happy times

Things are good.
-and I like being able to say that.

Granted, nothing is perfect. Rarely anything ever is. There is still pain and frustration and anger and friction, but we deal with it and get on in our lives.
What other choice do we have?

In a moment of re-living things today, I recounted the whole ordeal that pushed me to come to school here in front of a classroom full of twenty people, and then proceeded to act out that same emotion in a different situation. By the time I got done I thought I was going to pass out with exhaustion. I was shaking and my mind was racing- it felt like everything had happened a week ago, not a year. And in the midst of all of it, all I could do was stand there and thank God for pulling me out of such an intense situation. As I was talking, I was watching the looks on people's faces go from boredom, to concentration, to shock, to horror. It was like having a room full of life-size dolls, and I could make their expression into whatever I wanted.
It scared me a little bit, the fact that pieces of my life caused that look on someone's face- was it really that terrible of a situation? I didn't even need to ask...just look around you, kid.
I guess this rocked me in a way I didn't expect. I mean, I know my life has had it's rough spots. Whose hasn't? But to have someone look at you like that, almost in awe that you're still here and you're still sane...well, I guess it just threw me a little bit. Maybe it even made me a bit proud of myself. Like I had conquered some big mountain that most people never even got a glance of.

Although, maybe I'm just looking for strength.


I miss making magic with my words.

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thought

This realization just came to me, and it about made me break down in tears.
I remember back when I was living at home, if I had an issue against my integrity or someone didn't get along with me, my dad was always the first one to express faith in me and who I was. My father believed in my character and would have defended me against anything.




I don't think someone would be able to do that for me anymore.

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v day.

Red roses.
Heart-shaped boxes.
Delicate cards.

This is what comes to mind when Feb. 14 is talked about.

However...Shouldn't it be more about Love than anything else?
Don't get me wrong- all of the aforementioned items are wonderful, and receiving them makes me giggle like a three year-old.
But...without love there would be no point for any of this anyway.
And without God there'd be no love for us to give, or receive.

So I guess the point I'm trying to make, is that before the chocolate and the flowers, and after the tears and the pint of ice cream, God is the whole reason we can celebrate (or not) this whole day centered on Love.

Granted, it's a pretty commercial holiday, but let's be honest here. Shouldn't God's Love for us be the first thing that enters our minds when we think about something like this?

Call me crazy, or overly-spiritual.
It was just something I was thinking about...how I would hope that if I did not have the wonderful fiance that I do, I wouldn't sit in my room all day and wallow in my self-pity. I hope that I would decide to turn this around for all of the people that don't have anything, and that I would praise God for loving me so completely.
I'm not sure that I would...but it's something that I hope for myself.

So for now, I'll smell my roses and pray that God will give extra amounts of Love to the people that need it today.

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the quest continues

Somehow this has turned out to be an account of my journey into being the woman after God's own heart. Or maybe that's all it's been from the beginning.

It seems incredible to me how deep self-hatred can run. Even when I think that I have myself tamed, it comes and strikes me in the throat as I stare at myself in the mirror. It whispers twisted truths in my ears through the voices of the people that I love. It points out flaws that seem to be impossible to improve upon. And at the end of the day, it reminds me how deeply I've fallen and bades me to look at how badly I've failed.

I've got a knight in shining armor now, and he fights for me harder than I've ever seen anyone fight for me before. He battles my mind and strangles the lies. He trumps the flaws with the strengths and shows me how I've succeeded. And at the end of the day, he still loves me more than the day before.

Above all of this, there is a God. The God. The only God.
He put me together, placed the hairs exactly right, sprinkled the freckles and tinted the eyes. He hand-mixed the personality, poured it in, and sealed my heart with His hands, all the while leaving His own print on it.
He has been fighting for me from the dawn of time, and will continue to battle on long after the world has gone dark. He saved me before I fell, and held me before I cried.

His name is Jesus, and He is the only Truth that I want whispered in my ear.

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peace and a storm

Snow flurries are outside my window, and I'm so calm that it's a little surreal.
Aqualung is crooning out of the old speakers, my waterbottle is half empty, and I'm extremely warm in this sweater.
I had a chocolate muffin and a nonfat caramel latte for breakfast (which is my favorite breakfast ever) and I talked to the love of my life for five minutes before he rushed off to classes.
Professors are canceling classes left and right (although none of mine yet) and things are very, very good.

Who would have known that peace would find me in a place like this, at a time like this?

I'm not sure why I'm so surprised, considering it's something I've been praying about for the past week.
"God give me patience and peace and help me to be the quiet woman that is continually striving after You."

After a long bout of silence, maybe He's finally shaping me up again. Either that, or I've finally cracked off the hard bits of my heart that were keeping Him out.

Whatever the case, it's nice to be here in the middle of the storm.

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