Telling God What To Do

A few nights ago I was on the phone with a friend in crisis.

 

She was freaking out. She’d admit she would absolutely admit she was losing her dang mind. And my hear WRENCHED for her. In the middle of her story, realizing I was lost for anything helpful to say or do, I started praying,

“God, give her strength. Give her courage, calm her heart, let her, let her…let her….”

is this a band? it's what I feel like God was telling me to do

I couldn’t pray anymore. I was all caught up. Even the words in my head didn’t make sense. I very clearly understood that I was being quieted, that there was something even more that I was supposed to be paying attention to. So I listened. I listened to her, hurting, grappling with confusion and looking for an answer within herself.

And I listened to me, hurting for her, grappling with confusion over how to help and….as it turns out, even though I was praying, looking for an answer within myself.

Even though I was asking God to accomplish these tasks, I was giving him orders. Now, sometimes it’s appropriate to ask God for exactly what you want. But that’s not what I was doing. I know my heart, pplfriends, and what I was doing was TELLING God what my friend needed so she could be okay….or more accurately (i hate to admit) so that I could be okay with where she was emotionally.

I was reminded of who and what God is: Good.

 

I closed my eyes and took some deep breaths, returning to the Lord with a renewed heart and mind. “God, I trust you. I trust you. I trust your love. I trust your will, your plan, your spirit. I trust what you are doing here. I believe you are here already. You love her more than I ever could. You are not distant. You are not gone. You are not silent. I trust you. I trust you. I love you. I trust your love.”

 

It wasn’t the magic pill that made everything better. When we got off the phone, my friend was still reeling. When we talked the next day she’s had a hard time, she was exhausted from just feeling so much. And truth be told, even though it’s been a while, it’s still not “better.”

 

But the thing is, I really do trust God. I (clearly) forget it, all the time.  I forget, just like the Israelites, that God is in control and that he is GOOD. That anytime I am concerned for anyone I love, he is MORE concerned for them. And that includes me. I forget that his plan includes all factors and ALWAYS leads to my good and His Glory. I forget all these things, and I am desperately and madly in love with the God who is so kind as to remind me of them.

i only googled trust. i like that this one came with "love"

 

What are you telling God to do? What do you forget that you need to remember? How could you pray differently, or better, for the people you love?

Bubba and Belle

if I really think about it, if I really look at them, my brother and sister who are moving across the country and across the world, i tear up.

my heart, unbridled by TRUTH and giving in to perception, cries out along with my eyes. No.

No! Please, please don’t leave. Please don’t go away. I love you, I want you here, I want you near me.

I’ve done it again. I’ve grown attached to people. The deep veins of familial ties never truly established in blood have etched themselves in through these people, this spiritual family. They have become part of my daily routine.

They have become part of my heart.

I was not, at first, quiet about this displeasure. Especially with Bubba. With my Belle, I had more time. I knew this was her plan from the moment I met her. We’ve had years now to grow together and love and as I have supported her, i have, not thinking what it would really mean to not have her (or, in more faithful moments, believing that “what it would be like” is God’s plan – infinitely better than any alternative). So with my Belle, as the date has approached, I’ve kept myself (ever so slightly) in check with the (out loud) “OHMYGOSH DON’T LEAVE ME,”-s.

But Bubba up and made this decision OUT OF EFF…REAKING NOWHERE. (Not true. I’ve known he was thinking about it for months but literally REFUSED TO THINK (or even pray other than a randomly thrown up “oh god, tell him and make it clear….but mostly make it clear that he should stay but i mean, whatever you want, im just sayin..”) about it.

And long story short in a month, they’ll both be gone.

My sweet neighbor who I love and visit and spend time with and who is, as many have pointed out, a special friend, a brother-from-another-mother who plays with me so well that other people will miss our interactions, HE IS LEAVING.

My beautiful gypsy sister, the one who is so different from me, but SO GOOD AT LOVING ME, will be HALFWAY across the dang world and WHO  will i call to come over and have sparkling grape juice and strawberries with my while i scurry about cleaning my apartment and over-analyzing whatever is on my mind and with WHOM will i go on movie dates with my pink glittery flask (a gift from my bubby, the biological brother, the other Valle-felon) if my Belle in in TURKEY. Where the last time i was there, they kept trying to abscond with my passport and squinty-eyed at me even though I don’t have the evil eyes.

(that was a tangent. if those last few sentences didn’t make sense to you it’s only because they don’t make sense.)

This is not supposed to be a rant. this is supposed to be about not ranting.

i’ll ‘splain tomorrow. if i can pick myself out of the “what will i do without bubba and belle” despair.

Not the Fat Girl

::one of those “looking back and seeing how god has changed me” posts, written may – june 2011::

 

 

I can’t find it right now, but if I haven’t written it, i KNOW i have thought this before. I’ve thought:

“I’ll always be the fat girl on the inside.”

and what’s truly ironic is that I’m close to if not at the heaviest I’ve been in my adult life (alright, not Christmas 2009. That was a tough time. yuck). But you know what, even if I’m a big girl on the outside,

I AM NOT THE FAT GIRL ON THE INSIDE ANYMORE.

y’all. what the darn?

God is just so good.  I can look at my life and see how I’m seeing myself more the way he sees me. It’s not every moment of every day, but it’s more and more moments.  Times that I look in the mirror and i’m just happy with who I am. Or times tha I’m just happy with who I am, so i don’t feel necessary to look in the mirror.

I’m not the fat girl on the inside.

so okay with myself that I'm okay looking like the cover of "Fear and Loathing In Las Vegas"

 

Is there any identifier you thought you’d always have, that God has released you from?

What is Important?

::ohmygoshsoold. Look what I found!::

 

I’m writing this post in early December.

It’s late at night and looking at the situation in which I find myself, I think it is just as likely that when this publishes, a million days from now, that I will be dating Hoyt as that I won’t.

Anyway, part of what I wanted to do with my six-months-turned-three-months of singleness was to discover what really was important to me in a relationship. That way, I could know, could say, “Hey, if this is what you’re offering, okay, let’s give it a try. But if not, I know what I want and this isn’t it.”

And you know what? I surprised myself.

Because I’ve figured for a while that the only important thing to look for in a man was that he love and follow Jesus.  But that’s just not true for me. It’s the MOST important thing, but not the only one. God made me the way I am for a reason and for the right person, the way I am will be a blessing! So, for me to be in a romantic relationship with someone, I’ve realized I need some things without which I’m just not going to flourish. And it’s been hard for me to admit, but I know it’s true, and I’m trying to believe it’s okay. Like:

Affection and attraction. Some people need exercise to keep from going crazy. Some need alone time. I need affection. And I get plenty, I’m well loved. I’m always with kids and I’m around women who like hugs so I get my fill. But If I’m going to be with someone, this person is going to need to be really in to me. I don’t have the energy otherwise. I could go on and explain but right now I don’t want to. I’m just going to say that when it comes to this, I’m needy.

Along with that comes the fact that I need to play. To engage on a deep, intentional level. And often. Interact with me!

Pianoanna is like the opposite of me. She is the lowest maintenance wife I’ve ever met. She and her husband absolutely love one another, but they just don’t spend all their time doing lovey-dovey things. They do sometimes, but they’re chill. And that works for them. (It works WELL for them, they’ve got a STRONG relationship)

But I want lovey dovey! And no amount of DESIRE to be practical is going to change that.

It is important to me to go out and do things. I’m really bad at this on my own but if a relationship is going to carry the weight required of the step up from friendship, it’s just got to have better yields too. That’s just science. ;) I want to actually go on DATEs with someone if we’re dating.

That’s all of the surprising/hard-to-admit stuff for now.  Tonight I’m fighting the fight to know and believe that God is enough and that he’s in this, and I’m just giving him a chance to teach me what he wants to, and it doesn’t have to be scary. And if it ends, because Hoyt doesn’t have the time to pay me attention or just ends up not-that-into-me, that’s fine too! God will not stop being the big strong loving God that He is.

Just cause they're on my mind...these guys are important.

The Craziest Thing I’ve Ever Done

Yesterday, I did THE craziest thing I’ve ever done in my life. Those who have known me long enough to object – talk in code, it’s a family show ;)

And YES I will tell you what I did. NO i will NOT do it now. :)

But when i tell you it was the craziest thing I’ve ever done, I need you to understand some context:

once I decided, at age 19, to go to india. and a month later, I did.

twice, i shaved my head. once all the way to a buzz cut, once to a faux hawk.

more than I can count, i’ve decided to tresspass, often at the beach, sometimes during AWFUL STORMS that almost blow the car off the road.

until grampa forbade me, i picked up hitchhikers.

i spent 40 days fasting (as in not eating), even though I knew i had struggled with disordered eating in the past.

i have a tattoo on my ring finger. But Im not married.

as a child, i’ve counted tens of thousands of dollars of drug money on my relative’s kitchen counter. (i really was raised differently than you were) and carried bricks of illegal things to be taken to do illegal things.

i’ve gone on tour with the 5 rowdiest, most ridiculous band brothers i know.

i’ve sat in the hospital next to my dying parents (separate times, both miraculously healed) and made life-and-death decisions.

i put most of my dirty laundry on the interweb for the world to see.

i chose to spend three years of my adult life in a job that, when it COULD pay me, still left  me solidly under the poverty line.

i applied to and started grad school without consultation of anything but the :feeling” i was supposed to.

i’ve colored my hair every color in the rainbow. except green. even on a list of crazy, that’s just crazy talk. ;)

and well, we’re not going to talk about parties in college.

 

but all of that, still not the craziest thing I’ve ever done.

In fact, most of it wasn’t  even in the last three years. I’ve clearly calmed down a little. Oh but yesterday…..

 

Anyway, clearly some of my above choices (even though not all were choices) were not right. But I think some of them absolutely were. I absolutely needed to go to India. It was one of the singular most shaping experiences of my life. I was forever changed for good. Some of the others, too.

 

So if you are ever considering doing something crazy, I have the following advice:

 

Doing something crazy because it is the weirdest, sexiest, or most exciting thing is the WRONG reason to do something. It’s probably selfish and chances are, on some level, you’re likely to regret it later.

 

But if you feel like you really need to do something,

except that thing, it’s counter-intuitive, and painful, and scary and new and against everything you’ve ever known, if it puts you in a vulnerable place and the outcome is RISKY, it has the potential to change EVERYTHING….I encourage you to consider if all of that is just a side effect of the fact that God is calling you to it.

 

Because all of that, the counter-intuitive, the painful, scary,new, against everything you’ve ever known, the vulnerability and risk, the ability to change everything,

THAT sounds a lot like Jesus. And God’s plan for him, through him, for us.

People Change

a “just a thought” post.

looking in the mirror just now, i felt comfortable. I wondered if maybe i’d lost weight, maybe the tan or the outfit or maybe….. maybe I’m just different.

 

I think i’ve done an okay job on this blog of chronicling the ups and downs of surviving disordered eating and skewed body image. Tell me if i haven’t. But for the last year or so, I’ve just been MOSTLY happy with myself.  Even my “not that chubby” series culminated with: I’m happy with myself.

 

There are some of us who believe people do not change. I used to think that. There are some that think you have to CHOOSE to change. I used to think that too.

 

So I’d love to say that either I’ve always been this way, somewhere, deep down. But that would be a lie. And I’d love to say that I just chose once and kept choosing to love truth more than my perception of it. But, that’s not really how love works, is it?

 

I find more and more that instead of a bright light, a moment of revelation (although, as Paul and his donkey would affirm, those happen), love often happens as a whisper that says, “Hi, I am here, would you like to see me?” And most often, I say no. I would not like to see love. I’d like to see traffic or heartache or hunger but not love. Sure COGNITIVELY i’d choose love. But when I “snap” at someone or fall into despair, my actions are choosing to see circumstances, not love.

 

Love, though, is of all things, first patient. (oh and I am, of all things, often first IMpatient.) And love keeps whispering. And somehow, as I say “yes” more and more, as love convinces me, wears down my defenses with comfort and joy and kindness and always rejoicing, i find the film falling from my eyes.

 

Until FINALLY, love doesn’t have to whisper from across the room. Love knocks on the door of my heart and I am over-the-moon. I smile brightly, “LOVE! I’m so glad you’re here.” And love comes in.

 

and with love in my heart, i look back at all the times I’ve stomped on him, and I become ashamed. I want to turn away, I don’t want him to see me so close, to know just…ALL of me. And with this knowledge, this perfect knowledge of my past and my future, with power to do anything with me, what does love do?

 

Love….loves. There is no fear in love. Perfect love casts out all fear. And When he does, I, now fearless, run back.

 

So…I think people do change.

 

Love changes them.

i found love in the middle of a textile while making a gift. how kind of love to remind me, he's everywhere.

Tradish

Are you a fan or a not-fan of the abbreves people make?

As in presh instead of precious

or perf instead of perfect

or, abbreve instead of abbreviate, for that matter.

Maybe it’s not something that happens a lot where you are, but my people do it all.the.time. Maybe it’s a phase. Anyway, none of that is ACTUALLY the point but as someone who once met a man named “Steven” and proceeded instead to call him “steamboat” for the next seven years, I’d just like to get a gauge on what the rest of the world considers cute colloquial charm and what they instead deem as just ridiculous. Or, in my case, ridic. ;)

But the ACTUAL point of this post is to give one of those more traditional updates. I’m going to try my hardest to make perfectly plain sense (and not Palin sense, as I just typed accidentally, because I don’t ever want to live in Alaska) but we’ll see how far that takes us.

purely because i never used this photo before. this was in february, i believe.

School: In case you missed it, I’m pursuing an M.A. in Professional Counseling. I expect to graduate between August of 2013 and May of 2014. It’s a very long Master’s program. (61 hours, max 9 hours per semester, 6 hours per summer). After my first two semesters, I have a 3.8 GPA.  I hate that I only had a 4.0 for one semester, but that’s just because I’m prideful. There is nothing wrong with a 3.8. I’m learning a lot and will be in school this summer learning more, even though it will cost me time in the sunshine. The fact that I can say that with a smile is a miracle in itself.

i realize these photos don't at all match up, but i just thought this one was funny, and also hadn't been used.

Social: I am NOT dating anyone. Back in April I went through a break up so emotionally wrought that I actually flinch/shudder whenever I see the man I was dating. Sometimes things just hurt more than you can explain. Sorry, i’d be more poetic, but i’m trying to just be clear so the people who don’t see me that often can know what’s going on. My friendships are growing, though, and it seems just about every day I find myself thinking, “I have more amazing friends than i can count. How can one girl be so loved?” But i am kinda touch deprived (my own fault. After the break up, I got a little gun shy about being touched. Weird reaction, I know).

on the way home from TN during spring break. it's like spiritual. ;)

Spiritual: I’ve totally dropped the REAP plan but do still make time to read the Bible almost every day. I’ve even started reading a chapter of John every morning when I wake up to help me actually get out of bed (as opposed to twitter or google reader. My phone has all of those options). I’m journaling more again (I probably always journaled more than “average” but I’m actually getting back up to “normal” for me.

getting less and less related

Shackled: My felony accusation is still pending. Yes, you read that right. I was accused of a felony, and found out a year later (about 2 months ago) when someone stole from my wallet and then I got arrested. My bail cost more than I make in a year. Yes, you read that right as well. It was an odd night. Not my best, not my worst, and a funny story that I’ll type up someday. Anyway,I didn’t do what I was accused of and even have proof  (police and auto insurance records) to prove I didn’t, but I still have to have a lawyer present those things. I wish I could say I’ve proven faithful through it, but the truth is it’s wearing on me more than I realize. My stutter has presented twice in the past week. I’m learning a LOT through it, stuff that could go up in that spiritual section above, but i lack the right words to describe it now, so maybe I’ll tell you about it later.

i. love. my. bubs!! he does NOT love me taking his pic.

Sibling, etc: Family stuff is just as crazy as it normally is. People fighting, medical issues, surprise funsies, and facebook shenanigans. Par for the course on our insane, multi-cultural, never-boring course.

20 points if you can figure out what I'm doing here.

What else might you want to know? This fall I start working at The Austin Stone Counseling Center (a job with an hourly pay NOT involoving fundraising). So I’ll still be working for the church in the sense that I’ll be working at their Counseling Center. But it’s a more 9-5 m-f job. And I’ll still be in school full time. And I’ll move SOMEwhere at some point after the 1st of August, which is still exciting if for no other reason than I’ll be just shy of a year in the same place. The longest i’ve been anywhere since 2002. I’ve been working out more (meaning at all), and enjoy going to the gym 2-4 times a week to get in some quick time on the elliptical. Which is really a result of me taking self-care more seriously.

Questions? Questions? No?

heartsick -reader response requested

::a jumbly mess and gratefulness for that jumbly mess::

Yesterday morning, I woke up feeling awful.

I’d foolishly eaten some cake thinking it wouldn’t be that bad (I get sick when I eat Gluten) and…

i’m heartsick.

Is that a term people use? Sometimes I say things that seem so normal to me and people look at me, blinky-eyed, unsure if it’s rude to laugh in response. Like the other day when I told Kristen I didn’t want to poop on her party. Apparently ppl say “i don’t want to be a party pooper.” not “i don’t want to poop on your party.” Whatever. Poop is poop, rules is rules, and heartaches hurt.

FTR, no one hurt me. No one did anything wrong. I’m just upset about the outcome of a situation in which no one is wrong but just isn’t what i want. So y’all put down the pitchforks and torches. But thx. :)

Anyway, I was on my knees (never one to forgo a taste of the histrionic ) and opened up my journal to find a note Lovey had snuck in some time last week.

“Be vulnerable,” she said. “There is so much of you that is a gift. Let us see the part that hurts, the part that wonders. Those are gifts too.”

Admittedly, I tell you a good portion of my hurts/doubts. You know. After the fact. With lots of gospel. Lest ye think God isn’t good enough when I write a post thats just a jumbly mess of hurtfusion.

So…may I please have permission from y’all to sometimes say just what I’m thinking/feeling? I mean, if you read this, and if you’ve ever met me, you probably know that I love Jesus. That I believe He is enough. That I enjoy him and life and that the Gospel is the truth to which I cling. Would it be okay with y’all if, sometimes, I just work that out on here?

I’m serious about this, y’all. I’m really asking the question: If you are a regular reader (and you can leave an anonymous comment!) is that something you’d like to read? Would that encourage you? For today, at least, for Lovey, who asked me, I’m going to be jumbly, hurt, confused, and heartsick. out loud.

You know even committing to that helps me feel a little better? And oh my stars, have I been feeling blah. Tears I didn’t know I had for an emotion I didn’t know still existed have been flooding over me and onto others this week. Not too many others. I mean, even though the only thing I can compare this hurt to is that which I felt last year, the first time I experienced an in-love heartbreak, I think only Supermama and The Social Worker know it’s going on. Hah. So much for authenticity.

Anyway. Hurt. Pain. Sickness. Confusion. Frustration. And a desperate wish that someone could hold me long and tight enough that I could shake this chill that goes all the way to the inside, deep into places that don’t physically exist. Ya’ll, my space heater is 5 inches from my body and it’s the latter half of May. In Texas.

And THEN, in the midst of all this weirdness that isn’t but feels comparable to being in the middle of an emotional blizzard (I’ve never been in a blizzard. I’d take one look at a blizzard and die.) I got asked to teach the younglings (I work in a children’s ministry at my church) the lesson this past week. Sure, I can do that. I can teach. Even though all I really want to do is not exist. Cause… well I don’t know why I said yes other than usually, that’s what I do. ;)

So let’s go back to 8:30 am yesterday. When I need to leave the apt to get to service to spend some time surrounded by Jesus and held tightly by him before I go teach les littles. (yes. im making these names up as i go) I just sorta fall over, and I see my journal. I flip through it and find Lovey’s surprising note.  And I get up, wearing JEANS, no make up, hair undone, and go to work/church. Where I’ll see/be seen by a few THOUSAND people (most of whom don’t care in the sense that they are offended, I know, but still). Even though I want to cover up so no one is burdened by my hurt look, I’ll be vulnerable by not covering up the outside markings that I’m a mess. Cause I don’t really have the energy to do so anyway.

And right up until I get in front of los disciple-itos (the kids) I have no idea what I’ll do. So I open my mouth.

“Good morning,” i smile at them, sincerely but with little energy,”I’m going to tell you a not-very-secret secret. I don’t feel very well. Do you think you can do me a favor and pay extra special good attention to me today?” “Yes ma’am,” they replied, with the sweetest little concerned faces. And they did. They stuck through a 20 minute oral rendering of the story of David and Bathsheba. And when we were done, they raised hands and asked such sweet, confused questions.

“How could God do that? The baby died? He didn’t do anything.”
“Did Bathsheba know? Did she know that David killed her husband on purpose?”

For one of the first times I’ve ever seen, the kids were noticeably getting that the characters from their story were real people, with real hurts, with real hearts, that their stories were real stories.

And maybe-just-maybe, that’s partly out of the fact that I showed them a little more this morning about how I am a real person. With real hurts, and a real heart. And just so you know, my stories are real stories. So are yours, for that matter.

Xo  -r

Table for Two (famous friends and wisecracking wisdom)

Let me start by saying that I am, as casually as can possibly be defined, friends with Derek Webb. This is primarily because The Dancer is a baller and takes me along to ballerness adventures like driving out to a ranch and getting a private concert in a teepee from, ya know, a famous person. Equally it is because Derek is, and I say this in all seriousness and having thought a lot about it, a extra-ordinarily kind and friendly man.

Now if you don’t know who he is, that’s fine. He’s huge in some circles, non existent in others. He’s an artist who does solo work, stuff with his wife, and is probably most well known for the part he plays in Caedmon’s Call.

I love everything he’s ever put out. A few months ago, at a show in Dallas, he said (loose quote) “You know, some people think you can’t sing songs about some things. But you can make art about anything Jesus is Lord over. And in case you missed it, He’s Lord over everything.”

Last night, he and Caedmon’s had a show at Common Grounds in Waco, and he played his song, Table for Two, the lyrics of which are:

Danny and I
Spent another late night over pancakes
Talkin’ ’bout soccer
And how every man’s just the same.
We made speculation
On the who’s and the when’s of our futures
And how everyone’s lonely
But still we just couldn’t complain.

And how we just hate being alone.
Could I have missed my only chance,
And now I’m just wasting my time
By lookin’ around

But ya know I know better,
I’m not gonna worry ’bout nothin’.
Cause if the birds and the flowers survive,
Then I’ll make it okay.
I’m given a chance and a rock;
see which one breaks a window.
See which one keeps me up all night and into the day.

Because I’m so scared of being alone
That I forget what house i live in.
But it’s not my job to wait by the phone
For her to call.

Well this day’s been crazy
But everything’s happened on schedule,
from the rain and the cold
To the drink that I spilled on my shirt.
‘Cause You knew how You’d save me
before I fell dead in the garden,
And You knew this day
long before You made me out of dirt.

And You know the plans that You have for me
And You can’t plan the end and not plan the means
And so I suppose I just need some peace,
Just to get me to sleep

Y’all, I’m real tempted to talk about how it’s corny to admit that my friend’s music ministers to me but… it’s not. It’s not outside of God’s goodness or power or Derek’s purpose in putting out music for me to listen to the lyrics of a song, a song I’ve heard many times before, and to let out a loud, heavy sigh.

I am so scared of being alone that I forget who I am what WHOSE I am.

I do just need some peace to get me to sleep. I haven’t had a good night of sleep in weeks. which is typical, but wearing.

Anyway, Thanks D, and for everyone else, give the song a listen. And then go buy his music. It’s good stuff. Oh, and his wife, Sandra’s music too. And Caedmon’s.

I Am Not My Hair

What ever this post is about, it’s not that song by India Arie. Good song, though.

I got about a year’s worth of growth off my hair yesterday. I know, it was getting so long, and that was fun, but the ends were SCRAGGLY and it was at the point where all my hair would get tangled in the over processed white parts from the last time I got color put in.

smiles cant hide scraggles

Now, I LIKED that my hair was long. I liked the way i looked. And cutting so much off hurt. Because in some ways, I’ve become different than I was when I shaved my head in 2005 and then got a fauxhawk in 2008.  Now, hair that is still long but just not as extreme as it had been is so hard.

I suddenly felt unpretty.

And very plain.

I can’t properly explain it.

But i DONT like it. I DONT like being so attached to hair.  Caring so much about what I look like. Cause there is a limited amount of caring in the world and you spend too much of it on something that doesn’t matter, you’re asking for trouble.

Anyway, here is the AMAZING and wonderful haircut. And the silly but hopeful for refining me.