The Time Has Come, The Walrus Said

All good things must come to an end.

I started this blog a long time ago, when I was at a totally different place in my life. I have come a loooong way since than. So since that chapter of my life is closed, I think it's appropriate to end this blog as well.

Endings are hard. We were made for continuity. But I don't find the endings in life to be as wounding anymore. Now, I don't stumble over the sharp edges, instead I reach up to take my loving Father's hand, Who pulls me graciously forward into a new adventure. It's not exactly how He intended life to be, with abrupt endings, but He turns it into something beautiful anyway. The reality of that has touched my heart so deeply. At the "beginning of the end," if you will, of this adventure, God gave me this passage from Isaiah:

17“The poor and needy search for water,

but there is none;

their tongues are parched with thirst.

But I the Lord will answer them;

I, the God of Israel, will not forsake them.

18I will make rivers flow on barren heights,

and springs within the valleys.

I will turn the desert into pools of water,

and the parched ground into springs.

19I will put in the desert

the cedar and the acacia, the myrtle and the olive.

I will set pines in the wasteland,

the fir and the cypress together,

20so that people may see and know,

may consider and understand,

that the hand of the Lord has done this,

that the Holy One of Israel has created it. 

I remember reading it and thinking, "uh, OK, God, if you say so... but I have no clue how any of this stuff in my life could possibly be fixed." Looking back on it, I'm pretty sure God chuckled lovingly over that and thought, "oh, dear daughter, you will be surprised." Even though I didn't understand, I clung to that passage. And now things are starting to change. Things that I thought were hopeless, like my shyness, my inability to be anything but crushed and immobilized by life's challenges, my non-relationship with my dad (had an hour life talk with him today, something I thought would never, ever happen), my financial situation, and so on. There really, truly IS water in the desert! And now I KNOW God is real because He has touched my life. Not only do I know He is real, I've experienced Him in a personal way. This is amazingly wonderful. :) I don't really regret anything in the past that has happened because it got me to the point I'm at now, this point of restoration.

Sadly, not everyone we meet stays in our lives for various reasons, but I firmly believe that everyone comes into our lives with a purpose. They teach us to better understand humanity and teach us about ourselves. They help propel us forward in life, as we do they same for them. Sometimes, though, once we start going forward, we reach a fork in the road and find our shared journey must end; the only way for each of us to continue is to part. Nevertheless, the people we part ways with were exactly what we need while they were with us, even if they cannot be with us forever; we could never have reached this place had it not been for them.

It makes me think of a John Powell quote (anyone reading my blog really should get their hands onto a copy of his book, Through Seasons of the Heart; daily tidbits of awesome inspirational thoughts): "Day by day God gives me new pieces to fit into this gigantic jigsaw puzzle of my life. Some of these pieces are sharp and painful. Others are drab and colorless. Only God, who has planned and previewed the picture of my life, knows the beauty that is possible when all the pieces have been faithfully put into place. I will know that beauty only after I have put into place the very last piece, the piece of my dying." So in this moment, as I am a little bummed out over the end of an adventure, and a little confused about why it had to be really cool in some ways and totally counterproductive in others, I'm choosing to remember that this is an event in eternity. I can't look at it only in the context of this earthly life. A lot of things will never make sense in the context of this life. We will only understand when we reach eternity why certain less-beautiful pieces were needed to create something eternally beautiful. So we can't look at things that don't work out as something that has been a waste of time or energy. I don't think God ever lets us waste anything (except, perhaps, time itself if we're being purely lazy, but that's a whole 'nother topic, lol). That's part of His blessing of working all things for good. Even if it doesn't work out in this temporal life, it worked out eternally. I think it's ok to be a little sad about it when something ends, because, like I said, we weren't made to have to experience endings. But our sadness is not as those who have no hope or understanding of the significance of the eternal. We are NEVER to despair.

And this has turned into something really long, when all I wanted to do was write a little farewell post. But I'm bad about that, I always drag out goodbyes because, well, I guess I'm keenly aware of my eternal soul being locked in a temporal condition. :) So yeah.... This is it. It's been an amazing, challenging, life-changing, profound, and even, at times, just plain ol' fun adventure. I'm glad I got to live it. And now it's time to go find the next one. Just like in Up. :)

Fini.

What's The Word?

I'm wiped out. The viewing was today.

The hardest moment was when the funeral people (?) took us into the room. And I saw her in there. I broke down then. I couldn't go over to the casket. I was just standing there crying with one of the funeral guys standing in the doorway watching everything and thinking that this was the weirdest most awkward moment of my life. *sigh* Ok well... I can think of one slightly more awkward moment now, but yeah, that was a in a completely different vein of awkward, lol.

The whole evening was weird because it didn't seem real. I kept saying in my head, "Grandma is dead. She's dead. We're at her viewing." But I still couldn't really believe it. And it was so weird how life went on and people would laugh and little kids would run around the room and we'd talk about every day things. Just like it was some sort of regular get-together. But it was not. Oh, it was just so weird. I don't know how to describe it.

I feel like I've crossed some right of passage. I've only been to one viewing that I can remember. I was only two or three when my great-grandpa died. The other one was a cousin I never knew. So yeah. But now, I know. It's not this strange, unknown world anymore. Like, I understand what it means to have people be there with you. My mom's cousin and her brother who never knew my grandma came and that meant a lot to me. And I don't know. I don't know if I can really put it into words right now, my mind is all whatever...

But yeah. I did look at her. I went up with my mom and my other grandma, and then once by myself. It wasn't as bad as I thought. She just looked like she was sleeping, and something else I can't put my finger on. It wasn't whimsical, but it definitely brought to mind the whole Elizabethtown moment. It wasn't weird when I was looking with my mom and grandma, but I felt a little scared when I was looking at her by myself. *shrug*

It was also weird to see little kids' reactions to it. Like, they don't understand, but they'll go up and look, and one of them touched her hand. I always thought kids would be scared, but they don't seem to be. I haven't quite collected my thoughts on this yet though.

It was hard watching my "little" cousin (ok, I think he's 11..? Maybe) go up by himself to the casket and talk to her. I don't know what he said, but yeah...

And it was all just so..... strange. I always knew this day would come but it's still so weird.

Oh. My. Gosh...

I just got a text that Harold, an old, old friend of the family, died. That is the fifth death of my year.... Not kidding.

Back in the winter, two distant cousins died, then my hair dresser's 15 year old daughter hung herself in the summer, then Grandma died, and now Harold.

*sigh*

Viewing Friday, 7 to 9 PM (we have to be there an hour early at 6), funeral Saturday at 11AM.

I still don't feel terribly sad. I've thought about things and all and there are moments (usually right after I wake up when everything comes back to me) where I have a mild panic because of everything that's going on in my life at the moment. But I am ok. I'm not saying that in a fake way, but I really am OK because God's love is meeting me. And the result is a kaleidoscope of emotion in me; all different kinds, all different colors, but pulled together into something beautiful. And I'm peaceful, in spite of everything. Not distracted, but embraced. Not running from my burdens but taking them to Christ. Ok, so I'm still just getting used to being this way. I don't do it perfectly yet. But as I am starting to know a God of LOVE (not just a God to pray to pray to) who cares deeply for me and is orchestrating my whole life with meaning, and out of love, it is changing me from the inside out. It's changing my understanding of life's trials. It's making me less resistant to being stretched and pulled out of my comfort zone. It's grounding me spiritually and even in my physical life.

I used to think that being a Christian was so boring. I resisted God because I thought He would come with a bunch of requirements of boring things that I would have to do in order to be with Him. There are a lot of people who think (and I suppose they have good intentions, I'm not bashing them or anything, I just disagree) that to  become a Christian literally means to give up anything remotely earthly (*ahem* Charles Spurgeon...). I was brought up not exactly being taught that outrightly, but hearing it a lot. So I had a lot of guilt for not being as Christian as I thought I was supposed to be. And I felt REALLY guilty that I didn't even want to be that sort of a practically Amish Christian. But over time, something changed. There were a lot of different things that contributed to my mind and heart being opened; one of them was starting to read books and the Bible for myself.

I read C S Lewis, the Schaeffers, Steve Brown, and John Powell. All are very different in their backgrounds that perspectives. C S Lewis? Former atheis, takes a very phillisohpical approach to Christianity. The Schaeffers? First generation Christians, founded the L'Abri and "hipster" Christianity's roots are with them, supposedly. Steve Brown? A reformed pastor. I fell off my chair (so to speak) when I found out he was reformed because that's the very sort of Christianity I've been frustrated with and have wanted to get away from, but reading his book I wouldn't have guessed that at all because he was so, well, cool. And reasonable. And finally, John Powell. John Powell is Catholic and a psychologist. Not something you would expect ME to read, right? Well, he's brilliant. I don't agree with the intensely Catholic parts, but the rest is good. Amazing even.

All of them have taught me so much. They introduced me to a God of LOVE. Not a God of requirements. I've learned what it means to give up everything to God. It doesn't mean living in a holy vacuume, it means submitting everything as God having authority over it. It doesn't mean that you can't be creative and enjoy the things of earthly life that God GAVE to enjoy. It means you understand where these things came from and why we have the capacity to do and enjoy them in the first place. I've met a God who loves me as I am, and because of Christ's gift I can run into His arms, even if I'm still imperfect and don't have everything figured out. A God who wants me to express my honest thoughts and feelings to Him, even if they are about "bad" things (sin I'm struggling with or whatever). And all of this has been so incredibly freeing. God's yoke truly IS easy and light!

I was thinking today about how at my old church everyone is really hung up on sin and getting forgiveness. Do NOT get me wrong, you can't ignore sin or take it lightly. It is very real and very dangerous and it is super important to be knowledgeable about it and to deal with it. But being forgiven of sin is NOT the be-all-end-all of Christianity. We're not forgiven of sin just so we're forgiven -- the end. We're forgiven so that we can be clean and thus START HAVING THE RIGHT RELATIONSHIP WITH GOD. Forgiveness is not the prize, it's the ticket to the prize. At my old church, one of the first things they would do is have a confession of sin. I think this is sort of backwards. I mean, we're all Christians, we're already ultimately forgiven, first of all. Second of all, when Jesus taught us how to pray, His prayer went: "give us this day our daily bread and forgive us out debts."  He started with the daily, earthly needs, and then went on to the forgiveness of sin. I find from my own experience that that's a really practical way to pray. You come to God, the King of the universe, who you have complete and total access to as an adopted child of the King (something that is permanent; your "pass card" doesn't become void when you sin and have to be reactivated by confession of sin, for pete's sake!), pour out your heart to Him, bask in His presence, and His love and His light will draw out of you anything that needs to be confessed. I think your confession is going to be much more genuine as well when it comes out of that moment, a moment of love and your Father's embrace.

And oh my gosh, this post is so long and so rambling, probably barely coherent, and now completely off topic from where I started, but I have so much stuff in my head that excites me about God and life, etc. So you know.

Official time, 9:10am. Nine-ten on ten-nineteen.

It's so weird. It doesn't seem real. I talked about it with my mom and sister tonight. We cried a little, laughed a little (some of the things my grandma said have been pretty hilarious), looked at pictures I put together, etc. I asked my mom a million questions (of course, it's ME), including, "do I have to look?" She explained that that was up to me how I wanted to say goodbye, but she wasn't sure if Grandma wanted an open casket or not. *sigh* To quote E-town, "I've never seen a dead body before." I'm not sure I want to. But honestly, I feel like I may have to. I don't know if it will be real to me if I don't look.

I was thinking about her earlier today and I had this weird "sense," not of her presence exactly but of her existence. Like, I felt that nothing had essentially changed. She's still alive, she's just not here anymore. I don't know how to explain it.

I'm not sure what I'm feeling. It's sad and all, but I've never been terribly close to this grandma. Not that I don't care or didn't love her or anything, but you know. Maybe it just hasn't hit me yet. Her house is going to be sold. A great deal of my life was spent in that house. I just had a flash of a memory to me and Britt sitting in the den, me in the big recliner and Britt on the blue "velvet" couch, watching TV, while Mom and Grandma were out in the dining room talking. I admit, to think of never having that experience again made me quite sad. *sigh* Today I've been trying to remember her as she was, her old self. The self that loved to be active and independent and "hang out" with her friends and go out on the town. I realized that she's finally able to be that way again without her body to get in the way. I figure she's up in heaven joining clubs and filling up her calender or whatever the heavenly, eternal equivalent to that is. She's living free and that's what matters to me. I always hated that she had to be alone and so held back in these last years. That's not who she is and now she's back to herself. I'm glad about that.

When Dad went out to see her Sunday, he said she talked about her ambulance ride from hospital to hospice. He opened the window curtain and they talked about the leaves changing; autumn is (was?) her favorite season. Then she mentioned something about how the doctors said there was nothing more they could do for her, and she said to Dad, "isn't it the pits?" I laugh and cry at that simultaneously. It's such a Grandma Maxine thing to say, but yeah... She was still pretty alert and clear mentally though her last days, so she knew what was going on, and that sucks.

She's gone. It hits me in waves. And I think of all the things that I could have done but I didn't do. And all the things I'll never be able to do again and I cry. And then it passes and I'm back to just feeling normal and thinking about normal, every day things.

When Dad went out yesterday she was asleep. He leaned down in her ear and called to her and nudged her shoulder but he couldn't get her to wake up. Before he left, he fixed her water glass with her straw towards her on the table next to her, made sure her chapstick was there and that a tissue was loose in the box so she could get it out easily; those are the things she needs right away when she wakes up. This morning she died.

When he went out to the hospice place today after he got the call, he said she was lying there with one hand on her stomach and her head a little to the side, just like how she sleeps.

I don't want to waste any more of my life. As I think about the way my grandma lived and did things, I want to be that way too, no matter how much I have to fight to get to a more stable place emotionally. I don't want my life to consist of all the things I should have done or need to do. I want my life to be full of the things I've DONE. I don't want fear to stop me. Cuz that's how I lived most of my life. I was watching a home movie today of me going to the zoo with Grandma and Mom and Dad when I was 2 or so. I was fearlessly making my way up steep (relatively; I've always been minuscule *grin*) concrete steps with Grandma Maxine's help. I said to Norah, as I watched myself, "that was before I learned how to be afraid." Anything that is learned can be unlearned. I'm determined to do it. I committed myself to life, and never giving up. There have been plenty of days when I've wanted to just throw in the towel and give up on my dreams and desires because it can be freakin hard. But I've made up my mind not to. I've finally started my photography business in spite of the flood of thoughts that I'm not good enough at it, no one would ever want to book me, I'll screw up someone's pictures, etc. And guess what? None of that has ever happened. I've grown tremendously as an artist and as a person because of it, people book me, I haven't messed anything up. And you know what? Being ballsy feels pretty. freakin. awesome. :D This summer has been the start of a whole new, awesome phase in my life, and from here on out, I'm dedicating this determination/striving for fullness and vibrancy to you, Grandma Maxine. You lived without fear, you did the things you wanted to do and you made your life count.

Grandma died last night. I don't understand what that means.

So my grandma is probably going to pass soon. She's in the hospital with pneumonia and they're having problems with her heart and kidneys. The things to help the kidneys would be bad for the heart, the things for the heart would be bad for the kidneys. She's retaining fluid and gained 10lbs over night.

I went out to see her yesterday. Mom wanted us to spend some time with her before things turned, you know. I couldn't walk into the room at first. She was in her bed, eating. And she just seemed so incredibly small and fragile, and the hospital room (which of course, was not big) seemed cavernous around her. It's not the grandma I remember. It hasn't been for years, but now. Yeah. She used to be vibrant and lively and was never one to sit still. Always on the go, always out with friends, always always always doing. She liked to have a full calender, she would say. And seeing her like that, it hit me and I had to take a minute to compose myself while Mom and Britt went in. It was so weird because I could literally feel my heart in my throat pulsing as I stood there, holding my breath in an effort to not completely break down.

After I went in she didn't recognize me at first. She has a hard time keeping up with my changing hair styles. But then she realized it was indeed me. So we all sat there and talking for a while, me on her right, Britt on her left, and Mom at the foot of the bed. I showed her some pictures I've taken and we talked about Britt's baking and how my cousins are having a baby. She spoke of how hard it will be to get back in the swing of therapy once she out of the hospital. *sigh* She had a stroke a few weeks ago and has been in a nursing home to recover from that prior to contracting pneumonia. Everything was all very light and casual. But I could tell she was very reluctant for us to go. Mom stood up while a nurse came in to get her temp and blood pressure and when the nurse was done Grandma said, "sit back down Debby, and that's an order!" Something in the undertone of her voice then... I don't know. She was talking about things in the future, like the baby and therapy and stuff, but something in the way she said that to Mom kind of seemed like she suspected otherwise.

I don't know what else to say. I'm completely clueless of what to expect from myself.

Roll it up, take a hit. Feelin it, 2am, summer night. Livin' my life, gittin' out dreams. People told me slow my roll, I'm screamin' out, "fuck that!" I'm gonna do just what I want, and there ain't no turnin' back. I'm on the pursuit of happiness and I know everything that shines ain't always gonna be gold. Hey, I'll be fine once I get it, and I'll be good.

So tell me what you know about dreamin', dreamin'. You don't realy know about, nothin', nothin'. Tell me what you know about the night terrors every night, 5AM, cold sweat, wakin' up to the skies.

Tell me what you know about dreams - dreams. Tell me what you know about night terrors - nothin'. You don't really care about the trials of tomorrow, you'd rather lay awake in a bed full of sorrow.

Hands on the wheel? Uh-uh, fuck that.
---
It's funny because I always thought I was fine because I was a good kid. I wasn't one of the wild ones out there getting high/drunk/whatever on a regular basis. But taking stock of my life these past few months, I've seen something. My whole life has been terribly chaotic and unstable. Not in an external way, but an internal way. I read that all anger leads to violence; it's either external or internal. I'm definitely not externally violent, and thus I always thought I was not angry. But I finally have come face to face with the internal toll of anger. God help me, the denial of ym anger has worn me down to nearly nothing and left me with such a shell of a life. The selfishness, the withdrawing from people and life, the coldness, the depression, the lack of interest, the lack of self respect, the tension, the restlessness, the inability to concentrate for very long, the feeling of wanting to run away, the inability to stand up for myself and speak my mind, the excessive sarcasm -- on and on it goes. Way more than you could ever imagine saying "I don't care" and denying your emotions could do to you.

And so even though I'm not a high drunkard, I identify with that song somehow. The desperation and the heading for destruction, the anger in between the lines, and the negative behaviors to get something "good" out of life...

But I am not hopeless, far from it. Lately I have sensed God whispering, "dear, I'll catch you, but you have to jump first." I'm so scared to face all that is within me, all that I have spent years denying and ignoring. But beyond that, I'm tired. I'm tired of being held back by myself. I have absolutely no good reason to be missing out on living, though, God knows, I've attempted to justify it to myself with "good" reasons many times. I asked God a few nights ago, "will I ever get to where I want to be?" He answered immediately: "if you don't lose heart, in due season you shall reap." I keep holding on to that, holding on tight.

And I'm gonna jump. That sounds like a death wish, lol. But I'm not talking about THAT. I'm talking about LIFE. Jumping into the arms of the Author of LIFE.

THINGS I LIKE

The song, On My Way Back Home by Band of Horses.

Figuring out how to read between the lines.

Having developed an excellent radar to detect when someone is bullshitting. Gotta get something positive out of the crap that happens in life, right?

The moment (that I'll always treasure) when my grandmother almost confessed that I was her favorite grandchild: "you were always my favorite -- no wait, I can't say that..." :D :D :D She is my second mother, after all.

Staying up late. Siiiiiigh. Ok, so I'm mixed about this one. I haven't been falling asleep until 4 - 6AM lately, which is beyond ridiculous, but I don't care too much atm.

The three of us together.

Knowing who I am, what I want, and where I'm going.

Finding a local band with surprisingly good style and artistic taste.

Occupying personal space, strong laughter and handshakes.

Owning the very first "HI!!"

That thrill when you look at nature at particular moving moments.

Not being so uptight anymore. I finally decided it was useless. And I've ended up being able to achieve more since I stopped caring so much and just accepted my strengthlessness(?). Well, actually I've still got a long way to go. But you know.

Saying "fuck" a lot. To myself. It makes me feel better somehow. I've been cussing a lot in general lately. And I don't care. And people who think saying crude words isn't Christian, I'd kind of like to tell them to fuck off. I'm NOT cursing... I'm cussing. There is a difference.

Hanging out with God. Cuz that's how I think of praying now.

Not going to church... *cough* I've kind of given up on the idea, much as I hate to admit it to myself. There's just no where around here I feel compelled to go. I miss it though. So I don't know.

Figuring out that my friend's ex was a total douche bag who screwed with all our heads and nothing he said is believable.

Making money doing what I love/having my own business at 23/freelance writing.

Deepening my walk with God like never before (yes, this can happen even if you do cuss... :P)

Learning what it means to be loved by Someone and my imperfections never a/effect that love, ever.

Mylanta.

Flarp. ^_^ It's sitting on my desk. Right now. It was purchased on one of our late night Walmart runs.

Lists.

Ending this and sleeping.....

You know I miss ya in my life, and I kinda think that I realize that I was only lookin out for me instead of gettin you the help you need. Who do you think you are? Who do I think I am? Barely listening to my Oldest Friend. So I tell you once, but not again, that I only miss you in my life, and I hope you finally realize that I’m only looking out for you when I’m not afraid to see this through.

-Andrew Belle

First favorite quote on the face of the planet:

"Sometimes, after a particularly scathing attack by a student on some individual whose doctrinal position is not orthodox or whose lifestyle seems less than Christian, I will say, 'Ladies and gentleman, you haven't lived long enough or sinned big enough to have an opinion on that subject.'"

Second favorite quote on the face of the planet:

"There is a lot to criticize about the Pharisees of Jesus' day. Jesus reserved his greatest anger for them. Do you know why? Because of their arrogance. He was angry because they didn't know how ignorant and sinful they were. They assumed that their knowledge was superior, that what they said came from Sinai, and that their purity was to be admired.
"But when the prostitutes, the tax collectors, and the children came to him they were welcomed with open arms. Why? Because they were teachable. They brought nothing but empty hands before him. They knew that he knew that, but, more importantly, they knew that he loved them anyway."

Third favorite quote on the face of the planet:

"Children recognize in their childlikeness that one of the great truths of the universe is that it is big enough for most of us to be wrong about most of the things almost all of the time. To be childlike is to be teachable."

Fourth favorite quote on the face of the planet:

"Only those adults who have retained, with whatever additions and enrichments, their first childish response to poetry unimpaired, can be said to have grown up at all."

First three, Steve Brown, last one C. S. Lewis.

Favorite quotes on the face of the planet are subject to change without warning.

"Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted."

God loves us best when we are at our worst, I think. Not that God's love actually alters or or is at times better than others. But I'm suddenly getting this vibe, if you will, that He loves to comfort us. And so His love is at it's finest when we are at our worst. I think. I mean, after all, He sent His son to die for us when we were absolutely at our worst. The whole, "rarely will a man die for a righteous man" thing, so woah-ho-ho, say what, you're dieing for a WRETCHED man? Yeah. I dunno, that one Rob Bell video where he's going through the storm in the woods with his baby son comes to mind.

Being made in the image of God, it occurs to me that we, also, can love another human the best when they are hurting. Also, in turn, we can experience the love of someone else in a profound way when we are hurting.

Vulnerability. It's a scary thing. At least, in our society of "keep it together, never let 'em see you sweat - let alone shed a tear or punch a wall" and such. But we've got these ideas in our heads that if we have problems, if we're not perfect, if we don't meet a particular standard that makes us "good enough," if we're hurting, if we have struggles or ugly secrets or brutal scars or flaming wounds ... that we're unworthy of being loved. When that is the total opposite. That is when we are the most lovable! But unfortunately that is when we tend to close ourselves off and fear rejection the most. We get stiff. The part in "Approaching God" by Steve Brown about "it's easier to hug a dirty kid than a stiff kid" applies here. It's never the dirtyness that makes us unlovable, it's the stiffness. The shutting down. The putting up walls. The facade of stoicism. We're afraid that the "real us" is repulsive. But I think that's a lie from the devil to keep us trapped in an existence that is less than whole, less than healthy, and less than our full potential. It keeps us from opening up and experiencing the reality of love, healing, and overcoming.

I might be going a bit utopian here, of course... It's not accurate to say that humans always love each other perfectly. We're not God, merely made in His image, and we're fallen at that. Many times people are repulsed by the real us and we are, in turn, repulsed by the real them. It's hard to not be mutually repulsed at each other's imperfections at times. It's hard to love someone else while you're struggling yourself. That seems rather a hopeless cycle, I know. But then, there's God. Get real before yourself and God. Stop being stiff before Him. Let Him see you dirty (psst: He has already seen you dirty anyway so it's pretty useless to pretend that He hasn't). Experience a Love so perfect, portent, and pure that it binds up wounds, turns deserts into pools of water, and makes ceder trees grow in formerly barren lands, and you will start to heal. In turn, the walls will come down and you will be better not only to experience human love, but to spread the love. You will better be able to love others at their worst and help them find healing. And so on and so forth.

The irony of being most lovable at our worst ties in with another irony: loosing something to find it. We have to loose our "keeping-it-togetherness" in order to truly get it together. To be confident and strong we have to first be helpless and weak. Our ideas of how to survive have to die before we can thrive in new-found life. The "peacefulness" of shoving down our emotions and never letting ourselves feel pain or anger or whatever has to die an uncomfortable death (in other words, we have to go through a brutal storm of feeling all those things bottles up inside) before we can find a true peace. The peace the grows from the LOVE that floods into our lives when we are at our worst. Because God loves us best when we are at our worst.

And rather than be like Lambchop and start a whole "this is a song that never ends" sort of thing, I will stop here.

Just Gonna Stand There And Watch Me Burn...

So I'm sitting here listening to Eminem feeling pretty angry. Yeah, that's totally Eminem's influence on me. :P

Anger is so frightening, but, I'm learning, so essential. I have no patience with stoic people. Absolutely none. Dicks. But I'm so afraid to feel it sometimes. Sometimes, I turn into a dick myself. *sigh*

This last week I totally shoved everything I was feeling down inside of myself. I didn't know any other way to carry on. I watched myself show and feel absolutely no emotion when my beloved cat was on her supposed death bed. I just kept thinking about other things. I was wondering at the time why I wouldn't even think about it. But I just wouldn't. And I don't know. Everything else that's bothering me I just shoved down too and told myself I was over it and fine. I burring myself in my work. And then the next thing I know I'm going out of my fucking mind because I was so anxious. I couldn't concentrait on anything, I couldn't think, couldn't sit still, couldn't move, couldn't breathe. And I decided something. Sadness and anger are better than the alternative of repression that just turns into self abuse.

I've always considered myself a person who didn't get angry. Now I see I DO get angry, I just didn't recognize it as such. All my anxiety, depression, heartburn, irritability, and whatever the crap else comes from the fact that I don't let myself be angry. We live in a society that pretty much portrays anger as people beating each other's brains out, shooting each other, young inner city kids in gangs setting fire to buildings, etc. etc. And we think we can't be angry or we'll turn into them. But God has been teaching me something: you can't forgive without first being angry. And it's never anger that's a sin, it's only what you do with it that can turn into sin. Me punching someone in the face because I'm angry? Sin. Me whipping my bed with my exercise band and making my bird think I'm insane when I'm angry? That's ok. So there you go.

Two things that are interesting indeed. 1, my friend Ellen said, "maybe we can't truly love the sinner until we truly hate the sin." 2. my mother keeps telling me that Jesus said to live abundantly, which means feeling all emotions abundantly, even anger. People always want to talk about the Love part of Christianity. Love is essential but there's more to life and the Bible than just love. Anyone who seriously reads the Bible should be able to see that.

Part of life is picking up, moving on, letting go, getting over it. But you cannot, have not, done that if you don't first go through a really tough time. There's no rebirth without death. You can't censor your emotions. You can't pretend that just because you know something is for the best that it doesn't still matter in some ways. You have not moved on from something if you only take a week to eat ice cream and watch One Tree Hill or whatever. You're still carrying all that stuff around with you if you never really let yourself be sad and just deal with it. End of story. And so I'm being sad and dealing. Although, still eating ice cream -- abundantly.

I'm rambling.

White. Lies. Baby.

To find you awake by your windowsill. I broke down in horror at you standing there. The glow from the moon shone through cracks in your hair. I shouted with passion, "I love you so much" but feeling my skin, it was cold to the touch. You whispered "where are you?" I questioned your doubt but soon realised, you were talking to God now.

You've got
blood
on
your
hands.

I know it's mine.

I just need more time.

A requiem played as you begged for forgiveness. "Don't touch me!" I screamed. I've got unfinished business.

He catches raindrops from his window, it reminds him how we fall. Raindrops from his window, making puddles in his hands. He sees how quick the water's rising as another raindrop lands.

You talked me to sleep that night. I hadn't felt that sad in years. Your eyes like glass mistakes, they moved me close to tears. You speak those favourite fables which I'm yet to live and casually confirm my fears that I've got nothing to give.

I wish I could say that I've got no regrets but saying that would be one more to pile on my desk. I wish I could say I've clung to time like gold...

And I lived on the right side, slept on the left. That's why everything was love or death.

Close my eyes as my hands shake and when I see a new day. Who's driving this anyway? I picture my own grave 'cause fear's got a hold on me. Yes, this fear's got a hold on me. Yes, this fear's got a hold on me.

You are a dozen to the project, with a galaxy of questions and all we heard was lies about the truth. No choice but be obedient, like prisoners of war, caught on the wrong side of morality and youth.

Isn;t it wonderful how God can still use us while we're being stupid? Isn't it amazing how His grace is bigger than our foolishness?

That is all. :)

Some people would consider the point I'm at a weak point. However, I realized today this is one of my strongest moments. It takes great strength to allow oneself to FEEL. To feel, to be vulnerable, to be unashamed. To deal with the problem and not repress it. Repression equals possession; the things we repress control us. And if you're not in control of yourself, you're weak. Duh. In the words of my four year old "cousin" Josiah, "It's not science, Mom."

I realize that I sound a lot like a self help book lately. But maybe there's something to some of the points they have after all. I'm not talking anything fanatical here, but simply stuff that falls under the jurisdiction of plain ol' common sense. Heck, even the BIBLE advocates this. "Blessed are those who mourn" and honesty and all. When we are weak, then we are strong... Just sayin.

Sometimes, I feel like the only person in the world I can stand is my cat. And then I loath myself for feeling that way. That's how today is. Everything and everyone (sans cat) is making me incredibly angry and I'm being very mean and shutting them out, acting, or so I was told, like a five year old. And I know the reason why. Because I'm mad at myself and wallowing in self pitty. And mad at a lot of people and situations in my life.

I once told someone that I thought there was more going on in their head than they even realized. It's funny how we can recognize the things in someone else that we can't see in ourselves, though it be ever so rampant. You see, I would never have put such a label on this mood before as "I'm mad at everyone, etc." I would have just considered myself to be in a grumpy mood, got up on the wrong side of the bed or something, and everyone else were the ones with the problem: they needed to figure out they I was darn well entitled to them staying out of my way. Trouble is, as I realize just how unfair my attitude is and how much I have hurt people with it, it makes me more mad. I get mad at myself for doing it but not knowing how to stop it at the same time. And then that leads to more mean, childish behavior.

I'm finding so much in myself I "didn't know" was there. So many things that I claim "irritate" or "annoy" me actually HURT me and let me down. I can't love or forgive myself for my imperfections; I've got it in my head that the only way I can accept myself is when I have become ACCEPTABLE. I mean, how sad is that? How utterly sad! Jesus loved me BEFORE I was acceptable, He took me as I was, and yet... I can't look at myself that way. All I see is someone who is awkward and unlearned, does nothing right and squanders time and has taken advantage of a lot of sacred things. How do I love THAT? How do I accept THAT? I don't know how, but I know I've got to learn how. Because if I'm waiting to accept myself until I have reached perfection, a.) I'll never accept myself, and b.) I'll never be able to accept other people as flawed, either. And that's the trouble... usually all I see in other people is their flaws.

I great quote is this: "If our attitude towards the self is crippling, our capacity to love is proportionately diminished. The pain of a poor self-image is like the noisy strife of a civil war inside us. It magnetizes all our attention to ourselves and leaves us little freedom to go out to others." John Powell. So true, so very true. A large majority of my problems with other people is my problem with myself. And I didn't know I was supposed to overcome that. I thought, as a Christian, we were supposed to not like ourselves, or else we weren't being honest. But yet, does it ever say that anywhere in the Bible? I believe we were told to love the sinner but hate the sin. So I can accept myself.

Carl Jung said, "Jesus said, 'whatever you do to the least of My brethren, you do to Me.' What if you discovered that the least of the brethren of Jesus, the one who needs your love the most, the one that you can help the most by loving, the one to whom your love will be most meaningful -- what if you discovered that the least of the brethren ... is you?"Powerful. Very powerful indeed.

I could write scores more on this topic because it is something I've been thinking about/reading about along with how it correlates with service and such. But uhg, that wouln't solve ME, that wouldn't make things right in me. How do I do that? I mean, I know the answer, only God can make it right. I was reading in Isaiah the other night about God changing a desert to water and such. In the light of the Bible being a personal message from God to me (something which, sadly, I am all too apt to forget) I am pretty certain I was being assured that the healing and restoration I desire will happen. God will make mysterious, spiritual changes in me, Ashlee [insert full name here]. It's a sure thing; whether I can fathom it or not is not the point. But still, I struggle to hold onto that. There are so many things wrong in my heart, and so many wounds that have been inflicted by other people, so many hang ups because of that. And I don't know how it can ever be made right. But isn't that the point of Christianity? Him coming to bind up our wounds and make us whole again, and thus able to do the work He gives us?

It's hard not to feel crushed under the weight of all this. Which is why I think I have been so quick to push everything down inside of me for so long. But that doesn't work, and I can't find that to be ok anymore. Running from pain has not erased the pain. It just created more pain. I've hurt so many people as a result of my own hurts. I've become in turn depressed, numb, and anxious. It's blinded me and warped my perception of what is good and right. I've used people for my own gain and profaned relationships that should have been VALUED instead of devoured. My lack of honesty with myself has caused a division between the One thing that could fill the voids, bind the wounds, and wash the sin away and be the satisfaction and relief my soul yearns for. Because I didn't hide under His wing, I tried to hide in other things, namely sex. I've felt starved for change and in a rut, which I thought I needed more worldy things to fix: changes in activities or locations and such. But no, the change I am in such desperate need of is a SPIRITUAL change. But you want to know the most ironic thing? It's the fact that I looked on other people living the type of life as depicted above with disdain - how could they be so foolish? - and thought that I myself was a pretty decent Christian with most things figured out.

I thank God He has helped me begin to get over my fear of facing these things and I pray for His grace and His healing.

*sigh*

When did I become such an angry person? I think it happened when I was ... 13? 14? 18? 7? I've been so angry and so hurt by an event that happened years ago I've ended up taking advantage of people I care(d) about most. The shock of having my eyes truly opened hit me about four weeks ago. It was shocking to see just how buried in sin I had become. Gradually, over the past four weeks of pain and confusion, the layers have peeled back more and more. And today I read something that made me realize how much I missed, how much I didn't see. How I was so incredibly selfish and took so much advantage of someone; someone who was in a lot of pain and confusion but I assumed to be fine. And I'm sorry for that. I wish I could tell them that. :(

I'm hopefully starting therapy soon. I've realized if I ever want a shot at a life that is good and worth living, I've got to face that part of me. I don't know how to get through it on my own, which is why I want some "professional help" Dang, that makes me feel so screwed up... But I guess in a way, I kind of am. I've spent my whole life letting the devil pick on me, and trying to distract myself from pain. I've spent years burried under sin, lies, and confusion. I've lied to myself, told myself I didn't care about it, that it didn't bother me. And for a long time that worked; although, looking back on it, the time I started believing that was when I got really depressed and started having stomach problems, so maybe it didn't work so well after all. But anyway, now... now I've truly seen just how much it really has a/effected me: how incapable I am of having good relationships (not just dating relationships, but those too) with people because of my own hang ups. God forgive me, I've been wretched. :*( I was so desperately trying to fill a void (that at the same time I was so desperate to deny was even there) in my own life that I took something from someone that can never be given back. I'm sorry.

It's been said that the truth shall set us free. I'm finding that to be accurate. I took a walk yesterday and noticed two things. First, a new (albeit small, though hopefully growing) determination to do things FOR MYSELF. The desire for independence, if you will. Not wanting other people to do everything for me. And also, though I had walked that road so many times, I was noticing things I had never noticed before; I felt very alive. I want to live. Not just exist, but LIVE. Live a life that is godly, that is filled with good things and service to others. A life that is filled with so much joy of the LORD that the fears and pains are crowded out. I want to BE HEALED. Be changed. I am so excited because I think so many more things are going to be possible for me than I ever imagined. There's this feeling that I cannot put into words. A month ago I felt like I was having everything ripped away from me. In a way, I was.. But I was dying so that I could live, I see that now. It was so hard to get away from everything at first, and I was deeply afflicted -- and conflicted. But when we're attacked, one of the biggest temptations is to not trust God; to think, "if I just had That One Thing, everything would be fine." Nope, not how it works. It's terrifying to have your "security blanket" ripped away from you, or to be taken out of your comfort zone. But that's only at first, and only to try to get you to go back to the old damaging ways. Well, I've seen the Light, satan, you can't fool me anymore. Take that. :P

I still have a lot of regrets, and things I'm sorry for, but I'm determined not to dwell in that aspect of things. I still have a lot of unanswered questions, things I'm confused about. I don't understand completely why everything happened the way it did. But I have faith in God to work everything out; to give me clarity. I don't need to worry about the future, because I'll end up where I need to be if I just follow God. I'm so thankful that He was there watching over everything that's been happening the past few months, and that He intervened when/how He did. It's been painful; there's been a lot of hurt on both sides, but no one's to blame. But it was definitely not a beneficial situation, although God has graciously ultimately worked it out for our good.

I visited a church with a friend two Sundays ago. I wasn't really that impressed with it, they weren't very welcoming (but that's an additional tale), but I did get something out of the sermon. The pastor said something about how when something goes wrong with your car, the person you trust most to fix it is the person who made it (which isn't exactly accurate, I know, but whatever :P). The point was, God made us and made this world. Are we gonna trust ourselves to fix our lives or are we gonna trust the Person who designed all of it and knows far more about it than we do? Powerful thought.

And so now I just want to give everything up to God, so that I can have whatever I need to get back restored, and get rid of whatever wasn't good for me. It's a little scary to not know exactly what will come back and what won't, but that's not my call. Which is good, because I'm stupid. lol. I don't mean that in a self-hating kind of way, just that in the grand scheme of things, I don't really know anything. Like Job, I wasn't there when God created the world, so what do I really know? Not much, and only what God teaches me. So yes, it's a little scary. But it's also bringing a peace and a joy at the same time.

So yeah... I don't know how to end this and it feels like it's rambling on forever, so... I'll just end.

I have mixed feelings about water. Perhaps this has something to do with the fact that I was essentially born drown.

I have decided I want to start getting up at 7. Staying up late can get kind of boring. I am turning into such an old person.

I have now seen the film Splendor In The Grass and I've been thinking about if off an on the whole night. Love when books/movies do that.

I have a sister who basically refuses to shop at Wal-Mart. Because she thinks its dirty and that it smells. She pledged allegiance to Target.

I have an 18-55 mm lens and I want something longer. I'm not sure how I feel about zoom lenses now.

I have my window open and I am hoping I do not get poisoned with allergens.

I have iTunes on and I love the song Pink Graffiti Part 1 by Secret Cities, which is the current song. In a playlist. I don't listen to albums much.

I have to do laundry today or something Very Bad will happen; I'll have no clean clothes whatsoever.

I have changed a lot, when I stop to think about it. I think it's mostly all good. I just feel more myself.

OK, Go

So there are these two versions of myself I have in my head. There's the me that I want to be, where I exaggerate all my virtues and I seem like this super cool woman. Then there's the me that I don't want to be, where all my faults are exaggerated and I seem like an incredibly awkward, weird, dorky baby. When I feel like the second version of myself it makes me feel like thinking that I could ever be the first person is so stupid. When I feel like the first version, it's like the second person never existed. But today, while wrestling with an umbrella in the wind and listening to Delphic, I found myself wondering who the real me is, the person who isn't just a version of myself that I imagine myself to be.

By the way, if you don't write something soon, Andrew Pierce, I am going to kick you where it hurts.

And after all this time...

I'd still rather believe that I'm fine.

I'd still rather believe that it never hurt me and never hurts me now.

I'd still rather push it down.

I'd still rather do the right things for the wrong reasons.

I'd still rather do the wrong things for the right reasons.

I'd still rather pretend that I know exactly what I'm doing and what it all means.

I'd still rather believe I can get by without sleeping.

I'd still rather believe I can always be in control.

I'd still rather count my own life as the only thing worth my time.

I'd still rather focus on the unimportance of past events.

I'd still rather rush to the future.

I'd still rather dig myself in too deep.

I'd still rather hold in the thoughts that really matter and let go recklessly of all the things that come back to haunt you.

I'd still rather get my own way.

How'd I get so effed up? Just wondering.

And how are you supposed to be young? Uhg. I know only so much to know that I know so little. I can't help it that I don't know it all. What am I supposed to do in the meantime is my question. I can't wait until I know more to move. And the only way to learn is to do. How do you start without any prior experience? Oh, I don't really know how to say the things I'm feeling...

Its funny how we're constantly changing. Even if we don't realize it, we are. It's weird how there are things you think you are, and then you say so and it leaves. Like you just needed to hold onto it long enough to say something about it, and then by saying so you free it and it makes room for something else. There were things about myself that I held in for so long, waiting for someone to tell them to. I thought they were so important. But now that I've gotten them out, I've practically forgotten I ever was that way. It's strange.

Here Comes The Sun, Little Darling

We walked in and "Here Comes The Sun," was playing. Liz spun E, who is going on three but thinks she's in her 20s, around in circles.
"There's Laura," said my great uncle Alvin, "I can always tell where she is by her laugh; she's always laughing."
"That's true," says my grandma, "she is always laughing, isn't she?"
Laura is one of my favorite people in the whole entire family.
"Do you remember who this is?" someone asked me. I had no clue. "It's Grandma's sister's daughter." She had the classic Barry dry sense of humor and apparently enjoys mowing people's yards and plowing their snow...? Her daughter, her daughter's daughter, and her daughter's daughter's sons were there as well and I started figuring out how all these people fit into the family. :P She and my grandma discussed their clothing sizes and their exercise habits.
Harold, a friend of the family's for probably 70 years, came up to my sister and I asked why there hadn't been a Christmas picture of us this year.
"We're thinking of bringing it back next year; a lot of people told us they missed it."
"All the old people we know asked us why we didn't have one," I remarked to my sister after Harold walked off.
"Yeah," she agrees. "Maybe we should take one and make a couple of copies for the people who asked about it."
Later, my grandma and her niece we sitting down. "Why, aren't you sitting down?" Grandma asks Britt and me.
"We've got to stand up while we're still able to," I tell her mischievously.
"Did you her that?" Grandma asks her niece, as if she's shocked but I can tell she's amused.
"I'm just teasing," I said. "You're always teasing me."
"Am I?" asked Grandma. Oh goodness, lol.
Britt and I were bored the majority of the time so after a while we went off to find the bathroom -- which was in the basement (called the "first floor" - nice euphemism...) past some doors that said "storage" and "employees only!" with keypad locks. Great...
Liz isn't officially a part of the family, but watching her talk to everyone I thought she looked like a good fit. Grandma doesn't like that she's Catholic, however... *eye roll*
I only got asked twice if I was in college *sigh of relief* and was interrupted before I could answer the dreaded "why not..?" question. My great uncle Alvin of 90 years, my grandma's brother, told me that since I was a "good lookin' gal" I needed to carry a baseball bat with me if I did go to school.
The West Chapel was decorated in soft, soothing pastels and had a mural of Grecian columns on one wall, which are a symbol of stability, all of which I found interesting.
"Did you hear Lanny's little boy?" my Grandma asked me. "'I'm bored.' I told him, 'you'll just have to deal with it.' 'I knoowww,' he said," and she laughed.
Mom and Britt and I went out to get the car. Carl, the one my Grandma thinks tells too raunchy of jokes, caught us on the way out. "Have you been feeling better?" he asks me. I sighed in my head. Nobody can forget that silly hospital incident of last summer, it seems.
"Yeah, I've been doing really good."
"Well, we were praying for you a lot for a while there, like every night!"
"We appreciate it," my mother replies.
In the car, while waiting for my grandma and aunt, mom says, "This is where my dad was. But on the other side, I think. ...It was all a blur."
My mom, on the way home: "Brian was the most upset out of all of them; he was crying when we talked to him. He's not his real son, is he?"
"No," said my grandma. "But he was really little. And he knew that Ben always treated him like his own son. And Big Mouth Carol - that was his first wife - had to go and tell him! Did Laura say if they found out what caused it?"
"It was a heart attack."
He died in bed, with a lit cigarette in his hand. He had a little dog who didn't want to leave his side. It's funny how animals know these things.
Well, anyway, viewing are interesting events. You learn a lot about family history and see a lot of people you never see.

bullets.

• So I had this thought. If I got a job working nights, I would have a real excuse to stay up all night and sleep all day. I don't know why, but I never feel fully functional til deep into the wee hours. There's a part of me that values early to bed, early to rise ... but my body refuses to do it. And after a while, it's easier to give in. :P

• Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever grow up. Once in a while I think I'm starting to, and then I go right back to feeling 18ish. Still. Does anyone really grow up? Or do they all just fake it?
  

• I realized the other day that that my teen years are basically a big blank in my mind.

• Coldplay makes me think of last February and magic.

• Why do I wonder what she looked like?

• I want to be Mars Argo. Or at the very least make freaking awesome videos.
  

This is pointless.

I Never Use My Silver Desk Lamp...

I can't do laundry because there are people in my living room. I don't look presentable so I don't want to have to walk past them. I'm sitting at my desk, listening to the birds pecking and their food behind me, with a hamper of wrinkled tshirts and dirty underwear to my side. How long will I have to wait to do my laundry - that is the question.

Might as well write something while I wait, I guess.

As 2010 begins I'm thinking about spending my time more wisely, figuring out some goals, being more motivated, and building outward action upon inward changes. It's time to see results. I need to start thinking about how important it is to focus on something and working hard to achieve it. I want to know what it's like to accomplish things. Like, what would it be like to finish a novel? I'm thinking I should write a terrible novel. Not on purpose, but just write something really bad for completion's sake. It would be interesting. I also need to read more, clean more, journal more, exercise more, study more, figure out what I want to do with my life when it comes to earning money, etc. etc. I'm 22, the time for action is now. I've already wasted so much time...