I want to die on a day like today.

today is perfect and exactly the sort of day on which I want to die.

It's flawlessly rainy, and gray, and cold, and lovely. It requires finding the softest blanket, wrapping yourself in it to traipse down the stairs and make a pot of coffee, carrying that cup of life-giving juice with both your hands (it seems to warm your soul at the same time), and snuggling back under the covers with only your head peeking out to watch a Christmas movie on netflix- emerging only to guzzle down another mouthful of coffee.

Doesn't that sound like the best sort of day on which one might die? Not that I'm sitting around planning my death, but I'd be incredibly happy if I got to die on a day as glorious as this one.

It's the type of day my anglophile heart loves best- the type of day that reminds you of be-puddled London streets and heads ducked down as pedestrians walk across the zebra crossing (crosswalk with stripes painted on the road, for all you Americans that think that actually refers to a place zebras can cross the road. hint: it isn't for zebras).
The kind of day you don't mind driving slower and walking slower and breathing slower because something about life just seems more peaceful and manageable. Something makes you feel like you should be taking long, melancholy walks through the rain and writing blatantly honest love letters (the general kind to humans you love un-romantically) and jumping in puddles and laying in your bed clutching your old memories so tight they're suffocating you and feeling a plethora of emotions all at once.

I guess that's why it's my favorite kind of day, because I'm really good at feeling things. (insert reference to her own emotional basketcase-ness HERE).

Messiness. It's a day of messiness. The pinpoint of that description for this day settles it all down and clarifies even the foggiest of thoughts that drift like misty rain my windshield wipers can't quite keep up with.
Most people use these days as excuses to stay inside and not go out for anything. "It's too messy", my dad always says. The messy rain makes the roads incredibly slick and the possibility of hydroplaning gets obnoxiously high, even for people who are very different from me and like to go the speed limit (or slower) when it's raining. Not to mention the getting in and out of your car in the rain- that is the only thing I cannot stand about rain. You try so hard to stay dry, you figure out these little umbrella maneuvers to keep you as dry as possible when opening and closing the car door... but you always get sprinkled on. The messiness is unavoidable.

Other people don't like the messiness. Especially not messiness in life and relationships and events.
Well, I thrive off of it.
I, like the aforementioned well-missed London, am a city of constantly changing chaos and ever-present messiness that somehow finds consistent order within that.

And today in my chaos and messiness, and in the messy perfection of the day, He (my Jesus) found order. Maybe he created it, I don't know. But I looked in my heart and all the sudden I saw consistency of mind and spirit that has been absent for so very long. It came on the wings of His whisper: "I have not forgotten you."
That was really all I needed, but He kept going.
"My promises are still unfulfilled but still living, and here I hold them up for you to see and remember. I have not forgotten you. I have not forgotten your heart and its longings. I will not abandon you."

Within me, it was like that scene in Mary Poppins where they start snapping and all the toys just start going back to their places.
God's whispers were the snaps. And all my doubts and fears were going back to their places (somewhere outside of my mind, I don't really know where they go) and letting the Tetris pieces fall into their place perfectly to leave an ordered, sound mind, clinging with faith to His promises and whispers.
I was driving, as I am when most of God's most obvious whispers come to my little ear.

He replayed my day for me:
this weather.
sleeping in.
coffee (three cups of it, and with peppermint mocha creamer to boot!)
a weird semi-english breakfast
a day-long conversation about Doctor Who
a British Christmas movie (that turned out to be rather awful, but HEY, London at Christmastime)
Wellies

it was like my own little day in London.
I remembered how when I first stepped outside this morning, I stood on my doorstep under my holey little awning with the rain pattering all around and my breath making white steamy swirls around me, and I cried. I just stood there and slowly surveyed what was in front of me and I cried. He had given me London, for a day.
Just to remind me that He's not done with it.
Just to remind me that though that dream is dead, it is soon to come back to life.
Just to remind me that after the winter comes the spring.

Just to say, "Hey. I love you. Here's a little something I made you, just because."
On this day that would be one so perfect to die on, He reminded me that He's given me life, abundant life, and that He's giving His promises life- that in Him they find their Yes and Amen- eventually.

the season of death

It's October.

I have shamelessly had potted purple mums sitting by my front door for a solid two weeks now-- even though the majority of those two weeks was 20 degrees too hot for mums.

I've been impatiently waiting until the day I could light my 'Autumn Leaves' scented candle that smells precisely like every good thing about fall. in wax form. And just so you know, I lit it the day before the calendar claims it's the "First Day of Fall".

I had my first cup of Hot Apple Cider three weeks ago.

And I of course have celebrated the start of football season, my first night 'needing' a hoodie, and the first few crunchy leaves to step on.

Fall isn't even my favorite season, and yet I'm ecstatic.

As I mentioned earlier, I have mums. And it's been too hot outside for mums.

Also, I'm a plant killer. Add these things together and what do you get?

Dead mums. Very dead mums.

HOWEVER, since I am a broke college student and could not let those $10 go to waste, I began watering that little mum plant like mad once I finally realized it was dying.

Assuming this act was "too little too late", I had internally given up hope of ever seeing green or blooms on the plant again, but I was too lazy to throw the plant away or stop watering it. Maybe there was a sliver of hope somewhere within me, too, that kept me watering it.

Either way, it came back to life, and, in so doing, shocked me.

the aforementioned semi-dead mums

After a week or so of watering it carefully and seeing it slowly come back to life, yet not rid itself of the dead brown bits, I sat down today with a pair of kitchen scissors. Pushing aside the green bits while I cut and tenderly pulling the blooms out from the tangle of the brittle, dead bits, I couldn't help but be reminded of the promise spoken in John 15, that God will be our vinedresser.

Those big kitchen scissors were probably not the best tool for the job, but they cut the tiny brown branches adequately so I stuck with them. I was careful not to let the big scissors open too far so they wouldn't accidentally snip off a green branch in the process of my pruning, but wouldn't you know that there was one little green branch with a perfectly lavender-colored mum bloom on the end of it that was too intertwined with the dead brown bits and too thin of its own accord to survive when freed from the dried twigs. I would have loved to save it, but even some things that live must die early when you know the outcome will be death anyway, I suppose. So I snipped it away, too.

I sat there, indian style, as the water droplets from where I'd just watered the plant, dripped onto the sidewalk. I sat there, scissors in hand, and I gingerly reached into the plant and cut away the parts that were only hindering it. I sat there, mind racing, as I saw so much of myself in that little purple mum plant.

This season has been one of dying. Some because of my own lack of discipline in watering that area of my life and seeking to help it flourish. Some because God touched the tip of his finger onto a branch and called it dead. Either way, he's been using his big kitchen scissors to cut away these dead parts of me-- some of which I'm not ready for Him to cut away, some of which aren't fully dead yet.

But He knows that very branch in me that does not bear fruit needs to be taken away. So He takes it away. And every branch that does bear fruit he prunes, that it may bear more fruit. He calls me then to abide in Him. Which I'm attempting. But I still don't really know what that looks like or feels like or is. So I'm just giving it my best shot right now (which is somewhat ironic, because the baseline fact of 'abiding' is that there is no 'going' or 'trying' in abiding. You just do it. It just happens. You just exist in it.) "As the branch cannot bear fruit by itself, unless it abides in the vine, neither can you, unless you abide in me. I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing." 

He goes on to command us to live in this lifestyle, "that your joy may be full", then He commands us to love abundantly and overwhelmingly.

The simple fact that these tales of being pruned while abiding in The Vine come right alongside the commandments to live in joy and love seem to make the abiding that much more imperative. If one is to be able to live joyfully and lovingly, one must first abide in the Vine. 

Abiding gives the implication of living in. The simple fact that we ABIDE in the Vine says that we are alive. Though He may be killing things, we still live. Though He may be cutting off parts of us, we still live. Though He may be freeing us from dead parts that have entangled us by getting His scissors scary close to us, we still live. Though the autumn may be fast approaching, He is caring for us so closely and so tenderly and so purposefully that He will not allow any part of us to die that does not need to die. 
And sometimes, the branches in us that are already producing fruit, He cuts off and re-plants so that it may produce more and better fruit.

I cannot honestly say that I am settled in my spirit with all the death in my heart lately. I can't tell you that I'm absolutely positive of all the exquisite fruit these deaths and prunings will eventually bring forth. I wish I could.
But right now, all I have to give is, "Ok, God. Ok. Do it. Ok. Ok. Ok. I am weak. I want to be happy at this. I want to have joy in this. But I'm not there. All I can give you is 'ok, do it.' And hope that's enough. Make me Yours. Make me alive in You as I abide in You."

When peace like a river attendeth my way, when sorrows like sea billows roll: whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say "It is well, it is well with my soul."

my pile of "I DON'T KNOW"s

How do I begin a blog post about my life after so many days full of change since my last one? I don't know where to start to catch you all up. It's been almost a month since I last posted and God has done so very much in that short time span.

Having my heart stolen by 154 6th through 8th graders was not something I would have predicted.
Having my heart broken by a man full of good intentions and operating on God's whispers was not what I thought was coming.
Having my heart stretched to its limits by a God who somehow thinks this is the best time for me to grow exponentially was really not on my radar.
Having my faith muscle over-exercised every day to the point that it is now simply a wobbly, sore mass of Something Bigger Than Me wasn't something I would have signed up for.
Having all my seemingly perfect little plans evaporate into thin air was something I thought would never happen.

I thought my plans were His plans that I had warmly accepted. I thought my faith muscle was strong enough already and suitable for where I am in life and where I'm headed. I thought my heart had been stretched too much over the past four years and that this was finally the time that it got to adjust to its current large stretchiness. I thought being heart-broken over a boy was something I'd never experience. I thought that that multitude of stinky, snarky adolescents would never come to be a group of people I truly cared about, that they would only ever be Those Kids I Teach.

And hey, look at that. All my thoughts were wrong.
At my school, we do this thing every morning called WAR Time-- it stands for We're All Reading-- where everyone sits in silence and reads a book for 10 minutes. It's the most glorious, refreshing invention ever and I hope the rest of the world soon adopts it. Well during WARTime this week, I read a booklet called Be a Circle Maker by Mark Batterson. In it, he talks about Isaiah 55:8-9 and the fact that God's ways and thoughts are not only different from and higher than ours, they are UNFATHOMABLY different from and higher than ours. He brings up the concept of a lightyear and that it itself is pretty hard to grasp, let alone the concept of 15 BILLION lightyears-- then he goes on to say that that's how different God's ways are from ours. They are 15 billion lightyears higher and better than any human plans we could make for ourselves. And while that's a terrifying thing to think about, it's also comforting. The God who invented lightyears and keeps the universe in order thinks about me, cares about me, and listens to my prayers. He orders my steps in His Word and in His way because HE KNOWS they're that much better and He loves His children too much to let us live without them.

So while it's disconcerting and uncomfortable for me to suddenly realize that all my thoughts and plans and hopes are all being remodeled right now, it's comforting to know they will eventually resemble and reflect Him in a much better way than they ever would have if He had let me continue with my own plans.

In addition to that, I've been kinda freaking out over it lately. Crazy, right? ME, freak out? I never would. (smirk) I keep having this realization that I DON'T KNOW.
I don't know what I'm doing or where I'm going when I graduate.
I don't know if I'm ever going back to London.
I don't know what or where I want to teach.
I don't know what the rest of my semester will look like.
I don't know if I will continue loving teaching and will actually want to teach once I graduate.
I don't know what God has in store for me and Casey.
I don't know if I'm able to be friends with him and bury all my emotions about him.
I don't know if once I bury those emotions they will eventually be resurrected or they're just lay there, dead.
I don't know if I should move on from him or not.
I don't how to love my friends at MC when I never see them and feel so disconnected from their lives.
I don't know how to talk to people about hard things that may ruin friendships.
I don't know how to live at peace with literally EVERYONE.
I don't know how to live with constant peace in my soul.
I don't know what it really means to "set an example for the believers" in those 5 ways that 1 Tim. 4:12 lists (though that is my God-given discipline area for the remainder of the year).
I don't know if I should pretend I'm ok all the time or be openly broken.
I don't know how to pretend to be a young professional when I still like to wear bows in my hair and watch Sofia the First.
I don't know where the line is between pleasing my professors/higher-ups and being falsely happy/respectful/agreeable.
I don't know how to be loving towards my friends who are living in sin, while not supporting their sinful lifestyles, but also not being judgmental or holier-than-thou.
I don't know what I should know.

and a lot more.
as I've said, I'm just a big pile of "I don't know" lately.

HOWEVER.
I keep hearing God remind me that He DOES know.
A friend recently send me an excerpt from a devotional she was reading. It said:

in the middle of reading this, I burst into tears. There I was, sitting on my bedroom floor having just applied mascara for the day. And there it went, streaming down my cheeks. "I KNOW", he said. He just kept repeating it and singing it over me. 

In the midst of my many "I don't know"s, He is THE "I KNOW". 

Last week alone, there were two more instances where friends who had no idea about my heart's whispers lately, who were oblivious to my "I DON'T KNOW", simply said to me, "HE KNOWS."

It made me cry and laugh. Here I am freaking out over these things that really are tiny in the light of Eternity, but He cares enough to look into my "brimming ache", and sing over me the "I know" that is absent from my life right now. 

Then, this morning at church, the biggest "I know" was spoken. The message was on 1 Samuel 16:7- that ever-famous passage about not looking at the outward appearance because God looks at the heart. In high school you hear it billions of times related to popularity and not judging weird kids just because they look different from you. I have heard so many shallow messages on this passage that I gagged a little when I saw that it was our main scripture focus today. 

THEN.

God did his funny God-things and blew my mind and giggled a little with me when it was all over.

Bro. David started the sermon by teaching us about the original wording used in this passage. Where it says, "Man looks ON the outward appearance, but God looks ON the heart," the ON actually has three translations that each tell us something different about seeing with spiritual vision, as God does.

It can mean WITH or ACCORDING TO, it can mean REGARDING, or it can mean INTO.

So here were his three conclusions:

1. The Lord sees WITH His heart || PURPOSING

He is not bound by time or really anything that humans are bound by, so God is able to KNOW everything. Just as we KNOW what happened yesterday because we have past knowledge, God KNOWS what happens tomorrow because he has eternal knowledge. He is unbound by time and tense. It is in that sense that He PURPOSES for us to hope in His power and "glorious inheritance" (Eph. 1:17-19). He also literally laughs at our stupid human efforts to be smarter or more powerful than Him (Psalm 2:1-6). HA. Thanks for realizing how stupid we can be, God.

2. The Lord sees REGARDING our heart || PURSUING

Just as He KNOWS the past, present, and future, He KNOWS our hearts. He searches them and tries them and replaces them when the need arises. He is slow to anger, abounding in love, always merciful and gracious-- the perfect combination of attributes for One who pursues His Beloved. He gives out hearts of flesh when He sees that our hearts have become stony (Ez. 36:26). And when our seasons of disciplining are toughest, He is still in control, still fully knowing what His plans for us are-- that they are good, hopeful, and offer us a prosperous future {by His definition. not ours.}, especially when we are seeking Him (Jeremiah 29:11-13). HIS PLANS ARE TO GIVE US HOPE FOR OUR HEARTS, because He knows we can't run to Him in our natural, wicked, human heart-condition unless He pursues us first.

3. The Lord sees INTO our heart || PEERING

He uses His Word (Hebrews 4:12) and our words (Matthew 15:10-11, 19-20) to see into our hearts, to examine them, and find the places that don't yet look like Him. He knows our hearts are desperately wicked, and like Jeremiah asked: Who can know it? (Jeremiah 17:9)... well, He can. He knows they ARE desperately wicked, and He knows the desperate wickedness inside. 

As I have been doing, we humans like to make our own plans and justify our ways-- they seem good enough for us!-- and just go along with it until something stops us. And that's not how God functions. He calls us to COMMIT our ways to Him, to give them over fully and obediently, immediately and with a cheerful heart. Proverbs 16 is killer convicting. We can plan our lives, but THE LORD ESTABLISHES OUR STEPS. He grounds us and holds onto us when we don't even know we need to be held onto.

The passage in Malachi 3 regarding tithes keeps coming to my mind. I've realized that maybe this loss of my own plans is a sort of tithe. "Tithe" doesn't just mean giving God a check, it actually refers to the process of God TESTING His children by asking them to GIVE. So here I am, being tested and having given up a lot of my own plans and 'knowing'... sounds a lot like a tithe to me. 

And do you know what God's opinion on tithing is?

"Bring the full tithe into the storehouse, that there may be food in my house. And thereby put me to the test, says the Lord of hosts, see if I will not open the windows of heaven for you and pour down for you a blessing until there is no more need."

He can, will, and DOES bless His children when we obey Him.

So as I walk around feeling like I pile of "I don't know"s, I'm clinging to His promise that HE KNOWS and that when I bring in my small tithe, my widow's mite, all the little things I have to bring that are nowhere near enough for Him, THEN He will pour down on me until there is no more need. I don't know what the "blessing" is there, but honestly I hope it's just Him. Because though knowledge and money and happy little things would surely feel good, what my heart yearns for is to be filled to overflowing with Him, until I need no more and lack no part of His heart. 

weblog the third: in which she reads a book that changes things

This leads me into my next big news, about a life-changing book and a funeral for a dream.

Back in April, I began reading Passion and Purity by Elisabeth Elliot, because it had sat unread on my shelf for several years and I was curious. So I began reading this book that’s basically journal entries and prayers and wisdom from her college-aged years, when she first met and fell in love with Jim Elliot (the missionary to Ecuador’s Quichiua Indians, whom the movie The End of the Spear is about). The book is a lot less about physical purity than I assumed it would be, honestly, and much more about the waiting process God called her to- and calls many of us to- in that time of her life. One specific chapter discussed her realization that God was killing her to lay down her dreams of falling in love with and marrying Jim, without the promise of them ever being resurrected.

Earlier in the book, she quoted that great man Oswald Chambers, “If I hold spiritual blessings or friendship for myself, they will corrupt me, no matter how beautiful they are. I have to pour them out before the Lord, give them to Him in my mind, though it looks as if I am wasting them, even as David poured the water out on the sand, to be instantly sucked up.” She went on to say for herself, “God gives us material for sacrifice. Sometimes the sacrifice makes little sense to others, but when offered to him is always accepted. What was the ‘point’ in God’s asking Abraham for the sacrifice of his beloved son, Isaac? The story has often been attacked as ‘pagan’ and has been grossly misunderstood. Our offerings to Him may very likely be seen as senseless or even fanatical, but He receives them. Jesus received the precious ointment from the worshipping woman, although those present thought it a foolish waste… I have tried to explain it sometimes to people who are lonely and longing for love. ‘Give it to Jesus,’ I say. The loneliness itself is material for sacrifice. The very longings themselves can be offered to Him who understands perfectly.”

It was at that point that I began realizing what God was preparing in my heart, but wasn’t sure how it would be played out. I knew I was soon to be giving up something, but as I was still unsure what that something was, I continued on my merry way.

One night as I was reading, God slayed me. I was reading and pondering and before I could even process my own thoughts, He slipped in with them and said, "You have to sacrifice London."

and I lost it.

Weeping. slight hyperventilation. inability to process.

Not London, God. You gave me that dream. It was Yours, it is what You made me for. Why would I need to kill it now?

and doggone it, wouldn't you know He reminded me of Abraham. Now I know I wasn't sacrificing a child or anything, but I quite understood Abraham in that moment. This thing that God promised me and gave me many years ago as a hope for my future was now being taken from me, and I was being commanded to kill it. 

It was as I read the words, "How would we learn to submit to the authority of Christ, if we had nothing to submit?" that the truth was pounded home. This was my thing to submit. London was what was standing between myself and my Christ.

And I must be honest, my first answer was "NO." 

I requested advice from a couple close friends, and got exactly the words back that I didn't want to hear. 

"I know it's hard, but you know you have to do it, Becca."

ARGH YES I KNOW BUT I WAS HOPING YOU WOULD RUN FROM GOD WIIIIITH ME ON THIS ONE GUYS COME ON.

So I told God my honest answer, "I want to say no, God. I want to tell you that you can never have London back, that it's mine and not Yours. But we know how that would go and how miserable I would be. So let me just say I'm not sure yet. I can't give you an absolute yes right now. I want to be able to, I want to have the faith to know that when I kill this, you will bring beautiful fruit out of that ground it falls into. But I don't trust that yet. I'm not certain that You will handle this in a way that satisfies me so right now I'm just saying I don't know. It's not a yes or a no, but it's honest and it's from my heart and I hope that's good enough for you."

And wouldn't you know that in just a few days, He tenderly knocked on my heart again and held His hand out for me to place London in the palm of His hand. And I did it tearfully and a large part of me went with it. 

But that's what happens when things die. When something or someone you love dies, part of you dies too. Those memories and hopes can never be made alive again the same way they once were. You can only hope that as you lay that dead thing in the ground and cover it with unworthy soil and water it with your own bitter tears, that one day, some better, more beautiful and exquisite fruit will arise from the ground. You can only trust that whoever is laying that dead thing in the ground knows what they're doing and knows how to make life out of dead things. Because you know someday you're really going to need it.

But for now, London has died. The part of my heart that held onto hopes of returning and living happily ever after has been given away to Someone that I really hope knows life the way I think He does. I water the ground where that dead dream lies, and I wait. 

Not because I love living in America that much, or because I love being with my family that much, or because I love doing life with my friends and Casey that much, or even because I love Jesus that much. 

But because Jesus has that much of me. He owns, controls and has more of me that anything or anyone else has. So when He tells me to kill this dream that was birthed not too long ago, I know that He has a purpose that is more intoxicatingly wonderful than I could hope or dream or understand. In the meantime, while I talk about this thing in my life that was once so alive but is now dead, He is making me.

Making me: to know Him, to know I need Him, to know I love him, to dream of Him alone. He is making me fully His.

(click to continue to weblog the fourth)

a vessel of Love

On this day every year, I stand in a very different category from most of my peers. Valentine's Day, I think, usually brings up very specific opinion groups and they go something like this:
1- In a relationship and enjoying the romance of Valentine's Day.
2- Single and loathing Valentine's Day and pretending it isn't happening.
3- Single and trying to make the best of Valentine's Day even though you're jealous of all those happy couples.

And then there's me.
I'm single, but I *LOVE* Valentine's Day! Every year. Sure, in high school it wasn't my favorite and I was a solid Category 3-er; however, I think after years of being there I've finally gained the ability to revel in Valentine's Day despite my relationship status.

I love seeing happy couples, and seeing boyfriends surprise their girlfriends, and seeing wives pick out cards, and seeing boys send valentines to their crushes. I just think it's the cutest, most fun thing to watch, possibly EVER.

Also, ever since London I keep thinking about my British Valentine's Day experience and how much it was my catalyst for changing from a Category 3-er. I had this somewhat life changing and still vividly memorable experience on the day before Valentine's Day while in London (which I blogged about here). Basically here's what happened: I sat in a Starbucks in a weird part of town at an odd hour, the only person in there for most of the time. I ordered a caramel latte in a mug and spent hours thinking and blogging and writing and praying. It was misty/rainy, I was exhausted and cramping, and it was a Monday the day before Valentine's Day. Really, I had every reason for it to be a bad day, yet I found myself exuberantly happy. I began to realize how Jesus had become my true love, even just in the first month of being in London, and how it was changing every part of me.
On the actual day of Valentine's Day, I ate dinner out with friends, went to a fabulous classical music concert, and made plans to meet in Covent Garden for some dessert. And they didn't show. They ditched me, and one other girl. There we were, unexpectedly alone in Covent Garden on Valentine's Day. It wasn't fun. We bought pity-brownies and tea and sat in the cold until we decided it wasn't worth it, and trudged back to the Tube to be surrounded by couples basically having sex for the whole ride back home. Again I say: not fun.

But, I say all of that to say this: Somehow it still turned out to be an enjoyable Valentine's Day and a memory I look back on fondly because of its oddity (and what a hilarious story it makes now). It was a day filled with love and adventure-- which, to me, is what Valentine's Day should be about.

Last year's V-Day (I'm so tired of typing the entire word Valentine. you try doing it about 14 million times in one blog post, and you'd abbreviate too) was quite different. I spent the afternoon observing and loving on kids in JPS, went to work and loved on kids there (and got to be with my coworker that I had this huge crush on... added bonus), and came back to school to be surrounded by friends that truly loved me and accepted my love. It was, as David Viscott so eloquently puts it, feeling the sun from both sides.
I was reminded throughout the day how much fuller it makes you when you give instead of get. Sure, I love receiving love and being doted on and need to be filled up emotionally.
But for me, showering love on others, especially those who don't often experience love, fills me up much more than chocolates and flowers will.

Today, I spent my morning in a bookstore, buying gifts for friends' upcoming birthdays; I spent my afternoon dining with friends and playing piano; I spent my evening playing with and loving on kids so their parents could go out. Then I played more piano and baked myself a cake... and this has been possibly the best Valentine's yet. I got chocolates and cookies and a coupon for a free donut, lots of hugs, a really cool tattoo of a puppy in a converse shoe, and made a new best friend (she's 7).
Please TRY to convince me that that doesn't sound like an utterly superb way to spend your Valentine's Day single-ly!

I'm grateful for God's provision to mold my heart and alter my mindset and send wonderful AGAPE LOVE things my way, especially on Valentine's Day. And as I look back and remember previous ones spent with homeless friends, or playing in snow, or making cookies with our homeschool group, or these past few half-grown V-Day celebrations, I can't help but feel my heart bubble over with the agape love and the ecstasy that comes with knowing the One who is the very definition of LOVE. Call me cheesy, but it's the truth.

There is bliss to be found in spending this day of love being used as a vessel of Love.

To you who are soon departing for London:

THINGS TO SHARE WITH FUTURE LONDON SEMESTER STUDENTS:

from food to places to just plain advice. feel free to skip the boring stuff, or completely steal this and print it out or whatever.

Good Restaurants: 

o   Nando’s- baked chicken- ££ (closest one to Celtic is across and to the right coming out of Russell Square station)

o   Giovanni’s- pasta and sandwiches- £ (on Museum St. across the block from the British Museum)

o   Ruskin’s- pasta, sandwiches, pastries, tea, coffee- £ (30 yards from Giovanni’s and across the street from the church where we had class last year… hopefully you guys will be in the same building and will get to go there a lot and make friends with Ziggy)

o   Fastoche- make-your-own-combo pasta- £ (same shopping center as Nando’s)

o   Pizza Express- better than Pizza Hut and classier- ££ (EVERYWHERE)

o   The café at the National Theatre- the have good tea (naturally) and desserts, and you get a discount with your theatre ticket!

o   Pret a Manger- soups, sandwiches, salads… think of Panera Bread or McAlister’s- £

o   Costa Coffee- coffees, teas, and small yummies- £

o   Caffe Nero- a coffee shop very similar to Costa’s- £

o   Starbucks- they have it. It’s the same as America (except they have FLAT WHITES! Order a flat white, at least once) and not a penny cheaper. Most occasions you’re better off going to a true European coffee house.

o   Pubs- They intimidated me at first, but they’re such great atmosphere, usually good prices and great food as well. One of my favorites was the Shakespeare Head Pub on King’s Way, straight south from the Celtic. If you happen to stop by Bournemouth (on the coast), go to the Mary Shelley Pub!  £-££

o   Café in the Crypt at St. Martin-in-the-Field- Pretty darn expensive for a “café” but you feel so classy and like you belong when you eat there. At least I did. Plus they have GREAT Apple Crumble. ££

o   Noodle Time- If you find one, and like Chinese food, go. It’s so yummy and cheap. £

o   My Old Dutch Pancake- on High Holborn Street, back toward the classroom/west Bloomsbury. Every Monday they have £5 MONDAY MADNESS and you can get a huge “pancake” (think more of a giant crepe) that will probably last you multiple meals. It makes for an AWESOME group outing.  £

o   Gelatorino’s- I hope this place is still open. A LEGIT gelato shop just out of Covent Garden. The Gianduja gelato is THE BEST (it’s chocolate-hazelnut… so it’s basically Nutella ice cream). £

o   Pizzeria Rustica- It’s actually in Richmond, which is a far bit from the heart of London, even by Tube, but if you’re there for a play, it’s THE BEST PIZZA YOU’LL EVER EAT. ££

o   WonKei- Obscure Chinese restaurant in the heart of the West End. It’s down an alley off Shatesbury, but it’s worth seeking out and hitting up. You get a HUGE plate of food for cheap and it’s a pretty legit Chinese-London dining experience. £

o   Gregg’s- a fabulous bakery chain where you can buy a loaf of bread or a pastry or a sandwich lunch meal deal. Superb! £

Tesco, Waitrose, and Sainsbury’s are grocery stores (equivalent to a tiny Wal-Mart, Publix, and Kroger, respectively) and are AWESOME places to get relatively cheap, quick meals- especially their £2.50 meal deal! (well, it was 2.50 when we were there…)

v Boots = Walgreens

v Go to Kensington Gardens on a warm, sunny day (my first time, I went on a [literally] FREEZING, dreary day. It wasn’t too great.) Make sure you make it to the Peter Pan statue!

v Spend an afternoon in Regent’s Park!!!!

v Prayer walk through Hyde Park. It’s really awesome.

v Basically just go to as many parks and gardens as you can.

v Spend a couple hours at the John Ritblatt Gallery in the British Library- it’s up the stairs and on the left. You might cry; I did. It’s just so glorious.

v Get on the tube. Go to Embankment. Turn right out of the station, go up the stairs, and walk across the Hungerford Footbridge. During the day, at sunset, when it’s dark… it doesn’t matter. It’s the most gorgeous view and my favorite spot in the whole city!

v Do the Thames Riverwalk on South Bank. There are lots of families and tourists, which can be bothersome, but if you have a hot cup of tea and some free time (it took me about an hour to meander down most of it), enjoy walking and people-watching and pondering.

v Walk from the British Library (the one with the John Ritblatt Gallery. Also I’ve heard the Reading Room is awesome but I never made it there) back to the Celtic via Euston Road.

v Oxford Street is a really fun place to waste some time on a Sunday afternoon or something, browsing around and window shopping

v Go ice skating at Somerset House- if you can… the ice rink closes before the end of January, or at least it did for us

v Go to the Easter Sunrise Service at St. Paul’s! It starts at 4:45 or 5 AM but is SO WORTH IT. Best experience of my life.

v Spend some time on a Sunday afternoon at Speaker’s Corner on Hyde Park. We did this on a whim our last month there, and I wish I’d heard about it sooner! Really neat.

v Try some churches on your own! All Souls is great, as is the Hillsong London church. I also discovered King’s Cross Baptist Church (google it- it’ll be the first option) which is a tiny church I personally fell in love with. Take a friend occasionally, but don’t be afraid to be that awkward person sitting by herself. It’s worth it… Plus, most churches serve tea & ‘biscuits’ (cookies) after the service and would love for you to join their merriment and meet them. J

v Covent Garden is one of my favorite places to hit up on a Friday night when you’ve got nothing else to do. Grab some sandwiches at the Piazza Café or some of that awesome rice stuff in the giant cauldrons. You’ll know what I mean when you see it.

v Take the tube out to Abbey Road (it’s actually on the St. John’s Wood tube station). Take a sharpie with you and sign the wall at Abbey Road recording studios! Take pictures on the zebra crossing! Feel like part of history!

v Spend a whole afternoon by yourself or with friends at the Imperial War Museum. It’s such a huge part of world and British history and so intriguing, I had to go there twice.

v Natural History Museum- I’m pretty sure I could spend DAYS in there. Enough said.

v It’s awesome to just walk down Fleet Street and ponder on the tale of Sweeney Todd

v Changing of the Guard at Buckingham Palace. Any tourist’s London MUST.

v Waterstone’s book store is simply the best. They’re also everywhere, which is SO handy. Buy classic novels (or really any books) and read them during your tube/train rides. Rumor has it that the Waterstone’s on Piccadilly is where Jane Austen went to buy her books when she was in London.

v The Victoria and Albert Museum (V&A) has superb “special displays” come through quite often, and all the other stuff that’s always inside it is pretty cool too.

v Primark and H&M are basically the best places to shop. Selfridge’s, Top Shop, The French Connection, and lots of other places have really cute clothes but are usually pretty dang expensive. Primark and H&M had the same (if not better, especially in H&M’s case) stuff for super cheap.

o   And, to top it off, Primark promises there is no slave labor at all in their supply chain, and H&M is working toward guaranteeing the same thing in their second-tier suppliers (the people who supply them with thread/cloth/etc) and it’s already confirmed there is no slave labor within first-tier suppliers. I love that.

v Paperchase and Ryman’s are excellent papergoods/office supplies stores. Ryman’s has all your classroom needs, from pens and notebooks and sharpies to binders and dividers. Paperchase has all the cute stationery and gift bag and scrapbooking stuff. I just love to go in there and look at everything.

v The Foundling Museum, behind The Brunswick (in Bloomsbury), is quite possibly the most emotionally touching/draining museum I’ve ever been to (second only to the Imperial War Museum). It’s kind of a memorial to all the orphans that lived in London when orphans were seen as disgusting… and this house was their safe haven. Go there if you can!

v Sir John Soane’s Museum at Lincoln Inn Fields was one of my personal favorites. This guy collected the most random stuff… including the sarcophagus of Seti I, the dude who was Pharaoh when Moses was born. Just go.

v Possibly the most dangerous place for my wallet: John Lewis. This awesome chain of department stores that literally has EVERYTHING from the most wonderful throw pillows to quaint teapots to ultra expensive clothing to pretzel sticks. A marvelous store but costs a pretty penny.

v Fortnum and Mason’s on Piccadilly is a legend. It’s where the Queen (among other royals) is known to shop from time to time.

v Hit up Bond Street and don’t forget to stop by places like Tiffany’s and Fabergé for the true, sophisticated Bond Street experience.

v Hampstead Heath is a gorgeous place to get away from the hustle and bustle and study or journal or just love life.

v In Liverpool, you may or may not be able to stop at the Anglican Cathedral. If you can stop, get off the bus and go inside! It’s gorgeous!

v When it comes time for your Theatre/Art/LHC papers (ESPECIALLY the Art ones!) Westminster Reference Library might quickly become your best friend. It’s almost directly behind the National Gallery and has so many fabulous resources! Use it!

If you don't have anything to do, don't just sit in the Celtic and wait for someone to invite you along. I did that a lot and regret it now. Take a map and just go walking. Look up what's going on in the city on Timeout London (a FABULOUSLY invaluable resource) and go do something alone or invite others. Don't be afraid to venture. 

TOP SUGGESTIONS:

1.     USE YOUR STUDENT CARD. USE YOUR STUDENT CARD. USE YOUR STUDENT CARD. Ask for discounts everywhere you go (ESPECIALLY BOX OFFICES)- you’ll be surprised how many places will give you a little bit off if you just ask for student discount prices.

a.     The National Theatre has a £5 Entry Pass special for students where you can get tickets to almost any show for this awesome rate! Sign up early and TAKE ADVANTAGE OF IT!

b.     Ryman’s gives 15% discounts to anyone with a student ID card!

2.     BARTER. Especially at Portobello Road, and even some of the souvenir shops in various places around the city- if the owner wants your business, they’ll come down on the price once you say, “I can’t pay that much for it” (I did this a couple times in souvenir shops along Shaftesbury Avenue, AKA The West End or Theatreland)

3.     Don’t let Londoners intimidate you. After home-stay, you’ll be a pro at navigating the city and will be giving tourists directions… but don’t totally give up your map. Sometimes it’s fun to just put your finger down in the middle of the city and find a way to get to where it lands. Also, they’ll probably make fun of your accent or unabashedly hit on you because of it. Sometimes you have to just walk off boldly and let them think their haughty English thoughts. ;)

4.     Walk as much as you can when you’re not with the whole group. Once you get a basic knowledge in your head of the city, make sure one of your friends has a map and start walking. Try to get a picture in your head of what connects where. I didn’t do this until the last three weeks and I really regret it now.

5.     TELL MR AND MRS RUMBELOW TO SPEAK UP. He/she will often be drowned out by the city noise, and people hate to say they can’t hear, then when the final comes none of you know anything from random segments of each walk. Just kindly ask him to repeat himself more loudly. You’ll adjust to the thick accent after a while, too.

6.     There are TONS of free music events on Sunday afternoons. Westminster and St. Paul’s both have weekly organ recitals (go to at least one. They’re actually rather glorious); there are often choral concerts and piano concerts and such on those chilly Sunday afternoons that you really don’t want to study anyway.

7.     GET THE EVENING STANDARD NEWSPAPERS. They’re free. They hand them out outside basically every tube station around 4-6 PM on weekdays. Pick them up and read them. Maybe even the morning papers too. Be engaged in what’s going on in the country and around the world. Play some Sudoku. Become and expert at crossword puzzles and making Boris Johnson faces. Some of my favorite memories are conversing over the Evening Standard or playing its daily Sudoku on a train ride.

8.     Sit in the lobby of the Celtic until 2 AM and bond with the people who become your second family. Not all the time, but let it happen. Those are some of my favorite memories.

9.     A. Wait by the stage door after shows and meet the cast/get signatures. Even of the ones you didn’t love as much or didn’t see any famous names or didn’t buy a program. Always have a pen and just get them to sign your ticket. I wish I’d done that more, and it only takes about 20 minutes of waiting after the show.

B. Go to random plays in the tiny theatres that exist above many pubs (like the Old Red Lion Theatre, just down from Angel tube station). Sometimes they’re the best.

10.  Take pictures. Make videos. JOURNAL A LOT (quick-journaling will become your best friend). Writing postcards really isn’t that big of a deal. Don’t worry about doing it a lot. Watch British TV shows when you’re in homestay. Make dinner for your homestay family (just don't burn the couscous, like I did). Do things you wouldn’t normally do. Go to a poetry reading. Try to step on a pigeon (no really, it’s hilarious). Whatever. Just go find adventure and do it. You’ll never regret any of it.

Basically, it’s a lot of walking and a lot of museums and a LOT of new information. Soak it in. Stay cheerful, guard against complaining, and be thrilled to be on that three-hour walking tour of yet ANOTHER art gallery full of altarpieces and naked people in paintings. You’ll miss it next year.

AND ABOVE ALL: DON’T LET ANYONE TELL YOU WHAT TO DO. Not even me/this suggestion sheet. This is your experience, your adventure, your dream. “Do what you like, like what you do.” Stick to the rules already laid out for you and then just have fun.

"When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life; for there is in London all that life can afford." -Samuel Johnson

His tender whispers and inexplicable movements...

There is something stirring inside of me that I can't express with words. Something comes quickly but silently- I feel its approach but cannot see or hear it.
"I think I'm on the brink of something large. Maybe like the breaking of the dawn, maybe like a match being lit, or the sinking of a ship, letting go gives a better grip."
I don't even know what to call this. It's more of the aforementioned waiting, but it's building now.

Things swirl around me, out of my control. I am unable to fully grasp any of this.

I can only hope that someday, sometime I can look back at this time and understand what will have happened. For now, I'm walking through the can't-see-your-own-hand-in-front-of-your-face fog, well aware of the energy building around me and quite unaware of what it belongs to.

In the meantime, God is whispering:

- Matthew 10: 34-39, especially verses 37, 38, 39...
"Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me, and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me. And whoever does not take his cross and follow me is not worthy of me. Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it."
It's almost like a command, given the way things have been shaping up in my life lately, especially in regards to London. It's not that my parents aren't supportive, they are doing the best they can, I think. But consider attempting to be enthusiastic about your baby girl moving across the ocean to live in another country. I'm sure it's scary and not exactly exciting for them to see this slowly becoming reality in my life. The fact that they've been less than thrilled over the prospect of me moving to London has concerned me, and made me wonder if that's really God's call on my life. Crazy how He keeps reassuring me in my unfaithful, too-frequent moments of doubt- one of which came in church through Matthew 10. Jesus did not come to make everything the rainbows-and-butterflies kind of happiness and peace. He came to seek and save the lost, and in the meantime divide His true worshippers from those who love their comfort zone more than Him. 
My job is not to cling to my parents and my rut of the usual while I'm waiting for God to fulfill His promise.
My job is to take up His cross and love Him even more than my family- to follow Him before following my family's wishes, if it comes down to that.

- Hosea 2:14-23
"Therefore, behold, I will allure her, and bring her into the wilderness, and speak tenderly to her... And I will betroth you to me forever. I will betroth you to me in righteousness and in justice, in steadfast love and in mercy. I will betroth you to me in faithfulness. And you shall know the Lord."
This continuation of His former promises to me has been my source of strength so many days lately. He will bring me out, into His glorious wilderness (I imagine that we pick wildflowers and taste the syrup of honeysuckle as we walk in the field of knee-high yellow grass) and speak tenderly to me. His whispers stun my heart and hold me together. My heart is His and only His, this betrothal is never to be undone. No matter how far I may run or how hard I may fight His goodness and faithfulness, He cannot be anything but that, for it is who He is. His faithfulness, righteousness, steadfast love, justice, and mercy win me over moment by moment and I cannot help but seek to know Him. I cannot help but trust His promises, because I know His heart and it knows me, and there are only hopeful, magnificent things to come from it. 

today

This day last year was arguably the best day of my life second to being saved & redeemed by Jesus Christ. 12 January, 2012.
The day I arrived in London.
The day I faced my fears.
The day I fell in love.
The day my life changed.

Don't get me wrong, I am forever grateful for that day and all that followed. I am insanely thankful that God cemented in my heart a love for London and continues to assure me that His will for me in London is not completed yet. Life now is so very different than it was a year ago, and I am grateful for how massively and magnificently God has shown up and been faithful in the big and little circumstances. I love where He has me and what He's doing here at this time...
But I want to rewind my life. I want to go back and be whole again. I want to be fully happy again. I want to be whispered to by Him as often as I was while in England (which was a lot). Not that He doesn't speak any more or I'm not mostly happy or He doesn't continue to fill me to overflowing- He does all those things and more. But knowing that life is this spectacular here, but *could be* 4x more awesome if I were in London, simply because He molded my heart to fit perfectly there... it totally kills me.
I think I've mentioned it before, how I've prayed for so many years that He would simply break me.
And He finally answered the prayer.
I am so sweetly broken in the most complex way I could imagine. I'm broken over the fact that I'm simply not home. I'm broken over the fact that it took me this long to let Him break me. I'm broken over the fact that I can't seem to be as close to Him on this side of the ocean as I was to Him while across the pond. and a few other forms of brokenness that I can't quite put a finger on.

It so utterly humbles me that every moment of my life up to that point on January 11 when I left the USA was preparation for London and Him ordering my steps. I can't believe that He could be that loving and that awesome and that wise and that magnificent and that meticulous and that excellent, that He would take the time to say,
"Look at this little 9 year old girl. She loves me, yet she doesn't know me.
I'm gonna make her want to take piano, and do cartwheels, and go to summer camp.
These things will lead her to teach music, and gymnastics, and will take her directly to the college I want her at, so that she can see flyers for a semester abroad in England and think, 'What fun! I love british accents!'
and go,
and find the reason that she is alive.
And she'll fall in love with me and I'll teach her and I'll sing to her
and we will go on great adventures together!
This innocent nine-year-old doesn't even know how I'm working in her life to consecrate her to me over the next ten years and the rest of her life!"

I am so blown away by the magnitude and depth and force of my Great God and His love.

He makes me... loved. and happy.

absdfaevyaoeuiaehruiavefyieaguaiehuiaegitueahuaip
^ my thoughts right now.
I usually don't blog until I have some actual purpose formulated in my mind that needs to be discussed. But this is just too good! Please forgive me while I improv-blog.

GOD IS SO GOOD. HE IS REALLY COOL AND AWESOME.
HE PROVIDES AND HE MAKES ME HAPPY AND HE GIVES ME JOY AND HE CALMS MY HEART AND HE IS JUST EVERYTHING.
What started this? Reading back through my talking-to-God journal.
Is it ridiculous that every time I start connecting God's dots of how He's moving and providing in my life and answering even the most shallow, nonsensical prayers, that I get really excited?
Because I really do. Like, a 'five-year-old-on-Christmas' excited.
Last November, for example, I was reading through Ezekiel. On the 7th, I wrote:

"Ezekiel 4= Sometimes you call us to craziness. Help me to listen to Your call and boldly and bravely accept it."

Less than a week later, I wrote:

"I know that You will carry through on Your words, as your prove in Ezekiel 5... Help my unbelief and help me continue to wait hopefully and patiently on your plan."

Throughout this time, I was getting nervous about London and all the semester would bring. I was distracted by boys and vanity and all my lists. Now, looking back at these entries of pouring my heart out to God with my concerns and prayers- both selfish and eternal- it astounds me how even then He was providing and I was blind to it.
He was preparing my path and putting the desires in my heart to do bold, brave, crazy things for Him... like move to London. for more than just 3 months.
He was keeping me from the things I wanted but didn't really need...
like approval from the wrong people, attention from the wrong guys, and other little things that were simply ill-timed.
I vividly remember, then, being so overcome by His goodness one day, and the next day being unable to focus on anything other than some cute boy or making my hair look awesome. I'm not saying I'm perfect and over that now, but our relationship is just that: A RELATIONSHIP. Not me sliding my prayer requests under His door and trying to make Him agree with my petitions, as it was a bit over a year ago.
Another request that keeps popping up in my pre-London journaling is "pursue me, woo me, be the Lover of my soul."
And, okay, let's be real: it makes me tear up when I see it so often and know what happens next.
HE DOES IT!!!!! asfioasebituawvryilhrusilabwrulhruilavylriaegurilshutarwlagryualrgvhajslhfialegu
what?!
Yeah.
THE GOD. THE ONLY GOD. THE ONE WHO IS AND HAS BEEN AND WILL BE FOREVER. The One who created me and everything I know. I said, "Hey, will you love me and start teaching me to love You?" and He said "HECK YES."
I cherish London most because it's the place where He became my first Love. I've called Him that before and known what it meant, but used it cause it sounded good and spiritual.
I don't think anyone knows what it means until they get to a place where they literally cannot survive alone. While in London, I had no family or best friends within arm's reach. I was completely out of my comfort zone 24/7 and ran around like a lost duck about 95% of the time, especially toward the beginning. I had a place to stay and someone who was an authority figure over me and money to buy bread and peanut butter, yeah. Otherwise, it was just God. I had no constant emotional support. I had no mentor. I had no church family. I had no one who'd be gut honest to my face when I needed it... I was hours away from all of that.
And because this little lost girl sat on her dorm bed and said, "I don't know what I'm doing, but I know I need Your love," He walked my paths before me. He was beside me as my friend, behind me as my rear guard, above me as my mentor, around me as my family, with me as my love. He became my everything, quite literally. I didn't even know this glorious Creator of all was doing that as I prayed and worried and cried and hoped and dreamed. I couldn't feel Him holding my heart and didn't hear Him say, "I'm already here, and there, and I already love You like that." But because somewhere something told me I should pray those words, He shouted "FINALLY! She's ready." and blew me away.

This probably doesn't make sense and doesn't tie together and doesn't get you near as excited or emotional as I am. But literally SEEING my penned prayers answered, a year later, I'm beyond ecstatic and so thrilled and blown away, I did good to calm down enough to type this out and spell most everything correctly.

HE MAKES ME HAPPY.

patience and opened eyes

I consider myself a patient person. Oddly enough, I'm pretty good at waiting contentedly on others and giving them time to do what needs to be done. Especially when it comes to kids... By God's grace, I am able to maintain a very even temperament and patient approach when teaching, so that comes in very handy, and often reassures me that I am, in fact, meant to be a teacher.
However.
When it comes to waiting on God, I'm one of the least patient people I know. Granted, I'm not physically hopping schools or dropping out and flying to London or sleeping around trying to find love, or even dating around... but emotionally, I kind of am all of that. In my heart, I'm always longing for London. Not necessarily a 'bad' thing to be longing for, but not the BEST thing to be longing for... which makes it a waste of time and energy. Same thing with looking for love, my future, etc. If in my heart I'm constantly turning away the consistency, patience, and goodness of Christ, and seeking satisfaction from other things, I'm letting them become idols and strongholds in my life. It's really much more serious than just wishing for something, in my perspective.
But I'm gonna be honest:
I want a boyfriend. I want to fall in love and get married and have adventures together.
I want to leave America. My first choice is London, but really anywhere except here is okay with me, as long as I'm GOING and DOING.
I want to be a mom. Whether it's having a biological child or adopting or being a maternal figure to orphans I hang out with or just being a loving teacher... I want it.
I'M READY FOR IT, GOD.

at least that's what I keep telling him.
but again with the honesty, y'all: He obviously knows what is best for me and what will lead to his ultimate glorification and the completion of His will. and since at this time I don't have a boyfriend, live in London, or work with orphans on a regular basis, it's obviously His will that I am exactly where I am at this time.
"For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven... He has made everything beautiful in its time. Also, he has put eternity into man's heart, yet so that he cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end." {Eccl. 3}

He is not currently rushing to make my life beautiful at this time.
He is not off working on someone else's life with my stale-ly 'beautiful' one sitting idlely by.
He is not attempting to find a way to tie all the knots together in the end and make this a beautiful work at some point.
HE HAS ALREADY MADE EVERYTHING BEAUTIFUL.
The work is done.
I don't have to do anything. No adding or subtracting of the beautiful or ugly is necessary. I don't have to try to do everything myself and 'fix' the 'wrong' things that have happened in my life.
I just repent from the wrong. Turn to the right. and open my eyes.

I just have to let myself see it.

Be patient, redeemed daughter. Calm down enough to take in your surroundings and see the beauty God has made, that has already been planned and is slowly blossoming around you. Trust the timing of the omnipotent and omniscient One.  

when things come full-circle

September is finally here and I am so far beyond excited! It's my third-favorite month (only because I love spring and Christmas a little bit more) of the whole year! Football season is finally upon us, the weather is slowly but surely cooling down, and this month brings back lots of fabulous memories...
The first of which is today. September 1. My former-best-friend-yet-still-semi-friend's birthday. I associate this day with prank calls, late night sleepover discussions, walking through her neighborhood, and watching Pride and Prejudice (honestly, it's a good thing I'm home and don't have a copy of Good Ol' Reliable near by or I would probably put it in and let myself bawl a little). It reminds me of how we bonded in the first place, and everything we experienced together, and all the crazy emotions we vented together. But it also reminds me of how much of a terrible friend I was, not only to her, but also (and possibly more importantly) to my faithful friends that tried to stick by me during my diva/selfish/awful years. It was not the prettiest or best season of my life, to put it nicely, so reminiscing on that bit always brings a dull ache. Mostly because I realize I could've been so much more, and such a better example, and so much more of a passionate follower of Christ- and I completely wasted that time.
September 24 is another date that reminds me of that time, because that was *our* day. Our "friend-iversary", if you'd like to call it that. As most of you know by now, Summer of 2008 brought a challenging period of my life. Peyton and I "broke up" (our friendship was ridiculously tight-knit and it was a devastating decision when we decided to continue on our different life paths and not be best friends anymore) and that brought on the worst time I have ever experienced. I was continually depressed and felt that I had no one there for me (most of which was my fault). Even though from then on, remembering September 24th was a very painful thing for me, Peyton and I always texted each other a "Happy Anniversary" message... even though it was oddly untrue.
Well, today is her birthday. So despite our roller coaster of a history, I texted her a simple birthday message. And she replied that we should get together over Christmas break for coffee and discuss life as 'adults'. The thing is, I know we're both serious about this and are going to make it happen. and I like that. As I was sitting here, watching Bama games and remembering the MANY Bama games we watched together and talked through, I was hit with the magnitude of this. Okay, maybe it's just me being my usual over-analytic, dramatic self but I really feel like this is a little physical taste of God's redemption. That He can take this friendship that I totally screwed up, turn my screw-up into what draws me close to Him for good, and a couple years down the road start to patch that friendship and heal those parts of my heart that exploded when I lost my closest and last friend in 10th grade. He blows my mind with His goodness.
Honestly, though, in the summer between 10th and 11th grade when I was undergoing this continual darkness, I was not having my mind blown by His goodness. I was asking him "Why?", at best, and often questioning His existence. I was angry and torn and broken. I definitely don't remember reaching out to Him... I just remember being comforted when I cried and being held together as I numbly tried to regain control of my life. I feel like it was one of those circumstances that's actually pretty common and no one realizes it: it's when God subtly steps in and picks you up and just starts carrying you, but you aren't even aware of it. Looking back, I see that He did that. I see that as this effects of this bomb ricocheted through my heart, He kept digging out the shrapnel. At the time it made me mad when he would resurface those old wounds... Now I realize it was the only thing He could do to heal me. Which he did very well, in the end.
Now I find myself in a similar place: torn over wanting to be in England and having to be here. broken over my sinfulness and lack of trust. But He's come full circle through the healing process with me and is ready to lift me back up and carry me through again. He's watched my emotional breakdowns over the life I know I was meant for that I can't have yet, and comforts me in the midst of them. He is replanting my heart, rooting it in His own even more deeply than before, so that I will not hurt when I physically move to a different location but only when my heart moves away from His. I love that.
God, I am so extremely grateful for your circular work and awesome ways that are beginning to become so familiar. I love that. In London, I fell in love with you in such a new and real way, but I planted my own heart there in the city. I'm beginning to realize now that I should've been planting my heart in yours so that wherever You lead me I can follow WHOLEheartedly. Please forgive me for my arrogant, self-assured, and selfish ways. Instead, order my steps with Your Word and direct my paths. Don't give up on me. I try to trust and believe- help my doubts and unbelief! 

"And if I have to crawl, well You'd crawl too. I stumble and I fall, carry me through. The wonder of it all is You see me through." -Superchick