Monday, December 10, 2012

I just wanted the moment...

You know that moment when you sit down with a friend you've been missing? You've had so much to tell, so much to share and unload, but when you're finally in front of them...

There's nothing to say.

I'm so there.
I never know where to start. Do I start with the big news and then trickle down to the little stories? Do I build up to most exciting happenings? The moment itself is just better than anything in the storehouse. I thought I wanted to talk...

But I really just wanted the moment.
The quiet. The togetherness.

I've known that feeling often with friends.
I've felt it lately with my journal.
I feel it now with you.

Where do I even start?

I have a whole list of posts to come. I can't wait to share some of these soon:
to my little sister in first year of college
about my new job
sister: my cup of tea
let your heart be light.
series: the Aggies taught me...
watch your margins

I've missed you guys!

Wednesday, July 18, 2012

grey magic.

I've been absent from this poor, little blog for so long. More on that later, but for now--
some things are just worth breaking blog silence for.

This may make you upset.
And that's not an apology--just a warning.

We have a problem. 

It's called pornography.

Someone just blushed.
Someone just stopped reading.
Someone rolled their eyes.
Someone just starting cursing a man (men) they know.

But I'm not even talking about them.
I'm talking about us. women. sisters. girls.
I'm talking about you.

A flip got switched in 2012 and what we hate for men to look at suddenly became acceptable for women. I heard a male, fm radio show host comment a few days ago on how completely confused he is by the whole thing. He was even a little offended that what he's gotten in trouble for, women are lining up down sidewalks in broad daylight to buy tickets for. He doesn't understand what's going on.

And neither do I.
But it's so sad.

Saying you're watching Magic Mike for the "great storyline" is just as bad as a man saying he's reading Playboy for the articles. You're reading 50 Shades of Grey because it's well-written? No. You're not.

You're watching things like Magic Mike and reading things like 50 Shades because they call out to a fleshly desire, saying, "We can help. We can meet your need." 

But you know what?
It won't help.
It won't meet your need.

It can only get worse.

Unless your need meets Jesus.

And then He helps.
He meets needs.
He removes shame.
He restores innocence.
He transforms desires.
He rescues.

"Let us then approach the throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need." Hebrews 4:16

Saturday, March 17, 2012

interpreting is a tricky business

photo credit not available

As an English and Writing major at a liberal arts university, poetry was a major requirement in my course list.


I was so the opposite of excited.

The only professor who taught poetry was one of those who asks you to interpret a poem's meaning and then stares at you until you say the right thing.

Again, joy.

I was horrified.
The first poem I wrote for his beginner's workshop was a mix of Dr. Seuss and Mother Goose.
He was nicer than he should have been, but ultimately, it wasn't good enough.

From freshman year to senior year--after lots of criticism and rewrites--I got a little better. My poetry in year four danced circles around my poetry from year one. Thankfully.

I didn't squirm so much when asked to interpret poetry.
Although I'll always squirm a little.

But one of the first lessons that professor taught us was this:

Interpretation is not subjective.

Texts mean what they were written to mean. You can't twist them to mean whatever you want. His main example? "The Road Not Taken" by Robert Frost.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;        5
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,        10
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.        15
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.        20

Read at more graduations than anyone cares to count, this poem tends to be used as an example of taking the high road. The narrow road. The difficult road. The road less traveled by. 

But that's just not what it means. 

The last lines of that poem are really out of place. Added almost more out of self-justification than real reason. 

Throughout the text, you see phrases like "just as fair," "worn [...] really about the same," "equally lay." 

The roads both look just as good.
The roads are equally traveled. 
There's not a clearly better road. 

He just has to choose. 

I don't think that, as followers of Christ, we have that luxury. I don't think the Lord really cares whether I choose ketchup or mustard for my burger, but when it comes to the road I choose to walk, I believe that choice is of great significance to my Father. 

Even when both of the roads are good.
Even when both of the roads involve serving and following Him. 

It's hard to choose between those roads.

"Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, 'This is the way; walk in it." Isaiah 30:21

Have you ever had to pray and process through that kind of decision? 
How did you seek the Lord for direction? 

Thursday, February 16, 2012

my bff Jillian

I have a feeling Jillian is going to be one of those friends.

The kind you love. And love to hate. And flat out hate on most days.

But I anticipate that in 30 days, and then 30 days after that, and 30 days after that, she'll be one of those friends that I can (after apologizing for muttering mean things about her under my breath) thank for being right. For being honest. For not giving up on me. For not letting me give up on myself.

I caved in and ordered this.

grab a copy here
It may be a total bust. Though the reviews make me seriously doubt that.
It may be hard. I'm certainly hoping so.
It may actually start to change things. I'm counting on that. 

I've been overweight since Prednisone entered the picture in first grade. Honestly, it's never bothered me or made me insecure. A curse or a blessing, I'm not really sure, but I've been very comfortable in my larger-than-average skin. 

But those days are gone. 

And I'm completely uncomfortable now. I'm insecure about why I'm not friends with certain people, why I'm not dating, why the only clothes I feel comfortable in are baggy tshirts and jeans. 

I hate that. 

The Lord's been convicting me lately that this is far more than an image issue. It's about stewardship. I'm asking God to direct my steps and give me a place to serve and people to live life with well while the thing that's most mine in the world is, honestly, a mess. How could I ask Him to trust me with anything more?

Faithful in little. Faithful in much.

With my body--His vessel. His tool to accomplish the work He's set out for me--I've been far from faithful.

That's humbling. Humiliating really. 
And on display for all to see. 

I'm trusting the Lord to heal the insecurity and banish the enemy from attacking that part of my heart. 
But the physical representation of the inward issue?...That's all mine. 

It's a problem I left untended.
It's a problem I, with the Lord's sustaining power, will kick in the rear. 

I've said things like this before. 
"I'm gonna lose 50 pounds. I'm really gonna do it." 
"I'm totally going to lose 20 pounds by summer."
"I really mean it. I'm going to lose 5 pounds." 

Dwindling, empty promises. 
Because they had everything to do with me. Nothing to do with the Lord.
Nothing to do with my Maker who meant more for me than this. 

I am never going to be sticks. And I don't want to be. It's not in my gene pool anyway. 
I want to be healthy. I want to be serving the Lord for a long time.
I want energy. I want to be equipped to do that serving.
I want to be comfortable. I want to be able to walk around without feeling guilty for not sucking in my gut.
I want to be able to wear boots without fear of someone thinking that it took a whole calf to cover my calves. 

You caught that, huh? Yes. There's a little lot of self-image in the mix. But it's backed by a desire to do better with what the Lord's given me than I've been doing. And that's never before been the case. 

Now it is required that those who have a given a trust must prove faithful.
1 Corinthians 4:2

Whoever can be trusted with very little can also be trusted with much, and whoever is dishonest with very little will also be dishonest with much.
Luke 16:10

I'm telling you this because if I'm the only one who knows what I'm trying to do, I'll never do it. 
But if you know, if you ask about it, it may just really happen. 

Anyone up for the challenge of sticking this out with me? 
Anyone on the same road?
Any tips or encouragement that have worked for you?

Tuesday, February 7, 2012

how on earth did I miss this?

I'm usually pretty up on the times.
TV times, at the very least.

So I have no clue how I missed this little gem.

I'm a little extremely embarrassed to say that, in the past two days, I've watched twelve hours. Thankfully, I'm all caught up now. I can stop being a glutton of beautiful, historical, British-accented drama.

But I simply adore all of it.
Except for the people and parts that I hate loathe abhor.

Also, is it just me, or are blonde haired boys in style? I feel like out of nowhere, every leading man is sporting light locks.

If you haven't watched it, do.
You'll just die of happiness. (Said in my best Mary accent. Grin.)