Tiny winged creatures that are perpetually hours away from starving to death!  They undertake this heightened activity, this restless preparation for the Big Change.

If they go through this every year, and make it, so can I.

What I have..it's not just wanderlust.  It's premeditation of an adventure that I know will lead to...well...if I knew, it wouldn't be a change, would it?  It's a great restlessness in my spirit that tells me it's time for a change for the better.  To move.  To take a risk.  To learn a new thing.  To see a new place.  To break that habit.  To make a change.

Have you felt that?  Have you had such a burden on your soul that things need to change?  It's inescapable.  It works its way into your dreams, your conversations, your quiet meditations.  It's October, and it's time.

Simple Gifts

This music accompanies these words:

I've been back in Athens for a month and a half now.
I moved out of the woods and into the city on January 3rd.  I started graduate school on January 6th.
I've picked up my martial arts again, I'm fumbling through homework, tests, quizzes, and time management.  I'm spending inordinate amounts of time on the internet.  I'm once again sucked in by Netflix.
Sitting in traffic for 15 minutes to get to Kroger 5 miles away is the norm.  I don't wave at every car or truck I pass anymore, because I'd be waving all the time (and not in the cute, Southern way).  I spend the majority of my weekdays in an office with no windows, staring at two computer screens.
My respite comes when I walk to and from the bus stop, or go to martial arts or church, or see people who stop in for my desk-corner-chocolate.  Every weekend chance I get, I spend outside.

Those eight months in the woods spoiled me.

It's fascinating to me that almost a year ago, I wrote in "The Lull" that I was not ready to move into the woods, that I was loathe to leave this city I love so much.  In truth, part of me is excited to be back.  It's fun to be able to eat any kind of food you want, whenever you want, and see whatever you want to see.  It's nice to take a stroll through North Campus, downtown, and the Founder's Garden.  It's good to be close to my friends, my martial arts--the people I was terrified to leave behind.

But I can't help but yearn for the woods, the solitude, the simplicity.  

There are always distractions: things to keep you from doing your work and focusing on your priorities.  It's just that in Athens, or in any proper city, the distractions are flashier and much more insistent.
I find myself wasting so much time on Facebook, taking personality quizzes, or quizzes that tell you what Disney princess, sidekick, villain, couple, or theme song you are.
Really??  Are those things enriching to my life in any way, or important to my work, my maturation, my character, or my future? Nope.  Nope, they're not.

Some might argue that tromping through forests, hanging out on rivers, sitting in a deer stand, climbing rocks, sleeping under the stars, hiking mountains, wandering through planted pine, or making campfires aren't any of those things either, but they sure seem a lot more wholesome.
You learn a lot more about your God, yourself, your responsibilities, your place in the world, and your world by actually being in it.  You learn about history: not just through books, but through experiences, through the people you meet and the woods through which y'all walk.

I have found that the type of person that is just as willing to do those things with you as they are willing to get dressed up and hit that trendy Thai restaurant (which is still delicious), is the type of person who is also willing to listen to your internal struggles, your future aspirations, your fears, your dreams, your hopes, your beliefs.
That person is the one who will ask you the tough questions, but also be comforting; who will sit still, soaking in the beauty of this Creation, but who will rustle up plenty adventure.  That person is the one who doesn't have to be tied to a city, or set or "habitat requirements" to be tied to a friendship.
I have begun to notice more and more that it is this type of person I find myself drawn towards, I find myself striving to become.

Maybe I've read too many westerns.
Truth be told, things are not as simple as they once were.  Even in my young 23 years I can attest to that.
But I cannot help but feel that the complexities of today are merely accessory to the necessities of yesterday.
Having wifi is nice.  Having this wireless mouse for my laptop is handy.  Having an extra monitor for my laptop is exciting.  Having a USB "powerstrip" (adds 4 more USB ports to my computer) is super cool.  But these aren't the things that make a person, or shape a person.  Not this person, anyway.
They are no replacement for exploring, questioning, tromping, falling, struggling, and persevering in this great, big, scary world God has given us to look after.

I guess what I'm trying to say is this:
I miss the simple woods.  Not because of the freedom in the workday it gave me, or the pretty landscapes constantly surrounding me, but because of how much the woods broke me down, tried my patience, stretched my abilities, and gave me the opportunity to praise God in the storms and in the sunshine.

Here in the city, I know He is present, but I admit, these flashy distractions keep my mind drifting.

Out there, in the rawness of His Creation, I cannot help but see His mighty hand.  I cannot help but see His Simple, most profound, Gifts.