Things not to do when you're hurting

Hi,

I failed today. Miserably. I was hurting badly... family member in danger and job was in danger and I was exhausted anyway. So I did what one normally do in such situations... I sent a quick "prayer if you have a minute" message to 13. And then I prayed for wisdom and took a breath and started trying to write all my bosses back. Like clock work the message came back they were praying. I finished wading  through the sludge of emails that bombard me every weekday morning to find the ones from 10pm on a Sunday night. I responded to said messages and crossed my fingers while waiting for a response that said "you still have a job to come to tomorrow."

So naturally I did the next thing one always does in said situation - I messaged friend back while waiting. And then it started spiraling down hill. At best their replies were sarcastically inappropriate; at worst they were scathingly rough. Finally, I got mad, gave up arguing, and just said I didn't need that now.

Looking back, I see a series of things I did wrong. So here they are so hopefully no one else will do the same thing:

1. Ask for prayer and then shut up. When you're wound up anyway, it's a lot easier to say things you'll regret later.

2. Don't communicate via text. It's hard to explain anything of importance over a keyboard or phone screen. It's hard to communicate a bunch of details, which often leads to serious misunderstandings. As in this morning - major life things were happening and it got communicated as simple whining.

3. Don't ever expect your friends to "fix" it. Only God can give the balm that heals all wounds. Only God can fix the unfixable, make the ugly beautiful, and provide for everything when the world falls apart.

Anonymity Isn't Meant for Forever

I love my anonymous blog.... so good for getting stuff out... my little corner to work through the hard things in life.

Only I wish some of the things I say as I work through them could help someone else... and I can't do that as long as this little corner of the blogsphere is mine.

I've been being touched over the past week that one day probably in the nearish future I'll need to make this public. When it comes time, I will want to too. I will be ready, or as ready as one can be beforehand, to face the criticism and snide remarks I know will come.

Someday it will be time to take my mask off and let someone see the scars. Someday it will be time to take breaking through the stain glass masquerade to the next level. Someday it will be time to step out from behind the curtain and meet the crowd with a smile whether they cheer or boo.

And that someday will be soon I feel. God's been touching me that if I'm going to talk, then this message needs to be out there where others can easily find it. So here goes! All out as nice and professional as I can make. If I'm going to take my mask off, mind's well do it right with a nice web layout and improved content instead of what's been the bare minimum graphics and private journal type entries. So I will be getting an official .com soon. Since I know next to nothing about web design, obviously I will need to get someone to help. That someone will mostly probably be the first to read these ramblings other than this girl, who too has walked a long road. And then the website will be made and optimized... and through this process more and more people will come to find out that this blog exists. 

So this is my plea to the world as I go public - as in public to friends and friends of friends and family will now get to see instead of the vast internet so populated with blogs that one more anonymous one really doesn't show up:

 Please don't judge too swiftly when you get your first glimpse into my life. Don't let the peek so deep inside me make you question everything I am. I promise I am still me. I seek in both my daily life and on this blog to be honest and real. The only difference is now you will get to see the two spheres meet - my outward actions and the inward heart from which they spring. You will now get to see the inward struggles that produce the transformation that results in the outward change. You think I am sweet or stupid or struggling or kind... well I still am.

Only now you get to see why. I want you to see my inward struggles and not just my outward attitude. Not because it's comfortable. Not because I like attention. God knows I'd almost rather stay in this shell forever if it was left up to me. But because if my realness and vulnerability can allow God's message of love and hope to reach one person, it will all be worth it. If you can see His hand of mercy and love through my darkest deepest struggle, it will be worth it.  It will be more than worth it. That is why I'm pushing through with this even though it's impossible.

Love to all! - Elle

Stinkin' Superficial

Why are we so stinkin' superficial? Why??? 

You know when it really hit me just how superficial we are? I have a journal file. It started when I was in school and I'd jot down thoughts as I wrote papers. It became a journal of sorts on the computer. Sometimes I look back at the file for the same day the year before. So last night I was clicking around... and I found something nice that someone had said that I had saved. They just flat out said it. It wasn't a major compliment. But they flat out said it. They didn't hide it. They didn't twist it. They didn't make me work for it. And they didn't make it so backhanded you have to stare at it for 30 seconds to figure out of it's an insult or not.

It wasn't anything major... or at least it shouldn't have been. 

That made me realize how many times I had saved things people had saved that were genuine statements. Not that many really. That's why I had felt compelled to save them when someone had said something flat out nice.

That was a very sad realization.

Why do we feel this need to hide behind stupidity? Why do we never say a thing we mean? Why?Why can we never just say "I love you"? Why is that so difficult?

We used to complain about loving difficult people. Now we've begun to foster the inability to even express love to nice people. Instead we've conditioned ourselves for one reason or another so we can barely express any care, love, or appreciation for another human being. We feel this need to stay semi permanently behind a mask and a facade of superficial, cheapness. Like being the sassiest, sarcasticist, and funniest idiot is now somehow the ideal.

Why? Because we've been hurt... somehow at some point by someone. I'm sorry. I know... and I'm sorry. I'm sorry for the times you were genuine only to be met by a brick wall of fakeness. I'm sorry you have a hole punctured in you from that time you loved in an innocent way and got rebuffed or worse yet punched. I'm sorry for the time you trusted and were violated completely.

I'm sorry. I've been there too.

But as of today I refuse to let the holes win. I refuse to become hard. I refuse to stop loving as freely. Be wiser with my trust, yes. Of course. I don't recommend stupidity.

But I refuse to become what they would have wanted me to become. Hard. Hidden.

I feel bad.... really bad... because most of the people I know who hide behind masks aren't bad people. They're some of the sweetest, most wonderful people I know. But they rarely ever let you see their heart. They keep it locked away. They hit you with a barrage of stupid sayings, lame/ill-timed jokes, sarcasm, borderline words, and insults every time you get anywhere too near to it. You can tell the one thing they're dying to hear is that they're awesome people. The one thing that will keep their brain from turning into a hardened pile of mush is one serious conversation. The one thing they're dying to feel is love... and yet when they finally hear the words, when they finally have the chance to interact, when they finally experience genuine unselfish love... they almost can't take it even in the smallest doses... it's like it's coming too late.

Except God never comes too late. We just sometimes do.

So in a way it's joyful - God can always reach people. But it's tragically hard when you realize maybe you never can...

So I guess I'll go back to collecting those genuine words in my file. So I can read them on days like today when I need to be reminded... reminded that maybe I should pay attention to what I say because someday someone might save, at least in memory, something I say. And I'd hate for them to only save the ill-timed joke or snarky remark. *gulp*

Freedom

Today was just another day. Last night I sat up late engrossed in a book... and partially scared to go to bed... The night before the scars had acted up again. Someone had made a stray comment referencing a situation. I guess it was actually funny but it was too sensitive a wound. So instead I'd ended up a crumpled heap clinging to my mother like a little girl. I don't know if I had ever done that since it happened... so much is kept inside. Shoved away in an attempt to forget it.

And then today... today I got the wonderful news. I'm free. Oh so blissfully, blissfully free! I didn't know how much it weighed on me - that fear of him surfacing, of something happening... that endless guilt of should I have done more or said more to prevent something from going wrong.

I'm free. 
I'm free
I'm free.
I'm free. I'm free. I'm free. I'm free. I'm free. I'm free. I'm free. I'm free. I'm free. I'm free. I'm free. 
I'm free.
I'm free
I'm free. 

Free to go where I want without worrying about bumping into him.
Free to go to bed at night with a few less nightmares.
Free to breathe because there will never be another text, email, or phone call... 
Free to know that the lies were really lies. 

But freedom at such a terrible price. oh such a terrible price! He has another girl. A girl with a face... but a face I don't know. So I can never tell her. Only pray for her. But prayer is a marvelous thing.

They say perhaps I changed him for the better. That perhaps this is really it. I hope so. For her sake. I wish  I could hope it for his... still working on that part of the heart.

Thank You, God, from Whom all blessings flow, that today I'm free. Oh God, may this freedom not be bought at too horrible a price!

It also made me realize... that in Christ we're always free. Free from sin. Free from fear. Free from doubt. Free from fakeness. Free from darkness. But sometimes we need to claim that freedom in order to feel it.

Praise God for true freedom!

Talking More

The following I found when I blew the dust off the drafts... I apparently had meant to say more but rereading it today I think it can stand on its own. Whether you're fighting the monster named porn or not, it's applicable. God often uses our battles to grow us in Him. After all, isn't that the very point of fighting? To fight the enemy and grow in Christ... ?

from the journal - circa 12.24.15

I promised to talk more. About this. About pornography.

And I haven't so far.

So this post is for you, dear fighters. And this is particularly for those who stand cheering and fighting beside the fighters. This is for the wives or the husbands, the girl friends or the boyfriends, the moms and the dads, the kids, the mentors and the friends.

Maybe I haven't written more on the subject because it hurt so bad the first time to type that word. Maybe because it's awkward and our society doesn't like talking about it. Our society as in my good, conservative, Christian world. Maybe because it's so deeply personal I couldn't hardly type it a second time. Maybe it's because it was something I wanted resolved right away.

Oh sure, I didn't think it was going to be resolved any time soon. I knew stuff took time. But I didn't understand it can take ages. I knew I was weak and it would take God giving me strength. But I didn't know just how much strength for how long He'd have to give. I knew He could make all things right but I didn't know that sometimes He first chooses to give you the peace to adapt and go on with the rest of life in the in between stage.

But He does.

Because God is way bigger than even our comprehension of how big He is.

So maybe it takes way longer than you think to conquer that monster called porn. But maybe God has a few other battles in mind for you to conquer meanwhile. Like growing in your relationship with Him.

Choices

So I logged into Facebook. The first thing that greeted me was a picture of a big beautiful ring cut in one of the exact styles I liked back in the day when I tried rings on. The connection didn't hit me right away though. I was more inclined to be reminded of one of my oldest friends who's birthday is today and who's hand and ring looks identical to the one in the picture. However, on second glance on seeing the next picture of the collage...

It's those second glances that get you.

On second glance it was revealed to belong to one of my fellow interns of last summer. One out of four of us in the whole group of 30 some girls that were of the same culture and one of the 3 of us with the same color hair. As a matter of fact, we looked very similar and acted very similar - same hair color, same tiny build, similar mannerisms. We hadn't spent a tremendous amount of time together but we had connected immediately when we did.

So there she was engaged. Good for her!

And then I saw him. It wasn't really him... but it looked like him. It was a guy in ministry (or at least I think he is) that was older that had a haircut bordering on the older side that towered over her in the pictures that had a beard. Perhaps most unforgivable was that obstinate button down shirt and khaki pants. And she looked bright and happy with her arms flung around him... just like me for ever so briefly... briefly as in like 3 weeks. I began rousing from my stupidity after that though it would take much longer to fully see everything objectively. For me... it was a response to finally being "loved" after years of wanting someone else to love me... it was a response to thinking I could make people happy and be doing the right thing for a change if I responded to the wooing of a guy in ministry. Of course all those reasons are wrong and stupid but half the time you don't know yourself well enough to know your own reasons when you're growing up. I sure didn't until I looked back later. That's part of growing up. That's why I feel confident saying I'm older now. I stop and think about stuff now and overanalyze my reasons before doing something major. I learned. You have to learn from your mistakes to grow up.

But for a second staring at her in the picture... I saw his look transferred to the other man's eyes. I cringed. I panicked. I wanted to reach out and rip her away.

And then I realized what I was doing and shook myself. I'm not much for judging people and here I was doing it. I'm also not much for sticking my nose in people's business. And here I was contemplating it.

So I shook myself and scolded me hard and moved along to the piles of coursework waiting for me. Oh yeah, wherever he is... I find it ironic that now we're split I'm doing courses through the Bible school he though so highly of. Like he wanted me to go but be sure and be engaged first to him. Like it made you something special or something. Ok, I'm being too harsh... what is my problem?

So I shake it off and go back to the jungles of blurry text thanks to a light fever. Stuff like this happens all the time when you're a survivor. In order to be a victor, you have to choose. Choose to move on. Choose to let go. Choose to stop and pray instead of wallowing.

So today in this new normal I'm choosing to turn away, to work on forgiving (again), and focus on something else - like the Spirit of God which we're studying currently.

It all comes down to a choice. What will you choose?

The Ghosts in the Closet

9.13
Best I can reckon it was bringing out that piece of furniture that brought the ghosts out.

So yesterday I had to get out a piece of furniture that hadn't been used for awhile... and although I was getting it out for some really special people that my family and I absolutely love... I guess the reason we bought it in the first place was enough to give me nightmares. We bought it right before they came for them.

But I was getting it out for a happy occasion. So minus snapping at my sibling when they came in with something... I thought it was all good. We had a great time. Around 12:30am we called it a long day and parted ways for the night. As usual that old surge of not wanting to go to bed - that subconscious fear of something be it of sleep disappearing as soon as my head touches the pillow, being alone with a thousand suppressed wonderings and being forced to toss them out or nightmares - came on. It always does. It's the weird new normal. New as in a year and a half or so. Maybe it started before that when I struggled through insomnia in high school. But the uncertainty and my inability to trust fully the way I should... well it ended up escalating into this phenomenon of not sleeping for a good long while til exhaustion hits. The new normal.

Eventually I slipped into that elusive sleep.

9.14
wee hours of the morning...
Then the dream came. The dream crisscrossed my favorite dream with my worst nightmare. It started with me getting something I always wanted, or at least beginning to get it maybe, and then really, really, really probably getting it... and then it took a wrong turn and tail-spun into the nightmare - the nightmare of so many: of receiving abuse at the hands of someone you trust. It was so impossibly bizarre and yet so disconcertingly realistic - the very trees in the neighbor's yard were correctly placed. I had dreamed of the incident re-occurring in one way or another again, but never like this. Never someone I trusted so much.

A theme in the dream was no commitment. "Zilch" as my grandma would say. Just empty half promises and raising of hopes. That's fairly normal too nowadays it seems. Action yet no commitment or empty promises with no action to follow it up. The new normal. 

The day goes on. 

7pm
Someone messages me and wants to share their current hard situation. Why? Because apparently it reminded them of my life and story. And it was like, thanks... but no thanks. Like on the one hand I'm glad I can help but another part of me wishes I never had to have gone through this jazz and be the first thing people think about. So I say a few things. But I don't really know what to say - like there's so much and yet it could be  taken so wrong. Decide to pray before giving any more advice. This is the new normal. 

10:42
Movie is paused. Check messages. Another change. I'm getting used to changes now.#thenewnormal

It's my boy that isn't mine. He wants me to know he's taking an internet break but if I need him here's how to reach him. I don't need an explanation. I get it. It's one of those moments impossible to understand by the public. On the one hand, I'm so proud. We talked about this awhile ago and so it's probably for the same reasons. One of which isn't just being tired of negative people on FB. I'm happy he's fighting. The dragon is going to die someday. Maybe it'll be soon. Through and with God, the battle may eventually be won in this lifetime. On the other hand, I'm let me know and told me how to reach him. That he actually cares enough to be around if I need him. That's the way this crazy friendship works. It can go awhile without talking - but if one of us needs something. Well, we know where to go. And it's perfectly normal. the constant normal for once... On the other hand, it's bittersweet. I'm going to miss them. I always do. But I'm used to it. I can foresee I'm going to talk about them too often and people are going to fuss about it. They don't understand that talking about a loss makes it almost seem like the person's closer in a far away sort of way.

It's a life I'd never choose on the bad days... on the good days I would. Good as in I feel good. Not necessarily the situation. But everyday I know with a clear certainty that this is the life I'm meant to live. No matter what. This is how God meant it. This is for a reason. Everything. Love and losing. Happiness and agony. Life and death. And so resting in that fact it's ok. Deep down where it really matters, it's ok. It's not always on the surface. I complain. I don't like this new normal. I don't like complications and pain. I don't like being different. But really, despite all my complaining, it's ok. Because God arranges life. He never does anything without a purpose. He knows. And that's really enough. Maybe it's so it can help someone or maybe it's to grow me more into His image. It's probably more like both.

So do I love this new normal? Not really. But would I trade this life for another? Maybe I'd like to, maybe in the moments of weakness when I wake up shaking inwardly from yet another nightmare I'd be tempted to. But would I? No, because this is the one God planned out and gave me. And no matter what you say, I won't change my mind on that. He's got this. I asked Him to. And even if I didn't, He's sovereign. So yeah.

Here's to this new normal.

You're going to hear me roar....
You held me down but I got up.
Already brushing off the dust... 
I see it all. I see it now...
Dancing through the fire
Cuz I am a champion." - "Roar"

Today - Looking back.... and forward

Today is a day special to 13. I don't normally post things like this on this blog... but I think this justifies a deviation from the usual subject musings. If it wasn't for 13, this blog may have never been born. Maybe I would have just stayed sheltered in my little world. Maybe I would have never seen pain, agony, and the dirt of the world right under my nose. And if I never saw it... then I would have never had the blessing of realizing my own brokenness, forced to turn to God, and experienced the unspeakable joy of watching Him work.

I would have never experienced the full joy of rolling up my sleeves and being allowed the honor of volunteering in the ditches. I would have never known the passion which now possesses me. I  would have never perhaps found the need - that need that when you see it forces you off the couch and away from the tv and throw down your chips and say, "No more! I have to do something!"

And perhaps if there was never 13, then the motivation to keep going, to keep learning and trying and growing and trying to make a difference wouldn't be there. Definitely never in the face of opposition or well-meant people expressing their doubts.

But whenever I want to quit - I see a pair of blue eyes floating through the mist of  years and pain and skeletons coming after us. I hear words encouraging me to process things and think through hard topics and move pass this, and not just move on... but make something positive out of it.

And most of all... I never would have understood that love means doing/being what the other person needs or wants - not what I need or want.

13, I can never say the things I want to to you to your face... at least not now. Maybe someday...  And why is another post for another day.

But thank You, God, for giving me such an inspiration, for giving me someone to stretch and grow me way more than I ever could on my own. Thank You. I'm out of words... so I'll just end with a simple but heartfelt...

Thank You.

A Reminder about Love

So today... was a day... a good day... but ending on note of reminder. In part a reminder of what I would really like to forget once in awhile. A reminder that 13 and I see differently sometimes. That our decisions are once again splitting in different directions. A reminder that we are trying to put duct tape on those cracked edges of concrete paths instead of flat out facing them. A reminder that maybe one day I'm going to have to face fighting battles without them...

I don't like facing that.

I used to be better about forgiveness and working things through. Now I just get sad and depressed and think depressed thoughts... that perhaps I was never loved the way I thought I was...  That maybe everyone is right. That no two people can reach across so many lines. That I should have never tried, never thought I could with so much stacked against us - families, social classes, cultures, backgrounds that have shaped us into who we are with our own baggage, ideas, and expectations. yada yada yada.. you get the general idea.

I was giving up. Ready to quit. Mad. Mad at them for not loving me better. Mad at them for not fighting harder. For not showing me more. For not seeing what I was so sure was the truth stamped on the wall in front of their face. For making what I consider poor decisions.

And I was ranting to my best friend, not too unusual, poor girl! She always puts up with me even when I shouldn't be put up with. Tonight was no exception. Also as usual when I'm close to my last straw or losing the right mindset, she said something profound.

First she explained how people hide behind fronts when things are really bothering them. So the arguing tonight could be, and probably was looking back, just as much a front even if they believed a 100% what I was saying. Because debating about theoretical theology is ten times easier than facing and discussing reality.

"Love him,
… Love him expecting to never get anything back. But love him and keep showing him God through your love. It’s all you can do (well, that and pray) but it’s the most powerful thing. And I venture to say that your prayers and love have done a lot for that boy ;)
You will be okay…and tomorrow will be better (or least we can hope!)"

What she said was so profound. What is the point of love? What we can get out of it? Or what the other person needs? 

Christ loved us with a sacrificial love, laying down His own life for us. He could have just wiped out the earth and started over with a fresh, sinless creation. But no. He took the hard way - He chose to save us. To be born a man, live a man limited by a human shell, experience every form of pain, agony and abuse. To be in His final hour forsaken by the Father as He took on the sin of the world despite being the most blameless Lamb. To die an excruciating death. And then to descend where finite mortals, not infinite God, are forced to descend, to Hades, where He wrested the keys away from Satan and stripped death of its power. All this so we might be cleansed of sin, made new in Him. And then made pure as snow, transformed more and more into His image like a mirror beholding and reflecting  through the lifetime work of transformation, able to finally begin to fathom and return this love. (And to think at times I complain about the pain of transformation! How short compared to eternity and the extent of all He has done!) We will never fully comprehend this love nor know it's depths though we have eternity to contemplate it. 

And yet we complain when we dish out love and don't reap the outcome we want? What kind of love is that? Selfish, low down, stingy, and mean. If you want your wishes gratified, go buy a gallon of ice cream. Love is about leaving the other person better off than you found them. It's about seeing their needs and making sure they're met. "It's about doing what's best for them even to the extent of sacrificing their wants at times." - 13. It's easier at times to give someone what they want than what they need. After all there is a self satisfaction in being thanked and praised. If nothing else, it saves one from hearing the whining and complaining.

So what is love if it is not imitating God's love? Fleshly, low, as changing as the wind, love.
And then there is perfect love, able to cast out all fear - capable of surmounting all obstacles, even hell itself. "Love never falls away" (1 Cor. 13:8). Everything else may pass away but this love will not.

God is love. Love with His love. Not yours. Yours will die. His survived death.

It all boils down to...

So today... has been a day. Parts of it mundane. Like cooking greens. Parts of it full of the little joys. Like someone showing you a picture of a model and saying they look like you! And parts of it just plain bad. Like someone walking in and teasing me about my crush and him sitting right there unbeknownst to them.

And as usual, Sunday proved a day of musings. Not all connected... but all making me think, growing me. Because this happens often, I'm going to start this series and entitle it "Sunday Musings."

Random musing while ranting about something else (consider it the light bulb moment in the not so turning to Christ moment): Ultimately, choosing the right actions in life should generally come down to honoring Christ, helping others, and doing the right thing. Not the easy thing. Not the fun thing. Not what we want. 

Or even simpler: His will.

Not WWJD or what's the right thing. Because let's face it. A lot of times there are two good decisions or two bad ones. On our own it's hard to know which one's right.

So it comes down to whatever is important to you.

For me, all too often what's important to me is me. But my hope and goal and prayer is that God would continue to revolutionize my thinking making me put more and more of an emphasis on honoring and glorifying Him. His will. Not what I want or even what I think I need.

Just Christ. 
Just God. 

Two Dreams

I'm not for putting stock in dreams. I try to be logical for the most part. And most of my dreams at least can be explained perfectly logically. For that matter the two dreams I'm going to mention today I can explain in a perfectly logical way. Therefore, my purpose isn't so much that they mean something is going to happen or not happen or whatever. Instead, they serve as a sort of metaphor to me.

---------------------------------

The first one happened a couple nights ago. It was very brief. I dreamed someone hugged me and all my pieces popped back into place. I couldn't see their face really. It blurred out. But they seemed so happy... and I asked if this was real... if the pieces were going to stay in place this time... if this was for real. Even in the dream there was a vague flashback to the time when I'd said it... moments before it went down... as I reached over for a hug... the beginning of the start of the cyclone that sucked me down, down, down in a tornado of abuse, manipulation, and ripping scars.

But this time, this time the voice of the fuzzy faced personage said, "Yes, this is real." He didn't say it over and over and over again like the voice in the cyclone. He just said, "Yes," and laughed that happy, happy laughter.

It was brief. Very brief. But it enough
                                                       
                                                           ------------------------------------  

The second one came the next day. It was precisely what I wanted. Everything. It was the person I wanted, the embrace I wanted, the kiss to be rid of that other kiss, the words I wanted to hear - tons of them rolling on about how it would all be ok, it would hold up despite whatever, we'd face it all and fight it all together... 

And yet there was still stress. Everything was quite good. It was the strangest sensation of having everything one wanted, being overjoyed over it, and yet... something was still stressful... there was that worry still nagging in the back of my mind - worry about whether things would go smoothly, worry that just because he loved me and I loved him he wouldn't stick around if everyone didn't accept it immediately. Worry... worry... 

                                                        -----------------------------------------------

I don't believe either of the two scenarios will play out, at least not in exact detail. But it did make me think and convicted me. There's a difference between what we want and what's best for us. God doesn't always not give us what we want. But sometimes it's with a twist for the better. But when we're focused on just what we want we can't always let go enough to see the best that He wants to give us. Not that He can't just knock our plans out of our hands. However, it's generally easier and smoother if we go ahead and relinquish. He'd really rather us just rely on Him. Believe in Him. Not be duped by Satan's counterfeit that sometimes comes right after the revelation to tempt us, like my second dream followed my first. 

So that's why... 

I'm working on letting go of dream two... giving it over to Him. 
And meanwhile just walking down the road of life content with where I am and with what I have. Whether He brings dreams one or two or another I can't even imagine, which is probably what it will be (I LOVE His surprises!), it doesn't matter. He's got this.

I don't believe in me.

I believe in Him.

It's Not About Us

Sometimes I'm so annoyed by people's self-centeredness. And then I see my own selfishness... and it irks and pains me so deeply. The guilt of being such a big hypocrite....
My dad and I had a conversation about that the other day...
You know... it's not about us...

It's not about us

It's not about my preferences. My prejudices. My way. My favorite.
It's about Him and what's on His heart.

Not about my comfort zone. It's not about my passion, my wish, my desire, my dream. It doesn't matter how uncomfortable or unsure or ridiculous I feel. It's not about the degree of logic or illogical things are to my "brilliant" mind. It's not about how I like it or don't like it. It's not about how I like to serve or worship or who I want to love any more than how I like my beans cooked. We would for the most part agree that the way we like our beans cooked doesn't matter in the long run compared to taking care of other believers, preaching the gospel, or obeying our Lord.

Sadly... sometimes we treat the important stuff like only our preference matters.
If wearing a purple shirt offends someone, I should wear the blue. If the purple shirt was unscriptural, I should totally wear the blue even if it makes me uncomfortable. As someone very wise recently said (the exact quote is escaping me so here's the paraphrase Mia version :P), we're all eager to do our utmost to not offend anyone and everyone except for the God of the universe.

The ultimate love or service or worship or obedience is 100% about Christ and His Body and 100% not about me.

It's Not about Love, It's Not About What We Want; It's about the Law and All Humans' Rghts

So today was a day that will go down in the annuls of history.

Today Friday, June 26, 2015 the Supreme Court ruled 5-4 that gay marriage is now legal.

And I'm supposed to be happy. At least that's what everyone tells me. I'm young and so therefore I must be jumping up and down at this huge step for love.

I just feel more like the it's still soaking in and I can't quite believe it. Instead of realizing how historic it is and being blown away by it, I'm just walking around like it hasn't soaked in, feeling like it's Freaky Friday.

I mean I guess the family members can come out of the closet now... but were they really in the closet? Maybe they came out a long time ago. I mean I knew about it when I was like a teenager. And I never heard of them really hiding it. Just more or less it was just one aspect of their multifaceted selves. Just like me wanting to speak out and help with porn addictions is one aspect of my life I'm not ashamed of, it taught me a lot, but I don't generally go around discussing it and saying it's everything that makes me, me.

But then ya know most would just call me a a big headed bigot for saying those last few sentences I guess.

I mean I'm a young person and this is about love they tell me. I should totally understand.

And that's where I'm really ticked off. I do totally understand.

See when did we decide to let the government tell us who and what we can love? If the Supreme Court ruled tonight that I couldn't love my dog I still totally would. Or if they told me I had to hate all Italians, I'd still love my friends of Italian descent.

See, this isn't about love. This is about law. I'm not here to dictate to anyone who they should or shouldn't love or hate. And the government shouldn't be either.

They were ruling about the law not our love lives.

A law about whether or not kids should have a parent of both sexes. A law about whether people should be forced to perform ceremonies against their wills or not. A law about forcing people, all people - families, schools, businesses -  to conform to teaching and viewing a family in a whole different light.

And while it's all very well for me to make whatever choice I want about my love life and you to make whatever choice you want about your love life... I think it's unfair to make that choice for someone else too. Like the kids. They have rights too. It's my personal opinion that the helpless, the underage, and weaker of society should actually have more rights protecting their liberties than us who are over legal age. We are called "responsible adults" for a reason. Yes, I'm very weird like that.  I think they should be allowed to have a chance, an opportunity to interact with a man and a woman figure in their early lives. Then if they want to later make the choice to be heterosexual or homosexual it's their choice. But I will fight for the right that they should at least have a chance to interact with a mom and a dad as a female and male. They have a right to an opportunity of experiencing two very different types of parents - male and female. This is not a right we can just take from them because it would make it more convenient for us.

Yes, I'm very bizarre like that.

Shout at me. Tell me how unfeeling I am. But don't accuse me of taking away your rights because I believe no one should tell anyone who or what they should love. Except for God. And I'm not God. Neither are you for that matter. I just think the kids should get that right. Because I've seen the grown up products of those kids that didn't. Because I've read and listened to their voices. Because this isn't about what I want as a full grown, able to fend for myself, adult. The bone I'm picking has to do with the ones that are not full grown and cannot fend for themselves but are subject to being affected by whatever our whims, now backed by government sanction, can do.

On a side note, I also think that someone performing ceremonies should retain the right to only perform those they feel comfortable performing. I think  someone who has grown up being forbidden to harbor homosexual sentiments suddenly forced to perform a ceremony that every fiber of their being disagrees with is not establishing freedom but rather putting one's freedom above another's.

And I think we should all be given grace, mercy, and the benefit of the doubt if we don't understand each other's excitement or aversion to the ruling today.

I know where I stand. I know why - the thought process, the rationality, the moral ground, and the emotion - that has led me to this position. I do not judge you if your position is different from mine.

But please, please, please in the name of equality and justice and rights for all, don't accuse me of digging my nose in your personal business and saying the law should dictate you can't love who you want when you want. I am only arguing that the law should never throw out one set of people's rights for another group's rights. And that is precisely what we are doing with this act. And what we did with Roe v. Wade. In each case, we're throwing out the rights of the weak and the underage and the ones with the littlest strength in their voices due to their youth and station in life in the name of equality.

There is no new equality now. There is just a swap of freedoms. The children will not be able to argue for many years now. Or they will be stifled out of respect for their parents or loved ones. Or drowned by the media's attention to making sure only "politically correct" victims are allowed to go viral. Because lets face it, victims speaking out make us awkward. Especially, ones we'd rather not face exist. I know. I've been a victim.

Dear Rainbow Flag constituent, I'm sorry you were wronged, are wronged. I'm sorry you have suffered pain. I really am. And as you cross my path I will not shove you away. I will love you in Christ. I will accept you as an equal human being deserving of treatment, love, and respect as such whether or not we agree on all issues.

But please my fellow victim if you have been victimized, stripped of rights or terribly wronged, for I too am a victim of abuse although perhaps for different reasons, see that there are victims on every side.

And I will always take the quietest, most suppressed side. I will always take the children's side no matter what I personally may desire for myself. I am a teacher, a tutor, a children's advocate. Whether that's fighting the abuse of a physically abusive father, bandaging the wounds of a broken home, or advocating for each child to have an opportunity at having two different sex parents, I'll be there fighting that battle.

Please join me, constituents of both flags. Please join me in reaching out to the children, in giving them a better life. In making laws that will protect what is in their best interests even if they go against the grain of our desires.

The law is not about what or who you love. It should be about protection and the rights of all.

P.S. if you're interested in the actual stories of real life kids, start here: http://thefederalist.com/2015/03/17/dear-gay-community-your-kids-are-hurting/

https://www.lifesitenews.com/news/quartet-of-truth-adult-children-of-gay-parents-testify-against-same-sex-mar

http://www.americanthinker.com/articles/2015/06/what_life_is_like_when_children_of_gay_couples_dont_matter.html#.VaAk7ak0t8o.twitter

http://cnsnews.com/news/article/lauretta-brown/adults-raised-gay-couples-speak-out-against-gay-marriage-federal-court

"Why me? Why us, God?" - When it all falls apart

"You may think that I'm just fine. 
How could anything ever be out of line?
I take my time to set the stage
Make sure everything's in place.
Even though I've got the lines rehearsed
A picture only paints a thousand words." -  "Behind the Scenes"

Sometimes it's so weird.... the very idea of a dream dying is so painful it becomes unthinkable. I force myself to think of it, to come to grips with it, because I fear not coming to grips with it. It's as though in this painful, mixed up, unpredictable world I have a great need to know what my reaction will be. As if I think what I should say or do enough times it will actually turn out.

Funny how a girl like me should have so much trouble facing the dying of a dream. Me, that stared death in the eye so many times. That has seen the finger of mortality touch those I love best exposing the physical weakness of the strongest soul.

I'm even warned that this dream is going to die unless there's some major miracle.

And I keep forcing myself to think through what I'll do when it all falls apart finally.

Oddly enough it is oftentimes here where we are left on the precipice that saw or is to see the demise of our low no matter how high mortal dream that we grow angry with God. Oh how many times have I been guilty of this! How incredible, when one steps back and thinks about it, it is to shake one's fist at and question the One Great Almighty. The One Who, unlike us, is not limited by time, space, circumstance, bias, selfishness, and impure motives. He alone knows what was in eternity past. He alone knows what time will span. He alone can see eternity future. Only God our Savior can care deeply enough to have planned our lives without an ounce of impure intention.

Bowed down, humbled at this thought I can face the very possible demise of my beautiful dream better. I am still an artist who feels the torture of seeing one's chief work, so many cherished hopes of great things centered on burned before one's eyes. I am as yet not fully transformed though by and by I shall be thanks to the Master Artist. That is the hope, the stay, the reward - in short the reason to keep plodding even on the most miserable days. Knowing I am a part of His work, the greatest Artist's piece, is enough. I am His masterpiece (Ephesians 2:10). And that my friends, fills me with hope.

Well the demise of my dream did not come today after all. It was instead another piece of news. So unexpected in fact my mind is reeling and my soul even more so. No doubt it will make it's way onto this blog as well once I have regained enough ability to think if only rambling trails in the hope of making sense of it.

But even still, or rather because of it, I see how powerful, big, and omniscient God is and I am humbled and repentant for ever asking, "Why God, why me, why us?"

A Road Little Traveled - A New Trail on the Journey

This journey is rarely easy, always requires faith, guts, and God. This particular meander requires love, many jolts of reminders from God, lots of faces, vulnerability, courage, and a mustard seed of faith. My part of this journey is actually really easy. It's just being willing to be faithful to a calling and be a voice, a shoulder, a prayer warrior.

So, I need to write about what I don't want to write about. I need to tackle the hard subjects. Yes, I've covered hard subjects - abuse, violation, relationships, self-confidence issues. But the whole reason I started this blog was because I was struggling with accepting the fact that an unexpected dragon had managed to creep and then rear it's ugly head into my safe, beautiful world. The dragon's name was...

Pornography

There, I actually typed the word. Typing the very word is so difficult it took me months.

Hide in the fairy tale... 
The old man dying...
Jekyll and Hyde in the fairy tale...
This is much more frightening...
See the new man and tear the veil
See the old man dying...
- "Hide in the Fairy Tale" by Theocracy

I lived in a fairy tale. It was gorgeous. I was an innocent child with big wide opened eyes. I hadn't learned that sometimes it's better to look through mere slits of eyes with tunnel vision (albeit now that I do know that, I rarely do it). I had a great family. A mom and dad that loved each other. Friends that talked about the Lord freely with me. A couple of times I was even promised a fairy tale ending.

Two kids in a fairy tale out to prove the world all wrong armed with trust, honesty, belief and love. It was blissful.

Then along came a dragon.

A dragon we couldn't flail.

I saw my hero fall. And another hero. And a couple heroines. And another hero. And another.

I got tired of sitting on the sidelines. So I went on a hunt for a balm, a remedy, a sword. Even an old rusty broad sword would do in my desperation. I wasn't even sure what a weapon capable of stabbing this monster would look like. But stumbling in the dark seemed better than sitting idle on the sidelines.

I'm done with mediocrity. I'm done with running. I'm done with being told there's nothing I can do. I'm done with the sweet but condescending idea that I'm too small, too sweet, too innocent that I've been fed, as much if not more by myself than anyone else.

So here's to a little girl without much of what resembles the usual type of sword. But she's got God and a passion and a few battered heroes. Here's to David and Goliath. Here's to impossibility. Here's to sending out a few words into the big broad unknown of the internet. Here's to the less glorious sounding trenches where the fighting actually takes place. Here's to late night searching and good days. And after the good days have turned into nights when the curtain closes and the actors crash with tears streaming down their faces. Here's to broken dreams being remade.

Someone once explained it thus - there is a vase and it's gorgeous but if you put a candle into it the light would not be very visible. However, once the vase is broken and glued back together with some cracks and holes in it the light is extremely visible. It's even beautiful in a unique way.

So here I am. "Lord, use me." I will be more faithful to face this particular growing pain in this blog along with the others. My prayer - that some sort of balm and a few answers may be stumbled on. This strand of the journey needs to be explored as much as the others. So here goes... it will be slow and painful. I may lack the courage to talk about it on here often, but I pray and I research and I stay ready for the next chapter in the journey.

Here's to finding comfort, healing, courage, faith, and answers. Here's to standing strong and never giving up. Here's to finding the beautiful in the broken. Here's to beautiful vases crashing on the pavement, being bathed with glistening tears, resurrecting into very different but vastly more impacting beautiful things.

Once Upon a Time

Once upon a time... from the journal circa one August seemingly long ago.

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See once upon a time, there was a little girl and a little boy.  And they went dancing in the minefields. They were very young... very young... but when you are in love what does it matter?

Love like crazy... said it wouldn't work out... but they don't know love like this... - "Love like Crazy"

No skeleton was too terrifying. No mountain of past too insurmountable. No fear, she had a lot of them but then so did he... only they didn't know it, no fear was so terrifying while they were together. She had him being open and honest and dare I even say? (almost) in love with her - quite a feat considering how nothing had ever gone right in his young life's record. They talked "dependents" and "money" and "21" and "purpose."

Never thought we'd have a last kiss...- "Last Kiss"

But the boy got a look at reality, it's a horrendous beast, no?and said he was scared of it. The girl got a look at a dragon and expressed her fear.

She said she wanted to fight it... but alas too late! The boy said he'd kill it himself... maybe...And for the first time she saw doom etched on those tender features. White. White. White. Hopeless yet determined. Like someone facing a guillotine.

What is the end you ask? Well, our characters walked into the mist like at the end of a Disney movie... only this isn't a movie... this is a fairy tale... only without a fairy. Just a a few dragons.

The boy walked into oblivion and what became of him we do not know. Perhaps he killed his dragon. Perhaps he settled for something easier but less satisfying. Perhaps the dragon slew him instead.

I watch your life in pictures like I used to watch you think... 
I hope it's a beautiful day wherever you are... 
I hope you change your mind... 
Until you do, I go walk through life wearing that blue dress...
All I know is I don't know how to be something you miss. - "We Died Young"

She's on the sidelines still wearing that blue dress she last felt him squeeze her in the last embrace.She holds her head high and smiles often in that signature pink lipstick. They say she's very sweet and a social butterfly. But hidden well is a scar that may never heal. A scar they said she'd get when she danced through the minefields, but she tossed her head and said she didn't care. To this day she'd not undo it although it bleeds constantly, hiddenly. But sometimes there's a gleam in her eye uncharacteristic of one so "sweet" and a clinching of the fist at the mention of certain words and sentiments that would make an observer shudder at the amount of sheer anger. Nothing perhaps is so painfully terrifying as hopeless anger. It hints at our own destructibility. At midnight watches their life in pictures like she used to watch them dance.

And she still hopes - almost wholeheartedly believes - with that seemingly unconquerable optimism he loved about her that someday there'll be a man who'll dare to go dancing in the minefields with her. She hardly dares even admit the ultimate hope... but sometimes when the day's been long and the furnace's heat's been sweltering and the ice monster has blasted her with one too many breaths of freezing, she'll give into dreams of a certain boy coming back again...

But forgive my mistake earlier when I said there was nothing but dragons in this story. There is more to this story than dragons even if there's no fairies. There is a GOD. An Omnipotent, Supreme, King, Majestic, Great I AM.

That is why if you listen closely you may hear a little voice in the night shakily still humming "It just might be hope."

---- end of story

Guest Post: EEK A MAN!!! - A Scary Woman Writes a Response

Recently during the discussion of the article Women are Scary, my friend Catherine heard some interest expressed in seeing a female response to it. She decided to take a departure from her usual tea garden style and write a playful yet poignant answer. Her answer ended up encompassing more than just an answer to the original author but also some thoughts on the discussion in general.  While her usual tea garden style is different from my more controversial topic choices, this one fell right in line with my last few articles exploring relationships and what true love is. So I asked to publish it here for all of you. If you enjoy this article, follow her over at Catherine's Conversations. Below the "---" is her article. Enjoy!

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 EEK A MAN!  

A Scary Woman Writes a Response

        I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been told I was scary. In high school, I was first handed the verdict. My mentor explained the reason I seemed to go unnoticed by the male population while other girls had a flock was not because I was actually unnoticed, quite the contrary she said. I was just scary. Naturally, this shocked me. It’s ironic that someone 5’3 ½” with blonde hair and bird arms should be terrifying. I weigh next to nothing plus I have a slew of medical labels. My self-defense skills are pretty much limited to holding my keys like a killer, being very aware of my surroundings, and knowing if assaulted a few general moves should be targeted to certain more vulnerable spots. But I have no pretty ribbon in taekwondo nor the build of a ninja warrior. My natural physical frame spells “target” not “look out” on first glance.

        But I supposedly am scary. Even terrifying. My mentor said it was because I had high standards and didn't throw myself around, because I held a belief in God and principles higher than good looks. However, it didn't help me feel much better. I was re-diagnosed with that label more frequently once I embraced the radical idea that lasting love is a choice, a stand one takes and commits to. A stand that requires a large dose of trust, respect, and commitment to continue standing through the failures, mud, and “I think I want to change my mind” days. I hear I am scary so often, I got used to it. It still stings though. But hey, life’s rarely kind and seems to have a peculiar love of the ironic.

        But let me explain what I was asked to explain in this article, why you too dear brother are intimidating. And why, to one extent or another, you add to our supposed fearsomeness.

        Despite the rampant feminism of our day, few of its staunchest supporters find it romantic to pursue a man every step of the way. We want you to start it, or at least finish it after we’ve hinted it into existence. Oh we can hint and hope and pray ‘til we wear holes in our floors. But we don’t want to have to be the one that initiates the “can we be more than friends?” conversation. But what if the guy doesn't? What if he doesn't pick up on the hints or they turn him off? This conundrum is a whole form of potential fear and trauma in and of itself. We know it’s nerve-wracking to approach us sometimes. You pressure yourself to be perfect and perfect this “ask you out business.” As a girl, I appreciate your effort. It takes a big man to step up and ask instead of hiding behind flirty, ambiguous texts. And hey, at least you get to be semi blunt.

        Meanwhile, we get to learn the amazingly complicated language of subtleness, hinting, pushing in the right direction undetected, and flirting. There is no manual. Only the dog eat dog world in which to learn. Few girls are ever sat down and told the basics of this exacting science. (Side note: at least a guy can google and get concrete advice on how to ask a girl out.) We’re thrown in and either sink or swim. Articles are written telling us to “show encouragement,” “help initiate the first step,” oh and “don’t stumble him” while we’re at it. But few such well-meant Christian treatises ever tell us the practical “how to communicate clearly in guy without losing your girlness.”

        Most of us truly do not set out in life to make guys confused or miserable. Most of us really would like to give and be given a chance. However, thanks to the way things are us girls, and you guys too probably, have met way more “time wasters” to put it politely and “trouble with a capital Ters” to put it not so politely, than not. As a woman, I walk around with my guard up; not super high, more like a healthy cautiousness. Did I mention I’m only 5’3 ½”? Seriously, why would I not be careful?

        So I’ve been asked to explain why guys are scary to us. There are two basic issues, one of which y’all may actually share with us. Numero uno, physical. This is probably not something guys share with us girls. Generally speaking, let’s face it, guys are bigger and stronger. That’s the way it is. And while some could go into a deep explanation of how women can do anything men can do and so forth – let’s face the fact that the majority of average women cannot. We are not all queens of karate or Olympic boxing champions. It may seem like something we only have to worry about in dark alleys at midnight. Sadly, it’s not. It’s a little more prevalent than most of us want to admit. Trust me, brothers, this is not some statistic I like facing. Most of us girls don’t believe men are beasts. We want you to all be champions. But I had a close friend that is a Christian girl that ended up abused and manipulated in a “model” Christian relationship. That does not mean I am now afraid of all men. Just more cautious. I would even go so far as to say that most of us are not scared. We do not approach every male we meet ready to bolt. It is not even the first thing that pops into our minds. Nevertheless going on a date with a random guy, be he Christian or not, that we don’t know well doesn’t exactly ensure safety. Because of the fall, safety is something we have to think about.

        Second level of scariness- emotional. Believe it or not, it’s fairly easy to become an emotional trampoline. There’s a fine line between friendship and “flirtship.” You know, those things that just kind of exist but neither party talks about it. Then one party moves on but feels no need to tell the other because technically there wasn’t anything. Where do words of encouragement become compliments of encouragement in a different direction? Where does hanging out turn into dating? Where does dancing casually turn into dancing every single one? Where do deep discussions turn into mainly sharing your heart solely with one person? These things are fine. But undefined for too long and then dumped for no reason – that is not fine. While the girl can have the “what are we doing exactly?” conversation, we don’t want to. Nobody wants to. But traditionally speaking it’s the guy’s place to be more forward. And say we throw tradition out the window and start it. What happens? Maybe we lose you because you think we’re forward. Or maybe you just wanted to be friends and we kick ourselves for looking like idiots. And maybe we kick ourselves because maybe, just maybe, we wonder if you really do like us, you just needed more time. I’m not saying these are the correct thoughts to think; I’m simply stating the path thoughts usually go. Objectively speaking, we can all see the ways to avoid this type of drama. Just refuse to be a part of it. However, reality is rarely so disambiguous. Infatuation is a very good player for sweeping you off your feet and making you do anything. Love can be a stubborn blade of grass poking up in the concrete sidewalk. Hope is a bird with feathers that sometimes does ask for something. So every time you show us interest, we have to risk that it could just end with either no purpose or us forced to tackle the topic ourselves. Trust me, there are few things more grimly dismal than sitting down your crush and asking if he likes you. Even worse, is getting the “no” answer and realizing that he flirted with you just because. If he happened to be a good friend in addition… you get my drift… the gauntlet never ceases.

        This problem of emotional “scariness” is actually something both genders potentially struggle with. Relationships are scary. In what other situation are you intentionally letting your guard down and being quite so vulnerable? Few other situations call for such upfront honesty, such open admittance of feelings, such a deep level of communication. It could be argued that the success of a relationship hinges on communication – the poorness or richness of it. Relationships are scary. Interaction is scary. Life is scary.

        Depending on where your focus is.

        Looking down is terrifying. Looking up is exhilarating. Only by gazing on Christ are we capable of understanding love in its highest and deepest definition. He Himself is love (I John 4:8). He is perfect love. Perfect love casts out fear (I John 4:18).Through Him, with Him, in Him, we can experience this perfect love. On our own we’re doomed to fail. It’s a matter of focus. What are we focusing on? Our desire to be married? Our hatred of being alone? Or His will for our lives? When we make our own dreams work simply because we want them to, we’re going to feel uneasy. When we are called to do hard things by the Creator of the Universe, it can be terrifying yet we still are at peace. Because He is in control, not us. Perfect love is beautiful, with Him obtainable despite our fragile mortality. Look up, my brothers and sisters. Look up and take heart.   

Love.....

From the journal circa one Thanksgiving


Love....

is gentle

is selfless

let's go when it'd rather hold on

hangs on when it'd rather quit

has never heard the word impossible

                      ...or if it has it doesn't believe a letter of it

listens to what the other person wants or needs above all

puts God first

Three Kinds of Trouble

Generally speaking, there are three kinds of trouble when it comes to relationships. Trouble meaning troublemakers - the kinds of people no one would choose to date intentionally. Strangely enough, these three types of are found both in guy and girl varieties.

Firstly, there are the ones just aching to be married. They will settle for almost anything that can remotely be shoved into ever so slightly fulfilling their list. These people are absolutely terrifying as they will tell one anything one wants to hear and then both may end up miserable in a year.

While not as frightening, the noncommittal people still have their list of possible damages to be inflicted. Actually, they appear quite harmless. As a matter of fact, they may cite their lack of commitment as a safeguard to protect you. It isn't. You will respond to love. You will love. You will get hurt. We are wired to do this. Then one day you will wake up and they will not be there because they moved on. Maybe they cruelly are done. Or maybe they just got scared of the capacity to feel. Sometimes being loved is a so beautiful that the first time it's terrifying. Like the ocean. Whatever the reason, they may leave. You will cry. Your heart will break. But you will probably say nothing because technically you feel you can't. There wasn't anything in writing - no declarations of feeling, no official "this is my girlfriend/boyfriend." So there is no romantic running after people in the rain like in the movies. Just an overwhelming crushing pain mixed with the guilt that you only have yourself to blame since the other party never "said" anything.  Perhaps these relationships are the most dangerous because they have a way, either intentionally or accidentally depending on the circumstance, of wrapping you up in them, of occupying a great deal of emotional real estate for long periods of time. So much so in fact that when they are gone, one hardly knows what to do. But one feels that no contract is broken.

It's like taking the furniture but leaving the rug. We feel we can't sue because only the rug was ours originally anyway and we never signed a contract saying everything was everybody's. But we were the ones that dusted and cleaned and loved their furniture. We were the ones that bought the special polish and spent hours applying it.

I'd like to say that there some easy fix. That you could just roll up your sleeves and have the "what are we?" conversation and if the answer's "nothing" just pack up and move on. That is the easy answer. When I'm being completely logical, I even argue that's the only right solution. But it's rarely so easy to carry out. Because let's face it, logic doesn't (and shouldn't always although mostly) rule everything.

The one with the rug, knows they only have a rug. And oh how they love the furniture! What most fail to realize though is there one talent of a rug is valuable and beautiful. It's a one-of-a-kind, designer special. They fail to see they should move on to someone willing to admit they love them.

Or maybe...

Maybe...

Maybe... there is a love that's deeper than our pessimistic society believes to exist.

Maybe some stay because they love so deeply. Maybe it is possible. I'd like to think this unconditional love rubs off and is returned. I've heard it is every so often - so very few and far between often.

That hope is generally enough to make the rug owner keep going.

But if you have the strength and the courage and the self-preservation, move on when they won't commit. Go find/wait on the Lord for someone who will love you the way you are capable of loving.

And to the one's who won't take my advice, or any of the other hundreds of articles written like it...
                       ............. my hat is off to you.

Sometimes you have to forgive yourself...

It's after midnight and part of me doesn't feel like writing this. It'd rather just flop over and fall asleep. But the other part knows that it'd never be able to sleep without writing this out.

Ironically, my skin still bears the pen ink mark for Fighter Friday. This is in a way a fight, just not a fight against that. Albeit at it's most basic definition Fighter Friday is about choosing the reality of love over selfishness' controlling fantasy. But that in it's totality is another post for another day.

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I'd set my boundaries in my mind way before. But before I got around to clearly stating them, I'd find myself sitting stunned as yet another had been pushed down. Not that it may have done that much difference had I gotten around to stating them all. I'd stated clearly enough my views on kissing. But 70% of the time he acted like he never even heard me say it although I remember vividly his replies in the conversation.

However, I'd find a lot more than my "girlish" wish of not kissing til engagement pushed aside. I say "girlish" because at the time I often felt I was old-fashioned, too stuffy, etc. due to peer pressure - him being the peer mostly unknowingly exerting the pressure. He came highly recommended, loved by everyone I respected, and supposedly more mature and experienced. Sounds like dumb reasons in the modern, feminist movement riddled age. Trust me, 8 times out of 10 it still goes for something when you get right down to it.

I found myself stunned at the physical boundaries crossed without warning - well my naive self was without warning anyway. Again and again I'd shift my thinking, make excuses for him like different upbringing (strict v. not) etc. I learned to change my original dream or intention for what I was now forced to face was reality.

I'm an adaptable, positive creature for the most part and the offenses were small in the world's eye. Example: kisses. Besides what about kissing is not enjoyable? I am normal after all.

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I sat stunned. Leading up to the moment I had felt a sensation such as I had never felt before. I quivered and reached out for his hand in need of reassurance. Instead of reassuring me, it had reassured him by trick of fear. Now the closest tangible emotion I could label it is fear. Sitting there the moment after I assured myself that I was still a virgin.

I am a virgin.

Not all the the faith placed on him was for naught.

 But the little girl had died. Whatever had survived of her through watching the love of her life fight dragons and never win. Cherished ones grow ill. Relationships grow apart. Dreams overthrown.

Despite all that on some level I had a spark of childhood left in me. And I felt it die. It's probably alive down here somewhere but it'll be awhile before it surfaces. Yet somehow although I spoke and acted in what felt like a much older way, there was a simplicity behind my actions. Dull, flat, lifeless. Do nothing in haste. Just move and survive the next hours.

Maybe I understand a little how abuse victims feel... Maybe...

To some extent I'm still numb and stunned. I can't fathom how me and that poor little girl being acted on on a bright summer day in a semi public place are one and the same person.

But we are.

That's the part that stings the worst.

I can forgive him, do forgive him. I can justify and make excuses for him.

But I can't for me.

To an outsider it would be infinitely easier to make excuses for the person playing my role.

But no excuse justifies me to me. No reason. No amount of blaming him, even fairly.

I stand up for what's right. I have morals and character and decency. I grew up not being great at what other kids were - sports, beauty, relationships - but I grew up surrounded by elders who approved, a clear record, and the knowledge I tried my best and gave my all.

So no matter how much or little I had to blame, I couldn't bring myself to forgive me. No matter how many times I said "no," I could find enough times I hadn't to feel guilty. No matter how much actual sheer innocence played a role bigger than me, I always wondered if I could have, somehow should have compensated. No matter how much physical and mental force was exerted on me, I always felt angry with myself.

As I looked around me, I felt alone, violated to a certain extent, ashamed as though some awful lettering, I didn't even know what it read, was painted on my forehead. I wanted to scream that it wasn't my fault. That I was limp and and lifeless. But I still hated myself for being limp and lifeless. For all the stupid flirty things I'd said and done and trusted.

But sometimes you have to stop and forgive yourself. You have to accept your own plea for the blood. You have to recognize God already has the minute you repent and ask. You have to grasp how precious His sacrifice is. How insignificant it would be, if not downright useless, if we were as perfect in ourselves as we wish to be. How wonderfully precious He is! How much He loves His bride! He sees her in white, made spotless like Him, His own kind as Adam declared Eve flesh of his flesh and bone of his bone.

Sometimes we eventually have to let go and forgive ourselves to fully know and appreciate the depths of His forgiveness. Sometimes we have to stop being angry in order to bask in His love. For in that day of all glorious days when we are presented to our Bridegroom and truly fully know, there will be no anger, no shame, no bitterness.

Who knows? Maybe some day our story of failure, hurt, and/or loss will help some other weary pilgrim.

Sometimes we just have to forgive ourselves.