Wednesday, December 31, 2008

I have no brain.

This is the sparknotes version of Act four, scene three from Macbeth by Shakespeare. I don't really want to explain the play, just know that Macbeth is the current King, I think, and he murdered his way to the crown. Again, I think, whats happening is that Macdufff and Malcom have escaped Macbeth's palace or something. To be honest, I'm just reading the parts that answer my online English class questions.

Anyway, Macduff said, "Even in hell you couldn't find a devil worse than Macbeth." However, Malcom disagrees. He first says that his lust would make him a terrible king, much worse than the murdering Macbeth.

Along with being full of lust, I'm also incredibly greedy. If I became king, I would steal the nobles' lands, taking jewels from one guy and houses from another. The more I had, the greedier I would grow, until I'd invent false quarrels with my good and loyal subjects, destroying them so I could get my hands on their wealth.

The greed you're talking about is worse than lust because you won't outgrow it. Greed has been the downfall of many kings. But don't be afraid. Scotland has enough treasures to satisfy you out of your own royal coffers. These bad qualities are bearable when balanced against your good sides.

But I don't have any good sides. I don't have a trace of the qualities a king needs, such as justice, truth, moderation, stability, generosity, perseverance, mercy, humility, devotion, patience, courage, and bravery. Instead, I overflow with every variation of all the different vices. No, if I had power I would take world peace and throw it down to hell.

Even though these charachters are the work of Shakespeare, I admire Malcom's transparency. I'm not sure I know anyone that is really that admitting of their faults. I know everyday my whole goal is to cover up my faults. Which is ironic.

"Three times I pleaded with Him to take my imperfection away, but the Lord said to me, "My Grace is sufficent for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all 's the more gladly about my weakness, so that Christ's power may rest in me." -2 Corinthians 12:9

That makes me feel like I'm running backwards on a treadmill. In fact, it makes me feel like one of those wind up toys you get in a McDonalds happy meal. You know the kind that you wind up, but then they kind of just go in a circle or spin their wheels and still don't move until you pick it up between your thumb and index finger and turn in in the right direction? That's exactly what this feels like.

I keep striving for perfection so so hard. What was it going to take to find out that that's not the goal for my life? My lovely, fatastic, all wonderful and missed old voice teacher's husband, Jay, asked me to read that verse and see what I could make of it. Thank you so much, Jay. I needed this.

God has made me imperfect no so I can strive for perfection, but so that I can flaunt my imperfections are expose glory to what is actually perfect, Jesus. I am constantly beating myself up about how hard it is to really love and appreciate my mom. To see her how she truly is and everything that she's given to me. I sincerely suck at vulnerability. I always find a way to not let someone see my absolute core faults. I will blame my past, blame my parents, circumstances, friends, generational curses....what's so bad about being who I'm created to be? What's so bad about being imperfect?

Imperfect is normal. That's what normal is.

My imperfections is what can connect me to people and show others the way to Christ. Imperfections scare me, creep me out, and make me want to scream. I wonder what it'll be like to give that to God? God, I want to be able to accept, understand, and love the person that you've made. Whether it be me, my mom, or anyone, I want to be able to love. Because I love to love. I like to give and support people. I don't want other's imperfections to scare me away. I don't want to be someone who doesn't love another because they are afraid of the commitment love brings. I want to be a vessel for the Kingdom. and that is exactly what I am. That's who I am made to be. The imperfect and holy vessel for God and his glory.

Thank you Jay.

Tuesday, December 30, 2008


For those of you who don't know, which is every acquaintance of mine minus maybe twenty, I AM GRADUATING EARLY.

shocker, huh?

I didn't really want to tell anyone until it was final...I don't like when I think things are going to happen and I tell everyone about it and then something happens and it doesn't work out...yeah, you probably hate my babbling, too.

Anyway, I am for sure now. I know I'm for sure because I'm almost done with my senior english class. I'm really, really excited. I am not excited about telling everyone though. I feel like I' coming out of the closet or something. It's dumb, but that's how it feels.

I've always wanted to do this...but I never thought I could or that my parents would let me. But apparently neither or my parents really have a problem with it and it'll all work out quite nicely. The only thing I'm going to miss was that possibility of being Editor of the school paper next year. But I'm sure we will find an excellent Editor and y'all will have a fantastic time without me. In fact, it might be better. I'd be an extremely bossy editor.

Don't be offended if you're finding this out for the first time via blogger. I wanted to write about this whole experience, like my frustrations of reading Shakespeare on my online senior English class, so it's really not that big of a deal. If you like, we can have tea and discuss this all. I know Maggie reads these ramblings of mine, but I'm not sure how many other people read this anyway. haha

Another shocker is that I'll be staying in Abilene for College if all goes well. ACU. Weird huh? So I won't be too far away and will still come to football games and stuff when I can.

Here goes my explanation, whether you necessarily agree or not. I'm so, so sorry if I'm upsetting anyone by doing this. And sorry if I'm so full of myself I'd think it'd shake anyone's world. It shakes my world a little, maybe it'll shake yours. Or at least the way you think of me? I really don't know. I'm probably worried over nothing. I'm really not too sure on what to expect, I just know I want this, and I'll be close around for everyone who will miss me.

AS SOME OF YOU MAY KNOW, I have high ambitions and too many dreams. For a long, excruciating time, I wanted to hightail it out of Albany. First, it was St. Stephens private high school in Austin. Then it was moving in with my dad and going to some public school in Austin. Then it was maybe spending summers in Austin. Then it was moving to Abilene and going to Wylie, then it was Cooper....

Then it was staying in Albany because I ended up liking it my sophomore and junior year. But then I wanted (and still want to) to get out of Texas and go to art school up North.

None of the things listed above ever happened. There was always something that got in the way. The most recent of my failed plans was the art school ordeal. It started when I had my portfolio review in Austin. I had had my portfolio reviewed before by my dream school, MICA, before, and a not the not so dreamy Corcoran school in DC. But those times, I was alone, so I left bubbling with confidence. This time, I was accompanied by every serious high school art student in Texas, all flocked together in Austin and thrusted into one huge hotel in a tiny conference room. Everyone was dressed so artsy and wonderfully unique, I felt so freaking out of place. And then to see all of their I felt so stupid for even being there. I wanted to cry. And did, as a matter of fact. I knew I was good at what I did in art, but compared to these people?

Now don't get me wrong. I don't degrade my work by comparing myself to others. But it was a fact. They were better than me. Much, much better, because they either had a REAL art program at their school or went to a magnet school. I was so technically behind. I needed to be better to get into my dream school, MICA (Maryland Institute College f Art), and I only had two years to reach my goal. At this point I had been considering graduating early, but then when I saw how much help I needed to probably even get into MICA, I needed that two years. In fact, I needed about ten years. Plus my parents almost laughed at me when I asked if their sixteen/seventeen year old daughter could go ahead and move off to Maryland.

So I decided to take up the time by getting some college art hours under my belt. I had been taking private lessons in Albany, but those weren't working out or really even helping. ACU was the best college in Abilene so I decided to look into that.

All was going well until the night I was going to turn in my application for spring semester.

"Mom, are you sure you are okay with me taking this course?"

She said no. I was furious. We got into an argument and when she asked me why I was so ready to take a college class I told her it was because I needed to get better for art college, and plus I was bored in Albany. I didn't and don't hate it at all, but I really really like art, a lot. And I wasn't being challenged at all in that area. It's a little frustrating when you paint five murals for your school and the art teacher doesn't even care enough to hang all of them properly.

I don't remember exactly how it came up, but we started talking about graduating early. She told me to look into it, so I did. I need to take four or so more classes to graduate, all classes that I can fit in to my schedule between now and next August. I might even have it done by this may. Who knows. We'll see.

But then I was stuck with the whole not being aloud to go off to Maryland. I refuse to major in art at a University. I'm stubborn, and refuse. haha I always told God if he wanted me to do Art it would work out that I could go to MICA, and if he wanted me to do journalism I'd stay in Texas for that. I never, ever thought that would happen though. Ever. I was dead set and didn't see journalism as a very successful career. Which is on one hand very dumb, and on the other hand kinda sensible. Anyway, I needed some kind of confirmation. Something that would happen that would not let me go off to Maryland. After a lot of crying out to the Lord and praying, God had given me sooo many visions for journalism, and none for art. So my mind had been made up that I was going to do journalism, some how. But I can be really prideful and fearful that people will hate me or judge me if I change my mind, like I'm all talk and lie. I don't know. Anyway, so I wanted God to do something radical that would give me an out. I'm pathetic, I know.

But he did, in the form of a little sister.

Around this time, a cousin of mine was looking for someone to adopt her unborn child, but she wanted to keep the baby in the family. My dad and step mom were the only ones who would be able to do such a thing in her family. They had been praying about it and they were, of course, wondering how they could support another human financially. They calculated it up, all the diapers, bottles, new furniture, ect....Sometime not too soon after that, Kamilla, My step mom, got a raise. Her raise was the exact amount they needed to support a baby.

I was ecstatic. This was my reason. Not an excuse, a reason. I genuinely wanted to be around for this new little girl. I wanted to be a big sister, I want to be there for her first birthday and I can't do that if I'm in Maryland. Also, a new little sister means that a $31,000 per year tuition (not including books, supplies, housing...) was just out of the question.

So hoo-rah, here I am. Staying in Texas. Journalism. The possibility of graduating early now open. I always wanted to go to UT in Austin, but it turns out that not only is ACU's newspaper is number one in the state, even over UT and San Angelo, but it is actually an extremely good fit for me. Also, a new baby is a lot to get used to...a distance might be best. Major in religious journalism, minor in photography possibly, still write for the Abilene reporter news, maybe intern at a museum...lots of friends at ACU, it's close to home, and is a more stable environment for a seventeen year old girl from sheltered little Albany.

So hopefully you'll see I'm not graduating early because I want to get out of here. I just see this as, if I could graduate and begin college sooner, why wouldn't I want that? That's extremely rhetorical, by the way. There are different opinions, and then there are different view points. In this case, I think its more of different points of view than difference in opinion.

I don't know why people think that someone caring about the way others view them is a bad thing. I care, a lot. To an extent at least. I want people to understand why I'm doing this, but also want them to know it's final and thought out and probably isnt going to change.

I'm really excited. I hope you are, too, even if you don't completely agree. Just remember that generalizing people is not exactly a great thing, and that even if you don't agree, that doesn't mean my life is going down the drain because I'm graduating early. Remember that I've been praying about this, have gotten my own type of confirmation, and believe that God is God no matter what. He is not limited to my circumstances. He knows my plan before I had ever taken a first breathe. If all continues to go well, this is His plan, and life will be so, so good!

lol and no, I'm not playing the "God card."

Now that I have that off my chest, I'm going to face my online English class. Hooray for Shakesfear!

Wednesday, December 24, 2008

i heart music.

But everytime you come around I feel more alive than ever,
And I guess it's too much,
Maybe we're too young,
And I don't even know what's real,
But I know I've never wanted anything so bad,
I've never wanted anyone so bad,

Be the one adored,
Would you go all the way?
Be the one I'm looking for?
If I let you love me, (If I say,)
Be the one adored, (It's okay,)
Would you go all the way? (Stay,)
Be the one I'm looking for?
-Adored, Paramore

what must we do to restore?
Our innocence,
and all the promise we adored?
Give us life again,
'cause we just want to be home.
-We are Broken, Paramore.

If I sail to farthest seas,
Would you find and firm and gather
'til I only dwell in Thee?
If I flee from greenest pastures
Would you leave to look for me?
Forfeit glory to come after
'Til I only dwell in Thee

If my heart has one ambition
If my soul one goal to seek
This my solitary vision
'til I only dwell in Thee
That I only dwell in Thee
'Til I only dwell in Thee
-Hymn, Brooke Fraser.

And a place where he can rest his wings a while
The drifter wants a freight train
That will carry him another hundred miles
The lion's only lookin' for something he can sink his teeth into
Oh and i want you.
-I want you, Faith Hill.

bah hum bug.

As I walk into my father's house in Austin, I am surrounded by baby merchandise. Dropping my jaw and suitcase to the floor without shifting my eyes from this mountain of pink, I realize something so crucial it shatters me.

It's not just me anymore. It's real. Its change. And I hate change.

Change scares the crap out of me. You would think that after moving eight or nine times in sixteen years, I would've embraced this concept. After years of change in location, personality, friends, and scenery I would have mastered this concept so well I welcome it. You would think that after years of being best friends with detachment and my own emotional body guard, a new little adopted sister would be no big deal. I know you would think this, because I think this.

But we are both insanely wrong.

Don't get me wrong, I want this little girl to have a home, and I can think of no other people better than my dad and step mom who could could give her just that. But I'm not saying it'll be easy. That parts of it won't hurt.

All my life, through out every season, I have always been the center of everything. Or that's how I now see it. I've always been the one getting the most and best Christmas presents, always the one who got the special "Daddy-daughter time," which always excluded my mom, even when she saw him less than I did. It was always me he poured out everything to...always and only me who he took to breakfast, and I was always the one who got to sit in the front seat.

This is why it crushed me when he re-married. I love my new step mom, but she invaded our time. My time, with my father. A father who I've never (in my memory) have had any constant time with. Now she got to sit in the front seat, and I think that hurt the most. She took my seat on the couch next to him like I wasn't even there. And he let her. In fact, I was scolded when I took her seat. That hurt too. Now she came to breakfast, and he gave her gooey eyes, and it felt like I didn't exist. I felt like I was only there because divorce court said I had to be there. And he would tell me later he wanted me there, and I know he did, but why should I be there if I was playing second fiddle?

"Say we were on a cliff. And some evil villan said only one of us, me or Kamilla, could live. Which one would you save?"

These were the kind of questions I would ask my father one the long drives back to Albany from Austin. It didn't matter that I had always been his number one girl. All of those front-seat rides and breakfasts' at the local diner...they didn't matter anymore. The loved changed, at least the way he showed it definitely changed, and love just shouldn't change. Something was wrong, because change had presented itself.

I can compare these hurts to one single night when I lived in Colorado when I was in third or fourth grade.

It was dark and snowy and my dad had been gone for a couple of days on business. I was extremely anxious to see him. I've always been like that with him. For instance, one time when we lived in Seattle my mom and I were pulling into the driveway when I saw my dad had just stepped out of his car in front of us. I screamed with joy for him, and opened my door before we had even stopped or were close to him. I was just so happy to see him...

That snowy night in Colorado I begged my mom to let me stay up late and wait for him. She agreed. I made a huge tent out of my sheets and blankets in the living room next to the door I suspected he would come in. I had all my blankets, my new book I wanted to show him, and a picture I made during art class. I also had his favorite movie, along with his favorite foods, in my tent and little T.V. in case he wanted to watch it when he got home to relax.

I tied a string to my finger and the door nob, long enough that I could move around freely, but effective enough to where it would let me know when he was home in case I fell asleep.

That night I don't remember anything but his absence. Of expecting something, and it not happening. But when I woke up I knew he was home because I could almost feel the atmosphere change when he was home. My string had fallen off, and I had missed him, but I was not yet defeated. I raced out of my fortress, past the kitchen, and then tiptoed ever so carefully up the stairs to my parent's room. I tiptoed because even though I loved my father, there was a part of me that feared him. Or feared upsetting him I guess I should say.

My knock didn't wake my parents, but I could hear my father snoring. I remember sitting in the crevice of the stairs, holding my Jessie doll from "Toy Story 2" close to my chest, and feeling like I was home. My heart was at ease.

But soon my heart started to hurt. How could my own father go to bed without seeing me first? Was I no longer essential to him? Was I no longer his girl? I couldn't go to bed without him. How could he without seeing me? I began to cry. At first because of hurt, but then because I wanted his attention. It didn't I went downstairs to my room and layed in my bed, eyes staring intently on the space in my ceiling I was convinced my parents who dwelled above me were located. I cried for a long, long time. I screamed even, knowing that this tactic once worked and my parents would come rushing in to save me from my misery. But this time it did not work.

Why didn't he want me to feel better? Didn't he care?

But I've always been so desperate for him, so infatuated with him. I was his, and nothing could ever, ever take that away from me. But this night, I don't know what I did wrong to earn his disapproval and absence.
Now I can look back and see he was teaching me how to be a Big Girl. How to mature, even though it hurt and he knew how much I hated detachment. It was good for me.

I think this is about the time I started dreaming of Prince Charming. Of white dresses and candles and roses and everything pink. I wanted to find something else that would love me like my dad did before he decided I needed to be a Big Girl. Maybe I started to feel like I used up all my dad's love and I needed to move on. I'm not exactly sure.

In these days I do not remember my mother or anything about her. I can faintly see her painting the living room and building bird houses...I can see her watching as I crash my go-cart into a row of mail boxes and her being the one to fix it back together. I remember her building me a tree house...always doing something for me. but even more than those things, I remember the absence of my father and his presence during our weekly breakfasts'.

What is it about a father that alters the way we live? God takes on a father role yes, but he's also a mother, a lover and friend....but is his presence strongest as a father? Is this why it's so hard for young girls whose fathers have forsaken them to accept love? Accept God? I think so. That's my theory at least.

I've gotten used to having someone else on the couch with my father now. After like 5 or 6 years. I've gotten used to sharing the throne. I wonder what it'll be like to split the throne three ways. It was hard for me to split it two ways...and I think it was hard for him, too. But three ways?

I guess it's a good thing I'm learning to not be daddy's little girl as I am about to embark on my journey to college. But its so much change...maybe I'm getting better with this concept, too. I don't feel the need to bring up the cliff scenario to see how much he loves me, I know. The breakfasts' and movies, and long drives still mean the world to me. I have a dad that begs for me to be beside him, a father who truly enjoys and loves me. He teaches me discernment and tells me what I need to work on to be a better person. I have a step mom that widens my point of view and wants to be one of my best friends. I have a mother who drives me insane, but we love each other so much and she is always there for me, more than anyone else.

No, the holidays aren't normal this year. Not in one single way. Instead of getting books as presents from family we're getting baby clothes and strollers and things of that nature. My dad's usually over-festive house is bare this year. No shiny Christmas tree with presents crowding up the living room, no Christmas music, and no step mom here to make sure we acknowledge everything that is Christmas. She's in Ohio with our newly born family member, Bella, awaiting the approval of our adoption so we can take her home finally. It's Christmas eve and my dad and I have done absolutely nothing festive, and we are pretty happy about it. Back home, my mom and I still haven't made our annual Christmas cookies and I still have all of my gingerbread house ingredients taking up space in the pantry.

There is no snow, no big family, no friends to celebrate with just yet. We haven't watched any Christmas movies. We've been glued to our lap tops and books, leaving the house only to do some photography or run errands. Or got to the E.R.. Our minds are too heavily set on our pending future to do anything festive.

Sometimes I feel like Christmas is just so freaking fake. I know there are real meaningful meanings behind all the traditions Christmas brings, but everything feels so superficial. Christmas is all about getting to wear your super dorky Christmas sweater from Grandma without being made fun of. It's about all the music so cheery and cheesy after and entire month of it its just sickening. Its about being greedy or giving and eating so much your new years resolution has to be to lose weight. It's so ridiculous.

Thankfully, it can easily be more than that. Like for my family and I.

In the light of this new little girl, nothing else really seems to matter. Apparently not even the birth of Jesus.

Hah. We are such imperfect humans.

Thursday, December 18, 2008


When my computer sounds like its revving it's engine like its impersonating a car. When my car shakes after I turn it off and makes weird noises. When I shake after eating too much sugar, or when I get my chest cramps and makes me immobile for a few minutes.

All red flags. Red flags are the signal of a problem, and initial battles.

These things probably mean that my computer has some sort of virus (oops), and I should probably stop illegally downloading music via Limewire. My car is really old and I need to quit speeding, or in this case go this speed limit, which is sometimes more than my '85 El Camino can handle. Too much sugar is bad for me, and I need to go to the doctor to see whats wrong with my heart.

I need I need I need. Fix fix fix. Me me me. A checklist. Things to do in order to be better.

And so the red flag is waved, and persue success. Somewhere along the lines I was persuaded that perfection and success was acceptance. I also was persuaded that I am deeply flawed, thus the checklist was born, because flawed figures are not succesful and need to do things to become successful. But I'm fawed. Who then could I ask for help?

The battle begins.

I start realizing I need to take responsibility. I need to obey the rules. I need to be healthy. I need to or else something is wrong with me, and that is bad. People look at me differently, and think I need to be changed. Worked on. Controlled. And I can not let this happen, because relinquishing control is just out of the question. But I don't want anyone to see my falws, so for now, until I'm better, I'm gonna hide in my room and try to fix myself.

I'll come out of seclusion when I get rid of Limewire. When I stop speeding. When I eat an apple instead of a donut. When I go to the doctor and find out whats wrong. When I'm fixed.

I have made a compromise with my faults. I will stop endulging in things that display my faults, if they will leave me alone and make me look better to the public eye.

But the thing is I know I'm too cheap to buy all my music and will eventually get Limewire again. I know that I'll lose myself in my thoughts while driving and possibly go over the spead limit, and the car is old anyway, it will kick the bucket someday. I really like donuts, and I like apples too, but sometimes the donut is easier to find than the apple, and much more tasty in many ways. The doctor will either say I'm fine, its "normal" for my heart to race, and that I'll be fine. But I'm not fine. My heart still beats funny and I am still flawed.

Nothing really changes when I do it myself. And when I ask other people the consistancy in their actions are usually very poor, no matter how good their intentions are. This makes me untrusting of others and even more secluded in myself and I will eventually get even more screwed up and needy than ever. I'll know what is expected of me and have all these checklists taped to the refridgerator door in my head and soon I'll just be too overwhelmed to move. I become apathetic because I do not believe in myself anymore. And the apathy and the in-activenes in my life will just make me feel worse about myself. If I rely on myself and others, I will fail.

I will try to be happy in my failure. I will plaster a smile on my face and say everything is ok. But that will fade. Because along with my craving for success, I also crave righteousness. I crave to be the one who is right and in control of things. So I will seek out truth in failure, and only find failure. Since that is all I see, it is all I will think about, all I can put my faith into. It is the only thing thats been truly apparent in my life, the only dependable thing.

I will become angy, too. Because I see justice in it. I'll be mad at the highest authority I can find, God. I will blame Him for letting something so miserable happen. The wall I've been building around my crumpled heart is higher and stronger, now gaurded my proof of all of God's wrong doings in my life.

I'll say things like, "How dare you try and come in? Look at all the misfortune you've caused me!"

My blame will fire off like canons into the abyss, and although no attack is returned, I take the silence as a threat. I'll think that God's taking this time to plan out how to get me.

So on top of my self-pity, anger, apathy, and mistrust towards people, I now am plagued with paranoia of God, someone who never leaves. All these things should be red flags. But even these things I do not trust, for now, I barely even trust myself.

isn't is just a little ridiculous? The whole message of Christianity is to give up yourself so that God can take care of you and in return you serve Him and honor His son because you become so passionately consumed with love. Just...give yourself up. Let somebody else have the reins and relax...put up a white flag.

I know it's not exactly that easy. The concept is, but because we're human, flawed, prideful, and fearful, this seems to extremely hard and really is for the most part.

I'm glad that I've let God in far enough to where giving up control is easy for me now. I'm glad that He's led me to people who I can trust as we rely on eachother. I'm glad that things like my computer and my car arent that big of a deal and I can declare healing over my heart at any time I want and know that Jesus heals. I'm so glad that now I have a faith where there are no walls. I'm glad I've become something of a nomad, carrying with me only things that are essential as I follow where ever my crazy God leads me. I'm glad I'm not afraid anymore, but I'm also glad I've been afraid before. Because without a red flag, theres no need for a white one.

Friday, December 12, 2008


your movement is so fierce, and yet so silent.

can i seriously do this?

am i honestly capable of having more of a work load than i do now and still succeeding?

i hardly have enough will power.

you come and rock my foundation. you steal away my boundaries. you are stealing my singleness and it sucks. or maybe its just bittersweet. I'm not exactly sure.

why should you dictate how i act and feel? how do i let this happen so easily? why am i so unnoticably thirsty for love?

how can i not trust you?

how could i trust this?

is this all real? will i regret this?

there are so many many inignorable things that should scream "run away!" but I'm staying apparently. if i regret it...well things could get really bad. but everything that's good requires sacrifice, a moment of doubt, and a stabbing pain. but relief always follows. it always follows.

we move so much out of fear. even in the good things...there is always fear if we let it in.

what drives us so badly to seek perfection? is it knowing that faults bring shame, the very thing that can drive away love? lies should be transparent. but they're not. how is that?i blame love.

"We are all fools in love."

yeah, yeah we are.

I can see a big fat red flag, and I'll follow after my prey anyway.

where did we learn to be such good liars? who can we trust? can we even trust ourselves? our own judgement? can we trust God? yes. definitely. but we trust him not knowing our future. when things take a turn for the bad...should we start blaming ourselves? or our faith?

i am afraid of the slightest sign of a lesser love. If someone tells me they love me when they know they haven't been showing it...i don't believe them. and i start doubting them in general. why is that? will it always be that way? am i always going to be annoyed/untrusting/and afraid towards love?

All at once, I thirst after love, and repulse it. I refuse to enter into its house...but yet i sit on the doorstep staring at the key until someone else opens it. I'm too scared to do it myself, too ready for the hurt. So I wait till someone else opens the door for me. that way i can blame them if all goes badly.

what a little circle I keep running in.

I give this fear and imperfection to You. Keep it.

Saturday, November 29, 2008

Like wind.

I want to be swallowed whole by you. I want to be inevitably surrounded and consumed by you. I want to become like you and apart of you. I want to be essential to your movement, a key element. I want to be lifted as high as possible just so I can shine so bright I shut out darkness. What a pleasure and privilege you are my Heavenly Father. So wonderful You are that you would only desire happiness for me. I am astounded that you can actually perfect the broken, and conceal innocence.

I wonder if I'll ever understand your nature even a little. I feel like wind, so inconsistent and lacking the means to be solidified long enough to gain understanding. But God I want to be all of Yours and only Yours. You are good enough that even if only perril follows my commitment it would be worth it. But to know that happiness only resides in you, how you move in me without touching me, without hurting me, makes it all so worth it. Everything id for You. For once, I hold not one spec back from you. You can take it all.


Isn't it horrifying to think that to indulge in the most fulfilling human love that we must put our whole heart on the line? To know that we, in all of our instability and imperfection, can absolutely hold the other persons heart and be trusted with it?

Isn't it scary to know the ability of a person to lie? To know that our hearts can so easily ignore signs from God that say to run, and instead rely on words and touches that could all be fake? To know the anonymity of our own hearts and our ability to brainwash ourselves into being "in love" with someone?

of being unsure?
of being untrustworthy?
of being trustworthy, and still only being hurt in the end?

What do we fight for anyway?
What is right and what is wrong?
Where did logic get so blurred?
how can my feelings, as authentic as they may seem, turn out to be able to be duplicated toward someone else?

How do you know?

Isn't it scary that without God, I'd never have answers to any of these questions?

Friday, November 28, 2008

I would like to have a whole day dedicated to movies. Disney movies (old and new), and classic old romance, and wonderful things of that nature.

I LOVE THE INCREDIBLES! And Kungfu Panda. Best animated movies ever. Along with Ice Age. Love 'em.

I like curling irons, the really big kind. And Mangias pizza, or something like that. I don't know what it's called, just some really good pizza place in Austin my dad took me to tonight. I also am quite infatuated with the local thrift store Buffalo Exchange, even if most things in there don't fit me. I just really like Austin a lot. Someday I will live here. Another day I will live in Colorado, then Maryland, and then somewhere foreign doing mission work.

Someday I'll have my own magazine. We will only report on testimonies and miracles. Our photo-stories will be National Geographic worthy, yet reporting on testimonies. There will be no "How to" guide on "How to improve your prayer life." There are plenty of magazines that do that. But how many actually are jam-packed ONLY with stories of miracles and the spiritual warfare that happens daily? How many Christian magazines report on immorality and the sick and their healing? All we want to do is better ourselves. But when do we report on other people on controversial issues? Hearing whats going on in GOD'S people is what will better ourselves, strengthen ourselves. We all know the churchy-religious aspects of politics, people, prayer life, but what about all of those things in action? What do we know about what happens in the lives of people we minister to? What happens on those mission trips we send our kids to? The youth group? What do ministers truly believe, and how do their daily lives live out? I want to read about that. I want to read about that. I want to see photo stories on people in mission trips. I want to see photo stories on the kid with an alcoholic father and how it affects him. Let's report on physcology, the role of parents in . Or on the fifteen year old who is raising money for kids in Africa to have clean water. I want to push every churchy boundary ever created in journalism, and I want to be successful. I want people to believe in miracles, but how can they believe in something they've never seen or heard of? How can they believe it if its only something they've heard of in church, and not seen played out in life?

I will also see Robert Plant and Allison Krauss in concert before I die. Nickel Creek as well. It'll happen :)


I am learning what it's like to be loved. What it's like to completely lose myself in someone elses beauty. In love's presence, I forget why I would be worthy of love, or not worthy of it. Worth is not relevant, because I forget who I am. I feel surrendered, at peace. Like there's no reason to doubt and fear and no reason to ignore what's in front of me. I get this feeling of stability, like no matter what happens I'll be able to get through it if the love stays. I must give everything I am for it, and I must pursue it.

could anything be better than this?