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.

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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
                                                       
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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... 

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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.

"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?"

I'm Don't Have an Eating Disorder... I just Skipped Lunch

Our society sometimes seem to have a paranoia about eating disorders. Be on the thin side, skip one meal, and you find yourself accused of being anorexic. And I'm very grateful for the effort to bring eating disorders and image issues to the fighting forefront. It's helped save a lot of people.

But there's those others of us.... that don't dare admit we have issues for fear of a label. I mean we're the good girls, right? We're dependable and great friends and respectful kids and never skip Sunday school.... Or maybe we don't even know we have an issue because we associate disorders with being able to see every rib and being pale and making yourself throw up. Or maybe we are that girl and we just don't know it.

However it is, let's admit it. Even if we don't have a disorder so to speak, our looks still get to us. Despite all our preaching otherwise about inward beauty and how God looks on the inside, let's face it: our looks get to us. 

Call us stupid; we'll hit you with our books. Call us lazy; we'll hit you with a wet dish. Call us bad cooks; we'll put a pie in your face. But our looks.... well we will slap you. But then we'll look in the mirror and believe every word of it whether we ever admit to or not. Our confidence is so weak in that area. Most of the time it's the first confidence to go under trauma. It's an established fact that under stress people lose confidence as they're faced with impossible choices and unexpected losses.

And let's face it - something about stress messes with the majority of girls' conception of self-image. Maybe there was a big test and you skipped a few meals out of adrenaline and cramming. Or maybe there was a family issue and you couldn't eat. Then from sheer necessity it falls into an everyday habit. And then you call yourself "fat" or "in need of shedding a few pounds" or maybe you actually like your body for once.... and it becomes a choice. Something you barely think about and yet a choice nevertheless. 

Let me illustrate. Confession time. *deep breath* Life was coming together. I was growing up. It was all good. And then it couldn't have wrecked worse if life had been a train and gone crashing against a rock wall. The situations hit at the core of who I thought I was. Suffice it to say there were multiple aspects of life falling apart and specifics are still too painful to talk about except around midnight with a close family member. But I didn't have time to process or grieve or come up with plan Z.  Adding to the stress, I had a nightmare of a professor. From a straight A student to trying to barely cling to an A-. Nothing was right. If I went by the syllabus he didn't like it. If I didn't go by the syllabus he didn't like it. I was too vague; I was too specific. I gave too much summary; I didn't give enough summary. It came time to file for graduation and I didn't have a clue what came next. What I thought I'd always do I decided I could not bring myself to. What I really wanted looked impossible. What I thought I'd always wanted I wasn't enthusiastic about. But hey, that's just life. Anyone can handle that.  Except life had just spiraled dreadfully out of control and I didn't have times to deal with it for reading Romantic Era poetry and cramming for finals so we wouldn't have to pay the thousands of dollars college enrollment fee again.

So I stopped eating.

I didn't have time so I skipped a meal here or there.
I was busy. I forgot to eat.

And then when tragedy hit, I didn't have time to deal with pain. But you have to grieve somehow. If you don't, your body will do it for you. My body decided to start gagging every time it tried to eat. Even pork chops, my favorite meal. I tried force feeding. It didn't work. Like I said, if you don't take the time to cry your body will do it for you.

Needless to say the various situations had shaken me to a core. Beforehand I'd been growing in confidence as one thing after another fell into place. Not arrogant. Just sure of myself in a quiet sort of way, secure in the feeling that I could see God working one step at a time. College was scary. College courses kept being passed. College social life was like nothing I'd ever experienced. God blessed me with many friends. Travel had always been daunting. I got to fly. But as graduation ticked closer and closer without a clear plan and my inability to really think straight my confidence plummeted. Like most girls I'd always criticized my own looks. Not anything major. I just had always picked on this or that.

And then one day I happened to catch a glance at myself in the mirror. I was always too busy to look on a daily basis and it was really a fluke that I'd caught a glimpse then.

What I saw made me look again.

For the first time in my life I didn't have a "stomach." I was flat where I was "supposed" to be flat and curved where I was "supposed" to be curved. For the first time since I was 14, I saw an hourglass.

I can't explain the boost of confidence that surged through me at that moment. The pain was too bad to express it; the stress too time consuming to. But right there in that moment I felt pretty. In the middle of a falling apart world I couldn't save, something about me was right. At least I could face the chaos with a pulled together front, even if the inside was disintegrating.

I stopped feeling bad when I couldn't eat or forgot a meal.

And that's where the trouble started.

Because eventually we can eat and we have enough time to eat. We just don't want to. Maybe we feel guilty to eat because we think we have a few too many extra pounds. Maybe we're too lazy to workout and skipping lunch has a similar effect. Regardless, let's get to the point of this - insecurity. On some level we're insecure. So we find it, or try to find it, in our bodies, in the looks cast our way, in the compliments, in the flirty conversations.

But that security will always leave you empty.

Trust me. I'm still empty.

I'm only full when I turn to the proper Source. It's not enough to just recite trite comments to ourselves about how "God looks on the inside" or "real men only care about the inside." Face it, the problem isn't where others look. It's where we look. Are we looking at the superficial, the transient, the fleeting? Are we only caring about the flitting comments about the short lasting appearances? Don't get me wrong, hearing we look good is  good for us. But peanut butter despite it's high level of protein isn't enough to live off on more than a literal level.

While it's important to view yourself as beautiful because God made you that way, it's also necessary in my experience to tell yourself your good at other things too. Find something you're confident at. Sure, make jokes about your stupidity.... but remember you have that diploma. You know Aunt Jenny's pies are better than yours, but remember yours are still pretty good. Yeah, your friend has a new boyfriend but you were special enough for that other friend to invite you to a movie for a great girls' night out. Learn to find the encouragement and uplifting praise all around you - even if it's just stumbling over a weedflower and saying, "Thank you for thinking of me, Jesus!" I know I'm being simple here, but I mean it.

But most of all.... we have to go to the Source of all confidence. The Source of life. The Source of love and acceptance. We have to love Him. We have to put Him first. And then nothing else matters so much, hurts so much. (need triple) It's baby steps. He'll guide us through. We can't put Him first by ourselves. But one turn and He'll meet you there. Turn, cry out, and He'll be there.

This isn't an easy battle. Nothing happens overnight. We didn't get here overnight. I'm still fighting. Choosing to be hungry when I'm really not. Choosing to eat three meals a day even though I know just skipping one would keep me a few pounds lighter... (yeah, I gain weight weird. ;P) But if the choice is never things will still change - just in the wrong direction.

The One Thing Worse

...than a man that does porn...

...is being his porn.


It's when it's the goodbye little nothings that mean so much turn into something more. Suddenly you know that what he's thinking and you're thinking aren't the same thing. So you throw out some questions... and the answer you get is...

"I have lusted for you."
Instead of watching some other girl's body on a screen, he's watching you in the screen of his mind.

Don't settle to be lusted for. Don't settle to be a cheap play thing - or even an expensive one. Don't settle because there seems like there's nothing better.

"She dreamed in color. She dreamed in red. She couldn't find a better man...so she lied and said she loved him..." - "Better Man" by Pearl Jam

That may be the way it feels. But you can. And even if you can't, it won't be worth it later down the road. You can't fulfill lust. No one can. It can never be satisfied. So for now it's feeding on you, later it'll be something else. Don't justify. Don't rationalize. Don't be manipulated.

Don't compromise.

You are your own. Rather, you are God's. You are His masterpiece, His temple. (ref) Don't allow human hands to destroy it. Because when you allow your outsides to be compromised, it does a terrible thing to your insides. The line may look fun, past the line may look even more fun. But it won't be worth it.

The physical body will never be enough by itself.
The psychological being will never be treated the way it should if it grants permission for it's outward holder to be used. In short, it will not be enough either if it compromises. It'll just be yet another body. Not yet another soul. Compromise leads only to being seen as a physical object although compromise in essence issues from a choice of the soul.

Wait, one might argue, it was such a small line. But what is a small line, really? There is the line that all the lines leading up to it serve as safeguards. So yes, feeling down your leg might be justified as a small line. But is it really? Because what comes after that? Kissing down the shirt, past the cleavage, digging around in the bra?  And what comes after that? And what signal does it send to a girl's heart when it's done without complicit permission? Does it make us love the perpetrator? Does the perpetrator love us more or love our bodies more?

If that was your boundary to start with, I'm not here to discuss where lines should be for each individual relationship, well fine maybe. You reached your line. But when you're line is here and your manipulated (even unintentionally with puppy dog eyes and downcast countenance) to move the line to there don't be surprised if the "there" line ends up being totally disregarded. If you gave someone your bank account information saying they could pull $100 and they pulled $200 maybe it wouldn't be such a big deal. But what if they pulled $1000? $1,000,000? Should you just say "That's ok. Anyone could fall like that"? I doubt many people would say that. Point being, one line leads to another and then to yet another. It's human nature.

Don't compromise. You are God's home.  You includes your body.