Dawling

Ella broke her arm on the playground at preschool on Monday.  In the great scheme of things, this is such a small bump in the road.  She will have to wear a cast for 4 weeks and then they will remove it and she will be back to swinging on the monkey bars and swimming in the pool and wearing long sleeve shirts.  She’s only four and she may not even remember this.

But every time I see her small frame and that big pink cast covering her arm, I find my mind searching for ways to switch places with her.

When I got home from work tonight, tears were streaming down her face because her arm itched and she couldn’t itch it.  Everyone was running around the house trying to find something she could stick down her cast to itch with.

A little while later as she sat at dinner, she had more tears because her long strands of hair kept getting caught beneath the band of her sling and pulling her hair.

I went outside after dinner to watch Guy volley birdies with the badminton racquet.  My sister carried Ella out and set her on the little bench at the kids’ picnic table.  It’s been chilly and rainy today.  Since she can’t fit on a jacket, she had a blanket wrapped around her.  She was watching her little brother run and hit the birdie back and forth with my dad.  I looked at her–her face still wet from the earlier tears; her little eyelashes all clumped together.  She looked so sad.  My heart sank to my feet.  I quickly flung around and tried to think of something to do.  Something to cheer her up.  Something to keep her from feeling left out.  But we couldn’t go in the yard because it was raining.  And she wouldn’t really be able to move her good arm with the blanket wrapped around her to keep her warm.

I went and sat down on the concrete next to her bench.  She tried to pull out her teddy bear from inside the blanket and her arms came uncovered.  I tried my best to cover her back up and then I just sat there.  We watched Guy pushing his little mower around the porch.  Maybe it was my own fears or my racing imagination, but I could just feel how bad she wanted to get up and play–run around, be a kid.  Her blanket fell off her arms again and I reached up around to pull it back around.  And then I reached my arm around her and left it there.  After a few moments, I felt Ella’s little feet drape over my leg.  Maybe trying to pull closer, maybe trying to keep warm.  I rested my head against her good arm and swallowed a lump in my throat.  I can’t wait until Monday, I thought.  Because then I can tell her that she’s already made it one week and only has three more to go.  

I can’t imagine how my sister must feel.  Or my brother-in-law.  My brother-in-law told my dad tonight, “There’s nothing harder in the world than watching her hurt.” 

Excuse me while I go bawl.

Ok, I’m back now!

I hate to think about things from a sad angle, but yet, I love to remark about things like this.  Nieces and nephews, children, overwhelming love.  These are some of my very favorite things in the whole world.

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I read the real story ofThe Vow a month or so ago and I couldn’t wait to see the movie.  After Ella went upstairs with her mom and dad to get her hair washed, I flipped on the movie.

The book was one of the most gripping, intense stories I’d ever read.  The movie was much different than the book, but I really enjoyed watching it.  It was a very pretty love story.

I loved the part where Leo took Paige on their second first date (after her memory loss from the accident) and they drove over to the lake and got in the water.  I smiled and laughed.

And I thought of my future husband.

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As I was watching The Vow earlier, I found myself pondering the things I’d learned about myself and life in the past year or so.

• I had a really bad day a few weeks ago.  The next day, I had a really good day.  The only thing that changed was my attitude, but the outcome seemed so drastic.
• That pretty much sums up the last year of my life.  Also, this:
• I can either take charge and do what I know is right and refuse to give up or I can sit back and let whatever happen.  The impact that either decision has on me and those around me is huge.
• When things get serious and worrisome and nobody knows what to do, humor and fun can change things.  It can bring beauty and peace back.
• A nice home-cooked meal also does this.
• The Power of Food.  Oh dear.  Especially with men, it seems.  “The way to a man’s heart is his stomach.”  I hope my husband is that way, because I’m looking so forward to that.
• I can be having a really lousy day and then I’ll accidentally do something blonde and it really cheers me up.
• If you feel strongly about something, don’t ever, ever, ever give up.  Don’t be talked out of it.  Even if you’re the only one.
• God is extremely faithful.  And completely good.

I think I know the sort of life I want to live.

I mean, I think I’ve been realizing that for the past few years.  But so many times, I’ve plain forgot.  And other times, I’ve chosen to forget.  Because sometimes it feels so much easier to just let life happen however it wants to happen than to make a plan… and be disappointed when it doesn’t happen.

I’m at my absolute happiest and most content when I’m around those 4 little children.  And if I can be cooking something at the same time, I feel even more at-home.

Today was so warm outside.  We set up the baby pool in the backyard and they all swam why my brother-in-law sat on the lawn with them, reading a book and making sure the splashing didn’t get too out of hand.  I was chopping some vegetables in the kitchen for lunch and every couple minutes or so, I’d run out there to stand on the porch, watch them laughing and smiling (and occasionally yelling and crying), and take requests for more pots of hot water from the kitchen to warm their cold baby pool.

I was in my element.  I had an abundance of energy today.  At 9:00 tonight when they were all going home or settling downstairs to go to bed, I was vacuuming and straightening the rugs to 90-degree angles.  Messes aren’t a big deal, but I was so energized that I had to release all my left-over energy somehow.  It’s 11:30 and I’m still wide-awake.

And yet…  in the midst of such a happy day, my sisters are both 100% still planning on moving within the next month or two.

I am heartbroken.  I’m sure any Aunt would be.

It’s a lot easier during the work-week when I’m gone all day and focused on so many other things.  But I’ve spent all weekend with them.  And last weekend, I spent with them too.  It’s hard.

My middle sister and I went on a walk last night with my little niece and my sister told me all about their plans and everything God had showed them.  It was incredible, I can’t lie.  But I just quietly listened and only asked a few small questions.  I felt bad.  I mean, if someone else had told me about their plans and what God showed them, I’m pretty sure I’d ask a lot of questions.  But it hurt too bad.  When we got home and we were finished talking, I sat at the kitchen counter as she poured my niece some milk.  And then I got a horrible pain in my throat.  You know the one you get when you have a serious cry coming on and you’re trying to hold it back?  “I know,” my sister said, looking at me and reading my thoughts.  “It’s going to be really hard…”  A few tears escaped and I tried to speak through the lump in my throat.  Nothing came out.  I nodded and more tears came.

When I laid in bed last night, I tried desperately to get a clear word from God.  I had so many thoughts and I couldn’t silence them.  I fell asleep without an answer.  But not before praying the best I knew how.  I prayed that they would all stay here.  Until I get a clear answer from God that’s contrary, I feel that’s all I know to pray.

That sister’s husband is across the country as we speak, doing a second round of job interviews.  My sister said they could move before the end of this month.

I wish I knew what to say when these conversations came up.  My parents have been out of town visiting my mom’s sister for her 50th birthday this week.  So when my sisters and brother-in-laws and the kids and I got together this week (every night but two) and they’d talk about all their plans, it’s basically just me that doesn’t understand.  And to be honest, I haven’t really wanted to understand.  In my head, this wasn’t how it was supposed to be.  When I came home from Cambodia, I knew it was for two reasons: Writing and my family.  For days when I first came home and didn’t have a job, I prayed for my family for hours.  Over the past five or six years, a lot has changed but my heart for my family has only grown larger.  I have a lot of dreams and hopes for my family.  And this is not it.  This is not it at all.

The worst part of this entire deal is not what’s going to happen or could happen–whether they move or don’t move.  The worst part is not knowing for sure what’s right.  I’ve GOT to know what’s right.  Otherwise, how can I pray with total confidence?  How can I fight for what’s right?  I’ve prayed and I’ve believed, but always, in the back of my head, I wonder if I’m being plain insensitive and selfish for not wanting them to go–to follow whattheyare sure is right.

Things have not been right the past year.  Living with my parents and my one sister and her husband and their two kids, I allowed myself to feel mentally overwhelmed.  I dropped the slack in praying and believing… I even lost sight of my dreams for my family.  I’ll get back to all of that once things slow down a little, I figured.  What breaks my heart is that around the time I feel like I dropped the slack, I could see things change.  I could sense the beginning of the plans that are now almost official.

It’s not too late.  It’s never ever too late.  And even if my sisters had already moved and had settled in and been living in other states for two years, it still wouldn’t be too late.  Right is right and wrong is wrong.  And if it’s right that they be here, I won’t stop praying no matter what happens.  I just have to find out for sure.  I have to get my confidence back.

Those 4 children…. they’re my nieces and nephews, but they’re also my… friends.  I adore them.  I can’t imagine not seeing them grow up.  I can’t imagine my children and my husband not getting to know them.  But you know what, if them moving is the right thing and it’s God’s will, I will not stand in the way.  I will send them on their way with confidence and peace and blessings.  And I absolutely hate goodbyes.  But we all have to do things we hate.  I know I could do it.

Like Elijah in the Bible, I know I’ve got to pray for rain–and not be deterred even if a cloud doesn’t show up until the seventh try.

What if Elijah would have given up on the fifth try?

That’s a risk that I can’t afford to take.  Especially when my family is at stake.

Tonight, I went to a firey youth conference with my good friend.  Wow, was it great!  I’m trying to think of what I learned.  And how to put into words what I feel inside.  When the last worship song ended and I wiped the sweat from my brow and my friend and I walked out of the auditorium, I felt like doing a cartwheel.  Inside and outside.  There’s something new God dropped inside of me tonight.  And before I go to sleep, I have to figure out what it is.

David was a shepherd boy when God crowned him king of Israel.  He was out looking after the sheep, killing the lions and the bears to protect his flock.  While his brothers were in military training, he was at home in the backyard.  His father didn’t even believe in him enough to have him inside when Samuel came to anoint the new king.  And it didn’t matter.

He wasn’t looking for a new path in his life or a new opportunity.  There’s no such thing.  The only path is the one right in front of you.  That’s where God is.

David kept living his life, taking each thing as it came, not getting ahead or taking shortcuts.  And so he became the greatest king that ever lived.  There’s hardly a book in the whole Bible that doesn’t speak honorably of him.

Nehemiah built the wall that was right in front of him.

Esther never chose to become queen.  But when it was thrust in front of her, she took what was given her and worked at it with all her might.  She was determined to honor God and honor the king.  And so she caught the king’s eye and was crowned queen and saved her entire race from extinction.

Joseph didn’t kick back into apathy when he was thrown into prison as a totally innocent man.  He put his nose to the grind until he rose right back up to the top and became ruler of the same prison that held him captive.  Totally forgotten by his friends, he kept at it until his number was called.  Through dogged determination and loyalty, he became second in charge of the whole nation.  And saved his family from starvation.

I am absolutely convinced that their is no better training or university or masters program than living the life that’s right in front of me.

When I was 19, I went to a powerful discipleship school and then I went to Cambodia as a missionary.  And then I came home and worked for a ministry for two years.  And now, for the past three years, I’ve been working for a real estate company.  I went from three of years of God being the sole focus to the focus being the economy and money and getting as much work (revenue) as possible.  And as unlikely as it may seem, this has been my favorite.  And the most natural.

I mean, as far as I can see, either the gospel works or it doesn’t.  Either I can love the people right in front of me and serve them with my whole heart… or I can be a hypocrite and pretend like this phase of my life doesn’t matter… like the people I work with don’t matter.

If I really know God’s love, then I can love the most difficult people in the world without a second thought.  If I really know how much He loves people, then like Daniel, I can serve an evil dictator with wholehearted compassion and loyalty.

I still have the journal entries I wrote from before I started my current job at the real estate company.  Over three years ago.  I felt God wanted me to work somewhere secular and I began studying Daniel’s life and praying that I could serve my boss the way Daniel served King Nebuchadnezzar.  And I’ve been blown away.  I really don’t have to try too hard to love them.  And the more I serve, the more I want to serve.  I feel like I’ve been given such an easy ride.  I’m not sure I’ve taught or shown anyone anything, but I’ve learned more in the past three years than I learned in all the years before that rolled together.  Sitting at the front desk answering the phone and greeting clients, I’ve glimpsed who He’s made me to be and what my purpose is.  And because of that, because of what He showed me, I noticed that I began writing less and less about David and Daniel and all the firey things God was showing me.  Something changed in me.

As I was getting ready for church on Easter Sunday, I had a live streaming of Joel Osteen’s church service playing in the background.  During their worship, they had this talented young man on the stage painting a picture.  (Click here for a link to the YouTube video–fast forward a couple minutes for the painting.)  It looked like nothing.  Like a bunch of stray strokes and colors that amounted to nothing.  And then–bam!  He flipped the painting over, he turned it around.  And I got goosebumps straight up my spine.  Tears gathered in my eyes.  Our LORD and Savior, Jesus Christ, right there on the canvas.  Piercing in love and hope.

I watched it again later and afterwards, I sat and pondered it for quite a while.  And then I asked God to let my life be like that painting.  It’s the same prayer I’ve been praying for the past three years or so–I just couldn’t put words to it.  LORD, let me just be a “normal” person.  Let me be “nothing special”.  I just want to love people with real love and not tell them why.  And when they look at me, maybe all they’ll see is a bunch of brush strokes that amount to nothing.  But then, at Your time, flip me over.  Let them suddenly see You so clearly through me that goosebumps shoot straight up their spine and tears gather in their eyes.  Let them come face to face with You–the real You–absent of facades and religion and hypocrisy.    

Some people need church and church brings them to their knees and ushers them into a real, lasting, deep relationship with Almighty God.  But for others, they need a secret weapon.  I hope I can be a secret weapon.

One of the kindest words is mother. 

So nurturing.  So unconditional.

Warm, soft, home.

Tonight Ella and I played house.  She asked me to sit down at the little play table and she went to her kitchen and brought me plastic food.  After a while, I decided to call her mommy.  That’s basically how she was taking care of me.  “Thanks, Mommy,” I said as she brought a hot pink bowl over with toast and a spoon inside and set it in front of me.  Her eyes lit up.  A few minutes later as she was back in the kitchen, I yawned.  She hurried over and set a soft hand on my shoulder.  “Are you tired?”  I nodded my head.  “It’s ok,”  she said.  Then as she walked back to the kitchen, “Guy will be coming in from outside soon and then we can settle down and go to bed,” she said over her shoulder.

We played house for quite a while and she remained the mommy and me the little girl.  She was so kind.  I felt nurtured and loved.

Everyone needs mothering, I realized.  Even if it’s not always by their own mother.  Even if it’s their little niece doing the mothering.

My mom and I watched TV for a little bit tonight.  We talked for a couple minutes about my sisters moving and my mom said sometimes it’s hard to sleep thinking about it.  We watched more TV and then she got ready to go up to bed.  “It’ll be ok, mama,” I said–a little out of the blue.  “We’re going to keep sticking to our guns.”  (We’re praying for them not to move away.)  Her shoulders softened and she stopped and turned around.  “Yes, that’s right.  We are.” 

Maybe everyone needs a mother’s love.  Even mothers.

That love that never, ever, ever gives up or stops believing.

I love to watch The Voice.  A few weeks ago someone told me they just couldn’t watch it.  They couldn’t get past Christina Aguilera.  I nodded and listened, but deep down, I felt bothered.  When I watched it the next few times, I noticed myself searching even more for the good in her–though I already see so much of it.  Why am I doing this?  I wondered.

Maybe this is how I can learn to love my future children.  By loving anyone I can find–even someone on TV.

The other night, one of the girls on Christina’s team started crying at the end of a song she performed.  A few moments later the camera panned over to Christina.  She was crying too.

A mother really sees. 

When the gentleman from eHarmony came to pick me up for a first date weeks ago, I saw something.  I stood at the front door as his diesel truck rumbled to a halt in front of the house.  I was so nervous.  Anyone else might have looked at all the color draining from my face and would have shook their head at me.  But I saw the way my parents looked at me.  My dad–strong and confident and assuring.  And my mom, she saw right where I was.  Daddy was seeing ahead to try to get me out the door and help me be brave.  It was half of what I needed.  And mama gave me the other half.  Her eyes filled with compassion because she saw how nervous I was.  I almost wondered if I saw a tear in her eye.  She wasn’t looking ahead to the fun night that would be ahead–she was looking fully at me right in that moment.  And I think she was pained to see me afraid–even though it was over something as silly and irrational as a first date.  Her eyes said it’s ok.  Not even you’ll have a great time and everything will be ok, but more like, it’s ok if you want to fall apart, it’s ok if you want to stay home.  

A mother’s love is right there, right as you are.  You don’t have to change anything.

I’ve always felt like I’d be rich someday.  I’m not sure if that’s a goal or something that was dropped inside of me.  Rich, though–what does that mean anyway?  I just want money to be my last thought.  That’s my desire.  Whenever I want to do something or give something or go somewhere or buy something, I want the price or the amount to be my last consideration.

Growing up in the church, I’ve always been around this mindset that money is the enemy.  And basically, with that mindset, we’re keeping money right in the focus of our eyes (so we can avoid it).  I think we’ve got it all wrong.  I think money should be behind us.  And plenty of it.  That it should be like a mere afterthought.  Our motives and dreams always being gigantic and the money being right there to make it happen.  Money doesn’t make it happen–God makes it happen.  I know, I know.  It’s funny though.  The people that argue that are also fully trusting God to provide the money–that someday they’ll wake up and He will have provided a million dollars in their bank account.  And if that happened, they would suddenly be ok with money?  Exactly.

Money’s not a problem.  No more than food is to eat.  Or water is to drink.  Or air is to breathe.  They are all just means to an end.

At the same time, I don’t ever want to fall into money easily.  A few weeks ago my family bought tickets for the Mega Millions jackpot.  I was adamant that, if we won, they only gave me a specified amount.  Instead of millions, just give me $300,000.  Enough to own a house and a car and have money in the bank and money to help others.  But not enough that I would ever consider not working.  Or dreaming.  That’s the big one.  If life is easy,  I might stop dreaming.  And then, my life might as well be over.  When it comes down to it, I still need life to be an uphill journey.  Without the journey, I won’t develop that character that, over many years, will prepare me for being a good steward of a lot.

If I fell into money easily, I know I could easily be one of those people with a jaded and spoiled mindset.  Instead, I want to work really hard for what I get.  I need the humility and the drive and the consistency that come through hard work.

Nothing is free in this life–except for the grace of God. 

I once heard it said that many orphaned children or those who have troubled or abusive relationships with their fathers go on to become very successful in life.  Of course, the absence of parents or the absence of love from both or either parent could just as easily destroy someone and make them stagnant and beat down.  But the study listed the names of several successful and influential people that had come to great success due to a deep need to prove themselves.  The study went onto to say that many people who grew up completely sheltered by love and affection went on to accomplish the least (in terms of worldly or monetary success).  They simply didn’t need to prove themselves.  They were content exactly where they were.

In an email today, my friend said: “There’s nothing more inspiring than heartache.”  That might have sounded odd to me a week ago, but today, I totally agreed.  No wonder Taylor Swift has so many hits!

This guy that I went on two dates with–we talked for about three weeks before I even met him in person.  We really got to know each other.  After the first date, I told a friend: “Well, he’s like a best friend–that could be a whole lot more.”  There weren’t sparks flying like bombs bursting in air, but we had so much in common that, when I first started talking to him, I thought someone was playing a trick on me.  We had the strangest things in common.

And then bam!  After the second date, it was over.

It’s just hard to say goodbye to someone.

It’s also hard for things to end due in part to me totally playing it safe and not putting myself out there.  I mean, I don’t think this relationship was it–I don’t think this guy was the one.  I mean, clearly he wasn’t.  If he was, I wouldn’t be writing about it being over.  But it disappointed me that it couldn’t have ended differently.

It’s like this:  For someone who plays sports, if you have to lose, isn’t it better to lose 50 to 41 than 50 to nothing?  And I felt like I lost 50 to nothing.  I didn’t go out fighting (being the real me).  I went out feeling totally like a silent, dull version of myself.

But the minute I got home from that crummy second date, I came on here and wrote.  And even though it was rambly and full of rabbit trails, I felt like a new person.  I was writing with every bit of heart and passion I possessed.  I was being as real as I knew to be.  And for a long time, that had been missing for me.

I understand a little bit now why the fatherless child goes on to do such great things.  They are driven.  By disappointment or hurt and pain.

Hurt can either totally level a person or it can light a determination in them that is absolutely impossible to extinguish.

I’ve thought of some of the craziest ideas since last Friday.  I’ve thought tons about writing.  But I’ve also thought of some interesting ideas like trying to start a business or, get this–auditioning for a commercial (ha ha ha!).  And the weirdest part of all is that, when these ideas come to mind, I tell myself: You could totally do that. 

“What could we accomplish if we knew we could not fail?”  -Eleanor Roosevelt

It’s like, because someone didn’t believe in me, I’ve stepped up to fill in the gap.  To believe in my own self.  Just me and God–we can do anything, I tell myself.

Maybe there’s nothing quite as inspiring as someone not believing in you.  It gets me up and on my feet faster than just about anything.

The whole relationship with this guy, I held on by a thread.  I always said, “I’m fine if I don’t talk to him again.  And I’m find if I do.  I’m fine if I see him again.  And I’m fine if I don’t.”  And I really meant it.  But when he sent me an email on Sunday afternoon saying that he didn’t really feel like there was a “spark” between us, you should have seen how fast I stood up.

My reply was written with zero forethought.  I won’t recount it because I would probably get too excited and you would get bored, but it was full of emotion.  It was much longer than necessary.  It had to have made him shake his head and maybe chuckle–just because of the way it was written (like I never took a breath) and the strange things I felt compelled to mention.

When he said, I feel like there’s no real spark between us, I felt like he was saying, I don’t really believe in you.

“Let me explain a few things to you,” I wrote.  And then I did.  Poor guy.  If he had any doubt about there being a spark between us, it must have been confirmed after that.  I didn’t explain anything about the relationship, I just explained a few things about myself.  Because I felt like I’d held that real self back.  And if it was all going to end, I at least needed to go out being the real me.

“I would always rather be happy than dignified.” -Charlotte Bronte, Jane Eyre

“The most beautiful makeup of a woman is passion.”  -Yves Saint-Laurent

To my relief, he said that my email did make him laugh out loud.  I mean, I guess that’s a good thing.  If I would have been myself the night before, I would have expected something like that–a smile or a chuckle.  He also wrote a few paragraphs (probably trying to calm me down).  His words were warm and kind and humorous.  So, I guess, that gave me a good amount of peace to call it good and move on.  In my own heart, I felt like I went out authentically and boldly.  And that’s all I could ask for.

“A woman is like a tea bag; you never know how strong it is until it’s in hot water.” -Eleanor Roosevelt

“No matter how plain a woman may be, if truth and honesty are written across her face, she will be beautiful.” -Eleanor Roosevelt

So, it didn’t work out with the guy from eHarmony.  I’m ok with that.  I mean, of course I wouldn’t have gone on a date with him if he didn’t somewhat resemble the sort of man I’d want to marry.  He was the first real cowboyish guy I’ve ever been on a date with.  He was wonderful.

Dating… ugh.  The next man I go on a date with–I hope he’s the one.

It’s funny, but the very week before I met this guy, for the first time (that I can remember), I felt totally content with where I’m at.  I felt grateful to be single.  I never thought that was possible.  I mean, marriage is my goal.  I can’t wait to meet my man.  But this is a really great place too.  A time that I’ll never get back.  If I could fast forward to meeting my husband, I would.  But I can’t.  So I really want to have a full life now.  I want to put myself out there.  I want to take some risks.  I want to have some kind of an adventure.

I want to write something crazy.  I want to put myself into what I write.  I want to be less cautious.

I don’t want to live my life in retrospect.

Writing is my passion.  It’s what saves me.  I’m not sure I’m even good at it, but I have to do it.

A month or so ago, I told myself that eHarmony is a horrible way for me to meet people.  I write with such clarity and boldness that it’s almost impossible to live up to in person.  But you know what, it is possible.  Writing reminds me of who I am–of what’s really inside of me.  If I can write something without flinching, why can’t I say it without flinching?  It’s that when I write something, I’m positioned safely behind a piece of paper or a screen and I can say exactly what I want without a questioning facial expression making me feel inferior.

When I was a teenager, I was a nanny for a few neighbor children that were twins.  The mom was a wonderful, beautiful lady.  We always got along just great except for this one little area:  She thought I had an eating disorder.  I mean, I don’t know if she actually thought that, but she implied it a few times.  I have been skinny my entire life.  I remember being in sixth grade and crying as I tried on jeans, because I had no hips or thighs to fill them out.  I looked like a stick.  I imagine that being skinny is just as hard as it is to be overweight.  People always question you.  And the worst part of it is that it makes you question yourself.  I dreamed of being overweight (I still sorta do).  But anyway, this lovely woman thought there was a reason I was skinny.  She thought I was intentionally skinny.  She said a few random comments and I had no idea how to respond.  My hair probably stood up on my neck, but I was speechless.  Until I went home that night and sat down at my computer and decided to write her an email.  Once I started writing, I realized how much I had to say.  About a page and a half later, I clicked send.  I wish I had a copy of that letter still.  It made me proud to write.  It felt good to stand up for myself and to be completely honest about how I felt.

A few years ago, my sister ran into this woman at Starbucks.  She kindly asked how I was doing and was shocked when she heard I hadn’t gone to college.  She was disappointed.  My sister shrugged and told her not to worry–I was doing what I felt was right for me.  (I love that about my sister.  She speaks the way I try to write.)  The woman shook her head and agreed.  “Yeah, I bet she is.  And I’m not going to question her.  She’s certainly handed my opinions to me on a platter a few times.” 

Even a fool sounds wise until someone sets the record straight.  - Proverbs 17:28

Sometimes we have to set the record straight.  I could have let this woman–who was essentially my boss–continue to make comments that were untrue, but it hurt me inside.  It made me question myself and feel like there was something wrong with me–something I should be embarrassed of.  But when I was honest with her, she actually thanked me.  It made me realize something.  As startling as the truth can be flowing out of our mouths (or paper), people will admire you for it.  Your honesty will most likely shock them, because so few people take the risk of speaking the truth.

That wasn’t the only time I wrote someone a letter about how I felt.  When I was young and still figuring out who I was, I defended myself a lot more.  I think I needed to.  Now, if someone tells me I’m too skinny, I’ll most likely smile and say with a shrug, “Good genes”.  That basically gets my point across.  I haven’t done anything to make myself skinny.  This is the body that was given to me.

There are other times when I don’t even feel the need to say anything.  I’ll let people think what they want, because I don’t feel like I’ve been stolen from.  What a gift it is to grow older!  Each year, I have more opportunities to fail.  And more opportunities to be ok with it.

I used to be afraid of saying too much.  Recently, I’ve stopped thinking that way.  Just in the past few weeks.  Now I’m afraid of saying too little.  When I scroll back through the relationships I’ve had in my 25 years, my regrets stem almost entirely from saying too little.  From holding back.  From just letting whatever happen.  From not fighting.

I spoke with my sister–the one who talks like I write–on the phone this afternoon.  “Michelle, you have to fight for things in life,” she pleaded with me.  “You HAVE to fight.”  

I have to ponder her words for days.  They go so deep.

Long story short, both of my sisters are planning to move to other states this Summer.  I found out about both sisters moving within about 24 hours of each other.  My heart was shattered.  A few weeks ago, the whole family was over for dinner and after about three hours of spending time with everyone and imagining everyone going their separate ways in a few months, I had to flee to my room.  I had to burst into tears.  My sister found me about 20 minutes later, crying with the covers pulled up around me.  We talked for a few hours.  “You’ll see the kids several times a year,” she told me.  “I’ll see them maybe once a year–if that,” I responded.  She shook her head and bit her lip.  “You have to understand,” I told her, “What terrifies me the most is how adaptable I am.  I’ll get used to life without you right down the street.  I’ll get used to only seeing the kids once a year.  I’ll accept it.“ She shook her head again.

In retrospect, what awful words for me to say.  But they were so honest.  That is exactly how I am.  As I talked to my sister on the phone tonight, she called me on that.  “Remember what you told me a few weeks ago?” she asked.  I instantly remembered.  The minute I said those words, I couldn’t forget them.  Not only how hard they must have been for her to hear, but how hard they were for me to hear.  To realize that that’s how I am.  “That really hurt me,” she told me.  “That you could just give up that easily.”

Five years ago, I might have defended myself.  But she was so right.  She told me how it was and I needed that.

My greatest fear used to be change.  I can remember about three years ago when I was laid off from a job that I loved and how hard it was for me to embrace that change.  So I thought of a way I could confront that.  I learned to be adaptable.  I fought less, I pushed less, I accepted more.  But I’ve got to put the brakes on.  It is imperative in life to know how to pick up a sword and fight and go after what’s right and refuse to get up.  Not everything can be accepted.

I talked to my sister for a few hours.  Because once she said what she said, I realized all of the many ways I’ve become adaptable.  And I had to talk through it.  I had to get it out in the open.  And I told her again and again what I realized after my date last night: “I’ve got to put it all out on the line.  I’ve got to give everything I have.  I cannot be cautious.”  I had a relationship a few years ago that didn’t go the way I thought it would.  It ended.  I thought I would marry him.  But I gave everything I had.  And I honestly don’t regret it.  The only failure in my eyes is that when it was all over, I closed the doors.  I stopped expecting and believing and laying it all out there.  I became really cautious.

I also told my sister that I’m selling myself short.  On the outside, I look so content and complacent.  I live with my parents.  I’m a receptionist.  I look like I’ve settled for life in a tiny little box.  But in reality, I feel like I’m total rebelling against everyone’s expectations by living with my parents and being proud of the job I have.  I feel like a total trailblazer.  But when people think the opposite of me, I let them.  All the while, the deepest part of me feels neglected.  Because I haven’t cared enough to stand up for the dreams that are so deep in me and big that they keep me awake at night.

When I was fresh out of high school, I went to Hawaii for a few months of schooling and then spent time in Cambodia.  When I tell people that, they think it’s cool.  They think it’s brave or adventurous or something.  Let me tell you–I feel like my life now takes way more courage.  It takes way more courage for me to hold my head high when my present circumstances make me look like a nobody.

I want to live boldly and never let myself be plagued by the feeling that I need to explain myself to people.  But at the same time, I think I’m selling myself short if I’m not honest about where I am.  I think I’m robbing people from seeing what’s true when I don’t tell them what’s inside of me.

Sometimes when I see the annoying stray gray hairs (that I pluck out) in my bangs, I feel all of 25 (or more like 30).  But that aside, I’ve never felt more like 17.  I listen to my music louder, I spend all Summer thinking about when I’ll get to go the water park, or how long I can hold a handstand under water, or how many people I can make look at my by playing rap music really loudly while I’m driving.  My personality as a girl was always fairly reserved and mature.  But the older I get, the more room I find to be reckless.  Reckless.  Half of me still feels scared to use a word like that.

When it comes to love, my motto has always been, If it’s meant to be, it’ll happen.  I don’t have to try.  I want to wash that out of my mind.  I don’t even care if it’s true.  I just can’t think like that anymore.  I can’t live thinking that everything good and amazing that I dream of will just come to me and happen without any effort on my part.  I could have written a book by now.  You know why I haven’t?  Because I never picked up the pen and wrote one.  Anything’s possible, but what’s probable?  No matter how bad I want to have homemade salsa, I’m not going to have it unless I go to the store, buy the ingredients, come home and make it.

“God will bring you what you need.  What you want, you have to go after.”  -Bill Johnson

What do I want? 

I want to be known.  That’s the greatest risk I have in front of me–not moving to another state or traveling the world or starting a new job.  I just want to put myself out there.  Whether it works out or not.  Whether I’m accepted or rejected.

I told my sister, “I just have to be who I am.  I have to be passionate and say everything I’m thinking.  If I’m rejected, at least let me be rejected for being ME.  If I’m quiet and hold back and I’m rejected for that–for being someone that’s not even the real me–that’s not ok.” 

If I’m rejected, at least let it be because I’ve told people the truth about why I am where I am and why I’ve made the decisions I’ve made.  Let it not be because I’m seen as cautious or passive.  Because I don’t believe I’m either of those things.

At dinner tonight, my dad told me: Rome wasn’t built in a day.  Amen.  What if someone would have spent their whole life dreaming of that city and yet never laid a single brick?  It happens all the time though.  The cemetery is full of dead dreams.  People who never did what burned so deeply in them.

I can’t let that be me.  How was Rome built?  Brick by brick.

How is a book written?  Word by word.

I don’t even need to write a book.  I just need to write.  Here or on the back of a napkin or wherever.  Because letting the words flow is like letting my heart beat.  And my heart hasn’t beat in too long.

On eHarmony, I had to write something about myself that people wouldn’t notice when they first met me.  Not much putting much thought into it, I just spit out the first thing that came to mind:  “I guess it would be that I don’t show my deep side right away.”  Oh, how true.  It puzzles me how long it takes for me to get to know someone before finally saying what’s actually on my heart.  And yet, I understand completely.  I want a guarantee.  I want assurance that I won’t get hurt.

For that reason, I have to write.  What I’m writing right now–it’s revolutionary for me.  It’s alright if no one else ever reads this.  I have to write this for me.  I have to write so that I can reminded of my own voice, of what’s inside of me, of what’s possible, of everything I have to gain, and how very little I have to lose.

When my sister tried to persuade me to join eHarmony, I was dead set against it.  And then I met this wonderful guy and went on two dates with him.  And really, I’m not sure I’ll see him again.  Last week’s date was great, but this week’s was just so-so.  I got home a few hours ago from the second date and because I love to think things through beyond what’s probably necessary, I’ve been sitting on the couch for these past few hours thinking about what I’ve learned.

I’m ok if I don’t hear from this guy again.  And I’m ok if I do hear from him.

But I just have to know how something’s affected me.  I’ve got to know what I can learn from it.  I’ve got to know how much better off I am now–even if the circumstances weren’t the best.

You know what I’ve learned from this?

I absolutely have to put myself out there.  I mean, I guess I’ve been told that for years.  But the difference now is that I want to.  I want to lay it all out there.  And when I don’t lay it all out there, I feel like something’s been stolen from me.  When I feel like I don’t believe in who I am enough to say whatever I’m thinking and whatever I feel, I feel like a little girl at the back of the class who’s raising her hand but the teacher’s not calling on her.  And eventually, that little girl stops raising her hand.

I also learned this:  I am not shy.  I don’t believe anyone really is.

There is always some fear that can be chased away.

Last Friday night, as I was waiting for my date to come pick me up, I was practically shaking like a leaf.  I was so nervous.  I haven’t felt like that in a really long time.  It reminded me of years ago when I felt like that all the time.  But then I got into his truck and I started talking and I realized this:  There is almost nothing that calms me down more than hearing my own voice speaking in a clear, confident voice.  Once I heard myself talking in a strong voice (to compensate for my nervousness) and smiling and joking around, I felt all the fear dissipate.  I was myself again.  My real self.

While we were eating dinner that night, my date looked up at me and said warmly, “You sure aren’t shy at all, are you?”  The kindest words he could have spoken to me.  A compliment I never thought I would hear spoken about me.

But he’s darn right.  I’m not.  That’s what I’ve learned about myself.  I always have something to say.  I always have had something to say.  Don’t we all?  The only difference is that, 5 years ago, I kept my thoughts to myself.  And I felt so alone.

I’ve also learned this (over the course of many months): I have to be silly.  I have to joke around.  The serious, tense days are the absolute hardest for me.  When I fall asleep on those nights, I feel quite far from my real self.

The silliness and laughter chase away fear for me.  If I go even one hour without saying something witty or absurd, I feel different.  Not quite right.

Anyway, tonight’s date was much different.  For a lot of reasons, but the only one that concerns me is that when I came home, very deep down, I felt like the little girl raising her hand at the back of the room.  And the teacher didn’t even notice.  If I’m the watchman over my own walls–if I’m the one carrying this heart around inside me, then I’ve got to notice these things.  I stopped saying what I was thinking.  I was very agreeable.  And I was very polite and kind.  And I was so far from where I belonged.

On days when I put it all out there, I fall asleep feeling just right.  But on nights like these, I know I’ve missed it because I sit and think of ways to regain that feeling of bravery and confidence.  I’ll take a dance class.  I’ll dye my hair a cool color.  I’ll move someplace new and adventurous.  All things that I wouldn’t normally do.  But if I overcompensate, maybe I can get back home.

Once I stop to take a breath, I just have to tell myself what I know fully:  “Just wait until the next conversation that comes along.  Say what you really think.  And you’ll feel like you again.”

Something else I’ve learned: On my worst hair day, worst makeup day, worst clothes day, I can feel like a million bucks by doing these three things: Standing up really straight, walking slower (when I’m tense, I rush), and smiling.

You know that stare-down look some girls give each other as they pass one another at the store?  I got tired of it.  So I figured out this simple trick:  Walk with my shoulders back and never let my level of eyesight fall below a 90-degree angle.  In other words, who are you to make me sink my shoulders and stare down at the ground?  When I go to Walmart on a crazy Sunday afternoon in my sweats and mismatched top, I try it.  And it’s funny, but when a girl gives me “that look” and then sees me bounce on past with perfect confidence (at least externally), I can almost feel her change her mind about me as I pass.  It’s the greatest feeling!

“We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and fabulous?  Actually, who are you not to be?  You are a child of God.  Your playing small doesn’t serve the world.  There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you.  We were born to manifest the Glory of God that is within us.  It is not just in some of us; it’s in everyone.  And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.  As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”   -Nelson Mandela, 1994 Inaugural Speech

Whenever I hit a patch of inferiority or fear or disappointment, I start to wonder what things in my life I should switch around.  Should I be more busy?  Should I take some sort of class?  Should I read more books?  Should I buy more clothes?  Should I save more?  Should I get a second job?  Should I move out of my parent’s house (a huge one)?  Should I date more?  Should I not date at all until I know?  Should I go to Walmart more?  Should I go to Walmart less?  Ha

But you know what, none of it matters.  Deep down, I am completely happy with where I am.  The only thing that makes me question myself is when I try to explain myself to someone else.  The minute I try to explain myself is the same minute I undermine my dreams and decisions with doubt.  I need to say what I believe without consideration that someone may disagree with me.  The minute I try to see myself through that other person’s eyes, it’s over.  It does not need to matter to me how someone else perceives me or how they think I should live my life.  Do I like where I am in my life?  Do I like what I stand for?  Do I believe in the decisions I’ve made?  If not, then I can change them.  And if so, I should be happy and confident.  Everyone should be busy enough living their own lives that they don’t have time to worry about how everyone else lives theirs.

“Respect others in their views, and demand that they respect yours.”  -Tecumseh

I may be 25 and living with my parents (paying rent, might I add), and to someone else, that may seem like a ridiculous idea.  I get it–I’m immature, I’m codependent, I’m a baby.  But I’m actually not.  Everyone writes a story with their life and this is the one I’m writing with mine.  This is the story I chose.  Most people my age went to college after high school.  I didn’t.  Living under my parent’s roof and learning respect and honor and how to love my own family and how to live an unselfish life have been my college courses.  If someone wants to step away from their life to come and critique mine, who’s in the wrong?  Me?  Or them?

Does any of us choose how we look, our bodies, our families, the location where we were born?  But we’ve got to do the best with what’s been given to us.

“Show respect to all people, but grovel to none.”  -Tecumseh

I used to be so afraid of failing.  But the more I live, the fewer ways I find to fail.  I can’t give too much.  I can’t risk too much.  I can’t hope too much.  I can’t dream too much.  I can’t love too much.  I can’t trust too much (really–though I know the cautious part of me wants to draw the line somewhere).  I can’t believe too much.

My sister said to me a few weeks ago: “You know, for someone who has as much faith as you, it surprises me how cautious you are.”  I had to think about that a long time.  I’m glad she said that.  She was right.

What if I step out and I fail?  Ah yes, but what if I don’t?

A few days ago, I read this quote on a pack of gum:

“Consistency is the last refuge of the unimaginative.”  -Oscar Wilde

A couple of months ago, my sister got this saying in a fortune cookie and it’s been hanging on the fridge ever since:

“One dreamed of becoming somebody, another remained awake and became.“

All of us seem to wonder what profession would fulfill us.  I’m learning more and more that perhaps that doesn’t matter at all.  It’s who I am when I’m doing it.  That’s what fulfills me.

The more I know how deeply God loves me, the less I feel like being cautious.

I also expect so much less of people.  In theory, it’s not right for someone to break promises.  But this is life.  I have broken my fair share of them.  I’ve been a hypocrite.  I’ve messed up.  I’ve said too much.  I’ve said too little.  I’ve wounded people deeply with my words.  And I’m still someone who deserves to be loved.  And so is everyone else.

When it comes down to it, all anyone wants–all I want–is for someone to see our ugly side or know our darkest secret, and to still love us unashamedly.  Perfection does exist.  It’s all our imperfections being brought to light and being told that we’re ok.  That’s perfection.

Ok, I think those are all of my thoughts for now.

It’s 5:00 in the evening and I just realized I’ve basically been in my bedroom all day.

Reading, listening to music, burning candles, dozing off, eating cookies from my bedside table.

Being alone is a beautiful delicacy.  I love thinking!  I’m pretty sure I could sit and swirl thoughts and dreams around in my head all day.

And when tomorrow comes, I’ll get to be around people all day and talk.

I can’t decide which scenario makes me happier.

Being surrounded by people, listening, smiling, talking, joking, laughing.

Or my head swimming with brand new thoughts, music playing in the background, eating cookies, enjoying my own constant and faithful companionship.

But I do know that I couldn’t live without either.

I can’t imagine living in solitude for more than like… a day.

And I can’t imagine listening or talking for more than like… 10 or 12 hours a day.

So basically, I need both.

I thought I was on the verge of something profound, but really, I’m just normal.

Speaking of normal, does anyone else keep cookies in their bedside table?