just because it's hard

there is, at least, a handful of statements, of which the frequency of their saying may enable some far off future civilization to find them woven in the strangely alphabetical strands of my DNA. some sniffling scientist bent over his microscope will be astonished and fall off his stool. but inasmuch as I desire to be a teller of Truth now, I feel the same strange conviction for my DNA, and so, I have set out on the task of setting my nucleic acids straight (certainly not in the literal form, since I haven't even the faintest knowledge to grasp what dire consequences might result from un-double-helixing those bad boys). . . all that to say, that my recent circumstances have resulted in a lot of "just because it's hard doesn't mean it's bad for you"s. it's not a false statement, but it's incomplete, an incompletion which has possibly originated in some false Christian ideas of "piety," and resulted in the perpetuation of some ideas which might fight against the very Joy which is to be the mark of a True disciple of Christ. alone, it provides only for the blind acceptance of unlikeable circumstances in the name of that never-quite-defineable "good for you." but it's counterpart, that "just because it's hard doesn't mean it's good for you," provides for a critical assessment of one's current circumstances. certainly, there are those things thrust upon us over which we have no control. in my experience, those are the things which neccesitate us to remember that hard doesn't mean bad (and also tend to result in the most growth and trust). it is likely that those experiences account for the origination of the 'hard doesn't mean bad' idea, an idea which is really sufficient in those cases. but the oversight occured when that idea was transferred to those things which we do have control over, and the ammendment to the statement was never made. the result has been a trend in Christianty to ignore the things that make us tick in order to "piously" scuttle down a difficult path, with no promise of tick-worthy things, in the name of the virtue of "good for you." this isn't an argument for laziness, lavishness or selfishness, and it isn't an argument against hard work. it is just the realization that all things difficult should be the means to an end, and that all things have two ends: ultimate (all things for the Glory of God) and penultimate (the pursuit of Joy inspiring, make-you-tick work, which happens to also be. . . for the Glory of God). the view of hard work as a means to an end has been lost, and hard work has become hard work with no other prize than that it is somehow, in some unseeable way, "good for us." though even Paul, when talking about one of the hardest struggles in life, that of the Christian faith, insisted that we "run in such a way as to get the prize." and so somehow Christians have been disillusioned to believe that trusting God means diving into some thing we hate (usually a profession, a way to make money), some thing we have no inkling for, and trust that he will provide Joy while we stand and stare at a wall. but true trust is in pursuing what we love and trusting that He will provide. go the way of Joy! understand that the gospel gives us hope and frees us to understand who we are in Christ in such a way that leads us to better understand what we were made to do. all good things are God's good things, and an integral part of the pursuit of Joy and life in Christ means embarking on the journey of discovering what things make you come alive. and there will be hard things you have to do along the way, things you migh hate, but all made worth it by the end, that end which is so often lacking, for people find no value in discovering the things which God has wired them to love and pursuing those things. it is the things whose rewards mean nothing to us (though, perhaps, the world to another) which dull our soul, and are in no way "good for us." the result is passionless, unfulfilled people who are secretly wondering why they can't seem to even so much as grab the coattails of Joy, and they are staying in that place based on the belief that just because things are hard, it doesn't mean it's bad for them. and so Christians are rarely characterized by the Joy which brings Glory to God and reveals His Character to the world. but I am determined to have that Joy written in my genes, and so I start with proclaiming the Truth and continue in the way of discovering that which I have been created to do. . .and doing it.

there is this tree

when it was fall the sunroom was a dream. I bent my mattress through the door, and slept with the windows open, and sleeping with the windows open was like sleeping in a tree, and I'm either really foolish or really stubborn, or both, but either way, warnings of winter seem unreal when you're sleeping in a tree. it started to get colder, at night first, mid-september. things got broken then: a window. . .and other things. and there is this great maple tree in the backyard, it's almost all you can see out the west windows, and it grew fiery red. and then it was cold all day and red became brown and then it was gone, and I could see the roofs of all the neighbors' houses. and then the tree spent most of the winter buried under snow and icicles and I spent it buried under blankets and sheets. I thought that that tree would never be green again. but now the neighbors roofs are barely peaking through leaves and I've been sleeping with my windows open for days.

there must be imperfection

I almost don't want heaven to be perfect. I'm not sure why. perhaps I do not understand perfection, have no concept of what it really is. afterall, all any of us really know is this imperfect place. and maybe I have so throughly set myself upon the task of "looking for the good" in any situation, of having a redemptive attitude about every trial or pain, that I have almost gained a tolerance at least, and an appreciation at most, for imperfection. there is such a sense in which those deep goods in my life and heart, the most saturating joys, are a result of past pains, and perhaps even need the contrast of ungood in order to even be good. so perhaps people embittered by the world welcome situations which are perfect (or rather, seem so) but I, I look them over for their chips and cracks, and finding none, will quickly walk away. maybe even more, maybe I must suffer, at least a little, to feel fully alive. beat me up, and if you don't I will provoke you to it. perfect kindness falls so softly on me I can barely feel it, makes me feel asleep. a little imperfection makes a crack through which the kindess can get in (I do not know if you should believe a single word of this).

breath

the other day it was so cold. I climbed into my car and started singing and my breath rolled out in swirling clouds. I stopped. there is an extent to which a person is contained in their voice, in the words which fall off their lips, but its all so intangible. its just noise. but words for me are such a part of who I am, my voice, gosh, the only other time I get to see it is when its on paper. but those are just black shapes on white space, two dimensional, noiseless, almost formless. and here my voice was taking shape; part of me suspended in the moveless, icy air. and more than words it was song, words with life. I almost didn't turn the heat on the whole way there.

no shalaque for me

there are two types of people in this world: those who are messy, and those who are pretending not to be. some people are just better painters of pictures of who they want to be perceived as, but really they're just buying time. I have yet to meet a person who within a few months did not prove to be as flaw-full as me. and so I am finally at a point where I am more concerned about growing than picture painting (except for in the literal sense. I'm all for a little sketch on the side of the sunday morning bulletin) and I'm banking on the fact that just being honestly in process will be worth what I learn, and hoping that I prove to be that stone upon the beach that is easy to pass by because it seems rather rough and dull, but when polished proves a million times better than the ones you find in hoards, covered quickly in cheap shalaque, at the souvenir shop. and so I might seem childish or naive, and maybe sloppy and definitely messy, but hopefully honest, so be patient with me.

and the dam broke

I used to have to poke myself in the eye at funerals. not really, but only because I didn't care that I couldn't cry. it was almost a claim to fame for me, something I was proud of: my inability to shed a tear. once I passed the age where you cried about splinters, it almost slowed to being an annual (semi-annual if I'm generous) event. I carried my own pain around at arm's length with a limp hand, and other people's pain never went past my brain, none of it could get all the way in. and then something happened. and the dam broke. and there was no holding this pain away, because it's point of origin was the deepest parts of me. and I cried more in a month than I probably did in the entirety of my life. and who knows, maybe half the tears weren't even about that, maybe they were just leftover from old funerals and friends' heartaches. and now it seems everything can get in, and it doesn't matter how many times I swallow I still have to look out the window. but its ok, its great in fact. because I think its called compassion, and its called the ability to feel, and apparently someone had to take a hatchet to my heart to get me there, but it broke the dam, so it was worth it.

do what you want

we always do what we want. it doesn't matter that I clutched it white-knuckled for a minute, standing in the yellow glow of the bathroom, before I dropped it in the trash. . .I wanted it gone or else I wouldn't have let go. there is not a thing that we do in life that is not ultimately what we want. even the things we hate, the things that wear our teeth down, we don't do against our will. while they might not be what we desire to do in that moment, they support or enable some other desire which is deeper rooted. even with a gun to our head, our desire to live outweighs our desire to disobey. I didn't want to let it go, but I wanted the freedom I knew I would get if I did, more than I wanted to keep it, so ultimately I did what I wanted. if you want to be different than you are, don't just change what you do, figure out how to change what you really want, and your actions will follow suite.

leaf mouse

when I was young I loved thunderstorms (I still do). I would stand looking out the front window, the shadows of the raindrops on the window running down my face, watching the shivering trees and the rush of water against the curb. it happened often during these times that I would see a leaf, scuttled to and fro by the wind. . .something about the way it moved seemed so. . .rodently. I would stare at it, fixated. Maybe. . .maybe, it was. there was something about the way it moved. . .sometimes, standing there, I would be sure it must be some poor creature frantically running through the puddles. sometimes I had this strange feeling, like I knew in my heart that it was a little mouse (what a silly thing to know in your heart). I was so certain I nearly ran out in the rain just to save the drenched thing. for some brief moments I would have bet my life on it. . . and then the rain would blow it flat against the pavement. there are times in life when I am so sure of what I want, of what something is, and where it is going. and after I realize it's just a leaf I do not understand how I had been so sure, but yet I guess it doesn't matter because next time I will bet my life on it being a mouse all over again.

18 things

here are 18 things I feel the world should know. . .

1. the icing that comes with the tube of pillsbury cinnamon rolls tastes the way your hands smell after holding a grasshopper. strangely enough, that's not a bad thing.
2. matching your clothes is overrated.
3. roadtrips are not.
4. commitment is sexy.
5. ripped jeans are only cool if you actually made the rip, and accidentally too.
6. don't kiss people you don't know.
7. ridiculous is spelled with an "i".
8. but I'm not picky, because grammar is an invention.
9. early to bed and early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise. it's made me two of those things (the most logical explanation is of course the fact that I'm not a man).
10. it's dumb to like things just because everyone else does. it's also dumb not to like things just because everyone else does.
11. don't drink PBR.
12. you're never too old for a shirley temple. admit it, they taste fricken good (and everyone likes the cherry).
13. it makes perfect sense that everytime someone says the word "yawn" it reminds me of chocolate chips (and crunching through leaves make me wanna say "baklava").
14. get married young.
15. spinach is good.
16. and so are parents.
17. you didn't really make it if it came in a box or can.
18. you don't know everything.

bitter taste

everyone wants to leave a legacy, but legacy lies, not in the grand things you do, but in the small things, and if not that, even if it does depend upon your larger accomplishments, the "small" things you do are the foundation upon which those accomplishments will either stand or crumble. if you want to leave a legacy, make it a goal to never leave a bitter taste in someone's mouth, whether a total stranger or someone close. life is messy and tricky, and people will not always act as they should, but the only person's actions that you are respsonsible for are your own. it doesn't mean you will never hurt anyone, or that everyone will always like you, but in the end you will still leave them with either a bitter or sweet taste in their mouth depending on your actions. live love, have compassion, be selfless. how good it would be if your legacy was to leave the smell of jesus lingering behind you everywhere you go and upon everything you touch. how good it would be if it could be said of you that the impact you have upon every person you cross paths with in this life is to leave a sweet taste.

o brother

o brother, why’d you let my hand go?
don’t you see
that now it’s growing cold,
lost its memory of your skin.
and brother maybe for a while
our hands were clasped so tight
we crushed our fingers,
so for now it feels just right
to spread them wide.
but soon the numbness fades away
and feeling creeps back in,
and brother, winter’s round the bend,
which means cold palms and fingers.
how I’ll wish to run to warm your hand,
but brother I can see
your mind’s made up.
so maybe I will send you mittens in the mail,
and pray you’ll find someone
who loves you with your secrets, like I do,
someone who will know your hands and heart like me,
and never let your hand grow cold.

solo

I am not a maker of rash decisions. but I woke up saturday morning and looked out the window (which is no longer broken) and said. . .I'm going home today. so I took care of things and packed my shtuff and got in the car and left. three and a half hours of highway and fall colors and coffee and music and my own thoughts. it was an exercise in solitude, in the art of being alone. and I loved it. so I had a weekend full of baby and my own bed and dad's waffles, all the while further learning how to be happy with just me, and the little things I adore. I've found that in a way I've sort of lost touch with myself the way you lose touch with an old friend. and so I love my friends, but I am learning to love being alone as well. people who avoid solitude probably are afraid of what they will find in their own mind if left to really think. it takes a certain maturity to really thrive in solitude, to find joy all by yourself, to be content with just the leaves, your bike, and you. and while happiness is better shared, learning to be happy when alone makes you an even better sharer of happiness in the end. so maybe you should take a roadtip by yourself to remind you of who you really are. let me know if you do.

scotch tape

I stick better than scotch tape. . .a whole lot better. it sucks, for me at least. my mother always says "my girls are loyal to a fault. . ." and so apparently we spend half of what should be a good night staring down the street for a car that is never going to come. one minute you're happy indian and the next minute you're crying while you brush your teeth and stroking your own forehead just to try and fall asleep. you continue to defend and believe in those who would rather have forgotten you a long time ago. I'm starting to think that loyalty is hardly a virtue for those who have it. it's like intentionally closing your coat in someone's car door. . .with you still in it. and the people to whom you really wish your loyalty would matter will most likely label it a much baser thing. so it's sort of the virtue of the brokenhearted. maybe someone day it will be good but right now it's just. . .not.

the Truth

it may be that I feel and express a million things, but at the end of the day this is the Truth, regardless of how I feel: I am a worthless, broken, silly girl who is utterly and completely made new in the Person of Jesus Christ. in Him I find all worth, all purpose, all joy (for there is none outside Him). He is the source of all things, the source of all good and the source of all healing. I have no gifts, no accomplishments, no life outside of Him. He is a vivid and beautiful reality which I am absolutely in love with. there is no thing he cannot redeem and he has redeemed me. I owe everything I am to Him. I am never alone, never forgotten, never worthless or purposeless or hopeless because He is in love with me. I am who I am in Christ.

moth

I looked up from my work tonight because a funny muffled noise drew my attention. a dusty little moth was tapping against my window, drawn to the lights strung along the wall. I watched him for a while before looking back down, thinking, don't let the warm lights fool you little guy, you don't want to come in here, this is not a happy place.