outgrown shoes

this season of life is a really weird one for me. I don't like things that don't feel like they're cut to suit me, and this period of time definitely doesn't. Casey eloquently put it as "outgrowing our shoes", which I feel like perfectly sums up so many of the things I am uneasy about these days.

I'll be honest, it's really weird for me to be open about being in love. it feels weird even admitting that so publicly and bluntly. makes me uneasy. I want to shout about it everywhere, I want everyone to know how amazing this is (insert Buddy the Elf "I'M IN LOVE I'M IN LOVE AND I DON'T CARE WHO KNOWS IT" gif here). But I also feel like it is something that should be held sacred and soft between just us two. There's a weird balance there that I have yet to strike. I'm not sure how or where to find it. I'm not sure if anyone has ever found it before-- now that I think about it, every relationship I know seems either too public or too silent, there is no in-between.

I feel like I should be able to sit down and calmly talk about this without giggling and avoiding eye contact because I know I'm blushing so hard and WHY DO I FEEL LIKE I SHOULDN'T ADMIT HOW MUCH I CARE ABOUT HIM AND HOW LOVELY THIS IS? I find myself, even now, almost three years into this wonderfully imperfect relationship, sometimes avoiding his loving gaze when in the presence of others cause I don't want to have some magical gushy moment that might make them realize that we're kind of madly in love. I find myself being uncomfortable using the term 'madly in love' even though that's simply it.

How can you not be madly in love with a man who spends new years eve building legos with you?

I'm not old enough for this, but I'm also finally old enough for this.
We're outgrowing the shoes of 'boyfriend/girlfriend' and 'just a relationship' (we might have outgrown the 'just' a long way back), but it isn't time for the new shoes yet. so... we just uncomfortably waddle in the outgrown shoes and make the best of it and giggle at the waddling and talk in funny voices.

A long time ago, I told him,

"I am the book you tried to write at 3 AM.

Then everything I am came pouring forth and you realized you were unprepared, you had not the capacity for me. You set me aside so you could go buy reams of paper, and boxes of pens, and a big, comfy chair, and pounds of coffee beans, and brightly colored mugs, and all the supplies one forgets about with the small writings that go on, but they suddenly remember when The Novel sneaks up on them. You left to prepare yourself for me, and me for you. You left so that there would be no doubt that when you returned, you would be more than ready to sit in a chair and leisurely pen my lines for the rest of your life."
And I think this outgrown-shoes phase is the next part, like writer's block. The book will happen eventually, but right now is not the time for it to come flowing forth.

I wish everyone who ever fell in love got to experience it the way I'm experiencing it, outgrown shoes included. I understand not everyone gets it this way- though I don't understand why- but I just wish we all did.

Falling in love with someone who loves me so weightily and stickily brushes away any and all fear. I suppose because it is a Christ-centered, pure love- and therefore, perfect love- it drives out fear. I'm not afraid of what he might say or do or become or think. I'm not afraid of being too much for him. I'm even not afraid of my own dark parts anymore.

Without my knowing when or how, he fell quickly and fiercely in love with the parts of me I have struggled hardest to accept or change.

And that doesn't mean he just accepted them. That means he sat down, and pointed them out to me, and held them up to my face and said, "I see this part of you. It isn't something I don't notice because you try not to bring it up. I see it and I already love it. I see how it has changed you and grown you and shaped you and refined you. I cherish how it has made that part of you softer and more sensitive and more guarded. It makes me want to put a balm on it and guard it with you. It makes me want to teach you how to love it since you haven't learned how to yet."

From my overactive thoughts to my thunder thighs, to my inability to talk normally about ways people hurt me, to my tiny "lucky" tooth, to how mad I get in traffic. From acne scars to stretch marks to cellulite to yellow teeth to weird toes to suspicious mind to mean self-talk to gossiping nature to lazy heart.

He says, "Babe, I've noticed you don't really know how to talk about your deepest hurts, and you are beginning to realize you've never realized how huge they are. I just want you to know you can talk to me about it anytime. You don't have to have it figured out. I want to hear your heart."

He says, "I love your lucky tooth and if you ever do anything to change it at all I will never forgive you, because that funny tooth is one of the first things that drew me to you and I adore it."

He says, "You overthink a lot, sweetie, and it takes up too much of your mental power. Give yourself a break and just pray for people instead of overanalyzing situations, your heart will feel so much better. Here, hold my hand and I'll help you."

He says, "Sweetheart, I love and appreciate every piece of you, no matter how messy or frumpy you feel. I know you don't like your thighs or rolls, and you sometimes think the stretch marks and cellulite are ugly, but I think they are womanly and strong and beautiful, and they show that you have lived. Let yourself see that as beauty."

He says, "I know it's a fight for you to keep from gossiping about people but I treasure the fact that you fight it daily and seek to speak truth and life instead. Your mouth speaks beautiful things."

He says, "I hope you know you are the fiercest, most delicate creature I know. And that is the best combination I can imagine and you perfectly embody it."

And girls don't always get to fall in love with that. Girls fall in love with "I wish you would lose weight", "shut up", and "you're kinda pretty in your own way" every day. They don't fall in love with men who know what it means for a woman to be fierce and delicate. They don't fall in love with men whose eyes are so perceptive to things both concrete and abstract, and whose eyes are so faithful to a covenant of purity even before marriage.

They don't fall in love with men whose compliments are "you refresh me", "your mind amazes me", and "I love just looking at your eyes."

They fall in love with "you're hot", "come over baby", and much more vulgar things than I dare type.

Girls don't always get to fall in love the way I'm getting to fall in love. I wish we all did. And I don't know why we don't all have that (I guess that's not for me to figure out), but I'm here to show you that it's possible to.

It may not sound fun to walk with outgrown shoes, but the feet walking beside me are faithful and gracious and loving, far more than I could ever ask for or deserve. If you're looking for a nudge or a sign to trust, to wait, to stay, to love someone you could only deserve through the grace of God, then this is it. Trust Him.

"Take a break from all the plans that you have made,

And sit at home alone and wait for God to whisper.

Beg Him please to open up His mouth and speak

And pray for real upon your knees until they blister.

Shine the light on every corner of your life,

Until the pride and lust and lies are in the open.

Then read the Word and put to test the things you've heard

Until your heart and soul are stirred and rocked and broken"

(-clear the stage, jimmy needham)

this season of life is really weird, and I don't love feeling uncomfortable with most things most days, but the one constant is the goodness of God. I think we all outgrow our shoes in different ways throughout life; I am sure I'm not the first of His children to have felt like they had outgrown something, who yearned for the future instead of living in the present. I am certain He took care of them, in His time, and in His way, just as He has for me and for Casey- from the first day until now. I believe that I shall look upon the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living! I know that I have already seen as much of it as I can handle. I am so grateful for the life and experiences He has given me, including the now-moments I get with Casey, and that is enough. 

Ten Products & Companies & People That I Love So Much

Sometimes I am amazed at how much goodness there is in this dark world.
Over the past few years, but especially the past 12 months, I've discovered several companies/products and people that I love and am so encouraged by.
I decided I want everyone to know about them, too. I'm not getting anything cool for doing this or benefitting from it in any way except having friends who know about the things & people I love.

So here they are (at least the ones I could think of off the top of my head).  Please comment any others that should/could be added to the list and let's all support fellow God-lovers and good-doers. :)

1. So Worth Loving : a clothing company (once blog? also they send encouraging emails just for fun?) to remind each of us that despite having felt alone or unworthy at various points in our lives, we are all SO. WORTH. LOVING.

2. Giving Keys : a jewelry company that employees homeless people trying to get back on their feet. they engrave a word of your choice on a key. you buy said key jewelry. you pass the key on to someone else when you feel the urge.

3. Hannah Brencher / More Love Letters : one of the most inspiring yet relatable women I know of, Hannah Brencher, sends out heart-wrenching emails every monday morning if you're in her email club [I quote her and post pictures of her words quite often]. she also writes love letters to humans everywhere, started the More Love Letters movement, and accepts pain-filled emails anytime.

4. Sara Hagerty / Every Bitter Thing is Sweet- Daily Adorations : a dear friend told me about this  woman who's so transparent it brings tears to my eyes. her heart for the Lord and His work challenges me daily and following her on instagram was one of my best life decisions.

5. Hannah Hurnard : While many people who are familiar with her writings point out how she strayed from Biblical truth toward the end of her life (article here), I have personally been taught SO MUCH in my relationship with Christ via her writings, specifically Hinds' Feet on High Places and Winged Life. I strongly encourage everyone to read her books!

6. Elisabeth Elliot : where do I even begin. Her mindset, heart attitude, and book Passion and Purity have wrecked my life. Don't read that book unless you're ready for at least a partial life change. It has God all over it and will make things happen. She has many more books, but I've yet to read any others. All I can say is that God has used her as a huuuuuge instrument in changing me to be more like Him. read about her & read her book(s).

7. Punjammies / International Princess Project : fun, adorable pjs made by women who've survived and been saved from sex slavery.  you don't even need more of an explanation. wonderful company, wonderful heart.

8. Penny Powers Jewelry : it's straightforward: pennies flattened and engraved with weighty words and worn as reminders of various truths to our souls. run straight out of Alabama (gotta love that home state representation!) and their Etsy shop is WONDERFUL.

9. She Reads Truth : bible reading plans. adorable scripture screensavers. encouragement. an awesome app. TRUTH. all designed/catered specifically for/to women after His heart.

10. Bob Goff / Love Does : a man who wrote a book that I am currently reading and trying to soak up and savor because it is revolutionizing me and doing a spectacular job of transforming me by helping me renew my mind to Christ moment-by-moment. again, HIGHLY recommend this book and the guy who wrote it!


I hope you check these people & companies out and follow them on social media and are encouraged.
I've found that filling your life with as much light from as many venues as possible changes everything for the better- even if it's just seeing these things, people, and updates on twitter/fb/insta.

so for a long time she sat-- remembering, wondering, and thankful.

For some reason, my words never quite fall the way I want them to. Especially when it comes to nights and moments like this, times that matter and that deserve eloquence. I’m just really not the eloquent kind of girl, I suppose.

It’s New Year’s. Happy 2015, my friends!

Apparently there is something about this day that makes me melancholy every time it rolls around. Maybe it’s the vast amounts of reflection it requires, maybe it’s the tidal wave of emotion that sweeps over me as I remember every big & small thing I encountered throughout the past year. 

Whatever it is, it almost bowls me over every year. In fact, last year it really got me.

Last year, God told me on New Year’s Eve that 

“someone will die this year.”

Just that one sentence.

That terrifying fact,

Whispered repeatedly when I asked for an explanation.

I remember it so vividly- I was in the theatre watching The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug for the second time, and He dropped it on me.

And when I asked “why?’ and “who?” and “when?’ and “WHAT?”, He simply restated Himself.

Sometime in the past couple of months, I have realized it was me He was talking about.

It was me that was to die in 2014.

It is me that sits typing at almost 1 A.M., tired of holding back tears, tired of having no words that adequately explain my heart condition, and dead.

Dead to self. Dead to false hopes. Dead to frivolity. Dead to shallow relationships.

And I think the reason that this particular New Year’s is so melancholy is because I know that I’m not done dying yet.

And I hate dying. And I am so bad at it. And I wish I were a natural.

It almost do wish it were easy for me present myself as a living sacrifice. 

But it’s not. 

It’s freaking hard. 

And I feel like such a wimp because I cry about it a lot.

Because I should have expected this. People told me it would be hard.

But I don’t know, I guess it’s one of those hard things that you don’t understand until you’re under the weight of it yourself… and by then it’s too late. By then, all you can do is cry and hope to find someone along the way who will encourage you and remind you:

It isn’t easy to offer yourself up to be crucified. It’s not supposed to be.

And the fact that you finally are offering yourself up doesn’t mean you’re some awesome, strong person; it means you’ve come to the end of your weakness and realized you have absolutely nothing left to give. You are the utter weakling. At least for me that’s how it’s happened. It’s almost a last-ditch effort, this final surrender. It’s the:

“OK OK HERE, TAKE IT!” that seems to be human instinct when we are met with someone who wants something from us and won’t back down.

On Christmas Eve, Jesus did another of his whispering acts. Except this time instead of warning me of coming death, His words were spoken so softly and tenderly it was almost like a proposal.

But instead of “Be my wife”, it was

“Be my cathedral.”

And I really don’t know why or how or what, but something in my heart understood that. Something clicked.

Before I even really had a chance to think about it, my heart was whisper-screaming and crying out and twirling around before Him the most wholehearted

“YES!” 

I think has ever existed in a human heart.

I didn’t even know it was there; it’s like she, strong little Yes, had been lying dormant and growing stronger as the other things in my little human heart died off in 2014. And when enough of them had finally had died off, she had the space to stand and twirl and leap and shout her strongest.

It was then that I remembered that lovely (though terrifying) C.S. Lewis quote:

“Imagine yourself as a living house. God comes in to rebuild that house. At first, perhaps, you can understand what He is doing. He is getting the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on; you knew that those jobs needed doing and so you are not surprised. But presently He starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably and does not seem to make any sense. What on earth is He up to? The explanation is that He is building quite a different house from the one you thought of - throwing out a new wing here, putting on an extra floor there, running up towers, making courtyards. You thought you were being made into a decent little cottage: but He is building a palace. He intends to come and live in it Himself.”

It turns out, Jesus was never interested in turning me into an adequate little residence. He wants me to be His Cathedral. 

And don’t you think it’s fitting that in Cathedrals, you find stained glass windows? 

And that this year of the most brokenness of heart I have ever encountered has surely left some tinted glass bits behind somewhere?… they, I am sure, will be used for the windows.

It reminds me of Joel 2:12, (the first verse I am memorizing this year!) where the Lord calls on His people to come back to him AS THEY ARE: broken/shattered/weeping/etc.

“Yet even now,” declares the Lord, “return to me with all your heart, with fasting, with weeping, and with mourning, and rend your hearts and not your garments.”

If you haven’t heard of it before, that verb there, REND, literally means to rip apart violently. Applied to the heart, it means “to harrow or distress the heart with painful feelings.” (thanks, Webster).

Honestly, I don’t think I’ve completely understood this verse until right now as I type, but here it comes:

He is inviting us to let our hearts be distressed.

COME BACK TO ME, EVEN NOW, he says, WITH ALL YOUR HURT. RETURN WITH YOUR WOUNDEDNESS AND ODD MOURNING RITUALS AND LET YOUR HEART FEEL ALL THE PAINFUL THINGS AT ONCE.

After all, a broken and contrite heart is an offering He will never turn down (Psalm 51:17).

Last NYE, I posted something about sweeping out the dark corners of my heart to make more room for Him, and boy has that proved true. I almost think God is in the business of Corner-Sweeping-Out of Hearts. Mike Donehey, lead singer of Tenth Avenue North, put it this way: 

“We are never trying to win divine approval, Christ has already bought that for us. No, we are in search of simply creating more space where He can fill.”

And all the little corners in my heart need to be swept out and filled with Him.

So 2015 is a year of that. Of continuing to sweep out and let Him fill the vacancy. Of inviting Him to renovate this old shack into not just an “ok” cottage, but a palace, a dwelling place where He alone will reside, a stunning CATHEDRAL.

“What does it mean to be a Cathedral of God?

We are “sanctuary” for each other.

Like those great and mighty structures of old, 

we too can be a place of refuge for those in trouble.

People are no longer a threat.

They are fellow sojourners searching for that eternal spring.

Weary sinners can find a harbor for their souls when they come 

to those who know they have been redeemed.

We are safety for the stumbling and still waters for anxious hearts.

We have tasted.

We have seen.

And now, we can show them the way.” (Mike Donehey)

So with that, let me share my few resolutions for the year:

1.  Become a Cathedral, or at least more of a Cathedral than what I am now.

2. Within that, stop viewing other people as a threat. Stop seeing myself as “small sauce” (thank you, Hannah Brencher, for those perfectly paired words). The time of “we seemed to ourselves likegrasshoppers” in comparison is OVER. Love people, be a hospital, and claim what the Lord has given you and built in you, so that you may use it to bless others.

3. Write one encouraging/thankful note per week.

4. Memorize 24 scripture verses- one every two weeks (I'm doing this with Beth Moore & friends...  "SSMT 2015", they call it. Please join. It's going to be a tough and so worthwhile commitment!)

I’ve only recently finished re-reading an old favorite book of mine, Hinds’ Feet on High Places. 

At the end of it, when Much-Afraid has reached the High Places and received her hinds’ feet and had her name changed to Grace-and-Glory, she runs around on the High Places rejoicing.

And then, at the close, it states: 

“So for a long time, she sat silent—remembering, wondering, and thankful.”

May that be each of our hearts’ attitudes today and throughout 2015.

Christmas (plus a few days)

A few weeks ago, I remembered how He came like the winter snow. I love this song by Audrey Assad- she says all these ways our Savior could have come: like a fire, a hurricane, a mighty storm... but instead, He came like the snow- it perfectly depicts the peace Jesus brought to the chaos and muck of humanity when He came as a child.

As one of my favorites, J. Vernon McGee, put it: "Here comes God out of eternity, already the Ancient of Days; but He also came to Bethlehem, a little baby thing that made a woman cry." The least expected thing in the most needed way.

I can't help but remember waking up in the wee hours of the morning that February day, in the yellow guest bedroom at 14 Oakleigh Crescent in a London suburb. I was one of millions of Londoners who slept as the snow blanketed our houses and streets and sidewalks and cars, quiet and soft and slow. Something happened to wake me up, though, and I crept to the frosty window and peeked out into street and saw snow- SNOW!- everywhere. Inches and inches of snow, more than I'd ever seen fall at once, lit by the yellowed streetlights. Joy bubbled around within me, and I began tearing up.

IT CAME!- my one thought.
They had said it would, but I was skeptical.
Then it did. While I was sleeping, unaware. But something woke me up and all the sudden, there it was: five (or more) glorious inches of white, fluffy, frozen water making me cry.

Isn't that just how you imagine Christ coming? I'm not saying that night in the stable was quiet or soft or slow in the least-- I think it was probably the opposite. But I think about those hours after He had come, when He had finally stopped crying and finally fell asleep like the rest of the people in the Town of David. 
Maybe some young girl, who like me felt as though this town she was visiting was meant to be her hometown, awoke in the middle of the night and heard the word. 
He came. Maybe she always wondered whether He would or not; and then He did. 
"Already the Ancient of Days", but here in this tiny town in a tiny baby's helpless body, He just came and made another young girl, one who had no idea what she (or He) was doing with her life, cry. 

It turns out, this Jesus guy chose to come as something vulnerable and weak because He knew that was the only thing we could truly relate to: being helpless and desperate and reliant. 

For some reason, as Hark! The Herald Angels Sing says, this Savior-child was "pleased, as man, with men to dwell- JESUS, Our Emmanuel." He came to live with us so that we could live in Him and through Him.
I always get convicted by Christmas carol lyrics; it seems to be a different carol that strikes me each year. It seems like I'm continually hating O Come All Ye Faithful (because let's be real: if the invitation to 'come' is only to the 'joyful, faithful, and triumphant', then 90% of days I would not be invited). 
This year it was It Came Upon A Midnight Clear (specifically the third verse) that brought me to tears:

O ye beneath life's crushing load,
Whose forms are bending low,
Who toil along the climbing way
With painful steps and slow;
Look now, for glad and golden hours
Come swiftly on the wing;
Oh rest beside the weary road
And hear the angels sing.

Now THIS one... this one gets me. 
"O YE BENEATH LIFE'S CRUSHING LOAD", it starts, and there I want to raise both my arms. 
ME ME ME, THAT IS ME, HELLO YES PLEASE PICK ME BECAUSE I AM WHO YOU ARE TALKING TO.
then it starts qualifying it, like those ads for COPD drugs ("do you struggle breathing? do you find yourself wheezing after walking?") and continues: 
"HEY YOU! YOUR FORM EVER BEND LOW?
YOU TOIL ALONG THE CLIMBING WAY SOMETIMES?
STEPS EVER FEEL PAINFUL? SLOW?" 
Yes, yes, yes. All of the above.
Have we got a cure for you!

Hannah Brencher  has kind of changed how I think about golden things. She mentions it a lot and it made me start thinking about it and noticing those gilded, glittering things, and realize that they're everywhere. God's Word talks about gold A LOT. 
Apparently it's a condition (not a thing) to be sought after. To be golden! What a thing to seek. 
And here, 'upon a midnight clear' we are offered it as the cure for our troubles: glad and golden hours.
They're coming swiftly! Get ready! Come rest with us and hear the angels sing so you don't miss the glad and golden hours we'll experience when we rest in Him together!
(I literally cried at this point in the song)

I'm convinced that I'm not the only one 2014 has been rough to. I'm sure that at least a few other people experienced bittersweet moments on Christmas week or cried on Christmas Eve or wished things were different. 
There have to be others of you who have toiled along some this year, who have climbed until you thought you couldn't climb any more, who have walked and walked and walked until there were blisters and scrapes and all you could do was drag yourself forward one small step at a time. 

But if you've been with Jesus for a while, or maybe if you've read Hinds' Feet on High Places, then you know that when He plants the Seed of Love in you and asks you to follow Him, the journey is far from easy. 
So many times you deviate and have to find your way back, or wish to turn around, or just cry your little eyeballs out because you're so tired of trying. But then once you become His and that Seed of Love blooms in you, one day you'll realize He's led you to the High Places. He's made your tired, dusty feet "like the deer's" so that you can "tread on high places."  (Habakkuk 3:17-19) 
And it's not so hard any more, and it's easier to see the golden sun, and it's more peaceful there beside His road. 

It makes me so very very glad He came. He became Emmanuel. God. WITH. Us.
To breathe with us
To live with us
To love with us
To cry with us
To walk with us
To see with us
To sing with us
To run with us
To fight with us
To talk with us
To rest with us.
Like snow. Not requiring or expecting anything but reverence. Making all our muck and chaos disappear and suddenly grow still under his weight and mercy and presence. Giving us a way to find our way to His High Places, so we could live those glad and golden hours with Him.

Holy is He, Blessed am I.

For some reason, I have come to really love all those quirky, never-heard-of chick flicks on Netflix that are somewhat deep and depressing and not really chick flicks at all (E.g. The Diary of Preston Plummer, Liberal Arts, Like Crazy, Girl Most Likely, One Day, The Giant Mechanical Man, The Pallbearer, etc.) I've watched an abundance of them over the past month; don't ask me why because I couldn't give a reason. They just appeal to me, probably because I don't know what my life is and the characters in the movies don't seem to either.
Today as I was watching Liberal Arts, the female lead, Zibby, said something that resonated with me.

"I sometimes feel like I'm looking down on myself. Like there's this older, wiser me watching over this 19-year-old rough draft, who's full of all this potential, but has to live more to catch up with that other self somehow. And, uh, I know I'll get there. It's just sometimes I think I want to rush the process, you know? "

And though I am quickly approaching 22 years, I still feel like a rough draft. I, too, feel like I have loads of potential that I don't know what to do with and don't know how to catch up to the older, wiser, finished-product Me. 
Maybe I never will. Maybe I'm not supposed to. 
Maybe I will always feel like Taylor Swift did at 22 years old: happy, free, confused, and lonely at the same time. Miserable and magical. 
I don't know for sure, but I'm hoping with everything I've got that "fake it till you make it" is an acceptable mantra for an adult to sing repeatedly, and that it's ok for me to always be the emotional basketcase that I am.

Yesterday I went to my church's Christmas program. There were several times where I was brought to tears by the sheer beauty of it all- the music and instrumentalists combined with the drama and the dancers just cut right to my soul, right to the spot that recognizes beauty and alerts the rest of your self. I was overwhelmed with it all. 
Then the girl playing Mary sang this song.
And it kind of wrecked me. I was one big blubbery mess of tears and streaking eyeliner and it was like my soul was singing, desperately, back to God as I cried along with the song- "Be Born in Me" by Francesca Battistelli. 

The music video depicts Mary's heart through everything. 
Not that I am in any way to be compared with the mother of Jesus, but this song resonated with me so much.
God has been using Mary to teach me an abundance of things, over the long stretch of road that has been Our Journey since January 2012 (and if you want to hear about that I'd be glad to ramble to ya). But one thing that has been truly cemented this year is that He wraps himself in the unexpected. The song says:

"All this time we've waited for the promise
All this time You've waited for my arms
Did You wrap yourself inside the unexpected
So we might know that Love would go that far?

Be born in me, be born in me
Trembling heart, somehow I believe that You chose me
I'll hold You in the beginning, You will hold me in the end
Every moment in the middle, make my heart Your Bethlehem
Be born in me."


and, really, how perfect is that? How fitting is that to my life?! 
"It's INCREDIBLY FITTING, Becca!" is the correct answer.


I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but I feel like I have so much in common with Mary. I feel like I have this unexplainable favor from the Lord resting on me and I have no idea why (Luke 1:30). All I know is that "I am not brave, I'll never be- the only thing my heart can offer is a vacancy. I'm just a girl, nothing more, but I am willing, I am Yours."

That's kind of the theme of my life these past few years. Realizing I am not fully His yet, but I am on my way- I am becoming fully His (John 1:12). Realizing my feet are mangled and misshapen from the sin I have trod in time and time again, and that He offers to make my feet like hinds' feet and take me up on the High Places (Habakkuk 3:19). Realizing that He calls us to lay down so many things in the grave, that better things may be resurrected (Luke 9:23, John 10:17).


This year has been the Year of Death (I'll write more about that come New Years' Eve) and it has, quite literally (spiritually) killed me. It has been the Death of Becca and it has been so incredibly, painfully glorious. And as I cried along to that beautiful song and really paid attention to the lyrics, I realized what may be the final realization of this series/journey: I HAVE DIED THAT HE MAY LIVE IN ME. 
I know, I know; I'm slow to realize this point that probably EVERY other Christian has gotten to by now. Whatever. He teaches us different things at different times. 

BUT GUYS.
This year, He killed me.
So that I would be empty.
So that I wouldn't have to be the innkeeper that said, "No room."
So that I could say, "Well... I don't have much, but I DO have vacancy."
So that He could be born, here. In me.

So that my clinging to Him now and holding Him so very dear could eventually become Him holding me when I have not the strength to cling any more (I look forward to that day).
So that in between now and then, my heart could literally be His hometown.

He is making me His.
He is making me His home.

And knowing that makes me realize: it's ok to be a rough draft. I am His rough draft. I am being hewn and sharpened and purified and shaped and smoothed out, among my moments and years of seeming not to know anything but tears.
It's ok to watch a lot of sad movies because I don't know what my life is yet; He does.

"Everything inside me cries for order
Everything inside me wants to hide
Is this shadow of an angel or a warrior?
If God is pleased with me, why am I so terrified?
Someone tell me I am only dreaming
Somehow help me see with Heaven's eyes
And before my head agrees, my heart is on its knees
Holy is He;

blessed am I."

can I say that once more for my own heart's sake?

If you know nothing else, weary heart, know this:

Holy is He.

Blessed am I.

I have no life dreams, can I interest you in tears?

As you might expect if you know me much at all, I have been an emotional basketcase lately. typical, I know. However, it seems much more obvious to me now that it ever has before. I cry so much, and at the weirdest things, you'd think I was pregnant (but that's impossible; no worries, y'all). I EVEN LITERALLY CRAVED PICKLES AND ICE CREAM TODAY. so that was weird and I probably shouldn't publicly admit that, but there it is in the WWW.

Just a few minutes ago, I was reading a HelloGiggles article entitled "How to Feel Better When Everything is Just the Worst", and it made me cry. They say there's a first time for everything, and today was my first time to cry at a HelloGiggles article, so there's that. Anyway, I was reading it and attempting to take some of its advice and I got down to #8 and I almost lost it. It looks like this:

A while back, I was talking with a friend and we were discussing our "crazy stupid huge dreams"- those things you envisioned for your life when you were younger, or things you consider when you daydream, that you would love to see happen in your life in some weird ideal version of adulthood. And he told me all these grand ideas and hopes that he had, some of which were quite possible, and we discussed them for a while.
Then he asked to hear mine. and I conveniently changed the subject and avoided the topic because I realized this one devastating fact:

I have none.

literally, my "crazy stupid huge dreams" note on my phone looks like this:

and has since September 14, obviously. isn't that depressing? I thought so too.

I re-realized it tonight upon reading the article and got super depressed all over again.

I feel like I should know what I'm doing with my life and where I'm going and what my goals and dreams are, but all I really know is the general direction I'm headed and that I, in fact, do NOT know what my goals and dreams are.

I want to be astonishing and live a bright, vivacious life. I want to do things that matter and love people and see things and think and cry and love and dream and scream and hope and fly and listen. 

and that's all I've got. 

Vague, cliche hopes of being someone important and doing things that count. Every human has that.

Somewhere I long the way, I think, I certainly must have had big, specific dreams. I remember praying detailed prayers and begging for His desires to become mine, and to be granted. But I really don't know what those desires are. And I'm not entirely sure that they belong to me yet.

And, gosh, the LAST thing I want to be is The Girl Who Had No Dreams. 

one thing I want to never have to be said at my funeral is, "she lived a small life."

and it scares me that I currently am.

with no specific hopes or intentions or ideas for changing that.

A big heart and a big life and big love and big hopes and big dreams and big adventures and big words and big, fulfilled promises: that's what I want for my life. 

and I don't know how to get there or what to hope for or what to pray or what to dream of.

because really, honestly, the only 'big' things in my life right now are big weird plans I don't understand and big buckets full of my tears. 

on the real, y'all, I have full-out wept three times in the last three days, and teared up 8 times in the last three days. 

last night I read my favorite author's most recent blog post: Stop Sleeping with Liars (and it facilitated one of the weeping moments). At one point, she said:

"you’re human. That’s it. You’re not super human. You’re not subhuman. You’re just plain human. You make mistakes. You don’t scale walls. You hurt people without ever intending to. You get your heart ripped out of your chest. Some days the only language you can endure is tears and you’re like, “I’M SO FLUENTTT IN TEARSSSS. WHATTT ISSSS WRONNGGG WITHHH MEEE???” Like I said, you’re human. Go with it." -Hannah Brencher 

and that got me good. I'm INCREDIBLY fluent in tears, especially these days. I have no dreams for my life and that terrifies me and all I know to do is just keep plodding along through each day. 

when all that I can sing is a broken 'Hallelujah',

when my only offering is shattered praise,

still a song of adoration will rise up

from these ruins,

and I will worship You and

give You thanks... 

even when my only praise 

is a broken 'Hallelujah.'

-Mandisa

weblog the fourth: in which she empathizes and quiets down

I've recently become obsessed with Colbie Caillat's new song "Try" (you should definitely go watch the video here and let your life be changed). Basically it's about all the things we do to try to make people like us, when in the end we really don't have to try, or throw ourselves at things that mean nothing. We find beauty in being human, being vulnerable, and being who we were created to be; that is enough. It's a message that I struggle so much with accepting, and one that I love seeing other people encourage, so of course I'm absolutely in love with the song.
The other day as I was driving to Mississippi, I was listening to one of my all-time favorite musical soundtracks: Matilda. (yes, it's a musical and it's so much better than the movie. if you don't know about it, educate yourself here and you're welcome for me introducing you to your new love). There's this song titled 'Loud', in which Matilda's mother tells her that being her weird, quiet self isn't good enough.
"Oh, no one's going to listen if you don't stand out!

No one's going to listen if you don't shout out!

No one's going to care if you don't care!

So go and put some highlights in your hair!
'Cause you've gotta highlight what you've got!
Even if what you've got is not a lot!
The less you have to sell, the harder you sell it!
The less you have to say, the louder you yell it!
The dumber the act, the bigger the confession!
The less you have to show, the larger you dress it!

You've gotta be loud!

Give yourself permission to shine,

Stand out from the crowd!..."

In the musical, that number is over-the-top and gaudy and, of course, loud. But it points out an invaluable truth: there is always going to be someone to tell you that you aren't enough. You have to yell, you have to always stand out, always be perfect, whatever it may be. Sometimes that voice is your own.

But I love how "Loud" is juxtaposed with another song, one that Matilda sings, called "Quiet".

"But I wonder if inside my head

I'm not just a bit different from some of my friends...

And when everyone shouts like they seem to like shouting

The noise in my head is incredibly loud!...
And it's burning inside me, but usually fades.
But it isn't today!
And the heat and the shouting. And my heart is pounding.
And my eyes are burning. And suddenly everything, everything is...
Like silence, but not really silent. Just that still sort of quiet.
Like the sound of a page being turned in a book.
Or a pause in a walk in the woods.
Like silence, but not really silent. Just that nice kind of quiet.
Like the sound when you lie upside down in your bed.
Just the sound of your heart in your head.

I'm sorry, I'm not quite explaining it right.

the noise becomes anger and the anger is light

Quiet

Quiet

And though the people around me, their mouths are still moving, the words they are forming cannot reach me anymore!

And it is quiet, and I am warm like I've sailed into the eye of the storm."

And it's at that point that Matilda realizes she is comfortable just being herself. Being quiet, thinking deep thoughts on her own, and being different from what people tell her she should be. 

I am so often the girl in the Colbie Caillat song trying too hard. 

I am Matilda's mother, telling others to be louder and flaunt it and be selfish. 

I am Matilda, succumbing to these commands that myself and others give me, then suddenly realizing I prefer the quiet. I prefer not wearing makeup. I prefer reading books. I prefer having mosquito-bitten legs from summer evening adventures. I like myself the way I am and don't feel the need to have a thigh gap or bigger boobs or better hair. 

And though the world's motto is often, "No one's gonna listen if you don't shout. No one's gonna care if you don't care," I have to disagree.

I think that people listen most when you whisper. When you empathize. When you're there. When you do life with them. 

I think that people care most when they know you care. When they see you constantly being the one who cares more, and they realize that you have some battle scars, but empathizing and caring has made your life gilded with so much more hope and bravery. When you make them realize that being who you were made to be, and not trying so hard, and not shouting so loudly is the most brilliant way to live, because then you can be the person YOU want to be, not the person everyone tells you that you should be. 

My hero, Hannah Brencher, founder of MoreLoveLetters, shared her thoughts on this in today's Monday Morning Mail: "I will naturally expect the best out of you. And maybe you'll let me down. But I will expect the best out of you again. That has nothing to do with how I hope you will show up for me, specifically. It has to do with how badly I want you to show up for your own life. That's where my expectations lie-- in the hope that you will see at the end of your longer days that you were made for so much more than an "okay" life...

People show up. And they eventually stop listening to their own fear. And they care too much. And they are willing to move heaven and earth for other people. And I don't think it is our job to step in and tell them to stop. Maybe it's just our job to watch, listen, follow, learn, and question: what makes a person do life like that? It might be great expectations, or it might just be a fear that is so big, it swallows all the other fears combined: if you don't step out into the life you want, no one else will ever do it for you. If you don't become the person you've always wanted to be, that person will never exist and the world will never know what it missed."

Desires

Life lately has been hectic, and without much down time... but well worth the ride. It still continues to blow my mind (and I hope it never ceases to) that God proves so faithful in the little, day-to-day stresses as well as the big, soul-gutting/heart-wrenching messy stuff. Obviously, being such the selfish impish human that I am, I'm not so great at the continual forgiveness and grace that God seems to pour out on every day. It humbles me and amazes me and makes me fall a little more in love with Him. And every time He does those sweet little things, like send a baby deer across my path or have a four-year-old tell me how beautiful I am, I'm brought even lower and realize just how tiny I am in comparison to His greatness and majesty. I love that fact.
The thing that I've really been churning through my mind these past few days is His sovereign will. Honestly there are several things that I selfishly want that I know are not His will. I'm partially grateful that he doesn't give me these desires, because I know they aren't what's best in the long run... However, I'm partially wishing that He would change His mind and make it possible.
Isn't that awful? I kind of feel like a bratty elementary kid admitting that, but it's SO the truth right now. To be really genuine, I would have to come right out and say that I would love for His will for me to be being in London right now. I would love for His will to be me being really awesome at piano instead of struggling to keep up. I would love for His will to be me in a relationship with a fantastic, godly guy. I would love for His will to be me being able to dance without looking like a homeschooled white girl. I would love for His will to be me coming from a ridiculously wealthy family and not having to worry about paying off my credit card and saying no when people ask me to go do fun things with them that I currently can't afford. and much much more.
But really, how would any of that benefit me? It's just selfish desires. And sure, they aren't necessarily BAD things, in fact some of them are really great things. But achieving and receiving those things would most likely only make me want more. Not to mention how self-focused they are.
I often brush it off and blame it on my age and stage of life. I'm ready for my life to begin- the "big" and "important" stuff- I so often forget that life has begun and when I spend it wishing for what I don't have and longing for things I don't need, I'm wasting so much time and potential. I tell myself it's natural, that everyone at this age wants to be the best they can be and make an impact and be known and loved and start a family, blah blah blah. Really, those are just personal excuses for me knowing I'm wasting bits of each day.
Psalm 37:4 is a verse that is often misquoted and overused... but it's come to mean a lot to me over my few years. "Delight yourself in the LORD, and he will give you the desires of your heart," it reminds us. One of my favorite Christian speakers, Priscilla Shirer, spoke about this once and it's stuck with me for a long time: 
This verse doesn't necessarily mean God will FULFILL your heart's desires. Although He does do that when your heart is in line with His, it's more of a promise that if you're truly DELIGHTING yourself in Him and reveling in His grace and love and seeking His face each day, He will GIVE YOU desires FOR your heart. He will place HIS desires in your heart in mind, and plant them there, so that they BECOME your heart's desires.
God, tune my heart. I'm flat and raspy and need your lovely music back, singing in my heart. Help me to seek your face, not just your hands. Thank you for giving me so many desires for my heart that are straight from Your heart. Please swell those up and shrink my selfish ones away. Fulfill Your righteous desires within me and squelch my own depraved wishes. Keep humbling me with your awesomeness and wooing me with Your subtle ways. May my heart beat to praise You and sing Your name alone!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EFxVfAZj5Q0