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. 

#BeccaCriesAtTheSunriseAgain

sometimes I have a lot of words in me and once I start sorting them all out, I realize none of them are original in the least and that frustrates me to no end. darn Solomon, being all wise and stuff with that "there is nothing new under the sun" business. Ecclesiastes 1:9 has it right. no matter how hard I try to think of novel ideas or eloquent, original wordings or fresh perspective- it is guaranteed someone has already thought, written, or seen that already. "What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under the sun." it says.

we are all under the sun... and I don't really know the theology behind the actual 'placement' of Heaven and whatnot, but given how we see Heaven as "above" the earth, I think it could (should?) be excluded from being under the sun. mainly because there is only ever 'new' in Heaven. new praise. new bodies. new reality.
so most of the time it trips my mind out to think of Heaven as a reality, when I really force myself to try to grasp it. (all that newness is too much good, perhaps.) my feeble human mind just implodes when I tell it, "I'm going to live there forever someday".


and maybe we should tell ourselves that more often. even if we aren't talking about actual Heaven. I don't mean to be sacrilegious, but I'm of the mind that this Earth could stand some more Heaven on it.
maybe for you it's just embracing the new (therefore scary, if you're like me) reality in front of you- a job or a city or a person or a ghost you haven't slain that is begging to be dealt with. at that kind of junction, I think the only option is to say "welp. this freaks my mind out and seems impossible but. that's the home I'm claiming. and I'm gonna live there forever someday. I'm gonna let this weird God-work be my Heaven on earth."

Because, hopefully you realize by now that it takes a few years to find home. And home can subtly change or sleepily leave or suddenly bloom. but I think once we find our 'homes', it's important for us to realize that this incredible, new thing is only new for a while, this side of Heaven. It's only fresh and unblemished and ours for as long as we hold it firmly yet tenderly, like it's the kid trying to wrestle his wrist from our grasp.

when we find those "new" things, it's tempting to shy away from claiming it in the FOREVER way.
with all the failed marriages and lost jobs and cities that don't suit us the way we thought they did, it seems easier and less painful to hold timidly to convictions and commitments and covenants.
but SURELY I am not alone in feeling so done with timidity. so done with old things. so done with not clinging lovingly to what captures my heart. so done with letting my life under the sun be so earthly. so done with giving up on home because it seems far away or impossible.



so can we be a little more audacious in our claims of home and our own personal, God-given "Heaven"s here? is that blasphemous? I don't know. I'm just thinking jumbled thoughts about this life under the sun. I'm just thankful for the new things that He slips in beside us. I'm just thankful for finding home in so many people and places.

I guess when you find people and places that make you cry with love, cling tenderly and claim them forever.

#thisstartedasaninstagramcaption #BeccaCriesAtTheSunriseAgain

and she's back!

greetings, my friends, from the lovely world of "Mith Nobaw". how are things out there?
for MONTHS now, I have been planning on returning to this little internet-canvas of mine and throwing some brightly colored paint on my world... then my laptop died.
so here I've been, holding my thoughts in until an innocent bystander asks how my day is or what I'm doing the next weekend. and then out trickle my observations and convictions and decisions and ponderings, with the force of something much fiercer than a trickle if I'm being honest.
there are many things that have changed semi-drastically since I last mentioned them out here in the blogosphere: I got a new car, I moved into a sweet rental house with my sister, I obtained and began a job as an elementary music teacher in a lovely little school in a heart-wrenching school district, the seester and I got a puppy (he's mostly hers), Casey and I got back together (which happened a while back but I don't think I've mentioned it here), I began and ended work at Bath & Body for the summer, and my Mee-Maw died.
-----> all of that happened in an order very different from how I listed it but who cares.

so life has looked like a lot of things lately:
it's looked like wet hair being slung around on the 7 AM drive to school (leisurely late-morning, compared to Spring semester!)
it's looked like being terrified of/for my achey-breaky old car and thrilled for/over my new one.
it's looked like my first ever panic attack the week before I started school because 1) I loved these babies before I met them and 2) Satan uses that against me.
it's looked like falling asleep at 6 PM because I was working two jobs for a while there-- and I have a whole new respect for anyone who has a full-time job AND another job on top of it.
it's looked like forgetting, for probably the first time in my life, that skin color is an actual thing that affects some people's views of others, and often finding myself having this sudden, shocking realization that I am not, in fact, African-American too.
it's looked like sitting in 'my' house being absolutely mind-blown at how God has worked and provided in just one year.
it's looked like renting five movies from the library at once because that's the max, and watching them all as fast as possible.
it's looked like eating out too much.
it's looked like being really unsure about all the grey areas in my relationship with God.
it's looked like trying to learn how to rest.
it's looked like occasionally hating myself for being so empathetic.
it's looked like getting to hold a loving, bearded face in my hands, and realize that the kind of relationship we have is one of rare vulnerability and depth [and it's wonderful that we get it but so sad that some humans forsake this for their own comfortability] and cry-laughing the happiest tears out of my eyes because Casey Key is a living, breathing, hugging answer to prayer.
{the kind of prayers that aren't happy and pretty and well-formulated. the kind of prayers that contained the occasional curse word and a good bit of yelling and a lot more crying and all kinds of groans from my heart. the kind of prayers that I had never prayed until I suddenly woke up on August 25th, and every morning after that, needing to grab the door handles of God's heart and shake them and scream and pour out bitter tears because He had wrecked me in an awful, beautiful new way that brought about so much dependance.}

and, of course, being a teacher now, it's looked like doing a lot of things that "aren't my job".
Translating as much of his class as I can for a 4th grader who can't speak English "isn't my job".
Teaching a 5th grader to read because no one took the time to when she was younger "isn't my job".
Helping administer pre-testing so that students who need reading intervention can get it early on "isn't my job".
Squatting down to tie the shoes of a 3rd grader who can't tie his own "isn't my job".
But yet... all of those things are my job.

and one day, amidst sharpening a few score pencils, I started pondering. on pencils, and what 'is' and 'isn't' my job.

I'm weird about the kind of pencils I buy for my students. I only buy Ticonderoga #2, even though they cost a bit more, because the lead doesn't break as easily as off-brand or even Dixon pencils. Now Dixon pencils, I swear, were made by Satan himself. Just when you ease them into the sharpener to bring them to perfect sharpness, they come out with the lead at an awkward angle. You touch it with the tip of your forefinger to see if it's sturdy enough to write with, and the lead falls out. So you slide it back in the sharpener, and out it comes: the wood rounded around the end of the lead to the point that it can't be used to write at all anymore.
It's one of the more infuriating things I experience in a given day.


and it makes me think: I don't want to be a Dixon pencil. I don't want to break off when people need me and say "that isn't my job today" or "not feeling like it, sorry." I don't want to be the kind of person that when Christ draws me in to sharpen me, I pull my shell up around me and protect myself to the point that I'm not even a tool worth utilizing anymore.

I want to be the kind of writing utensil that is the worn-out, tried-and-true, tiny little knub of a pencil because it has given every bit of itself being sharpened and used and sharpened and used and broken and sharpened and used. It has loved others by simply making itself available and sharpen-able.

which reminds me.
Someone needs to tell Taylor Swift that love is NOT
"a fragile little flame that could burn out."
On June 2nd I wrote:

I'm learning that love is not 

some "fragile little" thing that I have to keep 

hidden away and protected.

I'm learning that love is fierce and strong

and a weapon for the battle to find

and create joy every moment.

I'm learning that love is gorilla tape that 

binds and corrects and sticks and stays.

I'm learning that love is 

misunderstood by everyone,

most of all me.

I'm learning that love is the heart-wrenching

waiting and staying. It is the

sitting-in-the-silence-and-not-fearing-it.

I'm learning that love can be found 

in absolutely any situation,

circumstance, or emotional ecosystem.

and today I'm adding:

I'm learning that love doesn't ask me for 

anything but my SELF.

I'm learning that love doesn't ask me where I'm going,

it asks me where I am and knows

that I sometimes just need to be held there.

I'm learning that love doesn't ask me

to always be energetic or enthusiastic or positive, 

but simply to be real.

I'm learning that love isn't always painful,

isn't always perceived as beautiful, and 

isn't always noticeable to eyes unfamiliar.

I'm learning that love's motto is just:
"wow. you."


I guess I say all that to say I'd rather be a knobby pencil and Gorilla tape than a Dixon pencil or a Taylor Swift song. and I really want to hear what you're learning, whether it's about love or not, because I want to know if I'm kinda close to the target or if I'm just really far off. share your hearts, friends, I look forward to it.

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.