plants watered upside-down, and the big move

During covid, I decided (as many of you did) to expand my horizons and start new things/get back into some lost hobbies. I started playing video games with Casey (i.e. watching him play and giving advice), watercolor painting, taking care of plants, cooking and baking more, and playing piano/singing with Casey more. We also got a bird feeder and have become an 80 year old couple who gets up to watch the birds on Saturday mornings, and I don't hate that at all. These things were all so good for my heart and continue to be. I must say, my favorite newfound hobby is the plant-caring-for and bird-watching.

Now, you have to realize, only in the past couple of years have I been able to keep plants alive. Before, whenever I would buy a plant, no matter how sturdy it was, I would kill it, usually by over- or under-watering. In June 2020, after much encouragement from Casey and my friend Hanna, I went to Lowe's and bought a Pothos. While we were getting it settled at home that afternoon, my sweet old neighbor (who was the plant KING, he was amazing, his patio was full of lush plants and so beautiful) came over and offered a cutting of one of his favorite plants. He swore that it was impossible to kill and that it would survive anything, so I accepted it and planted it. After some googling, I *just* discovered it is type of Pallidia plant sometimes called 'Purple Heart'. From there, my little plant collection has grown. I propagated my Pothos shortly after moving to Cleveland- and IT WORKED! So now I have the big Pothos plant and two little ones, my Purple Heart, and I bought a Croton plant last summer that is still thriving! 

At the end of April 2021, I wanted to go for something more adventurous, so I got my first tomato plants. I was pumped, bought some giant terra cotta planters and tomato food and all that jazz, and jumped in. While I was asking around for any advice about tomato plants, my mom gave some advice that became much more meaningful than plant advice. She said, "Since your tomato plants are in pots, you need water them upside-down, to be sure to water the roots. Put a tray under them and water the tray over and over until the plant stops soaking it up. That forces the roots to grow deep in search of water, and your plant will be stronger." That just about smacked me on the forehead. It immediately felt like a metaphor for my faith. 

Over the past year or two, I have been in a new/different/odd place in my relationship with Christ. For a long time, our relationship was easy. I didn't have to work at it much. I had desire to be in the Word and communing with other Believers, and it just... happened. But sometime in the past couple of years, that shifted. It felt like I was in the weird teenage phase of my relationship, where I wasn't 'rebellious', but I found myself suddenly questioning things that had always felt certain. Similar to, "Wait... do my parents REALLY know what is best here? Do they understand the nuances of this situation? Should I lean fully on their judgment or take it with a grain of salt?" Except my questions were, "How do I know I can lean fully on God's guidance? What does it look like to be fully His? Is it possible to be fully His and ________?" (so many things can fill in this blank) So, to use a 'forbidden' buzzword, I believe I'm deconstructing. I see so many things taking hold of the Church in America that make me go... That's not Jesus. How do they think that's like Jesus? And so many things in my heart that make me go... That's not Jesus. How did I think that was like Jesus for this long?

In the midst of these questions and the watering of plants, I realized, I am being watered upside-down right now. He is growing my roots deep. And it doesn't look pretty on the outside, it doesn't feel like a freshly-watered pot, and many days I have felt dry on the surface, but I am watered deep within. I think that's a good thing? Sometimes I'm not sure that I'm doing this right, but I am trying, and I am looking for Him wherever I can find Him, and I am saying Yes to Him when he starts to change me, and I think that's right. 

There are many days I have asked Him, "Am I on the right path? Please move me if I'm not." I am so afraid of getting decades down the path and suddenly realizing I went the wrong way. Is it enough to just trust that He is a Good Shepherd and will lead and guide me, and my feeble idea of control is absolutely laughable? 

Somewhere in here, the birds fit in. They absolutely love our feeder and will empty it in 8 hours. As I watch them, and look at the plants on my patio, I am reminded of Matthew 6 and filled with hope. The birds do not prepare or plan ahead, and yet God cares for them and feeds them. The plants do not toil to be clothed, but God makes their coverings beautiful- for something that is here one day and gone the next! "How much more so" just keeps coming to my mind. How much more so does He prepare and provide for me and cover me. There, on my back patio, He has given the cure for my worries. 

And now, Casey and I find ourselves moving to a new back patio. Back "home" to Hub City. And while we are overjoyed at the Lord providing this, it is also extremely bittersweet. There have been loooooots of opportunities for worry, and God has been providing so much peace. Peace that, as Philippians 4 promised, passes my understanding. I literally find myself trying to objectively process the fact that we are moving, starting new jobs, living in a house, leaving our Cleveland people... all the changes... and going, wait- shouldn't I feel more worried about this? This is not like me. But thanks be to God for this peace that feels illogical!

Let me rewind a bit:

When we first found out we were moving to Cleveland, I was not happy. I shed a lot of tears and felt a lot of rebellion in my heart, but thanks to some wise and encouraging friends, I found the ability to exhale a prayer: “if this is it, God, change my heart.”

And He so absolutely did. 

Against all odds, I love this place. At first, it was just “oh my gosh, Cleveland is so small!”, but so many things that weren’t Cleveland’s fault have given reason for us to not love it. We have been far from our families, with few friends, in a small town. We experienced the darkest days of grief here. We lost three of our favorite people in less than two years- two of them within a month of each other. The walls of apartment 4102 have echoed our cries and seen our buckets of tears. We have been so fluent in tears during our Cleveland time. And yet…

I have loved this season. Casey and I are even more of a weird little team who spend 90% of our time together, and it shows. I love the people that Cleveland brought us, especially PDS. It was a miracle to begin with, me finding PDS at the time that I did, but it has become more of a miracle each day. My heart is knotted up in it, and leaving is gonna be excruciating. I fully believe Mary Kline, my teaching partner, is literally a gift from the Lord to me. There are not words good enough to express how much her guidance and partnership has meant to me. In fact, I feel that way about most of PDS. It is something I do not count lightly, the way they accepted this stranger so quickly, the deep love I have for the place I’ve worked and the people I’ve worked with. I know how uncommon it is to find that. I know the discomfort of working in a place where you feel like you have to keep your guard up. And let me tell you, it has been an absolute oasis to be in a place that is so much the opposite of that.

Somehow, oasis seems to be the word sticking in my mind during this move. When I drove away from my job interview at my new school and began talking to God, I said through happy tears: it feels like I have been in a desert this whole time and just stumbled upon an oasis. Kinda doing a double-take, like... wait, I was in a desert this whole time?!?

And while I am so thankful for the Lord's presence with me (and Casey) in the desert, in the spiritually dry and lonely and exhausting, I keep leaking out more happy tears at His provision of WATER. Set-your-Pothos-in-the-water-bowl-and-let-it-soak-up-everything-it-can water. We were watered upside-down in this season, and it was necessary and good and brought some beautiful lessons. I can't express my gratitude for that enough. And simultaneously, I am deeply thankful for the change of season happening before my eyes and looking forward to the new lessons and gifts it holds.

So. goodbye Cleveland. There are so many things I will miss: La Michoacana mocha ice cream and nutella pops, 50 nights of lights, Zoe Coffee, Uncle Jo’s mac and cheese, going out for Sunday lunch after church, being literally 5 minutes (or less) away from anywhere I need to go, seeing people we know in Kroger every single time, the winter snows, and stunning sunsets. And you sure know I won’t miss it, but I will never forget the insane mosquito season. 😂 I will, however, miss the dragonflies in July/August and my wonderful little slice of heaven in room 406 at PDS and my #dreamteam partner. 

this plant was in a funeral arrangement from a loved one,
and it became our classroom plant this year. I marvel at the irony
(or accuracy?) of the planter: let love grow. 

my sweet lil patio plants last summer (pre-bird feeder)

So thank you, my God, for being One who walks beside me in Cleveland and Hattiesburg just the same. Thank you for these plants and the ways you teach me about me through them. 

Thank you for planting me, for planting Your Word in me (Therefore, get rid of all moral filth and the evil that is so prevalent, and humbly accept the Word planted in you, which can save you! IF YOU DON'T THINK JAMES 1 THROWS DOWN, WE CANNOT BE FRIENDS haha but really).

Thanks for the eleven- and twelve-year-olds that speak James 1 to me and over me multiple times a day-- that's a gift I don't think I even grasp the depth of yet. 

Thank you for this heart of mine that cares so deeply and holds on so strongly to those I love. Thank you for the beauty of a broken heart as I leave people who have affected every bit of me.

Thank you for constantly reminding me "how much more so".

Thank you for holding all my tomorrows and tenderly walking me into each one- that is the best of it all.

looking back, and looking ahead

I have felt for a long time that I have things I need to say publicly, mostly for my own processing, but for so long, the words have not come. Maybe my mind has been too full of other things.

Today, January 1, 2021, somehow still feels hopeful, and it makes me a little annoyed. It doesn't seem like it should feel hopeful. In many ways, 2020 was truly revolting. Put aside the typical, "Covid, quarantine, wearing masks all the time" that all of us faced, and I still see so much hurt and brokenness when I look back on our year. For probably a few weeks now, I've been thinking, "I don't have anything to celebrate from 2020." Quite melancholy of me, but when you have two family members die within a month of each other at the end of the year, those thoughts come easily.

This morning as I spent some much-needed time adoring the Father, I finally allowed Him to reach my heart with truth. There is so much beauty that can come, and will come, from this pain. Though Casey and I are deep in grief, and will be for quite some time, that does not mean there cannot be beauty and life and hope and peace. 

I must admit, it is occasionally really difficult for me as an Enneagram 4 to keep myself from wallowing in the depth of my emotions. It feels nice to wallow and be really, really sad sometimes. It feels relieving, somehow, to find myself "in the depths of despair", as our dear Anne-girl says... Just to fully embrace it and live in it. And while I think there is a time and place for that, I must remind myself that most of my emotions are (at least) two-sided. While I am hurt, I hope. While I am sad, I have joy. While I am afraid, I love. Not allowing myself to feel the sunny side of those deep, dark emotions is robbing myself of the gifts God has for me in the valley. 

While I grieve Mrs. Leigh Ann, I think of how hilariously she would react if she had seen what we made her Christmas tree look like this year, and I have to celebrate how special she made Christmas. While I miss her, I have to reminisce on our final Disney trip together last year and how we belted Disney songs in the car on the way there, and how we took turns pushing her wheelchair through the crowds and took advantage of how they would always send us to the front of the line on rides with her. While I wonder what our future will look like without her, I have to remember how much hope she had for our future- our careers, our future kids, our family vacations. 

While I grieve Mamaw Scitzs, I remember baking and decorating Christmas cookies with her last year, and that she gave me recipe cards in her handwriting of her cookie and icing recipes, and how that will be my favorite gift she ever gave me. While I miss her, I recall our many nights playing cards and trivia around the kitchen table, and how warm and loving her hugs were. While I wonder what parts of her I am carrying on in our family, I think about how she loved singing and serving and cooking and we all adored her for it.

All these things, every memory of them that swirls around in my head, reminds me of the complexity of life and emotion, and what a gift it is to loved by someone for every minute they know you. 

I told God recently that I knew there were gifts to be found in the darkness, but I did not feel like searching for them, so He would have to show them to me if He wanted me to find them... and I think He is. When I look back over this year of isolation, I think about the many phone calls and facetimes and virtual family game nights we would never have had without it. When I look back on a year of change, I think of the gift that was a beautiful church and city and friend group that I treasure now more than I did when I lived with them. When I look back to my hopes and goals for 2020, I slowly realize that I can check off every single box. 

I didn't know then the darkness and hurt that the year would bring, but God did. In our year of uncertainty, I became more certain of Him and His care for me. In our year of scary things, I said yes to Him and found He took the fear away every time. Sara Hagerty says, "The fight against fear is a lifetime commitment to growth in communing with God. Trust is birthed and grows as we face our fears and turn to Him... Fear wants to steal what God gives. Fear can be a barrier to communion, or our communion can dispel our fear". It's difficult to face many of my fears coming to realization, and to somehow keep hoping for the next step. It would be easier to give in to the fear and harbor it. However, every time I have harbored my fear this year, it has become a barrier in my life. But when I turned to look at Him in the midst of my fear? "The things of earth {grew} strangely dim in the light of His glory and grace."

If you, too, have had a year of loss and hurt and fear, I hope you turn to Him. He is the best at holding it, not dismissing your emotion, but showing you the other side of it-- the excitement, peace, and stability it can bring when you process it and trust His leading. Today, I am celebrating some small things despite the darkness that is lurking:

- I memorized my first chapter of the Bible this year and God has buried it in my heart and used it time and again to minister to me.

- I read some really good books this year even though I did not meet my meager goal of 20 books

- I spent a lot of time with Casey and have never liked/loved him more than I do now

- I built up some friendships and maintained some friendships and lost some friendships, and all of those things feel right

- God gave us a new city, new home, and new jobs in the middle of a pandemic, and we love it more than we hoped we might

- I discovered the longwalks app and have been mindfully journalling with friends and it's been lovely

There is good around the corner, friends. Even in the pain. Even in darkness. Even in death. God is holding 2021 and leading us along.

_________________________________________

some song lyrics that keep coming to mind:

"God leads his dear children along- some through the waters, some through the flood, some through the fire, but all through the blood. Some through great sorrow, but God gives a song in the night season and all the day long."

"after all this has passed, I still will remain. after I've cried my last, there'll be beauty from pain. though it won't be today, someday I'll hope again, and there'll be beauty from pain. You will bring beauty from my pain."

"Be still, my soul, when dearest friends depart, and all is darkened in the vale of tears- then shall you better know His love, His heart, who comes to soothe your sorrow and your fears. Be still, my soul, your Jesus can repay from His own fullness all He takes away."

"I will build my life upon Your love, it is a firm foundation. I will put my trust in You alone, and I will not be shaken."

the waiting and believing

"My hands hold safely to my dreams,

Clutching tightly, not one has fallen.

So many years I've shaped each one,

Reflecting my heart, showing who I am,

Now you're asking me to show what I'm holding oh so tightly.

Can't open my hands, can't let go-

Does it matter? Should I show You? Can't You let me go?

Surrender,

Surrender, you whisper gently.

You say I will be free,

I know but can't You see

My dreams are me?

You say You have a plan for me,

And that You want the best for my life.

Told me the world had yet to see

What You can do with one that's committed to Your call

I know, of course, what I should do,

That I can't hold these dreams forever.

If I give them now to You, 

Will You take them away forever, or can I dream again?"

I can't tell you how many times I listened to these lyrics of Surrender by Barlow Girl during my high school years. For some reason, my 16-year-old-self felt like I was surrendering a lot by not getting to date guys I liked, or do 'cool' teenager stuff. Then, a few years later when I returned from my semester abroad in London (very much against my will... I should never have agreed to round-trip airline tickets), the lyrics resonated in a new way. Living in London and teaching there became a dream that I held dear and begged God to fulfill, but eventually had to surrender as well. Then, of course, there was the time Casey and I broke up. That was an entire castle of dreams built up that I had no choice but to surrender. Since we got back together all those years ago, there hasn't been much surrendering of dreams. Everything came pretty easily, and while my job was definitely a challenge, life didn't require much surrender. It continued like that for a long time, until this summer. 

When Casey found out he got accepted to USM's Sport Management grad program, we started praying for God to lead us to the right home, church, friends, and jobs. The home was a pretty clear and easy decision. Church has taken a while, but we've finally been going to the same one regularly (whenever we're in town on a weekend, which is not much). Friends are still a process. The job part came simply for Casey, but has felt so convoluted for me. We were blessed when Case was offered a grad assistantship- it was such a miracle, and made me feel so sure that God was preparing such a miracle job for me, as well. I had a couple really hopeful interviews, but nothing ever turned out well for me. 

Naturally, I got angry. Casey started work, then class, and I was still sitting at home every day bringing nothing to the table but occasional baked goods. I gave up on a full-time option and started trying to sub. August passed. Then September. I was waking up every morning at 4:30 trying to check subbing availability, and nothing was coming my way. I subbed two days total.  It felt like God was intentionally keeping me from steady work, and I was struggling with it more each day. We were (slash are) majorly poor, surviving only off the savings we had wisely accrued while teaching, and generous wedding gifts (prepaid rent and a lump sum of cash) from our parents. My emotions and heart condition varied from day to day. Some days I was borderline depressed. Some days I could ignore it and pretend I was ok. Only occasionally was I actually trusting God and at peace with this waiting He'd forced me into. Casey, of course, has been so loving and supportive through every bit of this, but I have struggled to accept it much more than he has. 

Finally, in the beginning of October, I was offered a long-term sub position at one of the best elementary schools in the state. It has truly been an answer to prayer, in more ways than just financially (though that has been the most pressing one). Somehow, though, I have still felt unsettled and am concerned about the rest of this year, and next school year. I worked so hard for my degree, and I love teaching Music so much, it's hard to accept that there may be a chunk of my life where I just don't teach Music. I've always felt and believed that God led me to Music Ed for a reason, and that He placed me in the schools I've taught in so far. This season has worn me down so much, and made me question even those beliefs in God's plan for me that always seemed so logical and steady before. A few days ago, 'Surrender' played on my drive to school, and touched my heart all over again. I don't think I'd even realized how much I had tied my self-perception to these dreams I've had of growing into a better Music teacher, and someday getting to be that teacher who's been at the same school for 25 years. I felt like those dreams WERE me, so I felt like this season not fulfilling them meant that I was losing part of myself, or not being who I'm supposed to be.

A few months ago (a bit after Easter), our pastor shared a beautiful analogy of how God reveals things to us, which I frequently think back to. He first shared a video of his grandchild hunting Easter eggs. In the background, you could hear the dad, behind the camera, saying, "Look over here! Do you see that egg?". When the toddler couldn't find the egg that was hidden in plain sight, the mom would go stand beside it and point down to it, saying, "Look, buddy, what's this?" until the child waddled over and gleefully grabbed the egg to show to his dad. 

You can probably see the analogy coming. He remarked that we often feel like God is hiding explanations or plans from us, when really He is standing over some Easter eggs saying "Look over here! Open this up and look what I have for you!". The 'eggs' are hidden in plain sight, but sometimes our infancy keeps us from recognizing what God has put before our eyes. 

I love the way Amanda Cook references it in her song Pieces:

"You don't give Your heart in pieces.

You don't hide Yourself to tease us."

God's delay to lead me where I think should be led says nothing at all about His sovereignty or ability to bring good to me, and says everything about how He wants me to stop questioning and trust Him. Recently, I saw a post from one of my favorite writers + instagrammers, Sara Hagerty, that felt like it was made especially for me. Every day she posts a "daily adoration" recognizing a Scriptural attribute of God. This one was based on Psalm 62:1- (You can find the full post here)

And man, if He hasn't been delaying and growing my belief these past few months. He's been leading me to surrender some old dreams that maybe aren't lifelong dreams, or maybe they just aren't for this season. He's been doing a lot of uncomfortable things- things that cause me to be vulnerable, needy, and dependent on Him and my family. I'm not going to tell you I've liked it, or that I'm happy with it all the time... but I am telling you that the waiting and believing God is a good place to be. 

new shoes

A little over a year ago, I wrote a blog post about being in a weird phase of relationship with Casey- we were very emotionally and spiritually serious, but still "just" dating- which we called "outgrowing our shoes". If you missed it, this post will make a lot more sense if you go back and read it now.

That post was written in February 2017. Little did I know that 9 months later, we would get engaged, and 15 months later, Casey and I would be married. The outgrown shoes season was very difficult for me, especially as the months ticked by and we still weren't engaged. I was dead set on a Spring wedding and a 6-9 month engagement, so I felt we "had" to get engaged between June and November 2017. I loved dating Casey, and I loved being his girlfriend, but the longer we were together, the more I wanted to just marry him already. When each month ended and we got closer to winter, I started getting sad that my dreams of a Spring wedding would have to be put aside for a Summer or Fall wedding, or worse, put off for another year. I cannot tell you the multitude of times I begged Casey to give me some hope of an engagement-- and in true Casey fashion, he wiped my tears away and asked me to trust him, without giving me any details or surety.

Looking back now, that was a really sweet season. It was the beginning of me learning to trust my (now) husband more than my doubts, my fears, or my own plans. At the time, however, I resented it.
Finally one night, at the end of October/beginning of November, I sat on the couch beside him and said: "Look, I know we aren't getting engaged anytime soon. I'm trying to be fine with that, but it's really hard for me. The hard thing for me is I'm keeping my hopes up for a Spring wedding and I just need you to tell me we're not having one. I just need you to say a Spring wedding is out of the picture, just so I can get over it."
So he did.
I cried. A lot.

Thankfully, he was lying. He'd had the ring made for me, picked the diamonds himself, and was waiting to pick it up on a day I wasn't with him.
Less than a month later, he proposed to me on Thanksgiving at his grandparents' house. Their 60+ year marriage has been such a blessing and inspiration to us, and we've always talked about how much we want to be like them, so I'm sure you can imagine the tears, giddiness, and relief that came with starting our story there.

We were engaged for 6 months and 4 days (HA! God and His impeccable timing! He gave us a 6 month engagement AND a Spring wedding)- which I mean to write about sometime, but not today.

We've been married for 2 months. Just typing that makes me stop and go- WAIT. WE'RE MARRIED?!
Yep, it's cool.
Anyway, we've been married just a few days, and already I'm finding the 'new shoes', as perfect as they are, are much different than I imagined them to be.
Though they don't bring the pains of wearing shoes that don't fit, they do bring the pains of breaking in shoes that no one has worn yet.
Everything is new. Everything has a learning curve. Everything is a little bit fun and a little bit scary and a little bit "what if I totally mess this up?"

Please don't take this as ungrateful or unsure of my commitment- I couldn't be more thrilled to be Casey's wife. It's just different than I expected. My perfectionist tendencies REEEAAALLLYY don't like having to figure married life out and get some stuff wrong along the way- I liked knowing what I was doing dating Casey and having a pattern to our minutes and days. Right now, it's weird trying to figure out our new patterns. The shoes definitely need to be broken in.

I can't tell you how many miscommunications we have had. How many times I've taken offense at a tone I thought he was taking with me. How many moments we have been so frustrated with each other, only to talk it out and realize we're aren't good at being married yet. Not good at understanding each others tone's, reading between the lines, knowing what tools or words will help the other person feel more loved or calm down or feel settled. We just don't know how to be 'married people' yet.

I definitely didn't see that coming. We dated for 4 years, I felt I was pretty good at reading between his lines and not getting offended at his introversion but GUESS WHAT? I knew nothing.
I think marriage is really just Revisiting Every Discussion You Have Ever Had 2.0 (not in the rehashing old arguments way, but in the spiral curriculum way {sorry that I only know how to make teacher analogies}). It's deeper and sweeter, but the hard stuff is harder, and the ugly parts of us are uglier- it's like marriage just gave us magnifying glasses for each other.

Casey and I have frequently referred to our relationship as if it's a college degree we're working on. "I think you're a Senior in Becca Studies by now," and the like. If getting married was graduating undergrad, then being married is pursuing a Master's. However, there are no online classes for this- it's a 24/7 internship. As frustrating as it is to have magnifying glasses for each other, what a sweet gift it is to be able to study and know and understand Casey Key that deeply. Deeper than any other human ever will (eventually. I do not claim to be there yet.)

So yes, I'm working on my Master's of Knowing and Understanding Casey Key. The new shoes are hard to fill, the learning curves are trying, and every.little.thing. feels like an experience that grows me, which is awesome, but uncomfortable. I strongly recommend marrying your best friend, it's a lot of fun, and a dose of reality at the same time. However, let's not turn this into a Becca's-life-is-better-than-yours session. Don't think I am better off because of who I am, who I'm with, my relationship status, or any way my life appears to be in this post or on social media.
My life sucks sometimes too.
The other night I got irrationally mad because I fell asleep while Casey was playing Words With Friends.
go ahead, laugh at me.

I suppose if I'm trying to boil all of this down to one thing, it's this:
you can be thrilled and terrified at the same time. you can be satisfied and frustrated at the same time. you can hate change, but also embrace it. Life is, for me currently, a lot of contradicting thoughts and feelings and events that happen at once. Most of the time I really like it, but sometimes I really hate it. That's okay, and normal, and part of this season of transition, and part of breaking in the new shoes I think.

the trauma of post-grad life

No one tells you that post-grad life is its own trauma. No one tells you that you'll spend nights wondering if the world would be better without you. No one warns about how hard you will be on yourself, the horrific things you will do when you feel bad- for some people, the terrible decisions you will make and awful ways you will treat others when you feel out of control. For me, the excruciating self-talk I engage in (I am meaner to myself than I would EVER be to another human) when I disappoint myself. No one even hints that post-grad life could traumatize you.

People say, "You did well in school, you'll be great," and you feel like a whiny baby when you realize you are not, in fact, great at this. You think you are probably doing the worst job anyone has ever done at this. You feel like you will never have spent enough time doing this to be at the top of your field. And to top it off, your friends don't talk to you anymore. Everyone gets busy, people move, people get married and have babies, and have weird work hours, and stay in school for a higher degree. They make new friends in their new circles, and you feel so replaceable. You feel out of touch. You feel like a bad friend, and like you're not worth keeping in touch with.

Older people rag on us millennials for being entitled and perfectionist. They write articles about how dumb it is that we are displeased with our lives if we don't daily find gratification in our jobs and studies and relationships. And please hear me out here- I see their point.
There is a very valuable trait that many young people my age (and younger) do not have: perseverance. I know the importance of continuing to push forward, even when I am displeased with myself or my job or my relationships with others. I know life won't always be rainbows and butterflies. Surely, plenty of young adults take their perfectionism too far and genuinely are socially hindered because of their entitlement issues. I get that.
But I also think the vast majority of us just want what we've been told we can have: something better than our parents had. If you're like me, you were raised hearing about the trials your parents and grandparents faced. You were probably told, "I work this hard because I want you to have it better than I did." We've been hyped up and encouraged and taught plenty of valuable life lessons and are, upon college graduation, dropped into the world with- best case scenario- a toolbox full of things we aren't entirely sure how to use.

For the first time in our two decades, we are not in school 8+ hours a day, 5 days a week. We suddenly have time to spend thinking about things. Things that aren't papers and reports and projects. All forms of media are telling us all kinds of different statements about ourselves and the people we see and hear about every day. Comparison is a natural thought process. We start worrying about things we had never even thought about before. We realize our world is in an awful state, and it's petrifying. We look around and feel like we had been calmly floating by the sand... but suddenly realize we have drifted so far into the dark beyond that we can no longer see the shore.
The shock of suddenly being alone on a float in the ocean is crippling. There is so much unknown. There are no others around; no one to call on should something happen, no island to paddle to if a danger arises. It's enough to send you into emotional shock.

One of my Psychology professors in college had a theory that every mental disorder was a product of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. The more I consider that possibility, the more likely it seems. And when you look at it like that, I think it's impossible to escape 18 years of schooling, 22 years of LIFE, without even a little bit of PTSD. No matter how hard you try, no matter how good a childhood you had. Trauma accumulates, and maybe you don't even realize it until you graduate and have time to think about it.

The 20's are their own time of trauma that no one prepares you for. I wish I had someone in my life who had known to bring a box of tissues to graduation and say, "You'll need these more in two years than you do right now. It goes downhill for a little while here. You might hate it. It might make you stronger or it might make you crazy, who knows."

Some days I think it made me crazy.
I look at myself and wonder how I am such an emotional roller coaster, how I think such odd things, how I can be so dissatisfied with such a good life. I don't know how I am sometimes so lonely. Right now, I am in my 'normal' frame of mind- content, only slightly stressed, overall pleased at the general direction of my life.
But some nights when I lie down, I feel quite alone. I see people, and we have a good time and laugh and do fun and silly things. Then when I curl back up under my sheets, everything feels so heavy. I want someone breathing beside me. I want someone to hold my hand, or even just lay beside me and say, "it's not as bad as it seems."

Maybe all of this is just me. Maybe it's the combination of my artistic heart, my highly sensitive personality, my college experience, my current friendship and relationship status... the sum total of my life so far.
I really hope it isn't.
I hope I am not the only 23-year-old who sometimes listens to her own thoughts and realizes that she has moments she turns back into a 7-year-old. I hope I am not alone in feeling slightly traumatized from my realizations about life these past two years.

I do know one thing- if anyone else out there agrees with any of the above things, then you & I are together in this.
We are not crazy; we are growing.
I'm not always good at believing that, but today I'm trying to be. Today, I'm just reminding myself that my job is to 'keep my eyes on my own paper,' as I so often tell my students. I read this in an article today that greatly helped my mindset about this post-grad life.
It's difficult for me- more so on some days than on others- but that doesn't mean it is my job to judge my work and my progress in it. My job is just to keep going. To try. To show up at work every day and care, and teach, and maybe get a little bit better at it every day.

In this life that some days feels more like a tragedy than a beautiful thing, it is my job to put my thoughts out there when I feel alone- because surely I am not the only one.
It is my job to type out words that convey my thoughts and feelings and experiences- because certainly there is some other traumatized heart out there who can find hope here.

inspired by a new picture in an old frame

hello, virtual readers. it's been a pretty minute since I slipped some words into this space, but it felt like the right time. it's funny how for a season, a couple years ago, I felt like I had nothing but words. They poured out of my fingertips onto the keyboard- into emails and blips of google docs- and slipped from my pen in journal entries and letters and little jots here and there. They pulled me along as they flew out of me, I think.

and now they don't, not so much at least. not as easily. they drift around me a lot. maybe I just keep them to myself more now. maybe I finally learned how to store things up and ponder them in my heart. maybe it's good, maybe it's not.

so here I am, with some words. whether they are important or not is not up to me to say, but I'm glad you've kept reading this far. stay a little more, please.


I just did a tiny thing that felt really monumental, and I'm quite emotional about it.
I changed out a picture in a frame. I put the frame in a place I look every morning. (then cried.)

to explain why this is monumental, I have to backtrack a good bit, so please bear with me.

summer of 2014. specifically, the beginning of august. I had been dating Casey Key for nearly four blissful months.

(somehow a lot of things come back to this. I want to go ahead and clarify that this is not because of Casey. I love that man dearly, and I love our story, but not because of him or me or us. things don't revolve around that because of us. 

things revolve around it because it's a turning point on my heart's journey to the Lord. 

Casey is a huge part of my life because Jesus is a huge part of Casey, and of my relationship with him.)

so after four months, I thought we were kinda serious- at least I was serious about it. in all honesty, I knew six days into dating him that he was the only person I ever wanted to date or kiss or love.
for him, figuring it out wasn't that fast. I'm glad it wasn't.
anyway, I fly with his mom to Houston to pick him up from working at PineCove for 6 weeks. this was during the season I had a lot of words, therefore I had written him 42 letters, one for every day. I had also mailed him a lock of my hair, but that's beside the point.
during this time in Houston, I met his mom's birth mother (this is important and you'll see why in a minute). we picked Casey up from camp; I was smitten, he was less than thrilled to see me. we drove back to his house, talking about his family and hearing stories of his parents dating and all that fun stuff. so many times on that trip, I thought, "I just want to be part of this family."

we get back, talk a bit, and all part ways to get some sleep. the next morning we all go to his parents' church together. once there, Casey doesn't talk to me, doesn't get very close to me, doesn't hold my hand or lay his arm across the back of the pew. we get Cane's for lunch and take it home. we eat with minimal talking. Casey seems very off, and i'm internally freaking out. I ask him if I should just go ahead and drive home, he says "yeah I think that would be good."

the alarms in my heart start blaring.
I knew. this was it.
he walks me to my car, muttering about dragonflies. he opens my door, I get in, he gives me a peck that I don't reciprocate.
I immediately regret it and give him a decent peck back. I close the door and drive away and cry most of the way home.
I try not to act like anything is wrong. I tell myself "he was just tired". I don't let myself cry at first.
a few days later I ask him if everything is okay with us; he won't answer me.
"can we just wait and talk about it in person when I get back in town sunday?"
I write a sad song, I say "fine."

I wait and wait and wait. the slowest week of my life.
I call my mom on sunday and cry for hours. I knew it was coming. I tried to tell myself, "we're not about to break up." I tried to suck up my tears and be happy and go to dinner with friends.
He texts me, "can I come over?" at 9 PM.
He comes over.
He's wearing yellow.
He gives me a sad smile and it takes so much of me to keep from crying.
Liv leaves us alone to talk downstairs.

He says a lot of things I don't remember.
I force myself to look him in the eyes the whole time.
I force myself to not say anything, not guessingly finish any of his thoughts, let him say what he means.
I don't cry.
he talks a lot and I remember none of it, just the look on his face. just seeing my refrigerator behind him. just shaky insides.
he ends with saying he guesses this means we are breaking up for good.
I ask a few questions, I still don't let myself cry, I sit and stare a bit. I try to breathe the thick, awkward air between us, but it hurts my chest.
he asks if he can pray for me.

he holds my hands. I want to pull them away but he holds them.
he utters a sentence and my shaky insides burst. I cry big alligator tears, bigger than I had cried in many years.
my tears fall on the backs of his hands, I remember that part so vividly.
when the first one drops he pauses his prayer and says "don't cry, please" so shakily, but I can't stop. he keeps praying. I think he cried some on the inside.

"Amen." we look at each other. I'm crying. he wells up. I sniffle my tears in a little. we stand up, awkward goodbye, i don't even want to hug him but I do.
he leaves me with a note on yellow paper, "don't read it until I leave."

he walks out. I walk to the kitchen table and sit. I open the letter.
it feels like I disintegrated in that moment.
heaving sobs and trying to read through my tears and wanting to hate him but having no reason to.
"it seems that our relationship may be coming to a halt..."
"I can't give you what you need right now as a boyfriend..."
"Please keep loving like you do. seriously, scare people by how evident your love is for them."

I call my mom and tell her. I'm surprised she could make out any words through the sobs. I walk upstairs and fall on liv's bed and tell her and cry and cry.
I cry myself to sleep. I wake myself up crying. I cry in the shower, I try to stop, I tell myself "you can cry now, but when you start blow drying your hair, you have to stop." I blow dry my hair. I cry some more.
I text close heart-friends and tell them, and I cry at their responses. So much love, and support, and loyalty.

For three days, I managed not to cry in public, but I would walk in my front door and sit on the piece of my couch he sat on, and cry and stare at the wall. for hours.
I would run to the bathroom at the school I was student teaching at, just so I could let a few tears slip out when they needed to.
I cried every day for months. I hated seeing him.
I wanted to hate him, I wanted to be mad, but I just kept loving him, and that was worse.
I vowed to myself that I would love people so much that it scared them, and I reminded myself of that every morning.
I started writing.
I wrote 30 pages of what will hopefully someday become a book.
I would always start out being sad, and it would turn into me realizing how much I loved him. how willing I was to be stabbed in the heart by God's will for our relationship.


That was the first time I had ever died to my self. You hear in church about "dying to self," and "denying self," and that kind of stuff. it was all just jargon before that. I thought I knew what it meant, but I didn't.
I finally, then, learned what it was. it wouldn't have happened if Casey had not been listening to God's heartbeat. I hate that part of the story. I hate that it had to happen, but I'm so thankful for what that season did to each of our hearts separately.

we were 'apart' for six months, but we stayed best friends. after the first week of silence, we texted daily. we met every couple of weeks for coffee and life-chats that still lasted a minimum of three hours. we still talked about the hard things, the deep things, the us things. we chose the hard and holy choices. we stayed close.

in a moment that was nothing short of miraculous, after six months apart, Casey told me he still cared about me. I shared my feelings too. We realized we didn't want to date other people. We talked and prayed about it for a couple weeks, just to make sure we weren't jumping back into something because it was easy. we sought wise counsel.
then we came back together and said, "Yep. this is it."

our story didn't stop there, but that chapter ended and another began. We're very different people now than we were two augusts ago, or than we were when we got back together, or than we were a month ago. God moves our relationship closer to Him a bit more each day, and some days I hate how difficult it is. But goodness, am I thankful for our season apart and our seasons since then.


NOW, here we are. two augusts later. two thousand sixteen. it feels like lifetimes have gone by.
and yet the other day, God gave us the strangest way for this part of our story to come full-circle.


it was saturday, we were at his house for his brother's graduation and going-away party. his mom's biological mom (the one I had met in Houston) came to town for it. It was the first time I had seen her since That Weekend in 2014. when we were alone, I commented to Casey "isn't it crazy that it's been almost exactly two years since I first met Sheila? the last time I saw her was That Weekend." he agreed, we talked about how glad we were for that season to have existed, and to be done. I thought that was the end of it.

later that night we sat at opposite ends of the table during a family card game. something ticked in me, and my heart started shaking again. it felt just like that time when we sat at the table after church and he wouldn't look into my eyes.
later that night, I got weird about it and we talked about it and I realized I'm just going to be a mess this August. last year I was consumed with first-year teaching prep, too much to realize anything else going on around me. this year, the memories of 2014 started drowning me.
I cried and he comforted me and we prayed together, and the next morning I assumed I was fine.

We went to church with his parents. I started being startlingly aware of the similarities in "this time in 2014" and now.
We sat on the same row.
But this time he looked at me. He said my name the way he does (he doesn't even know he says it a certain way), the way his eyes crinkle in the middle of it. He held my hand and squeezed it and saw my eyes fill with tears at the memories, and offered his shoulder to cry on. He stuck by my side and held my hand, even when I shrunk away and tried not to hold his because the memories hurt.

After church, we were planning to return home and eat leftover pizza, but I asked his dad what the lunch plans were anyway.
"I think pizza, but we may stop by Cane's and pick up some chicken too."

I laughed out loud. I looked at Casey and said, "OF COURSE!"
Nothing else would make sense. God was flashing this in front of my face and I couldn't help but laugh. I was weird most of the afternoon though, and I tried to pull away from Casey, like I do when I want to be alone in my hurt and not bother him with my heaviness.
We finally had some time alone to talk, and I let out my big tears again, about how much it hurt to see this in front of my face again, about how scared I was that things would be too similar to 2014.

I kind of wish I could share Casey's heart in those moments. He is nothing but the most loving, tender, patient human in the face of my panic and worry. I love many things about him, but that part of him is one of my favorites. I am so glad God gives him the strength and patience and grace to love me well, especially in those times.
Casey always soothes me and helps me breathe again in places I never realize I have been gasping for air.

And to finish off that circle, I left my hug-pillow at Casey's house accidentally. My hug-pillow is the one I hug closer at night when I miss Casey and wish he could be beside me.
When I drove back from the Key house and realized I had left the hug-pillow behind, light-hearted laughter bubbled out of me and it felt like an agonizing leading-tone chord had finally resolved back to tonic.
How perfectly wonderful that this time, the only thing I left at Casey's house was a pillow, and not our relationship.

and now, back to the tiny thing that felt so monumental:
I rediscovered my favorite picture frame tonight; in it was a picture of my favorite day of the 2012 London semester program.
I took the frame from the dusty windowsill it hid on, and dusted it off. I opened up the back of it and took out the old picture, and put a new one in.

And then I remembered how much it hurt to leave London behind. To move on without something that I loved so dearly, with only a vague promise of returning someday.
So I whispered a "thank you" to my Jesus, who has heard my heart these many times over these many days.

"Thank you for taking some things away, for letting them die. Thank you for bringing them back to life and finishing the circle."

heart stuff

I know I post a lot of sappy things about Casey, but bear with me for a second while I gush. I promise I have substantial things to say in just a second! My reasoning is that I'm only gonna fall in love once so I might as well be as obnoxiously sappy about it as I can while it's all so new and wonderful.

Gush: Casey far exceeds my grandest hopes of what I might someday end up with. Like many girls who were raised in a southern baptist church, I had my little list of expectations and hopes and he blows them all out of the water. He slow dances with me while in line for hot dogs at baseball games. He plays hide & seek with me in Target. He lets me walk down the laundry detergent aisle because he knows I like to just walk down it sniffing. He holds my hands and blesses our meals together. He always encourages me to "be a light" in the workplace, and his constant prayer is for us to keep finding ways to love each other and Christ better. He tells the lady at Baskin Robbins that I changed my mind and want two scoops instead of one, when I am too passive to ask for it. He hugs me tight when I cry, wipes away my tears, and always tells me to stop apologizing for myself. He listens to and cherishes my rambling opinions and thoughts. He kisses my tired eyelids after a long day of school. He takes me on roller coasters that terrify me- literal and metaphorical- because he knows in the end I'll be better off for it or enjoy it, or maybe both. He leans his forehead against mine and sings the boy part of Baby It's Cold Outside in perfect harmony to my girl part, in the middle of the bike section at Academy. He sits on the wooden benches of Barnes and Noble reading aloud poetry with me. He looks at me That Way and holds my face in his hands and LoveQuirks like mad. And these are just some of the things that I remember off the top of my head. Casey is too too good to me and I'm obviously just the most twitterpated little thing you ever did see.

Obviously there is a lot that Casey does and is that I love dearly.
Sometimes, though, people what to know what about Casey I most treasure, and that is a hard things to decide on. But I finally, over the past few months, have found my answer.

When people ask me what I love most about Casey or what most attracts me to him, I always tell them about how he embodies Christ as He is described in Zephaniah 3:17. "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."
If you want me to expound on that, ask me and I will, but this is not the time.

I love how Casey's heart reflects my Savior's. I love that he is a physical representation of Christ to me, that they way he cherishes me and bears burdens with me draws me closer to Christ. The problem is, Satan hates it. My flesh hates it.
It is excruciatingly difficult for someone you adore to just so tenderly and gently reveal your own heart-gunk to you. You might think that's dumb, it shouldn't be painful since they're being so gentle about it. But no. The simple loving manner used is almost 'burning coals'-esque. It somehow is worse when he's loving and humble about it (which he always is and UGH how annoyingly wonderful to have someone so freaking patient and meek pursue my heart daily) because it makes my gunk be revealed more realistically, and alllllllll the gunk comes out.

Sometimes for me the best way to clean out my gunk is to just announce it and share all the gruesome sin-details of it all so here goes.
My heart gets very proud, on both ends. It never sits stably in the middle, in selfless humility, but drastically wavers between arrogant pride and inadequate pride. Between "I am everything" and "I will never be anything". Really it just centers around Becca so dang much. Pride tricks me cause really any kind of thinking about me before/above others and Christ is pride, but that's not really how it's billed. We're led to believe that arrogant self-reliance is the only form of pride but my heart is the prime example of there being two sides to the coin.

Lately, there has been so much realizing how gunky and prideful my heart gets. I'm pretty sure that half the time Casey doesn't even realize he's being a vessel for God's conviction. He is so often a mirror-holder to me that helps me compare my heart to the Lord's and stop comparing myself to other humans.

This morning in church I was reminded of the deep truths of Proverbs 4. Most of us who were raised in church are familiar with Prov. 4:23, but how many of you know the verses that precede and follow it?

“My son, be attentive to my words; incline your ear to my sayings. Let them not escape from your sight; keep them within your heart. For they are life to those who find them, and healing to all their flesh. Keep your heart with all vigilance, for from it flow the springs of life. Put away from you crooked speech, and put devious talk far from you. Let your eyes look directly forward, and your gaze be straight before you. Ponder the path of your feet; then all your ways will be sure. Do not swerve to the right or to the left; turn your foot away from evil.” Proverbs‬ ‭4:20-27‬ ‭ESV‬‬

A while back I was struck, upon reading this passage, by the various parts of the body/life that this addresses. This morning, I was reminded of those realizations once again.
When Solomon tells us to pay attention to his WORDS, he tells us they are LIFE and HEALING to "all their flesh". These words that follow are directed at various parts of our flesh that can easily lead our HEART, or spirit, astray.

Crooked speech & devious talk: someone please explain to my why it is so much easier to engage in judgmental thoughts and words as an adult in the workplace. Is it just teachers? Is it just because I'm new to this and insecure and feel the need to judge others more harshly so that my failings don't seem so glaring? Or is it just humans in general, and I've been in such conservative circles I've avoided it this far? Either way I hate it. I hate feeling the drive to gossip or use less-classy language. But it's so present and it's such a struggle for me, which is weird and humiliating, cause it's never been much of a thing I dealt with before.
But sure enough, "crooked speech and devious talk" drag my heart down. However, when I let my mouth overflow kind and grace-filled words, my heart is refreshed constantly.

Eyes & gaze: this one is a no-brainer. Where your eyes focus, your heart focuses. If my eyes focus on others' strengths and weaknesses compared to my own, my heart sits stagnant in pools of self-love, pride, and comparison. If my eyes focus on others' achievements and things that I lack, my heart surges with jealousy and envy. If my eyes focus on my own inadequacy, my heart slumps into self-deprecation (which is also pride) and negativity. No matter what my eyes focus on, eventually my thoughts and heart will center there too. So I must be constantly asking myself: what are my eyes fixed on? What do I spend my time on? What do I invest mental and emotional energy in?
One of my all-time favorite verses, Philippians 4:8, gives us the key to centering our thoughts around Him.

“Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.”
‭‭it's as if God knew Becca would need these recommendations and gave them to Paul back when he was writing to the Church in Philippi. He knew my eyes would focus on everything but Him. He knew my heart would get distracted by what I let fill my vision. So He said, "okay. Instead, here's a list of things you should think about and fill your mind with: true things. noble things. right things. pure things. lovely things. honorable things. just things. commendable things. excellent things. and things worthy of praise. dwell on those."
Because the only things that exemplify those traits are gifts He showers, so ultimately we are looking back to Him. We are fixing our eyes and hearts on His goodness. "I steady my heart on the grounds of Your goodness," says Audrey Assad in her song Good To Me. That is the only way to combat wandering, distracted gazes- steadying our hearts on His firm foundation of goodness and righteousness.

Feet & their ways: where I go and what I actively do has so much effect on my spirit. What am I walking toward? What am I actively doing? Do my feet walk to my bed (to watch more Netflix) more frequently than they walk to others' aid? Am I honoring the temple of the Lord that my soul lives in? Immediately after sharing with us what we should fill our minds with, Paul says in Philippians 4:9
“What you have learned and received and heard and seen in me—practice these things, and the God of peace will be with you.”
Christ has taught and given and spoken and shown us everything we need to walk with Him and abide with him. It's now a matter of putting into practice what we have already learned and received and heard and seen.
It's not necessarily a matter of 'discipline' to follow Christ actively (though it often requires discipline to be effective and efficient as His ambassador). It's a matter of the heart. It's about setting my heart on the "Christ" setting and not letting my flesh distract me or delay me from that.

The great thing is, this is not a work I can do. It's a work I can invite and put into practice once it starts, but I cannot initiative a move of God. Only He can. Only the Spirit working in me and weeding the garden of my heart and filling me daily can change the direction of my eyes, thoughts, words, feet, and heart.

Someone once asked Charles Spurgeon, "Why do you have to be filled with the Spirit?" To which he responded:
"Because I leak."

I'm realizing that I leak a lot. And I rarely fill my heart back up with Him. And that's where all the problems start.
BUT I'm forever grateful to be surrounded by people who care to point out my leaks and hold up a mirror to me and fill me back up with His truth + grace.

love letters => gratitude

if you know me at all, you probably know a couple basic things about me.
1) I cry a lot and talk/ramble even more (or maybe swap those?)
2) I'm into love. and not necessarily romantic love- though if we're instagram buddies you know all about my incredible Casey and how stoked I am to get to do life with someone I love so much, and who loves me so much. I just like any kind of love. my favorite is Love, the person/being/actual Savior of the world.
I'm also quite partial to love letters to other humans. but you know, if it's "love to watch the sunrise" or "love pizza" or "love a sick bass beat", I'm also into that kind of love.

A wonderful now-real-life-friend of mine (I'm claiming it forever, HB), Hannah Brencher, started this amazing nonprofit organization called More Love Letters (MLL). basically people just write other people "hey, human, you're incredible and loved and thanks for persevering" letters, and leave them places or send them in bundles and it is phenomenal.

so basically OHMYWORD am I all about some Hannah Brencher and her Monday Email Club and If You Find This Letter/If You Find This Email and MLL.

Every year, MLL hosts a time of celebrating and loving on wonderful people who need some loving-- they call it "12 Days of Love Letter Writing". During these 12 days, we participants flood inboxes with love letters. We obnoxiously post about it on every social media outlet. We write letters. We write blogs. We cry (or at least I do) at the beauty of it all.

This year, I signed up to share the mission & love of MLL with you all on my little corner of the internet, so here it is: today's Love Letter story & request. Please join me in writing a letter to Kevin. here's his story:

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 11th :: KEVIN

“Kevin is just an all-around wonderful human. He is always going out of his way to make other people feel loved and included. It doesn’t take long for any random stranger to add Kevin to their “top favorite people” list.” A close friends writes to us.

Recently Kevin’s girlfriend passed away suddenly due to a brain aneurism, she was only 32. It happened so fast that all their friends are struggling with ways to grieve and ways to heal, and of course Kevin is still going out of his way to make sure that everyone else is doing ok with the loss of their friend. Join us in showering Kevin with all the love that he consistently shows to everyone around him!

PLEASE SEND ALL LOVE LETTERS TO:

Kevin’s bundle

℅ Kayla L.

139 Ordale Boulevard

Pittsburgh PA 15228

I feel kinda weird sharing my exact letter for Kevin with you guys- it was oddly personal-feeling for me, so I'll let it stay in that little envelope for Kevin. however, I've also been in the midst of my #100daysofgratitude lately, so here's a combination of the two.

thank you, sweet Jesus, for this dear old world, and for Kevin. thank you for his heart, his vulnerability, and his resilience. thanks for giving him such a big, home-y heart that openly welcomes people in. thanks for teaching him about love. thanks for giving him so many chances to exercise it and therefore make such a large ripple of difference in this world.

and thank you, Kevin, for being fully Kevin. for being a mess when you need to be a mess. for being a light and a voice and a cathedral and all those wonderfully needed things. Kevin, you're incredible and I couldn't do what you do, but I applaud you so fiercely. Your determination, compassion, and attention to others matters so deeply and it inspires me. I don't know if you ever feel like you're not sure you're doing any good in this world or not- I feel like that a lot- but I can tell you, YOU ARE. You're doing a lot of good in this world and it matters and it's stretching so much farther than just yourself and your community. Thank you for being the kind of person who's willing to put in the kind of effort it takes to do that. Thank you for being so selfless that even in your own loss, pain, and heartache you are seeking out others to be there for them. That's something our world (and my life) needs more of- thank you for being one who started giving MORE when you saw the need.

thank you for impacting my life unknowingly.

funny how we humans always do that to each other.

and thank you, God, for putting him in my path so indirectly to influence me so directly. thank you for his story and how it fills my heart with hope. thank you for all the kinds of things you send me that also fill my heart with hope: sunrise, LoveQuirks, Christmas lights, "childrens' faces looking up, holding wonder like a cup", poetry, and hot tea. thank you for soft sweatshirts and giggles and surprising honors. 

thank you for my amazing college experience and the lifelong soul-friends you gave me there that have continued on. thank you specifically for Meg and how grandly she loves me, how well she knows me, and how lovingly she listens to me. I don't want to know what my life would look like without her in it. thank you for making us Anam Cara- "soul friends"- and keeping us bound to You.

thank you, too, for Casey- I think I never really thought I would fall in love like this. I think I never really thought I would have someone like him in my heart; I think I always told myself that he couldn't exist and that love couldn't be this grand in real life. thank you for teaching me otherwise. thank you for humiliating me everyday with how loud and raw and soft and refined and oxymoronical my love for Casey is. 

thank you for giving me a heart and a voice that are okay with loudly declaring how much I love certain people and things. thank you for making me the way you made me, even though I usually just see my own flaws and downfalls. thank you for knowing me so intimately and so much better than I know me. thank you for making my heart Yours- in the sense that it belongs to it and looks more like it each day. thank you for giving me so many tears and such a sensitive heart, even though that's sometimes super crappy because it means I cry too much about things that don't matter. 

thank you for Hannah Brencher, her words, and how they have changed my life. thank you for using her to show me that I am a writer and that it's okay to be completely fluent in tears. thank you for those five glorious hours I got to spend sipping lattes with her and for her big heart that now lets me claim her as a personal friend. thank you for all you did in her life to bring her to where she is now so that she could impact me, and millions of others, with her words and her love and her spunk.

thank you for the ability to write and blog, and for the people who read and listen and share and care.  thank you for the encouragers and teachers and mentors you give me at every turn, to keep me snuggled in right beside You. thank You, thank You, thank You. 

the one where she is sad

It's been over a month now that I've been out of words and I'm not going to pretend I'm okay with that. So many times I've tried to force myself to write, to blog, to journal, ANYTHING. And it just hasn't really worked. Tonight, however, there's a heaviness in me, that kind that I think brings wordiness, though I am currently completely unsure of what words will spill out.

Today I finished my last official day subbing. It's been an incredible three months, full of tears and laughter (the only way to spend the months), and my heart will, I think, forever be attached to some of these students. Seems like that's the way this teacher-heart of mine works-- getting too attached to people that rarely/never know how deeply my heart buried their name. It's made me do a lot of reflecting and a lot of note-writing and a lot of thanking.

It makes me wonder if my teachers ever felt about me the way I feel about my students. I wonder if they searched for the joy or pain in my eyes and sometimes put their hands on my shoulders because they knew how much I just wanted to be seen. I wonder if they ever cried when I left them or they left me or whatever our 'goodbye' looked like. I wonder if they ever got frustrated because I didn't listen to them the way I needed to. I wonder if they ever sat alone at night and prayed their hearts out for me until the tears stung the backs of their eyes.

I've been doing a lot of job applying and interviewing lately and these boss people always want me to "tell [them] about [myself]". And every time I've started with, "Well. I love loving people." because some days that's all I really know about myself. Some days I say vague things after that or spout of facts that other people have told me, because I'm supposed to know who I am beyond just knowing I'm a bucket of love that's got an unfixable hole in the bottom of it.
But most days, that's all I really know.
There's a hole in my bucket and I don't plan on trying to fix it, cause I like splashing around and at least helping turn the dusty parts to muddy parts. Everyone needs their dusty parts to be splashed on, even if it makes mud, because that's when you can really finally muck it away.

As you can see from the past four paragraphs, I've been really into me lately. And I'm very tired of it, but I need training on how to stop using "I". Because I'm selfish and talk about myself a lot and sometimes it literally nauseates me. CAN YOU PLEASE JUST START BEING LESS ABOUT YOU, BECCA?

Guys, my mind is such a jumble lately and it's so frustrating. I can hardly string coherent thoughts together a lot of times, and I'm not sure what to blame it on besides just busyness (which is a lame excuse). A little bit back, I had coffee with a friend and we talked about this whole being a "writer" thing. I try to tell myself, "you're not a writer, Bec. you didn't even get a minor in it. stop posing and give it up."
However, it's a thing God uses to minister to me. Writing is and always has been a way for me to figure out my own thoughts and feelings. When I was seven, I would get so bogged down in my own thoughts I couldn't get them out enough to tell my mom that I wanted to eat dinner at a specific place or get my ears pierced, so she bought us a mother-daughter journal and I would write her little notes.

Thinking about that makes me cry. Y'all my mom is (and was) superwoman.
Who even thinks of that?

Anyway, it's always been an outlet and a method of dealing, for me. so who the heck do I think I am to tell God, "No, you can't use me in that way," although I hate being used in this way because I am so small and inadequate.
For such a big God, He deserves a writer that is also big and talented and popular and at least has a degree in it or something. I just write because I like words and think too much.

In the end, I guess I should boil it down to: I never have enough/the right words to say, and that drives me crazy. Maybe, hopefully, someday I'll find that I have exactly the words I want to use at exactly the moment I want to use them and there will be just enough but not too many and they will have a perfect audience and response.
For now I'll just sit here and claim to be a writer until I feel like one.
Sidenote: to all you real writers, please don't be offended that I'm trying to be one of you. Just let me in.


Also, here's a sobering bit: my grandmother just died.
I'm sorry to be so blunt about it; I hope it doesn't seem apathetic or disrespectful. However, it's a fact. She was in her late 80's (I can't remember if she was 87 or 88) and in the late stages of Parkinson's and it's just inevitable at that point. And I don't know how to process it- sometimes I'm a puddle of tears when I talk about it and sometimes I feel so far removed from it. Both of my other grandparents (dad's parents) have died during my lifetime and neither of them really struck me the way this has. They were sad affairs, to be certain, but I've been crying like a bipolar lady the past week or so.

Basically I'm probably going crazy, guys.
Welcome to my world.

I want to be less about me, but I also want 'me' to be better. I want to be more stable, less extremely wavering in my emotions, more adequate, less doubting, more talented, more sure... and the list goes on.
These days, Satan's doing a lot of tearing down and I don't really know how to stop it when I can barely stand up straight most days.
It's my own fault, I've failed to stand and fight for too many days in a row. But I just feel small, in the bad way. Like I've somehow lost my way, along the path to adulthood. Heck, maybe this is adulthood. I don't know.

There's just something wrong and off and I don't know what it is or how to fix it or how to tie it all up in a happy, pretty bow to display.
I'm just sad.

on pilot lights, being a garden, and springtime.

It’s testing month at school, which means every day this past week I have had a few hours each morning to just sit and breathe and think. Which you know, if you get me at all, is quite dangerous for me.

But last week it was beneficial.

“Somewhere along the way, my dears,” (she says, quoting a favorite musical just because her brain turns everything into song) my little flickering flame inside me got turned up, I think. For a long time I relied on the pilot light of my spiritual gas heater to keep me okay. I know it’s not a good consistent state to be in, but I also think it was a necessary phase and for a while it was the best I had, so it was good enough. But somewhere in those months of relying on the pilot light to warm the house, God refilled the tank and turned the heat up. And I had this realization the other night that my soul, at some point, settled into a toasty 4 on the heat dial and is thawing out the numbed extremities.

Please understand me; this is not my “I’ve made it and have everything together, guys, so you can stop trying to help me” speech. I am far far far from making it and having things together (the very thought of which ever being possibility for me literally makes me laugh). I don't think I will ever stop needing people and flailing around in life a little bit (or a lot-tle bit) as I go.

This is simply a public recognition that the clean-up work in my heart, the renovation, the Big Remodel, the turning me into His cathedral is happening. It has been, little by little, unrecognizably so, until a glimmer caught my eye and I took a peek back into the land I’ve been trekking these past three months.

There He said, “We’re moving. Do you see that we’ve moved? You’re thawing out. Your weeds are being pulled. I am tending you every day, my little garden, and Spring is on her way to us. Life is ebbing in.”

Sure enough, as I looked down into my own often-too-small heart-garden, I saw He had expanded it a size or two (enlarge my borders, Lord! including my Grinch heart that needs so badly to grow!). I saw He had planted a few things- I know not what they are or will yield yet- and the little bumps under the soil promised fruit soon enough. I saw a few more holes in the ground where the deep-rooted weeds had been excavated; I saw new weeds trying to settle into the newly fertile soil.

Rain and sun that fall into me are nurturing all they touch, and He reminds me we- He and I- must be careful to tend this garden every day. We must be careful to arise early and pull the new weeds out before they have a chance to be nourished by the smiling sun or crying rain.

The cathedral has a garden! I love that! I love cathedrals with courtyards and gardens and life!

It’s as if my heart is literally undergoing spring cleaning, and I’ve been lathered up and scrubbed down and rinsed off, and set by the nice, toasty, 4-on-the-dial heater. What a tremendous feeling.

Recently, I’ve been reading a few books that are changing my life (as good books tend to do) and that I think have induced this Springtime.

1. LOVE DOES by Bob Goff. It’s unexplainable how this book both wrecks and revitalizes me at the same time. I don’t understand it. It’s obviously God.
2. Parables of the Cross by Isabella Lilias Trotter. Honestly, this book (or pamphlet, I suppose, as it’s only 23 pages) makes me feel like such a Christian hipster because NO ONE has heard of it. Literally no one. I discovered it because Elisabeth Elliot referenced it in her life-wrecker, Passion and Purity, and it was just a few dollars on Amazon, so I ordered it and wow. Just get it and don’t try to read it all in one day. It’s too deep and rich.
3. If You Find This Letter by Hannah Brencher. I feel like this one explains itself. It’s her story, her weighty words, her heart in a book. So far I have cried every time I’ve picked it up and it is astonishingly beautiful.
4. Winged Life by Hannah Hurnard. Her first book, Hinds’ Feet on High Places has always been one of my favorites- it’s an allegory centered around the journey of Much-Afraid as she follows the Good Shepherd’s leading to the High Places. And man, Winged Life doesn’t disappoint either. So far it’s teaching me a lot about what Love really means and goodness knows I can always use more of that.

if you couldn’t tell, there’s really one main theme in these four books that are transforming my heart and mind:

LOVE.

Which is great because it just confirms in me that this is His work. Because He is Love, so of course it makes sense that the books and many other facets of entertainment in my life right now are just pointing me back to Love- even the ones that seem like they would never be able to teach me anything about real Love. Funny how He can turn anything into a window.

While I am learning about Love and being bowled over by my God at least four times a day, I’m in need of prayer and support and encouragement and life-giving truth.

Here’s how I need you to pray for and with me, beloved people:

Pray for consistency. Pray that I would have a new sticktoitiveness (which I rarely have the motivation to find in a lot of cases). And pray that I would stop making this about me and just abide.

We all know I tend to be a person that throws herself into things. For the most part, I’m an all-or-nothing kind of person.

That has its downfalls, certainly. I tend to give up on things: I start projects and never finish them, I start books and stop ⅔ of the way through, and when I start a new friendship/relationship I either give up too soon or go a little overboard showing that person love. It also means I tend to ramble, as I’d rather give too much information than not enough. Additionally, people think I’m constantly exaggerating. Granted, I exaggerate all the time (irony). But in the moments when I’m not exaggerating and I’m genuinely IN LOVE with a lovely plastic box of perfectly yellow paper clips, it’s easy for my words to mean less than I want them to, because so often I use the same exaggerated words when I’m trying to make a point or tell a story, and now all the sudden no one understands just how much a tiny clear box of yellow-coated metal thingys can cheer me up.

However, I am also beginning to see a lot of strengths in my throw-myself-in-with-no-looking-back personality. I’m GREAT at starting projects or books or road trips. I love easily (or maybe ‘quickly’ would be more accurate, because GEEZ don’t I know that real love should never be easy) and wholly and, if need be, fiercely- that also means I tend to forgive quickly. Everything in my world is rose-colored, and I don’t even need glasses for that; it’s just constantly rose-colored and I love it because rosy hues are probably my favorite of all the hues.

(she realizes even in her explanation of how she loves easily that she proves how sickeningly optimistic and enjoying-life-at-all-times she tends to be)

And here comes the part where I know I need the prayers and intercession::

I throw myself into projects and relationships and even God’s Work.

And then when it starts getting kinda hurt-ey, when I’m getting cramps in my Faith muscle or when someone hurts my heart or when I realize I still have to go back and edit and re-write the entire paper, I stall.

I find it really really tough to stick to it. To be consistent. To be a train and chug ahead.

I say, “eh, good enough” and turn the paper in because it’s 4 AM and if you include the bibliography it’s 8 pages, so that should pass, right? or because I’m a pretty good person and God loves me and there are other, better Christians out there who can do it better than I can anyway. or because that was the third time they have spoken hurtful words to me in the past month, and I don’t need people like that in my life bringing me down.

“Brothers and sisters, this should not be.”

I need to do the paper to the best of my ability. I need to do what I feel God tugging me to do, even- no, ESPECIALLY- when it makes me feel inadequate or uncomfortable. I need to love and treasure that person anyway, because the only thing that can drive out darkness is light, and the thing that draws me closest to the heart of God is my own pain.

In the end, though, I know it’s not about me. That’s a thing I’m having to remind myself second by glorious second. Abiding in Christ and making much of Him is my ultimate goal. This is a portion of my journey in which I’m extremely introspective, but my end goal is not my own profit or gain or goodness but simply CHRIST.

So yeah, it’s Spring in my heart again, and for that I am unendingly grateful. But there are weeds to be pulled and work to be done in this garden. Feel free to step in and water the soil and help me pull up weeds when you’re around. I’ll need a reminder to stick to it, to abide with His nourishment so these plants can grow.