As we only have a month left and are wondering what in the world comes next, it is great to be reminded today why I don't have to worry about the future.
From Justin Taylor:
Eight Reasons Why My Anxiety Is Pointless and Foolish
Read the rest here
(Found on takeyourvitaminz)
Showing posts with label fears. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fears. Show all posts
Thursday, May 03, 2012
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
Being Loved
April 22
Ah, the rain. Love that sound. It has been raining quite a bit this past week and I have found myself enjoying it more than usual. I am sitting at the kitchen table enjoying the sound and the view of the rain in the garden and overhead as it hits the skylight and rolls down the roof. And I am so grateful. Grateful for how God is changing my heart. Grateful for how he has been answering prayers that I have been praying for the past year.
If you have read anything I have written here over the past couple of years, you would have noticed lots of turmoil, lots of doubt; struggles with depression, self-image, motivation, and anxiety; lots of fear and a lot of questioning. I have felt like Jacob wrestling with God, knowing that I have had wrong views about him, knowing that I have had some major issues-sometimes not caring, but wanting to want to care. I have waded through the slumps of dark, dark months where I saw no purpose to my life and felt I had no worth. I knew that what I felt and how I was living and what I believed was the opposite of what it was supposed to be according to what I have grown up believing and what I know to be right and good and true. And because of that I heaped extra guilt and blame upon myself, "you know what to believe, but you can't even do that!" is what I told myself. But I could not change my own heart then and I am not doing it now. I saw all that was wrong with me and nothing that was right, but the Lord had a plan to change that.
-----April 23 (It seems I can never finish a post in one setting these days.) The Lord has been doing a major overhaul on my heart here. Through the busyness, service, constant motion, and new situations He has revealed so much selfishness and doubt, so much self-reliance and pride. The Lord has been breaking me and strengthening me to accept His love and His delight in me.
Somewhere along the way, through my disappointments and my dwelling on them, there became a separation between what I knew to be true and what I accepted to be true in my life. I would say "Yes, I believe that God loves everyone, he is sovereign, and he is good," but I have realized this past year that I have not accepted those things to be true in my own life. I have thought that, yes, God is sovereign and controls everything, so if something I considered to be horrible happened to me I doubted God's love and care for me. His love applied to everyone but me. Because, really, how could anyone love this mess? I have seen myself as a failure of a 22 year old, who has accomplished nothing and will never succeed at anything, will never be loved, will never amount to anything but be a secretly (or not so secretly) depressed Christian who tries to put the right mask on for the right occasion and have the right answers to all the deep questions. I have lived as if I had already been defeated. But that is not the way my Father views me and He has shown that to me in amazing ways in these past seven weeks.
I think the first week we were here Rebecca said to me something like, "I think you are really hard on yourself" or, "you have a really bad view of yourself." She asked me, "Do you know God loves you?" and I really wouldn't know how to respond. I knew that I was supposed to know that He did, but I haven't felt like that in quite some time. As the weeks went by there were more and more things that pierced my heart.
Rebecca has been praying that I would see myself as He sees me and has encouraged me to do the same, to pray that I would "see as he sees." I started praying this the first week. I was wrestling to understand why I could not accept that He loves me. One day in bible study I shared this with Kayla and Rebecca, that I felt like I am unlovable, and because of that I have become closed off to sharing my life with people and with the Lord. I keep everyone at arm's length. I would let people see glimpses of myself, but only in an environment that I could try and control. If I kept my stone wall up, no one could know me, so no one could hurt me. I was afraid to accept the Lord's love and let Him be my identity, because I would have to open up and let him in more. I would have to give up my brick wall that I had built around my emotions.
I went upstairs to have it out with the Lord. I sat in the family room and just waited. Sometimes I would try and pour my heart out and say, "ok, God, I know I am not where I am supposed to be, help me accept your love, help me to know that you love me." But I was praying in an impatient, "I want to be sanctified now so I don't have any more issues, please and thank you," kind of way. Each time I started the flow of thought, the Lord said, "wait." So I sat impatiently, then I went out on the deck outside the family room and stood in the rain. I stared at the clouds, listened to the thunder, and was pretty much waiting for this visually amazing break-in-the-clouds, sun-shining-down, rainbow-and-unicorns, heartwarming moment, where I just suddenly got it and was ok.
That did not happen.
I just got cold and wet and more impatient. I went back inside, sat down on the couch in a huff and waited some more. Then God spoke. He said, "Give it up. Give up your idea of what your life should be." I said in a huff, "I have no idea what I think is my idea of what my life should be!!!" and He responded, "Yes, you do. You want to be successful. You want to be comfortable. You want people to think you are great. You want admiration for yourself and your talents. I will not share my glory. I want to use your talents for myself. You want to build up your own esteem and idea of perfection for your life for yourself." Ouch. I was blown away and angry. I felt like Job. I thought God was supposed to be showing me that He loved me, not telling me off.
Kayla came in the room and found me in this state. Feeling angry and confused and vulnerable, I was not the most gracious host. After flying off the handle when she asked me how I was, offending her, and then trying to explain myself, I finally was able to put into words what was going on in my heart. She said, "Maybe God is showing you his greatest love by getting your eyes off of yourself and onto Him." or something like that. And the phrase came to mind, "the Lord disciplines those He loves." And there it was. That moment I had been waiting for. A breakthrough. Not in great glows of warmth, flowers, sunshine, and happiness; but in thunder, rain, lightning, and hail. In the loving discipline of my Father who cares enough about me to want the best for me, especially when I have no idea what that is. I knew that I was loved or at least was beginning to understand.
Ah, the rain. Love that sound. It has been raining quite a bit this past week and I have found myself enjoying it more than usual. I am sitting at the kitchen table enjoying the sound and the view of the rain in the garden and overhead as it hits the skylight and rolls down the roof. And I am so grateful. Grateful for how God is changing my heart. Grateful for how he has been answering prayers that I have been praying for the past year.
If you have read anything I have written here over the past couple of years, you would have noticed lots of turmoil, lots of doubt; struggles with depression, self-image, motivation, and anxiety; lots of fear and a lot of questioning. I have felt like Jacob wrestling with God, knowing that I have had wrong views about him, knowing that I have had some major issues-sometimes not caring, but wanting to want to care. I have waded through the slumps of dark, dark months where I saw no purpose to my life and felt I had no worth. I knew that what I felt and how I was living and what I believed was the opposite of what it was supposed to be according to what I have grown up believing and what I know to be right and good and true. And because of that I heaped extra guilt and blame upon myself, "you know what to believe, but you can't even do that!" is what I told myself. But I could not change my own heart then and I am not doing it now. I saw all that was wrong with me and nothing that was right, but the Lord had a plan to change that.
-----April 23 (It seems I can never finish a post in one setting these days.) The Lord has been doing a major overhaul on my heart here. Through the busyness, service, constant motion, and new situations He has revealed so much selfishness and doubt, so much self-reliance and pride. The Lord has been breaking me and strengthening me to accept His love and His delight in me.
Somewhere along the way, through my disappointments and my dwelling on them, there became a separation between what I knew to be true and what I accepted to be true in my life. I would say "Yes, I believe that God loves everyone, he is sovereign, and he is good," but I have realized this past year that I have not accepted those things to be true in my own life. I have thought that, yes, God is sovereign and controls everything, so if something I considered to be horrible happened to me I doubted God's love and care for me. His love applied to everyone but me. Because, really, how could anyone love this mess? I have seen myself as a failure of a 22 year old, who has accomplished nothing and will never succeed at anything, will never be loved, will never amount to anything but be a secretly (or not so secretly) depressed Christian who tries to put the right mask on for the right occasion and have the right answers to all the deep questions. I have lived as if I had already been defeated. But that is not the way my Father views me and He has shown that to me in amazing ways in these past seven weeks.
I think the first week we were here Rebecca said to me something like, "I think you are really hard on yourself" or, "you have a really bad view of yourself." She asked me, "Do you know God loves you?" and I really wouldn't know how to respond. I knew that I was supposed to know that He did, but I haven't felt like that in quite some time. As the weeks went by there were more and more things that pierced my heart.
Rebecca has been praying that I would see myself as He sees me and has encouraged me to do the same, to pray that I would "see as he sees." I started praying this the first week. I was wrestling to understand why I could not accept that He loves me. One day in bible study I shared this with Kayla and Rebecca, that I felt like I am unlovable, and because of that I have become closed off to sharing my life with people and with the Lord. I keep everyone at arm's length. I would let people see glimpses of myself, but only in an environment that I could try and control. If I kept my stone wall up, no one could know me, so no one could hurt me. I was afraid to accept the Lord's love and let Him be my identity, because I would have to open up and let him in more. I would have to give up my brick wall that I had built around my emotions.
I went upstairs to have it out with the Lord. I sat in the family room and just waited. Sometimes I would try and pour my heart out and say, "ok, God, I know I am not where I am supposed to be, help me accept your love, help me to know that you love me." But I was praying in an impatient, "I want to be sanctified now so I don't have any more issues, please and thank you," kind of way. Each time I started the flow of thought, the Lord said, "wait." So I sat impatiently, then I went out on the deck outside the family room and stood in the rain. I stared at the clouds, listened to the thunder, and was pretty much waiting for this visually amazing break-in-the-clouds, sun-shining-down, rainbow-and-unicorns, heartwarming moment, where I just suddenly got it and was ok.
That did not happen.
I just got cold and wet and more impatient. I went back inside, sat down on the couch in a huff and waited some more. Then God spoke. He said, "Give it up. Give up your idea of what your life should be." I said in a huff, "I have no idea what I think is my idea of what my life should be!!!" and He responded, "Yes, you do. You want to be successful. You want to be comfortable. You want people to think you are great. You want admiration for yourself and your talents. I will not share my glory. I want to use your talents for myself. You want to build up your own esteem and idea of perfection for your life for yourself." Ouch. I was blown away and angry. I felt like Job. I thought God was supposed to be showing me that He loved me, not telling me off.
Kayla came in the room and found me in this state. Feeling angry and confused and vulnerable, I was not the most gracious host. After flying off the handle when she asked me how I was, offending her, and then trying to explain myself, I finally was able to put into words what was going on in my heart. She said, "Maybe God is showing you his greatest love by getting your eyes off of yourself and onto Him." or something like that. And the phrase came to mind, "the Lord disciplines those He loves." And there it was. That moment I had been waiting for. A breakthrough. Not in great glows of warmth, flowers, sunshine, and happiness; but in thunder, rain, lightning, and hail. In the loving discipline of my Father who cares enough about me to want the best for me, especially when I have no idea what that is. I knew that I was loved or at least was beginning to understand.
"For the LORD reproves him whom he loves, as a father the son in whom he delights."
Proverbs 3:12
A couple weeks ago some friends of the Petries came for lunch and we enjoyed hearing Paul and Rebecca, and Hans and Norma talk about the goodness of God in their lives. I kept thinking, "What richness of wisdom is in this room!" I can barely remember exactly what they talked about, and I am mentally kicking myself right now for not immediately writing it down, but Kayla and I were both touched to tears. I went out to the kitchen to start clean up (and hide my face) and Norma came out and asked if she could pray for me. I swear, by what she prayed for me it was like she had been in the room with Kayla, Rebecca, and I while we were having our bible study. She prayed that I would not put a wall between myself and others; she prayed that I would see myself through the Father's eyes. I remember being struck with awe that God would have her pray exactly what I needed to hear. That God thought of me that much to move her to do that.
This past Saturday Kayla and I went to a youth event with Laura (Rebecca's best friend), because her son was leading worship there and just to get out of the house :). I was not expecting much. I knew that it was going to be at least partly in French and I knew that it was a youth event. So I was expecting to feel old and awkward and not understand much. Haha, No. I did feel a bit like that in the beginning, but when we heard the sermon, I was blown away again. The sermon was on identity and viewing ourselves the way God views us. Chosen, called, children in whom he delights, righteous through Christ, LOVED. You can actually watch the whole thing here: Explosion BELGIUM April 2012.
After the sermon they played this song:
They asked for people who had been living under the weight of a wrong identity and to come forward and pray while we sang to give it up and let Christ speak his view of us into our hearts. I did and He did. :)
Last night at The Well, we talked about the Resurrection of Christ and how important it is. How we don't talk about it enough, but how it is foundational to our belief. If Jesus was not raised, he was not who he said he was, we who are now in Christ would still be dead in our sin, and we would have no hope. But because He did, we live differently. We live with hope. We live knowing that, because Christ was the propitiation for our sins, and his sacrifice was sufficient, and God raised him; we will be raised with him. I have hope after death and I can live with hope now.
A couple of the points for how this affects our everyday living were: "I am able to accept my own weaknesses and imperfections (physical, intellectual, emotional, spiritual) knowing that I will not endure them forever, knowing that they will be changed," and "I am able to seek to know who I am and who God wants me to be, knowing that the unique person He has made will continue to be unique in eternity." Because I have hope I can live in this way.
I love seeing the Father connect all these dots for me. I love that he is doing it here. I love that he is opening me to a wider view of the church. I love that I could share all of this with my brothers and sisters at The Well who I had just met. I love that I can love the Lord because He first loved me. I love that I can trust Him with my time here and my time after this, knowing that he cares more than I do, loves me more than anyone else ever could, and has all wisdom and power to complete his perfect plan for me.
All of this gives new life to The Word for me. Isaiah 40-50 just came to life yesterday (monday) with all this new belief.
I can taste it. It gives new joy and strength for every moment. It will still be a struggle. I know this. I have this innate tendency to return to my folly,just like a dog to its vomit (Proverbs 26:11); but as I grow in the Lord, I pray that he will continue to give me wisdom in His Word, fight for me, and give me the strength to struggle against these wrong thoughts that are definitely not from Him.
What a joy it is to know His love.
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Losing more of myself
I have been working on editing photos and blogging about Brussels, but it might still be awhile. I have a couple drafts that I have worked on but just haven't had the time or mental capacity to finish them yet. It is hard sometimes to know what to do with my free time. I can choose to nap, read, watch something, write, go out, practice ukulele, or study French, but I usually end up trying to write or do something that does not require all of my mental concentration. I am pretty brain dead by 1:00 and studying French or practicing my uke get passed up for something less challenging.
It has been frustrating to bring my uke all the way here, but every time I try to practice it feels like beating my head against a brick wall. The progress I have made in learning notes and reading music goes out the window when I am so tired. I think I need to start taking power naps. I need the extra sleep, as I am only getting about six hours every night. I think I am slowly getting used to that, but my brain is definitely not at 100%.
Yesterday was a good and hard day. I said before that I had been struggling with my attitude last week and really having a hard time serving with joy. I was struggling alone all week because I did not want to show weakness and ask for help, or offend Rebecca. Yesterday though, she could tell I was not doing well and we talked about it. She said that it is a miracle for anyone to serve with joy, especially with the endless list of things we have to do around here and when she is stressed or cranky (her words). She said it has to be the Lord that gives me that attitude, because I cannot work it up myself.
I get really impatient with my own sanctification and this week, God has shown me a lot of pride and selfishness in my heart. I want to immediately eradicate it, so I start pushing for God to fix me in my prayers instead of submitting my struggles to Him in faith and peace. But often, my wanting to be rid of these sins is because I want to be perfect and appear righteous. I don't want to have any flaws, so I say to God, "sanctify me!" for my own vanity and esteem, not for the joy of letting him make me more like himself.
My heart is so deceitful, and even in wanting to be good, I have to mistrust it. My heart can only change and I can only grow by the Lord's grace and him moving in my heart by the circumstances he has placed me in and the power of his Word. The same power that raised Christ from the dead and seated him in the highest place above all powers is working in my heart to make me more like Christ (Ephesians 1). That is so encouraging.
I was in a funk for the rest of the afternoon after talking to Rebecca. It was good to get the things that were troubling me out of my system, but I always feel so exposed after having those kinds of conversations. I was also struggling with God, knowing that I have been asking to change and be sanctified, but also am getting so tired of it. I think I can almost feel myself being chipped away, as layer by layer my heart is exposed before the Lord and to those around me and I see all of my weaknesses. I am losing more of myself every day. In the unveiling of my sins, he is boring into my heart and making himself the most important thing. He is taking away all the things I might have confidence in and showing me that only he can fill up those places in my heart. Some part of me wants to grasp onto the things that he is exposing and not let go of them. I don't know if this is making any sense. :/
After Bible study yesterday (we have been going through Ephesians), Rebecca prayed that God would show me the lies that I have believed about God and about myself. And he did that in a major way. We had read Psalm 139 in Bible study, because of some connection to Ephesians 1, and the whole time I felt that I was not accepting his love for me. Maybe I just felt exposed yesterday, but I have had a tendency to push emotion away and become very detached and closed. I know that God loves the world and I know that he loves his children in an even more special way, but I have not believed that he has specifically loved me. I have not believed that I have worth in his eyes. I have not believed that I have any worth or future at all. I read Psalm 139 over and over again and I hope that as I pour through the Word and preach the truth to myself that God will change these things that I have believed. I don't know how to believe these things and I don't know what to do to change my heart, but he does. And I am glad.
I want to have confidence in his love and his delight in me. I want to not only believe greatly in his sovereignty and wisdom and his love for all; I want to believe it with all of my being for myself.
In the middle of sorting through all these things (and I admit my eyes were leaking quite a bit, er, I mean it was raining on my face), I fell asleep, and about ten minutes later, my sister came to wake me up because they needed me downstairs. I was quite cranky about being woken, but I was so glad she did.
We went downstairs to get Rebecca up in her chair so we could have dinner in the garden. Paul had built a fire and we roasted sausages over the fire while they told us stories.
They told us about the house next door, that really I am quite obsessed with (I will have to share what I remember sometime). They told us stories about their travels to the Congo: near death experiences, being under house arrest, getting Malaria (Paul said he has had it 13 times!), planting over 1100 churches, sharing Christ with soldiers that were probably planning to kill them, 16 hour rides through the jungle, and all of this in their first year of marriage. They told us how the Lord brought them together and told us stories about their children when they were young.
Their love for each other was so apparent and it is amazing where the Lord has brought them in over 40 years of marriage.
I am so thankful to be here in "spiritual boot camp" right now and am so thankful to glean from the richness of wisdom and knowledge and faith and grace and peace from these lovely people.
It has been frustrating to bring my uke all the way here, but every time I try to practice it feels like beating my head against a brick wall. The progress I have made in learning notes and reading music goes out the window when I am so tired. I think I need to start taking power naps. I need the extra sleep, as I am only getting about six hours every night. I think I am slowly getting used to that, but my brain is definitely not at 100%.
Yesterday was a good and hard day. I said before that I had been struggling with my attitude last week and really having a hard time serving with joy. I was struggling alone all week because I did not want to show weakness and ask for help, or offend Rebecca. Yesterday though, she could tell I was not doing well and we talked about it. She said that it is a miracle for anyone to serve with joy, especially with the endless list of things we have to do around here and when she is stressed or cranky (her words). She said it has to be the Lord that gives me that attitude, because I cannot work it up myself.
I get really impatient with my own sanctification and this week, God has shown me a lot of pride and selfishness in my heart. I want to immediately eradicate it, so I start pushing for God to fix me in my prayers instead of submitting my struggles to Him in faith and peace. But often, my wanting to be rid of these sins is because I want to be perfect and appear righteous. I don't want to have any flaws, so I say to God, "sanctify me!" for my own vanity and esteem, not for the joy of letting him make me more like himself.
My heart is so deceitful, and even in wanting to be good, I have to mistrust it. My heart can only change and I can only grow by the Lord's grace and him moving in my heart by the circumstances he has placed me in and the power of his Word. The same power that raised Christ from the dead and seated him in the highest place above all powers is working in my heart to make me more like Christ (Ephesians 1). That is so encouraging.
I was in a funk for the rest of the afternoon after talking to Rebecca. It was good to get the things that were troubling me out of my system, but I always feel so exposed after having those kinds of conversations. I was also struggling with God, knowing that I have been asking to change and be sanctified, but also am getting so tired of it. I think I can almost feel myself being chipped away, as layer by layer my heart is exposed before the Lord and to those around me and I see all of my weaknesses. I am losing more of myself every day. In the unveiling of my sins, he is boring into my heart and making himself the most important thing. He is taking away all the things I might have confidence in and showing me that only he can fill up those places in my heart. Some part of me wants to grasp onto the things that he is exposing and not let go of them. I don't know if this is making any sense. :/
After Bible study yesterday (we have been going through Ephesians), Rebecca prayed that God would show me the lies that I have believed about God and about myself. And he did that in a major way. We had read Psalm 139 in Bible study, because of some connection to Ephesians 1, and the whole time I felt that I was not accepting his love for me. Maybe I just felt exposed yesterday, but I have had a tendency to push emotion away and become very detached and closed. I know that God loves the world and I know that he loves his children in an even more special way, but I have not believed that he has specifically loved me. I have not believed that I have worth in his eyes. I have not believed that I have any worth or future at all. I read Psalm 139 over and over again and I hope that as I pour through the Word and preach the truth to myself that God will change these things that I have believed. I don't know how to believe these things and I don't know what to do to change my heart, but he does. And I am glad.
I want to have confidence in his love and his delight in me. I want to not only believe greatly in his sovereignty and wisdom and his love for all; I want to believe it with all of my being for myself.
In the middle of sorting through all these things (and I admit my eyes were leaking quite a bit, er, I mean it was raining on my face), I fell asleep, and about ten minutes later, my sister came to wake me up because they needed me downstairs. I was quite cranky about being woken, but I was so glad she did.
We went downstairs to get Rebecca up in her chair so we could have dinner in the garden. Paul had built a fire and we roasted sausages over the fire while they told us stories.
They told us about the house next door, that really I am quite obsessed with (I will have to share what I remember sometime). They told us stories about their travels to the Congo: near death experiences, being under house arrest, getting Malaria (Paul said he has had it 13 times!), planting over 1100 churches, sharing Christ with soldiers that were probably planning to kill them, 16 hour rides through the jungle, and all of this in their first year of marriage. They told us how the Lord brought them together and told us stories about their children when they were young.
Their love for each other was so apparent and it is amazing where the Lord has brought them in over 40 years of marriage.
I am so thankful to be here in "spiritual boot camp" right now and am so thankful to glean from the richness of wisdom and knowledge and faith and grace and peace from these lovely people.
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Foreign Experiences
Things have been pretty busy this past week, so I haven't had time to post as much as I would like. I'm trying to get all of this down so I don't forget anything. I have a bit of time now, so I might have to do a few posts. :)
First, my day off.
My day off was right after Kayla's, so I went into it pretty exhausted. I got to sleep into 10:00, which was glorious. (Let me just say, I don't think I have ever appreciated sleep as much as I do right now.) I took my sweet time getting ready, partly just enjoying the time to do so and partly out of nervousness from the prospects of wandering around by myself. I ate a late lunch and tried to find somewhere in particular to go, but then decided I was stalling and decided to just walk out the door.
Once out of the house I let out a sigh, telling myself that it was not going to be as bad as I thought and telling myself, "Hey! You are in freaking Belgium, even if you don't see anything too exciting, it will still be in BELGIUM. So, just march young lady!" And I did march. For almost four hours and almost six miles.
After I came out from this dirt road, I knew generally where I was and it was quite far from where I had started. I saw a grocery store, so I went in to look around and get something to eat as I was quite hungry by that point. It was probably the low point of my expedition. I walked around the whole time feeling like someone was going to find out that I was not a native and scorn me or something, and I hadn't done anything super stupid yet, so I was just waiting for that moment to happen.
When I gathered all my goodies and plucked up the courage to get in line I felt increasingly conspicuous as I heard all the French around me. I put my basket in the wrong place and a man said something to me and placed it in the right spot, in a stack of baskets right in front of my feet. I had picked the wrong grocery bag and the lady at the register tried to explain this to me. I don't know why I don't immediately say that I can't speak French instead of standing there looking dumb and trying to figure out what people are saying, as if it will magically start translating in my brain. I finally got it and loudly exclaimed, "oh, OH!" like the loud American that I am. After realizing how loud and dumb I just sounded, my flustered factor greatly increased and as soon I was done with my transaction, after saying my "merci's" of course, I booked it out of the closest door. As it happens, they were the wrong doors, which I figured out as soon as I stepped down the odd step and swung the door back behind me, all while moving out as quick as I could, so I didn't notice until several long strides away that it was not and automatic door, it did not shut all the way, and it was most likely the door they open for loading and unloading. When I was about a third of the parking lot away, someone shouted out something in French and closed the door emphatically. Oh, dear. I suppose it could have been worse.
I kept walking and found the little path that my sister and I had discovered on our first walk out, so I sat down to enjoy my awkwardly bought spoils. I got a baguette and some lunch meat for a good snack and some Belgian Wafels for a treat.
First, my day off.
My day off was right after Kayla's, so I went into it pretty exhausted. I got to sleep into 10:00, which was glorious. (Let me just say, I don't think I have ever appreciated sleep as much as I do right now.) I took my sweet time getting ready, partly just enjoying the time to do so and partly out of nervousness from the prospects of wandering around by myself. I ate a late lunch and tried to find somewhere in particular to go, but then decided I was stalling and decided to just walk out the door.
Once out of the house I let out a sigh, telling myself that it was not going to be as bad as I thought and telling myself, "Hey! You are in freaking Belgium, even if you don't see anything too exciting, it will still be in BELGIUM. So, just march young lady!" And I did march. For almost four hours and almost six miles.
I ended up walking around almost the entire village. Ooops.
It wasn't as much fun as it would have been with someone else (ex. my sister), but it was great to get some exercise and see more of the area. I feel a little crazy though, when I am out and about by myself. I mutter to myself a lot when I don't have someone to talk to and feel super conspicuous. I think even more so here, because I don't speak the language. The longest phrase I have learned thus far is "Je suis désolé. Je ne parle pas français." Which means "I'm sorry, I don't speak French." (I just had to google how to spell it, by the way.) Even simpler things, like Merci, and Bonjour, just polite little phrases like that are not sticking well, because when I am in a situation to say them I think of the Spanish words first. And I hardly know any Spanish. Ridiculousness. Stupide américain! (or estúpido americano...)
Anyhoo, I walked in one direction, knowing generally which direction I was going, but then ended up at a traffic circle with so many choices of where to go, I just decided go to the Genval Cimetière because there was a sign for it and between the word and the tiny symbol by it, I knew what it meant. (And that has great value these days. Knowing the meaning of words, that is.)
So you are about to be assaulted with pictures of a Belgian Cemetery, because really, if you end up in a Cemetery in a foreign country, you might as well document the experience, right?
I suppose it was quite different than any cemetery I have ever seen before, so that's something...
Next, I went round the cemetery and found a lovely wall, so naturally I took a rest in the shade and snapped a few pictures of myself leaning wistfully against said wall, as people are usually inclined to do.
After those melancholy and stationary photos, of course I needed a happy walking picture, so here it is:
Happy AND walking. What a combination.
Even Belgium has dumpy looking places.
The rare, hot sunshine.
Entrance to the cemetery. I had to double back to go towards home again.
A lovely home that I liked on my walk.
I walked down a random dirt path and found this lovely field (below).
Not sure where I am at this point
When I gathered all my goodies and plucked up the courage to get in line I felt increasingly conspicuous as I heard all the French around me. I put my basket in the wrong place and a man said something to me and placed it in the right spot, in a stack of baskets right in front of my feet. I had picked the wrong grocery bag and the lady at the register tried to explain this to me. I don't know why I don't immediately say that I can't speak French instead of standing there looking dumb and trying to figure out what people are saying, as if it will magically start translating in my brain. I finally got it and loudly exclaimed, "oh, OH!" like the loud American that I am. After realizing how loud and dumb I just sounded, my flustered factor greatly increased and as soon I was done with my transaction, after saying my "merci's" of course, I booked it out of the closest door. As it happens, they were the wrong doors, which I figured out as soon as I stepped down the odd step and swung the door back behind me, all while moving out as quick as I could, so I didn't notice until several long strides away that it was not and automatic door, it did not shut all the way, and it was most likely the door they open for loading and unloading. When I was about a third of the parking lot away, someone shouted out something in French and closed the door emphatically. Oh, dear. I suppose it could have been worse.
I kept walking and found the little path that my sister and I had discovered on our first walk out, so I sat down to enjoy my awkwardly bought spoils. I got a baguette and some lunch meat for a good snack and some Belgian Wafels for a treat.
Wafels. Yum.
Walking past the Schweppes factory
Wondering if I'll ever make it home
Thankful for a familiar sight!
Relaxing by the Lac
The best chocolate I've ever had in my life.
This is the house next door. It is vacant and falling apart. I have wanted to brake in and look through the house and feel like Nancy Drew every time I see it.
So, that was my day. Despite all the mishaps I really did enjoy it. Especially since we ended the evening with Downton Abbey!!!!
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
Grace through trial
My mind is bursting with all that I am learning. I feel like a balloon that is about to pop.
I am learning so much practically, all the care taking duties, medicine schedules, trying to pick up some french, and just a lot of little details. But I feel like I am learning so much more spiritually. My spirit was so exhausted yesterday evening and I was so overwhelmed with everything the Father is teaching me. It is definitely all good, but sometimes I just don't know how in the world to take it all in.
I have been struggling the past several days with a bit of spiritual oppression. The first day it was an encompassing sense of sadness, not really about anything in particular, but over everything. The second day it was a sense of accusation and guilt. Yesterday, I was tempted to question God about everything. I am learning so much and growing so much, but I can feel the tempter feeling his way around and trying to find my weak spot, trying to get me to despair over everything. I think he knows he is losing. (These are things that I struggle with a lot of the time, but never in such an overwhelming sense in quite a while. That is why I think it is spiritual warfare. Just in case you were wondering. :) )
I asked Rebecca to pray about it at bedtime the second day and she told me that those things are extremely common in this area of Europe. She said, "well that is silly to carry it around all this time." :) She prayed boldly and with authority in Jesus name for me and I feel some of the burden lifted. Rebecca also said that I need to strengthen my spiritual armor, so I have been diving into Ephesians 6 and feel like I have been really learning to "pray at all times in the Spirit, with prayer and supplication." Every time I feel the heat of accusation or the whisper in my ear questioning God's goodness, sovereignty, and love; I just shoot it right back up to the Lord and submit it to him.
I'm not going to lie. It is hard and it is exhausting, but it is so good. I have been reading and re-reading Romans 8 and abiding in, "there is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus." Ah, what relief! What a refuge! I have received the spirit of adoption as his child and I can cry "Abba Father!" I am helped in my weakness and I am interceded for by the Spirit. "If God is for me, who can be against me?" Who can bring any charge against me? "It is God who justifies. Nothing can separate me from the love of Christ.
I am being filled to the brim and running over. The Father is breaking and healing my heart repeatedly here and filling me with his joy and his strength. It is exhausting and mind blowing and shattering; it is amazing and miraculous and joyous that the Father would care to discipline me, to change me and grow me as he is doing.
It is amazing, when you stop complaining and start thanking the Lord for everything, even the seemingly bad things, how much there is to be thankful for and how much of everything I have is a blessing and not a right.
I love this place, I love these people, and I am so thankful for them and how God is using them and this place to change my heart and glorify himself. Oh, and how much more there is to come. :)
Shane & Shane
"Embracing Accusation"
"The father of lies
Coming to steal
Kill and destroy
All my hopes of being good enough
I hear him saying cursed are the ones
Who can’t abide
He’s right
Alleluia he’s right!
The devil is preaching
The song of the redeemed
That I am cursed and gone astray
I cannot gain salvation
Embracing accusation
Could the father of lies
Be telling the truth
Of God to me tonight?
If the penalty of sin is death
Then death is mine
I hear him saying cursed are the ones
Who can’t abide
He’s right
Alleluia he’s right!
Oh the devil’s singing over me
An age old song
That I am cursed and gone astray
Singing the first verse so conveniently
He’s forgotten the refrain
Jesus saves!
He redeemed us from the curse of the law."
I am learning so much practically, all the care taking duties, medicine schedules, trying to pick up some french, and just a lot of little details. But I feel like I am learning so much more spiritually. My spirit was so exhausted yesterday evening and I was so overwhelmed with everything the Father is teaching me. It is definitely all good, but sometimes I just don't know how in the world to take it all in.
I have been struggling the past several days with a bit of spiritual oppression. The first day it was an encompassing sense of sadness, not really about anything in particular, but over everything. The second day it was a sense of accusation and guilt. Yesterday, I was tempted to question God about everything. I am learning so much and growing so much, but I can feel the tempter feeling his way around and trying to find my weak spot, trying to get me to despair over everything. I think he knows he is losing. (These are things that I struggle with a lot of the time, but never in such an overwhelming sense in quite a while. That is why I think it is spiritual warfare. Just in case you were wondering. :) )
I asked Rebecca to pray about it at bedtime the second day and she told me that those things are extremely common in this area of Europe. She said, "well that is silly to carry it around all this time." :) She prayed boldly and with authority in Jesus name for me and I feel some of the burden lifted. Rebecca also said that I need to strengthen my spiritual armor, so I have been diving into Ephesians 6 and feel like I have been really learning to "pray at all times in the Spirit, with prayer and supplication." Every time I feel the heat of accusation or the whisper in my ear questioning God's goodness, sovereignty, and love; I just shoot it right back up to the Lord and submit it to him.
I'm not going to lie. It is hard and it is exhausting, but it is so good. I have been reading and re-reading Romans 8 and abiding in, "there is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus." Ah, what relief! What a refuge! I have received the spirit of adoption as his child and I can cry "Abba Father!" I am helped in my weakness and I am interceded for by the Spirit. "If God is for me, who can be against me?" Who can bring any charge against me? "It is God who justifies. Nothing can separate me from the love of Christ.
I am being filled to the brim and running over. The Father is breaking and healing my heart repeatedly here and filling me with his joy and his strength. It is exhausting and mind blowing and shattering; it is amazing and miraculous and joyous that the Father would care to discipline me, to change me and grow me as he is doing.
It is amazing, when you stop complaining and start thanking the Lord for everything, even the seemingly bad things, how much there is to be thankful for and how much of everything I have is a blessing and not a right.
I love this place, I love these people, and I am so thankful for them and how God is using them and this place to change my heart and glorify himself. Oh, and how much more there is to come. :)
Shane & Shane
"Embracing Accusation"
"The father of lies
Coming to steal
Kill and destroy
All my hopes of being good enough
I hear him saying cursed are the ones
Who can’t abide
He’s right
Alleluia he’s right!
The devil is preaching
The song of the redeemed
That I am cursed and gone astray
I cannot gain salvation
Embracing accusation
Could the father of lies
Be telling the truth
Of God to me tonight?
If the penalty of sin is death
Then death is mine
I hear him saying cursed are the ones
Who can’t abide
He’s right
Alleluia he’s right!
Oh the devil’s singing over me
An age old song
That I am cursed and gone astray
Singing the first verse so conveniently
He’s forgotten the refrain
Jesus saves!
He redeemed us from the curse of the law."
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
The deal with doctors
I am about to do what I possibly dread most in all of life.
Go to the doctor.
Doctors and I do not have a great history.
When I was little my mom would never tell me that we were going to get shots until we were in the parking lot. I'm sure it was killer to get me inside. My 2nd mom (as I affectionately like to call her) would have to come to back my mom up, basically to drag me through the door.
I'm sure there were many times this happened, but the one I most keenly remember was when I was about 7 or 8, I think.
I had to be coaxed through the office door as usual, but I got a bit smarter and tried to appear a bit more calm. When we were called back I let Kayla (my dear older sister) go first and as soon as everyone had their back turned I ran. I think my escape was pretty short lived, but I remember it being pretty awesome. Adrenaline pulse through my veins as I ran and hid. I think I made it to the opposite side of the back of the office, with the door to the waiting room in sight. I bolted for the door, but was caught mid-sprint by my dear 2nd mom, Kathy.
Once taken back to the room I had to be held down so they could administer the shots.
I still hate, hate, hate, needles.
Given that I do not have any great affection for doctors, my track record in keeping myself away from them is not so great.
I broke my arm in the 3rd grade by jumping out of a swing. We were having a contest to see who could land the farthest away from the swings and I had to win. I thought that height must equal distance, so I jumped off at the highest point possible and sailed through the air to my supposed victory, and landed quite inefficiently on my elbow. My mom said that they could hear the crack of it breaking.
I ended up having surgery to fish a chip of my growth plate out of my arm so it could be put back in its proper place. I am happy to report that I have two correctly proportioned arms.
We never really went to the doctor that much. I still don't go unless I am really sick or have injured myself.
The next huge thing I remember was slicing my leg open on a recliner. A recliner.
I was sitting in it and decided to get up, and didn't put the leg rest down to do so. Apparently there was some kind of rod in the leg rest that was coated in plastic except for the end, which happened to be razor sharp. I ended up with a gaping and bleeding wound from that tumble with the recliner. We went to a minor emergency center to get it stitched up and they did a horrible job of it. They gave me two numbing shots and hardly gave them time to work before stitching up my leg with thirteen stitches for a three inch long cut. I now have a caterpillar-like scar as a result. I have named him George. Pronounced in the French way of course.
I've done pretty well in the injury category since then, I think. No surgery or stitches necessary at least. Some ridiculous things like sprained big toes, fainting out of chairs and hitting my face on table legs, and sitting in an already broken chair which resulted in many bruises and whiplash. Plus, some pretty necessary dental work, like getting my wisdom teeth out, and oh yeah, jaw surgery.
Most of my life I have viewed doctors as an annoying and painful step to fixing an injury or improving an illness, and usually I like to tough it out and get over whatever is ailing me without them, but at this stage in my life I have decided that it is time for me to grow up and try to see doctors as a necessary help instead of the-thing-that-plagues-my-existence-and-must-avoid-at-all-cost.
I have been getting sick pretty frequently over the past year and even more frequently over the past six months. This has thrown major kinks in my plans of getting a steady job and earning money for upcoming travel, but it has been good in the effects of making me more aware of how I am treating my body, making changes, and finally seeking help for it.
True to my dramatic, a bit hypochondriac self, I have WebMD'ed it up and have been freaking out about all the possible immune system attacking diseases I might have, but really I am hoping that it might be something as simple (or not so simple really) as food allergies or hormone imbalances. The worst answer would be "we don't know" or "nothing." There needs to be something tangible wrong with me so they can fix it!
All this to say, I am actually looking forward to going to the doctor next week to hopefully get some answers and make some more healthy changes before I embark on the World Travel Adventure of 2012.
Go to the doctor.
Doctors and I do not have a great history.
When I was little my mom would never tell me that we were going to get shots until we were in the parking lot. I'm sure it was killer to get me inside. My 2nd mom (as I affectionately like to call her) would have to come to back my mom up, basically to drag me through the door.
I'm sure there were many times this happened, but the one I most keenly remember was when I was about 7 or 8, I think.
I had to be coaxed through the office door as usual, but I got a bit smarter and tried to appear a bit more calm. When we were called back I let Kayla (my dear older sister) go first and as soon as everyone had their back turned I ran. I think my escape was pretty short lived, but I remember it being pretty awesome. Adrenaline pulse through my veins as I ran and hid. I think I made it to the opposite side of the back of the office, with the door to the waiting room in sight. I bolted for the door, but was caught mid-sprint by my dear 2nd mom, Kathy.
Once taken back to the room I had to be held down so they could administer the shots.
I still hate, hate, hate, needles.
Given that I do not have any great affection for doctors, my track record in keeping myself away from them is not so great.
I broke my arm in the 3rd grade by jumping out of a swing. We were having a contest to see who could land the farthest away from the swings and I had to win. I thought that height must equal distance, so I jumped off at the highest point possible and sailed through the air to my supposed victory, and landed quite inefficiently on my elbow. My mom said that they could hear the crack of it breaking.
I ended up having surgery to fish a chip of my growth plate out of my arm so it could be put back in its proper place. I am happy to report that I have two correctly proportioned arms.
We never really went to the doctor that much. I still don't go unless I am really sick or have injured myself.
The next huge thing I remember was slicing my leg open on a recliner. A recliner.
I was sitting in it and decided to get up, and didn't put the leg rest down to do so. Apparently there was some kind of rod in the leg rest that was coated in plastic except for the end, which happened to be razor sharp. I ended up with a gaping and bleeding wound from that tumble with the recliner. We went to a minor emergency center to get it stitched up and they did a horrible job of it. They gave me two numbing shots and hardly gave them time to work before stitching up my leg with thirteen stitches for a three inch long cut. I now have a caterpillar-like scar as a result. I have named him George. Pronounced in the French way of course.
I've done pretty well in the injury category since then, I think. No surgery or stitches necessary at least. Some ridiculous things like sprained big toes, fainting out of chairs and hitting my face on table legs, and sitting in an already broken chair which resulted in many bruises and whiplash. Plus, some pretty necessary dental work, like getting my wisdom teeth out, and oh yeah, jaw surgery.
Most of my life I have viewed doctors as an annoying and painful step to fixing an injury or improving an illness, and usually I like to tough it out and get over whatever is ailing me without them, but at this stage in my life I have decided that it is time for me to grow up and try to see doctors as a necessary help instead of the-thing-that-plagues-my-existence-and-must-avoid-at-all-cost.
I have been getting sick pretty frequently over the past year and even more frequently over the past six months. This has thrown major kinks in my plans of getting a steady job and earning money for upcoming travel, but it has been good in the effects of making me more aware of how I am treating my body, making changes, and finally seeking help for it.
True to my dramatic, a bit hypochondriac self, I have WebMD'ed it up and have been freaking out about all the possible immune system attacking diseases I might have, but really I am hoping that it might be something as simple (or not so simple really) as food allergies or hormone imbalances. The worst answer would be "we don't know" or "nothing." There needs to be something tangible wrong with me so they can fix it!
All this to say, I am actually looking forward to going to the doctor next week to hopefully get some answers and make some more healthy changes before I embark on the World Travel Adventure of 2012.
Saturday, December 17, 2011
Ostriches, Hermits, Onions, and Stone
Stubborn layers that peel back with a squeak of protest, or a block of stone for a sculpture that is chipped away every day and barely begins to show its form. This is what I feel like as I am getting to know the Lord and seeing my heart more as it really is. Every day is a fight and struggle to not run away from the peeling and the chipping. It is so easy to run away. I like to be an ostrich sometimes, burying my head in the sand because I like the view there better than the fear of something that is above the surface. Or maybe a hermit is a better example, hiding in a cave and isolating myself from the threat of discovery and being known. Sometimes feeling alone is better than trying, or better than the threat of the unknown. But after a while the head-in-the-sand and the cave are no longer sanctuaries, but are just what they are, a hole in the ground and stone walls.
I haven't always been like this. I think I used to run to good things. It didn't happen all at once. After different kinds of heartbreak I think I thought if I protected myself from the things that cause the pain I wouldn't have to be hurt anymore. So I started to bury things and hid when anything seemed too threatening.
I've been going through a counseling class at my church, and started with the idea that I would learn how to help others work through pain and difficult circumstances, help them uncover their root desires and struggles, but instead I have been working through the caverns of my own struggles, uncovering wrong desires and beliefs, and buried pain. It has been hard.
I went through a counseling class before with The Master's College and started with the same assumptions and ended up working with my own struggles in the same way, but I was taking it online and I didn't really have to share with anyone what I was working through. I just had to get through the assignments and get the grade.
With this class at my church we are split into groups and we have to discuss the curriculum and discuss what it is working in our hearts. This is a group of people that I hardly knew to begin with and did not want to share with in the beginning. I still have a hard time opening up, but I am so thankful that I have had to. I have come to really love these people because they listen, they care, and they are also working through things. I appreciate their transparency and their genuineness.
It is really easy to play the church game sometimes and try to appear like we have it all together. I like to think that I don't need anyone and am strong enough on my own. Really, I don't want to need God either, but oh goodness, do I ever.
The things I like to run away from are the things that show me my weaknesses: people, God, and His Word; pursuing things I love and want to grow in like painting, drawing, writing, learning guitar and making my own music. These things reveal my true heart. They show me my pride and my fear. They show me my inability to be my own strength and control what is around me. I have rarely really pushed into these things to see where I can go with them, because it is hard.
This year has been hard. These past five years have been hard. They have been years of loss, pain, depression, and running away. A lot of things that I have hoped in have been taken away; things that I put my comfort, security, and identity in. They have been years of wrong belief and bitterness and failure. It certainly has not all been bad. I have had joys, happy moments, and have been growing and learning, but there has been a lot of chipping away.
This process of sanctification is long, it is hard, but it is good. Not all pain is bad.
At this side of things, I can tell you what I have lost; the bad things I have run to, the mistakes I have made, and the wrong things I have believed, but mostly I can tell you that at the end of it all there is Christ. All these struggles show me what I am, and what I need to be. They show me who I need to be in Christ. I can run all I want and I can hide all I want; but when I finally come to the point when I just have to deal with the brokenness, the loneliness, and the pain that I have stored up and locked away over all these years; even when I believe that He is absolutely sovereign and absolutely good, but I don't feel like He is good to me; I have to run to Jesus. Because at the end of these things and at the end of myself, He is all there is. If I never achieve my dreams, if I never find love, or have children, or travel the world I still have Him. If I lose everything and everyone, I will still have Him. And that is good.
Pain has a purpose. I can continue to avoid it and pretend like it doesn't exist, or I can let it achieve its purpose and turn to Christ. I pray that this upcoming year is one where I fight to turn the struggles to Christ and reap the fruit that comes from that. Every step into dealing with my burdens and working to confront the things I run away from is a step toward Christ and toward change; I become more like Him and less like my stubborn, feeble self. This is best.
If you have made it this far thanks for reading all these musings. Love you all, and praying that you treasure Christ this Christmas. If you are struggling or don't see what the big deal about Jesus is, feel free to talk to me. Drop me a line and let me know what is going on with you and how I can pray for you/with you.
Christ is all, friends. Wherever you are in life and no matter what you are going through, I hope that you discover this and I hope that you will fight for this. We need Him and we need trials, struggles, people, and pain to see that truth. Sometimes it is hard to see that through the haze of our circumstances, but I pray that we will fight for it and I pray that we will not fight for it alone.
I haven't always been like this. I think I used to run to good things. It didn't happen all at once. After different kinds of heartbreak I think I thought if I protected myself from the things that cause the pain I wouldn't have to be hurt anymore. So I started to bury things and hid when anything seemed too threatening.
I've been going through a counseling class at my church, and started with the idea that I would learn how to help others work through pain and difficult circumstances, help them uncover their root desires and struggles, but instead I have been working through the caverns of my own struggles, uncovering wrong desires and beliefs, and buried pain. It has been hard.
I went through a counseling class before with The Master's College and started with the same assumptions and ended up working with my own struggles in the same way, but I was taking it online and I didn't really have to share with anyone what I was working through. I just had to get through the assignments and get the grade.
With this class at my church we are split into groups and we have to discuss the curriculum and discuss what it is working in our hearts. This is a group of people that I hardly knew to begin with and did not want to share with in the beginning. I still have a hard time opening up, but I am so thankful that I have had to. I have come to really love these people because they listen, they care, and they are also working through things. I appreciate their transparency and their genuineness.
It is really easy to play the church game sometimes and try to appear like we have it all together. I like to think that I don't need anyone and am strong enough on my own. Really, I don't want to need God either, but oh goodness, do I ever.
The things I like to run away from are the things that show me my weaknesses: people, God, and His Word; pursuing things I love and want to grow in like painting, drawing, writing, learning guitar and making my own music. These things reveal my true heart. They show me my pride and my fear. They show me my inability to be my own strength and control what is around me. I have rarely really pushed into these things to see where I can go with them, because it is hard.
This year has been hard. These past five years have been hard. They have been years of loss, pain, depression, and running away. A lot of things that I have hoped in have been taken away; things that I put my comfort, security, and identity in. They have been years of wrong belief and bitterness and failure. It certainly has not all been bad. I have had joys, happy moments, and have been growing and learning, but there has been a lot of chipping away.
This process of sanctification is long, it is hard, but it is good. Not all pain is bad.
At this side of things, I can tell you what I have lost; the bad things I have run to, the mistakes I have made, and the wrong things I have believed, but mostly I can tell you that at the end of it all there is Christ. All these struggles show me what I am, and what I need to be. They show me who I need to be in Christ. I can run all I want and I can hide all I want; but when I finally come to the point when I just have to deal with the brokenness, the loneliness, and the pain that I have stored up and locked away over all these years; even when I believe that He is absolutely sovereign and absolutely good, but I don't feel like He is good to me; I have to run to Jesus. Because at the end of these things and at the end of myself, He is all there is. If I never achieve my dreams, if I never find love, or have children, or travel the world I still have Him. If I lose everything and everyone, I will still have Him. And that is good.
Pain has a purpose. I can continue to avoid it and pretend like it doesn't exist, or I can let it achieve its purpose and turn to Christ. I pray that this upcoming year is one where I fight to turn the struggles to Christ and reap the fruit that comes from that. Every step into dealing with my burdens and working to confront the things I run away from is a step toward Christ and toward change; I become more like Him and less like my stubborn, feeble self. This is best.
If you have made it this far thanks for reading all these musings. Love you all, and praying that you treasure Christ this Christmas. If you are struggling or don't see what the big deal about Jesus is, feel free to talk to me. Drop me a line and let me know what is going on with you and how I can pray for you/with you.
Christ is all, friends. Wherever you are in life and no matter what you are going through, I hope that you discover this and I hope that you will fight for this. We need Him and we need trials, struggles, people, and pain to see that truth. Sometimes it is hard to see that through the haze of our circumstances, but I pray that we will fight for it and I pray that we will not fight for it alone.
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Writing about writing
The problem with the blank page is not that I have a blank mind and empty thoughts, but that I have so many thoughts that I do not know where to begin. The drive to write something worthwhile and personal and maybe something relatively profound has filled my mind for the past week at least. So instead of picking one of the many subjects that have been running around in my mind like (insert clever simile here), I am once again writing about writing.
I suppose if I analyze my entire writing process for you, unnamed and perhaps non-existent reader, it would be telling and personal enough for now. Plus, I suppose that a deeper relationship where one shares their secrets and pains sometimes take time, so I will let my relationship with this blogging world develop slowly and share with you a bit of surface drivel with just a peek into the pool of my psyche for now.
As I have already said, I think and rethink before I ever put anything onto the page, testing words and sentences, seeing what works well and what I should discard, and then I lose all of it because I never write it down. There is this fear in me I think, that if I put my thoughts to paper, make them physical and real, then I will suddenly find myself out. It is so human to want to "find yourself," to want to know who you are really, beneath the person you think yourself as, and find if you are something more or are just as fearful and weak as you think you are, or worse, that you are more terrible than you have ever thought up to the particular point of self discovery.
I am discovering that this is exactly what happens when I write or draw or really work on learning guitar. I see myself in the mirror of my work (or complete non-work aka laziness) and am a bit afraid of what I see there. The truth be told, I really am more boring, terrible, and weak than I think I am and am still discovering how much so.
I am afraid of doing what I long to do because I am afraid of failure AND success. I am afraid of never being able to do something I love well and am afraid that I can do and be and succeed. Why is this I wonder? But for whatever reason, there lies the deeper question of "why in the world am I so afraid that my success or my failure hinges on me?" Whatever fears and insecurities I have and no matter how little I think of myself, I am still thinking myself great to put the weight of my future accomplishments all on me. If I really determine to be disciplined in writing, disciplined in art, and disciplined in music there is not an immediate log & cliff formed in the distance for me to trip over and then fall headlong into the chasm of the death of all my hopes and dreams.
I need to determine to be faithful with the gifts and talents that I have been given and know that if the Father wills to use them for His glory and my good they will flourish or fade as He desires.
Ha, in my second attempt at public writing I have put words to feelings I have had for years by intending to start with "surface drivel." Ha. God knew this would be good for me.
Also telling is my constant editing as I write. If you ask any experienced writer how to write well the great majority of them would tell you to write whatever comes to mind, to let every thought you have flow to your fingers and onto the page, unhindered by any condemning thought from yourself or thought of what others might think. I like to think that I am independent, that I don't need the approval of others, that I could (if I wished) live exactly how I want and say, "screw the world" if they disagree with my liberated life. Well, I have a more confidant view of myself than is actually true. As I write things that are revealing my thoughts and fears I am simultaneously fearing what others will think of these personal revelations of mine.
So, to finish with a flourish... The beginning and end of anything is the hardest for me. This is where drawing a blank usually comes in, in my writing. I remember in both my English Comp. 1 & 2 classes I would be writing furiously to finish my paper an hour before class was to start only to be stuck in the last fifteen minutes with my concluding paragraph. I would sit there tapping on the table, chewing my nail, and typing gibberish before I would finally get a mental breakthrough in the last eight minutes and then frantically type to the finish not having time to stop to proofread. All that reminiscing said, I still have not come up with a way to finish.
This is where I usually give myself a mental pep talk or change the music I am listening to, to give me more inspiration. If that doesn't work I start freaking out a little and begin to think in incomplete sentences. "I could say... What about... Dang it, why can't I..." on and on and on. Then comes the mental cursing if I am really frustrated... ok just mental cursing if I am the least bit frustrated.
This is where I give way to the lame, half-hearted sentences that I am not really fond of just so I can be done, even if it won't end the writing as gloriously as I would have liked.
Writing is a learning process and I am finding that the more I do it, the better I like it and hopefully I will improve as well.
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