Feet On the Ground

So…this whole “love” thing isn’t working out so well. And I was getting really hard on myself, until I realized that I was trying to do the hardest thing of all- love people and situations and circumstances that I didn’t like. So I decided to take baby steps and start with good things. Then, suddenly, two good- no, great! things happened.

My best friend asked me to be a bridesmaid.

It was so sweet- she asked me and another friend to come to Starbucks as usual. I didn’t think anything of it because it’s such a tradition now. After we got tea and got settled, she handed us little envelopes and asked us to open them up at the same time. She had printed our names on cards with a cute design, and when we opened them we saw simply, “Be my bridesmaid?” in large letters on the inside.

I’m sure you can imagine the following scene. Squealing, excitement, OMG!, giggles, etc. She pointed out to us a couple minutes later that we hadn’t officially answered.

I felt loved. Although some girls my age are old hats at this sort of thing, I’ve never been a bridesmaid. I would have understood if she had a small ceremony and only had her sister as maid of honor. I would have been by her through everything. But to have her pick me was wonderful. To be invited into the inner circle to enjoy this time with her and to have everyone know that our years of building a friendship has culminated in me being right there on her special day to make it as amazing as possible was such an honor. I feel like she’s a sister and I love her and it still makes me a bit teary to think that she loves me too.

Then…

I received my first law school acceptance.

I can’t describe my relief. You can pray and say that you believe all you want, but there’s just something about that finality of knowing that it’s going the way you want. Of course, this is just one step in the line of things that has to go my way before, well, I die, but at least this door wasn’t shut. Just the opposite. I can move forward and push through the next level, down the next passageway and fight the next dragon.

In some ways, both of these instances will make life harder. My best friend will have less time for me. Law school will be tough and involve a million different situations working out just right to even get me there. The next year will be so full of trusting and patience and determination.

Here is where I can try something new or choose my usual option.

I’d usually try to find some way to dampen my joy. Think of something negative that’s completely unrelated, find out something that could throw the whole process into turmoil, or just generally be afraid of the future.

Or…I could just be happy and celebrate and rejoice because, it’s easier to do so when you have a specific reason. If I learn now, it will be even easier to continue the rejoicing even when I can’t remember why I’m doing it. I’m going to try to translate this into love, too. I can’t force myself to love people or circumstances that are making me miserable right off the bat. I’m going to focus on how much I love the ones who make it easy and remember why it’s good to have people around me.

We’ll work on the rest later.

Tags: excitement, law school, love, risk

I like quiet time. I like to be alone, watch TV, read. Sit in silence at the park on a bench or lay by the pool and soak up the sun. Lose myself in a movie without interruption. Close my eyes and listen to a gorgeous worship song (I Will Run) and remember the One who gave me life.

Peace.

I love peace.

Yet when I get around other people, it’s almost as if my peace is stolen. I realize that life cannot be experienced alone, but other people stress me out. I have always been a loner and therefore don’t have much experience with relationships and am terrified that I will screw up the simplest of friendships. So I blunder and fumble and end up making an idiot out of myself. I get too close too soon or hold back for too long.

I’m emotionally volatile and the lamest thing can make me cry. I’ve been known for my meltdowns, but thank God they’ve become less frequent over the past couple of years. I am so afraid and skeptical that I put people through tests without even meaning to do so. And if I’m stressed out, I snap at the most convenient person.

I love peace, but my relationships are not peaceful.

And the fruit of righteousness is sown in peace for them that make peace. – James 3:18

A loving relationship should be a resting place. One of the best things about my mom and my aunt is that you feel better when you’re around them. Life slows. A sigh emerges. Tense muscles loosen. Neither have had easy lives but they exude peacefulness and it’s contagious.

Whereas I am a tense ball of nerves at all times and omg am I ever going to calm down?!?!?!

I want to be like them. I want to be full of peace and freely give it to everyone around me. I want to access a place of peace and rest even when the outside world is chaotic. And I want to cultivate loving relationships that provide an oasis when someone is in my presence. I want to diffuse arguments and misunderstandings before they start and live with an obvious desire for things to be good in my relationships.

I need peace to show people how much I love them.

Tags: love, peace

We all have our issues. Struggles. Themes. Dragons that pop up at the most unexpected times. They aren’t pretty and we like to stuff them away because we don’t want to show our vices. Or we wear them as a badge and defy anyone to tell us to get over it.

I’m very, very ashamed of mine. Because, well, it’s the complete opposite of the second commandment Jesus left us.

Hate. Rage. Resentment.

I try to ignore it. Stuff it down. Throw Bible verses on it like water on a flame.

Doesn’t work.

It pops right back up again at absolutely horrible times and tries to destroy my relationships, my happiness and my life. The thing is, I know it’s not me. I want loving, peaceful, respectful friendships. I want to operate with strength and joy and bring life into the situations around me.

I was listening to Joyce Meyer today and she totally challenged me with this statement:

Jesus didn’t die so we could have a new kind of misery and put a Christian label on it.

So true. But that’s how my life operates much of the time. I get so wrapped up in negative emotions that I can’t enjoy anything and I struggle with finding a reason to continue.

The upstairs neighbors who are currently stomping around so hard that my ceiling light is shaking. The people I encounter at work who seem to be operating with a shrunken frontal lobe. The people who falsely accuse me. Church members who make fun of my jeans and look down upon my family. Family members who hold grudges. Customers who blame me for their mistakes. A father who left me. A man who broke my heart.

I can hate them and be destroyed. I can ignore them and become hardened. Or I can love them and be healed.

So in my journey to become less miserable and perhaps even regain some happiness, I’m going to start a love challenge. It’s time to soften my heart.

(I have no idea what said challenge consists of, but we’ll figure it out)

Tags: love

*grunt*

*rolls over*

*sigh*

*rolls back over*

*picks up phone to check the time*

“OMG!”

Yeah. We’ve all done it. And on a Sunday morning, when I swear I was going to make it to the 9 AM service, it feels even worse to wake up closer to, well, 10. Especially since I’ve missed the 9 AM service for weeks in a row. By the time Sunday morning rolls around and I’ve just worked 30 hours in 3 days, nothing is getting me out of bed very early. I feel bad once I get there and realize that everyone else has gone through these songs once already at 11, but I just can’t seem to help it.

Then I managed to lose track of time as I was getting ready. Not to mention dump an entire container of navy powder eyeshadow on my dresser. So I showed up looking fabulous, but walked in right as the countdown was at 22 seconds for the service. Because, of course, the parking lot was full.

(Note to self: getting there at 8:45 ensures a prime parking spot.)

I could have rushed to get out my trumpet and dashed up onstage halfway into the first song while everyone was rocking out, but that would have been fitting the exact theme of my life lately. Rushing and not meeting my goals. Disappointing myself and others. So instead of trying to meet an impossible goal and get onstage in 22 seconds, I changed the goal. I decided to enjoy the service. I hugged the greeters and found a seat. Admired the lights around the stage. Soaked in the atmosphere. Marveled about how loud the music really was…and how amazing it sounded. Watched my good friend walk up the aisle and sit alone in front of me and followed to plop my stuff down in the chair beside her.

I was rewarded with a welcoming hug and a friendly smile, a question about why I wasn’t playing, and a giggle when she admitted that she always oversleeps too. I was able to sing the lyrics, lift my hands, and let the presence of God actually energize me for once.

Usually I’m onstage with a bunch of dudes. Standing in 4 inch heels. Feeling my arm muscles quiver as I try to hold my trumpet up for 45 minutes. Breaking into a sweat from the hot lights that are trying to blind me. Fiddling with the mix coming through my earbuds as some band members play too loud. Trying to worship God but often failing because I think of how uncomfortable and tired I am and we haven’t even made it through the 2nd reprise because gospel songs never end.

This morning I was just an observer. Allowing God to draw me in and remind me exactly why I’m alive and how much He loves me.

On a day where we celebrate love, He gave me a break and let me feel nothing else.

It was awesome.

Tags: love

Most people hate February. And in many respects it’s a sucky month. The general populace is frustrated with weather and taxes. Single people are cranky about Valentine’s Day. Motivation for New Years resolutions is ebbing and it’s far easier to just sit on the couch, eat cookies and watch 24 than…well, do anything at all.

And I have some great trips planned in March and April. My best friend will move back here sometime around then as well. Then it will be summer and we can get ice cream and go to the park and drink sweet tea and go to Kings Island.

It’s going to be fabulous.

In the meantime, though, it’s February.

I’ve decided to take a different approach. I’m going to get in shape physically. I’m going to curb my spending and save as much as possible. I’ll get through work with as much happiness intact as I can muster and as soon as I leave, get to the business of living. I’ve moped around too much after work because I’ve been so miserable and frustrated, but that’s completely counterproductive. So that’s over.

Hopefully.

We’ll see.

Ultimately, though, I need to get my spirit into fighting shape. I’ve been so remiss in that lately. But with the things I have coming up in my future, I have a feeling that the challenges and possible triumphs will take everything I have. Mostly, though, I just miss God.

The best part is that I don’t have to.

Hold me to this, will you?

Tags: anticipation, determination, risk

She sat at the table and recounted a story that is the closer to hell than anything I’ve ever experienced. Her straight posture and matter-of-fact manner didn’t welcome pity for her pain that she hid well behind a mask of cynicism and wit and bluntness. Yet as we sat there, my heart broke for her. It was too late for me to do anything about her pain, but I knew it was tangible and wondered if I could have done anything beforehand to help her through it. I even realized that such thoughts were useless, but it all felt so real in that moment that I could barely hold myself together.

And then when we were alone, she had the audacity to apologize for possibly offending me with her tale.

It was an issue that countless people have underwent, even in the church, and it’s something that usually results in immediate condemnation. Yet condemnation was the farthest thing from my mind. I haven’t known her for very long, but I can honestly say that I love her. And in that love there was no judgment. Only deep regret that I hadn’t been there to support her.  That she had to endure it alone.

The thought that she could have kept her story to herself out of fear of offending me made me feel a whole host of negative emotions toward myself and the religious community in general. Yet it felt so powerful because she chose to tell me and my first response was grace.

This isn’t a post to talk about how fabulous I am. The desire to extend grace was the most humbling thing I have ever felt in my life. I realized that grace means you’re aligning yourself with someone. It’s not showing that you’re condoning their actions but rather that you see them as they were made to be and are willing to help them close the gap from there to where they currently are. Extending grace means that you might receive condemnation simply from associating with them. It doesn’t mean that you’ll receive grace in return and almost certainly guarantees that enemies will rise up immediately to punish you for daring to give them a free pass.

I would never presume that I’ve made any impact on her life at all. If you could write a life story that was exactly the opposite of mine, hers would be it. But I’ve learned so much from her. Even if we never spoke again, I will forever remember her as striking. Her appearance, her wit, her ability to cut through all of the crap in a situation or a person and call them out on it. Her tenacity is unparalleled and the way she can rebound from a bad situation and push through everything life throws at her is remarkable. She warns and even apologizes for her brashness but refuses to curb herself to fit a mold. She’s the type of person that everyone wants to tame but she’s exactly what we need to make us realize that molds are completely useless.

She’s changed my life.

We’d be offended by her story, and that’s exactly why we need it.

Tags: appreciation, discomfort, grace, learning, nightmare, pain, risk

When you first start playing trumpet, you’re told to buzz your lips to make sound. Eventually, it sounds less like buzzing and more like a tone. Right around that time, if you have a good teacher, then you’re told….not to buzz your lips anymore.

It’s confusing, at first. But the point is to let the pressure of the air being pushed with your diaphragm to actually buzz your lips for you. It’s amazing if you can actually master it. It’s what lets you play wicked high notes and hours long concerts- or in my case, church services, without getting tired.

If, you know, you can pull it off.

I’ve never really mastered it. I don’t know why. I’ve felt what it’s like before but it hasn’t become habitual. And without this skill, you can’t become great. You can be decent or even good, but greatness is unattainable unless you can utilize the force of the air.

Kind of like God’s power.

We can coast on grace for a while and get to a certain point. We can rely on His hand to help us through trials and to even give us blessings. But until we make it habitual to completely rely on His awesome supernatural power, we’ll never be able to fulfill what He’s called us to be.

Yesterday, the worship service seemed to drag on. The lights were hot and bright and the music blasting through my earbuds was loud. I had been working and getting up early for days and I was so tired and just wanted to sit down for a while. And rest, because isn’t that what Sundays are about?

Except in my type of church, we get a little overboard with worship sometimes and we keep going back into the same song over and over and over and over….and you wonder, “When will it be OVER?” I love Jesus, but after a while, well, I believe I’ve been set free. Can we move forward? Because I’m also standing up there in four inch heels. I know, I know, it’s my choice…but I don’t own flats.

Then I realized that my playing felt a little different. It felt easy. Effortless. Like the air was just floating. I wasn’t doing as much work as usual.

Without even thinking about it, I’d utilized a skill I didn’t even know I had.

When I was too tired to put forth the effort that the task normally would have required. When I was not concentrating. Not feeling up to it. Not being a very good person because I didn’t want to be there.

It happened. I did it. It was amazing. It was easier. Although Angelina Jolie lips are unavoidable after hours of playing, they didn’t feel like they were elastic or overworked. What normally would have exhausted me didn’t take its usual toll. When it was necessary, I finally performed like I needed to.

When it’s necessary, do you believe that God will perform for you?

Tags: appreciation, grace, hope

Christians get promise hungry.

We want prophecies and confirmations and signs and to “feel led” to do something. It’s an almost crippling effect of growing up in a charismatically-oriented family or church setting. We believe for the big things but we need a push.

I always want another sign. Just one more, and I’ll go for it. Then I get my promise and I’m omg so excited!!!1one until it grows stale and I want another one. I keep rolling the dice and am never content with where I land.

I will go before you and level the exalted places, I will break in pieces the doors of bronze and cut through the bars of iron, I will give you the treasures of darkness and the hoards in secret places, that you may know that it is I, the Lord, the God of Israel, who call you by your name. – Isaiah 45:2-3

And then I read a promise like this, that covers everything that I will ever do.

There’s free will and there’s sovereignty, and there are things that cover both. Like this. I’m choosing to apply for law school. I feel like it’s a good move right now and I feel like I have been blessed through it so far. However, I don’t feel like it’s the one big calling on my life. God told me a few years ago that I was supposed to be a writer. I don’t know how many times I’ve said since then, “What am I supposed to do?!” Each time, He looks at me with a raised eyebrow and folds His arms. He says nothing and yet I hear it again, as clearly as possible.

I want you to be a writer.

But….there’s no money in that. It’s impossible to break into the industry. I could see myself being an editor or working somehow in the industry itself but…a writer…that’s like, the person who creates stuff.

I want to be important, but I don’t think I can be the star. I’ll do the work behind the scenes, but with the glory comes pressure to keep performing and to outdo your personal best. It’s a constant, neverending challenge and I try to avoid it at all costs and by any means necessary.

No more.

I can’t afford it.

Especially when I have been completely assured that my path is prepared for me. How can I lose?

I stood awkwardly. Twiddling thumbs, eyes downcast, shifting weight from foot to foot. Hands with no urge to raise, tear ducts out of use. It has been an eternity since I’ve been in a church service because I wanted to be there. No commitments. No one expecting my presence. Just going because there was a tug.

So I expected a lightning bolt. Either to evoke fear or inspiration, I wasn’t sure, but I waited for it to strike.

Nothing.

I felt a calmness seep in, and with it also came an uncomfortable expectation. My life has felt so complicated for so long, and everything felt too…easy. Simple. As the singers gazed upward with rapt attention and admiration, I wondered if the whole business was as painless as they made it appear.

And then the melody of the song that always comes to mind when I’m stressed began to play. The song that God uses to comfort me flowed from the pianist’s fingers and out the speakers and into my ears and over my soul. In that instant, I realized that the most complex, encompassing subject in the world is also an elementary principle.

I am saved.

It’s totally Christian jargon. And completely appropriate. Not as in one instant years ago, but every day. I am saved from countless horrors and evils and devastations. I am saved from religion, from apathy, from brutality. Maybe most of all, I’m saved from myself. From trying to understand absolutely everything, which gets complicated fast.

Life doesn’t make sense. Trying to decode it is folly.

So I left uninspired by the message because I was too tired to understand it. Woefully unmoved by the scripture on the page. Slightly welcomed by people who didn’t really miss me and weren’t thrilled when I showed up, but oddly comforted to be in a group who believes the same thing. More or less.

Ultimately, I left feeling a million times better than when I arrived.

I remembered that I was rescued. Then, now, way back when and ten years within the future. My status wil never change, and when it all gets to be too much again, I just have to think of my place in the fairy tale.

I was pretty unfortunate looking in high school and the beginning of college.

I wasn’t hideous or anything, but my awkward stage lasted a lot longer than it could have. I didn’t have confidence. I had glasses and bangs. I’ve worn makeup nearly every day since I was in middle school and I’ve always dressed decently, but I was always a bit off somehow, and wasn’t really noticed.

So it comes as no surprise when I stopped in at church the other day and a girl there said, “You look like such a different person with straight hair and makeup.” No surprise because this girl has zero social grace and because, yeah, there’s some truth to it. The thing is, I’ve always worn makeup around her and sometimes I still wear my hair curly. It just looks better now than it did a few years ago. She tried to present it as a compliment with a hidden insult. It was probably obvious to everyone around.

I could have pointed out that she doesn’t wear eyeliner or mascara and really should. Or that she used to have super permed curly hair herself that looked absolutely awful on her. I smiled and said something to deflect the insult as much as possible when I wanted to retort. I have never been mean to this girl, but that didn’t matter. She didn’t need a reason.

I don’t really like her, but I gave her grace.

Then the very next day, I said something mean to someone I really care about. I know they care about me. They said something a little mean, hitting a sore spot that they know is a sore spot. So I fired back as hard as I could. It was nearly instantaneous, and I really hurt them.

I gave grace to someone who didn’t deserve it at all.

I retaliated against the person who, by all accounts, has been wonderful to me for the duration of our friendship and should have earned unlimited do-overs, undos, and freebies.

And they received no grace.

I feel awful about it.

What if Jesus revoked grace right when I needed it most? When I committed a sin that would be the equivalent of sticking gum under a desk rather than throwing it in the garbage? What if He suddenly got really angry about that whole cross debacle and snapped? Tore up the contract and threw me in chains?

But He won’t.

We’re at His mercy, but He is good. Always good.

I’m not.

I can only hope that I receive grace when I don’t deserve it from the person I refused it. And that I learn to keep my mouth shut and give grace abundantly.

Tags: grace, learning, pain