Upon the completion of the three-year journal:

I think the reason this day is so momentous and impact-ful is because I've kind of forgotten what it's like to start entirely fresh in a new journal. I've been writing in this one for almost 3 1/2 years, man! That's a long time. I'm not sure I know how to handle the newness or the oldness or any of it, so I'm pretending I don't care and attempting to brush it from the forefront of my thoughts.

The single aspect of this that most dizzies me is how little I knew about what life would look like at the end of the journal, as I composed my thoughts for the beginning of the journal. It was January 2010 and I was STILL IN HIGH SCHOOL, dadblamit! (yes, I think I just made up an expletive.)

I knew nothing of the fabulous roommate magic I would experience with Ellie, how I would become best friends with the strange purple-loving lefty across the hall, how I would be welcomed into a family of pink elephants so big-hearted and Jesus-loving that I'd have no choice but to pour back into them, the crazy but awesome things God would do in my family (and the beautiful nephews and sister-in-law He would give me!), or the vast amount of times I would doubt my major and future and He would subtly reassure me of His perfect will.
I didn't know He would lead me to London, to my heart's home. I didn't know He would have me fall in love with a country and people so different and far from my "home". I didn't know He would keep me waiting for love for so long, all the while romancing me in a way I never imagine could come from God. I didn't know He would lead me to teach piano to underprivileged women, or provide me with a rocking coaching job (including a fabulous boss and amazing coworkers), or teach me to find beauty in the ordinary.
YET, He has done all these unexpected things and so much more. He has healed, and restored, and renewed, and redeemed, and forgiven, and tracked down, and wooed, and dug out, and reminded, and promised, and held true, and taught, and listened, and spoken, and yelled, and sat silently, and carried, and provided, and waited, and held, and shocked, and BEEN, and CONTINUED TO BE.
For this, I am unendingly thankful.
My God, My God, you have not forsaken me. You have never left me alone, you have carried me and rocked me to sleep amidst my many millions of tears as you gathered them in your bottle (which, let's talk about that for a minute: your "bottle" of my tears has GOT to be a vat at this point. there were so many, especially in the last year!)
I thank you, I thank you, I thank you.
For all of this. Especially for Your whispers.
Continue this legacy you have now begun, continue burning the flame, continue bringing me to gaze upon the goodness of Your works!

"For YOU are God, and I am not, so give me understanding to know YOUR will, and seek YOUR way. For YOU are God, yes- YOU are God."
"Consuming fire, fan into flame a passion for Your name... Lord, have Your way."
"Give me one pure and holy passion, give me one magnificent obsession, give me one glorious ambition for my life: to know and follow hard after You."
"Make me to know I love You, make me to know I need You, make me to dream of only You."

LOVER of my SOUL

I had this brilliant idea today to pull out my old journal from 2008-2010 and read through it. It was cool to reminisce and whatnot, but it was probably more detrimental to my emotional status than beneficial.

Why? Because 1) I realized how little I've actually changed since then, in some ways. 2) My love life was much more exciting back then, which is definitely a depressing thought. 

As far as changing, I know that in many ways- such as goals, convictions, basic interests, and worldview- I am very much the same. However, the one area that I would hope to be most different is the one that I realized was most lacking in maturity: my everyday walk with Christ. Sure, my faith is more solid now and my convictions more sturdy and my experiences more widespread. But when it comes down to it, I'm the same 15-year-old girl who's scared to trust God and super self-focused. 

Grow me, God. 

A certain sign of grace is this: that from broken earth, flowers come up, pushing through the dirt.

SECONDLY. Let's get one thing straight: God is a GREAT romancer. If you read my blog semi-regularly you probably kind of remember my Valentine's Day post from a London Starbucks this year about being in love with God for the first time. Well I'm not really sure when it happened, but sometime between then and about a month ago, I'd kind of let that side of mine & God's relationship die. I mean, I'll do all the 'Christian' things to do, but when it comes down to letting my heart be wooed by this Being who created everything and still had my life planned before time began... that kinda weirds me out and I just let it go. 

And at some point, he got sick of not having it apparently, because all the sudden my heart was being pursued again. Not that he ever stopped, but I'd built such a wall of unbelief up that He couldn't really get through it, I guess. Well, being in the Word a lot and being vulnerable to his life-changing tends to alter that kind of thing pretty quickly. 

So a couple days ago, as I was having my nightly date with Him, I remembered a song we once sang in youth choir, the lyrics of which absolutely wrote out my heart's words. 

"And in the night I will sing Your praise, my Love. And in the morning, I'll seek Your face, my Love. And like a child I will dance in Your presence, Oh let the joy of Heaven pour down on me. I still remember the first day I met You and I don't ever want to lose that fire, my First Love!"

Though my life is far from perfect, and I am far from perfect... at the end of the day, I am His. I am loved by Him and NOTHING can stop that or separate me from that permanently. I love Him, in a way I can't thoroughly explain. If I could, I would just hang out with him one-on-one all the time and just sing and dance and write to Him. I don't want to lose that joy He's poured out on me- I really do remember the first day I met Him and gave into His pursuit... I DON'T WANT TO LOSE THAT.

So I'm just sitting here pondering how He could love me so greatly, and I remembered an old hymn that I really like: Jesus, Lover of my Soul. and it just hit me... HE IS THE LOVER OF MY SOUL. He is the ONLY Lover of my soul. He is the ONLY ONE who has ever loved my soul, and the only One who will ever love me/my soul to this great of a depth.

JUST WHOA.

I think the thing that most gets me about this is: I am kind of a boring person. I don't like any extremely out of the ordinary things. I don't do outrageous things. I like school and my family and I have a plain old  "got-saved-when-I-was-nine" testimony. My whole life, I've beens striving to find the one thing that will set me apart and make me more lovable/likeable/intruiging/inspiring/accepted/attractive/fillinyourownwordhere. I feel plain and boring and don't have anything necessarily special about me except for my fingerprints.

The fact that God knows that, and He made me this way, and He is THE SOLE LOVER OF MY SOUL- the only One who knows the most... yet still loves the most- absolutely KILLS me. HE IS SO GOOD! I'm really grateful that He not only created my vanilla-ness, but He celebrates it, and rejoices over it, and delights in it, and just LOVES it. Doesn't that prove all over again his awesomeness.

I wanna sit at Your feet, drink from the cup in Your hand, lay back against You and breathe, feel Your heartbeat. This love is so deep, it's more than I can stand. I melt in Your peace; it overwhelms me. 

homesickness

Last night I realized that this is my current status: Heart in London. Body in America. 
Not a good status.
Mostly because that means I cry a lot and feel super out-of-place, all the time.
I truly fell in love with the city of London, which is weird to experience. I've never felt so at home in such a strange, huge, bustling city. and it's not that I'm just missing it or having withdrawals. I'm incomplete without that part of my heart that stayed in London, knit to its inhabitants and traditions. 
This may be a bit melodramatic, but if you're reading this blog, you knew what you were getting yourself into. and it's on my mind.
It's a wholly new feeling, being homesick for somewhere that isn't my 'home'. But it honestly now feels like home, and my "real home" in America feels like my 'home'. 


"If home's where my heart is then I'm out of place. Lord, won't you give me strength to make it through somehow- I've never been more homesick than now"

::vent::

for some odd reason, I've been really lonely lately. I feel like there are only 2 or 3 of my close friends that are still "BEST" friends. You know? Cause when you really get down to it, there is such a difference in close friends and best friends. I consider my best friends to be the ones I can be completely genuine and honest with, that I don't have to hide my emotions or hurts and we can openly talk about problems in the friendship. and last year, I had a lot of best friends. This year, people keep leaving me out of plans and "forgetting" to invite me to things, and not being straight-up with me (which leads to me hearing about the truth from someone else). honestly, that hurts. a lot. I know I'm not perfect, far from it, but I always try to make sure everyone is included, unless they simply CAN'T be, or unless one-on-one is needed. Even then, I try to plan something to do with the person who wants to be included and isn't, that way they don't feel as hurt over it. and it seems like no one really cares that I do that. they just don't want to be around me anymore. I know I'm busy and I have a weird schedule, but that doesn't mean I don't want to even be invited to these things. I would like to know people care about me and like being around me, even if they already know my answer is "I have a music thing" or "I have to work". There are three people that have purposed to maintain a good relationship. A few who still randomly hang out with me. A few new friends that I am growing to know better, thankfully. And, sadly, a lot who, it feels like, have just dumped me. They say "I miss you, when can we hang out?" But it's just shallow and nothing ever comes out of it. and I hate that. If you don't want to be with me, don't pretend you do. 

I think this is hardest for me because I am a people-person. I love being in big groups and having lots of plans and going and doing. All through life, even up till last year, I've had at least 6 people at a time that I considered my best friends. Sure, things happened, and the closeness of those relationships changed. But I still had someone there. Now I still have three... but one is committed to her boyfriend, one lives several hours from school and has been going home a lot, and one is really busy herself and our schedules are basically opposite. agh. life is stupid.

ok, I have to stop. goodnight.

The Lord is my light and my salvation, of whom shall I be afraid?

yesterday was one of the craziest days of my life. I woke up at 5:30 because I was getting my wisdom teeth removed, as was my sister. we left the house in time to get to the oral surgeon's by 6:30, our scheduled appointment time. of course it was still locked up because we were the first appointment of the day. finally, the receptionist came along and opened and we sat in the waiting room a few minutes before they called me back. I was scared to DEATH! Not only did I have zero medical history before this, but I'd also never had an IV or anesthesia. I sit in the chair, and they start trying to find a vein for my IV, and couldn't find one in my right arm (making me even more nervous). finally, they got it in my left arm, and right about the time the doctor said "You're gonna start feeling a little more relaxed..." I was out. Before I knew it, they were waking me up and moving me to a small recovery room, where my dad met me. We sat in there while my sister woke up (I got done a few minutes before her)... as she woke up she got nauseated and began throwing up every 10 minutes or so. For those of you that know, throwing up is like my number one fear/most hated thing to do in the entire world. worse than spiders or heights or even needles. so naturally that made me very uneasy, but we eventually made it home without vomit all over the car (haha?) and sat on couches and conked out. The day was going really well between around 10 and 2- Lauren had recovered from her nausea, and I was sleeping off and on with no apparent effects from any medication. Then about 2:15 I woke up and went to the bathroom... as I was washing my hands, I started feeling light-headed and realized I needed to make it back to the living room so I could sit down before I passed out. on the short walk from my bathroom back to the living room, my vision started getting dark around the edges. I remember knocking over a cup of juice that was beside the couch I'd been sitting on, then saying "Sorry, I think I knocked that cup over" to my dad. Then apparently I passed out- which is really weird for me. I've only passed out once before, and it was right after I witnessed a fellow gymnast suffer a compound break to her right arm. Anyway, I awoke later (Dad said it was about 40 seconds that I was out) to Dad patting my cheek and calling my name, and asking if I could hear him. I faintly heard him talking to a paramedic on the phone and giving them our address... the next 5 minutes is pretty blurry, but just after dad called the ambulance, our oral surgeon's receptionist called to see how my sister and I were doing. The ambulance arrived shortly after, and I started crying. "I   don't wanna go to the hospital!" I insister to my sister and dad. They calmed me down enough so I could talk to the paramedics when they came in. Dad told them what had happened, part of which I hadn't heard, involving the part where I turned ghostly pale and my eyes rolled back in my head and my whole body became limp. When he finally woke me up, my heart was pounding and I started sweating profusely, and he says my face turned really red, probably because all my systems were coming "back online" and trying to wake me from unconsciousness. Anyway, the paramedics asked all these questions about my surgery, and the anesthesia, and my medical history, and the medicines I'd been taking, then took my blood pressure, and it was super-low- 96/60 I think. my pulse was a little low, and blood-sugar was normal, but they recommended that I go to the hospital to make sure there wasn't more wrong than just a low blood pressure. They said I was stable enough that I could ride with dad if I wanted to, instead of taking the ambulance, but he was scared that I would faint again and recommended that I take the ambulance. In the midst of being scared of riding in an ambulance, with some strange paramedic guy, and no family members, I was a little bit excited, secretly. I'd always wanted to see what it would be like to ride in an ambulance, without really NEEDING one, and this was probably the best situation for me to do so. lol.
Anyway, the ambulance ride was pretty cool, given the situation. they even buckled me into the stretcher and hooked me up to an oxygen machine, and put these sticky things on my forearms and calves to keep track of my vitals, and checked my blood pressure every 5 minutes. the paramedic that rode in the back with me was extremely nice, and we talked about my degree and classes and books, and how long he'd been an EMT and I asked him if he knew a man that used to be an EMT whose kids I babysat the past two summers. Then I rode in the dinosaur wheelchair to triage (RAWR!), and back to little room #5 of the ER, where I remained for about four hours. they checked my blood pressure more, and asked lots of questions, and forced Gatorade down me (which I later threw up), and got a urine sample... all to conclude that I was severely dehydrated. I felt a little stupid having to go through all that, only to find out that it was dehydration and not some intense medicinal allergy or something, but my parents both pointed out that they were glad it was JUST dehydration, and that we knew for sure what the problem was and how to rectify that.
After they dismissed me, the day got boring again. more movies that I slept through. more juice and gatorade. more pudding and ice cream.
I guess the point of this whole story was that I didn't freak out that much. Except for my initial reaction to having to go to the hospital and ride in an ambulance, I was calm. God kept bringing scriptures to mind, such as one of my favorites to remind myself of when I'm scared: "The LORD is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The LORD is the stronghold of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?" (Psalm 27:1). and He sang over me. it was weird, not an audible singing, but a song in my spirit; again, a favorite song when I'm afraid, which is Zephaniah 3:17 set to music by Glory Revealed: "The Lord your God is with you, He is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, He will quiet You with His love. He will rejoice over you with singing, He will rejoice over you with His song!"
Thank you, God, for singing over me and keeping my spirit at peace in the midst of the craziness. Please continue healing me- "I believe You're my healer! I believe You are all I need, You're more than enough for me."

second chances.

sometimes the past just won't leave me alone. seems like I finally get past something, or am able to move past memories with someone... only to suddenly have it spring back into my life. why does this always seem to happen to me? something happens that pulls me away from someone. and just when I finally adjust to it, they come back. and why does it seem like they're always better when the second time comes back around? more friendly, or kinder, or cuter, or easier to talk to. why does this happen? with guys, with friends... always happens. uggghhhh. I don't like it a whole lot. with friends, sometimes it's ok. with guys? never good.

it always just seems to make life more complicated. like life is easy to begin with and I NEED more complication? negatory.

and then I'm caught in this, do-I-try-to-let-them-back-in-or-do-I-ignore-the-attempt scenario. which is never easy to decipher. EVER. I hate making those decisions (of course I hate almost any decision-making, but...), they're the worst.

bahahaha... I just realized what a pessimist I'm being. and I feel kinda bad... but blogging is my emotion release and well, this is the most present emotion right now.

so the sum of all this is:

do I give them a second chance or not? is this worth it? or will I get walked out on again?

bad moods.

yes, I'm weird. I eat peanut butter and cheese sandwiches. I hate geometry. I love poetry. I actually enjoy school most of the time. I have the heart of an artist, which means I am basically bipolar. I can be grinning from ear to ear one moment and ready to rip someone's head off within minutes. I peel the crust off my bread. I haaaate cockroaches. I like to sit on top of my mailbox. I get extremely nervous in awkward situations. When I have to speak in front of people, my heart beats out of my chest. I can't stand fast-food hamburgers. Love scenes in movies make me feel extremely awkward/weird. I have a huge celebrity crush on William Moseley. that often embarrasses me. I hate feeling different from other people, especially close friends. I get that feeling often. I often bare my heart on my blog (obviously). Music soothes my emotions. I am the most worried, scared, and naturally anxious person on the face of the earth. I have horrible self-esteem. I am scared of being an old maid. I am also scared of getting married. I hate the color of my eyes. I wish I was a kid again. I love quotes. I am self-centered. I don't deserve my Savior. But I am so in love with him. I can't live without him. I think about guys too much. I focus on fear too much. I am often ADD/ADHD. I don't recycle. I feel ugly. I want so badly to pay someone back sometimes... but never do. I regret my words so often. I wish chick flicks were reality. I have so much growing up to do. I hope someone loves me.

but then it's not about me. so none of that matters, does it?

it's all about Him.

and I thank him that I don't matter, that He is everything. because I am nothing.

Words.

Sometimes I wonder if it's all just words. If everything people say, is only said for the purpose of being said. With no meaning, no heart, no intentions. I wish it weren't, and hope it isn't. But it simply seems so logical. If people will lie to get what they want, then surely they will just as soon say things they don't mean to get what they want. I realize that that's a very cynical way to look at the world. But recent and past experiences lead me to believe that this is very accurate. Not always, and not with all people. But with many people and most of the time, humans will say (or do) anything they can to get their way in life- including spitting out meaningless words. I do think, though, that sometimes people don't even realize that there is no heart in their dialogue. We are all guilty of occasional empty language, so to speak. But some of us more so than others... including me. I've found myself lately really examining what I tell people. Do I do what I say I will do? When I tell someone I love them, am I just saying it, or am I promising them that? If I compliment someone, do I really like their shirt or do I only say it to get their attention or to look good?
I once heard a poem that went something like this:
"You are writing a gospel,
A chapter each day,
By the deeds that you do
And the words that you say.
Men read what you write,
Distorted or true.
What is the gospel
according to you?"
Read that again.
MEN READ WHAT YOU WRITE WITH YOUR ACTIONS.
EVERYTHING YOU DO IS A STONE IN THE FOUNDATION OF YOUR AND OTHERS' HISTORY.
ARE YOU REFLECTING GOD AND HONORING OTHERS WITH YOUR SPEECH?
OR ARE YOU WRITING A DISTORTED PERCEPTION OF GOD'S FOLLOWERS THAT MANY OTHERS WILL SEE?
Ephesians 4:29 says "Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen."
Is everything that comes out of your mouth helpful to others?
Does it enourage them? Build them up? Give them hope? Help them feel loved?
Or does it leave them discouraged, torn down, hopeless and feeling unworthy?
In Proverbs 15:4, Solomon instructs us: "The tongue that brings healing is a tree of life, but a deceitful tongue crushes the spirit."
God can use our words to help others, to benfit them, to heal them. But if we aren't careful with what we say and purposeful with our words, then that same mouth that speaks beneficial things, can stab hearts. It can tear down, discourage, and crush spirits. As much as we may try to be careful with our words, we'll all mess up sometimes. It's because we're fallen humans.
But that doesn't mean we should give up trying to be helpful with the words we speak. We shouldn't say, "Well no matter how hard I may try, I'm still gonna mess up, so why even try?"
That's the wrong mindset.
The good our words can do, with God, is so much greater than the damage they can do.
If you want to check some of this out on your own, Proverbs is full of everyday wisdom, and James 3 is a chapter with some great advice on handling your words.

In conclusion, I'd like to share a recent story with you. A girl I know is currently in the breaking up process, and I actually just got "broken up with" as well. Obviously, it's beneficial for us to be going through this at the same time, cuz we can share scripture with each other and encourage each other with things God has done for us... not to mention sharing our frustrations and wishes for the past... of how various people (not just our "ex"s) had not said certain things... simply because they really didn't mean what they said when they said it, or weren't to the point that they were able to support their promises. Hawk Nelson, in their song "Words We Speak", helps us realize that people will make mistakes and say things they don't mean and leave us feeling empty. But in one of the last verses, they remind us that God won't do that. He will be there for us, when we are "so much more than incomplete".

{WORDS WE SPEAK.}
She woke up with a tear-stained pillow
She just broke up with a nice young fellow
All those tears you cry,
now it's time to say goodbye
You're on your own, you're all alone

We're better than the words you speak
So much more than incomplete
Figure out what life means out on our own
Words you say can't bring us down
We've all failed and hit the ground
Now it's time for us just to take control

Can't comply we're perfect in your eyes
We fall down but it's just a part of life

All those tears you cry,
now it's time to say goodbye
you're on your own you're all alone

We're better than the words you speak
So much more than incomplete
Figure out what life means out on our own
Words you say can bring us down
We've all failed, hit the ground
Now it's time for us just to take control

Now I'm here to let you know
That we can't make it on our own
What's mine is yours I'm letting go
You know I'd never doubt you
You know I'm lost without you
I'm giving you control

We're better than the words you speak
So much more than incomplete
Figure out what life means out on our own
Words you say can't bring us down
We've all failed, hit the ground
Now it's time for us just to take control

Caramel Macchiato-induced self-realizations

I have entitlement issues. I understand that it is very strange for a female, especially one my age, to have issues accepting gifts. and I am the only girl I know (besides my mother) that has problems with this. I have seen small evidences of it many times, but was hit with the full effect of it a couple weeks ago. After a long day out, I found myself yearning for a piping hot caramel macchiato. When my parents stopped to buy my brother a 35 dollar video game (and ended up getting him a 20-dollar version of a game he already has), I felt slightly wounded, thinking that they almost never do that kind of thing for me. I sarcastically suggested that if he could have a 20-dollar video game, surely I could at least have a 4-dollar coffee. I was ok as we pulled off the road searching for a Starbucks. but when it wasn't where we thought it was, I gave up my want. Against my will, my parents went out of our way to get me a caramel macchiato. Which frustrated me greatly. As I sat in the car on the way home, the previously hot macchiato my mother got me sat untouched and cooled by the second within inches of my grasp. Yet I refused to drink it, or even touch it.
4 dollars were poured down the kitchen sink.
What I realized was this: If I do not have to work for something, it is almost always considered useless to me. If others must go out of their way to get me something, the guilt overwhelms me to the point of not wanting whatever it is. Twisted, I know. And while I feel bad for wasting these things sometimes, it doesn't begin to measure up to how... weak? spinless? needy? dependant?... I feel when I use and appreciate those things. So it all goes back to my needs and how much I hate needing things. How much I hate needing to depend on someone else. How much I hate simply needing anything that I can't get for myself.
I am so messed up.

weird holidays

I remembered a few years ago Jordan telling me that Ferris Wheel day is the same day as Valentines Day (February 14th) so i decided to check into that today. i went to google and typed in "weird holidays" and it came up with this. it has the official listing of every monthly, weekly, and daily observance imaginable. today is "Let it Go" day! so go here and check out the wacky holidays people have made up!

http://www.brownielocks.com/month2.html

rain

it rained last night. i woke up sometime in the wee hours this morning to hear rain. soft, yet pounding rain. i wanted to run outside and start dancing. it's not that i haven't seen rain in so long or anything, i just LOVE rain. especially dancing in it. many poeple find me unusual. but who cares? not me. my theory is live life to God's glory while you're still alive. when i decided to take on this new and optimistic persona about a year ago, i found myself to be much more enjoyable and cheerful. but back to the rain. anyway, so some people find my enjoying rain to be "depressing". this i don't understnad, since rain is probably the most hopeful thing i know of. "how?" you may ask. rain, though most people think it rather clean, is quite filthy by the time it reaches us. on its way down, rain cleans the lower atmosphere. it washes away all the dirt and grime and leaves us with a clean, fresh world. and that gives me reason enough to dance.