Bruce

So finals are this week, and I came back up here early yesterday to study. Leaving home hasn't really bothered me this semester, I think because Ta's up here and I have Misha and the weeks have really seemed to fly by. I have a house to stay in instead of a 12x13' shoebox. I can cook my own food and watch Netflix on our very own living room couch instead of a hard plastic rolly-chair. I also have stuff to clean, which sounds like a weird thing to get excited over I know, but it's nice to have to do laundry and wash dishes because those are normal things.

Anyway, I came back early and it didn't really bother me. Until I went into my closet and for some reason I just hit a wall. This wave of loneliness just sort of crashed over me and I had to pause for a second to catch my breath. I don't know what caused it. I don't really think the sight of my shoes scattered everywhere would trigger such a violent reaction; although I guess you could say that the image of so many pairs laying scattered - separated from their mates, only together when they are deemed worthy of going with an outfit, forced to spend their days longing for their partner but lacking the capability to neatly stack themselves and an owner who would do it for them - could have prompted a second of soul-crushing clarity that I will soon be alone up here again to face the scrutiny of other people and to combat the many obstacles of everyday by myself. Perhaps a moment of self-doubt: am I like the shoe? Incapable of moving myself any closer to what I desire, unable to attach myself to another shoe but forever forced on the stinky foot of lonely turmoil?

Ah who am I kidding... My Freudian slip is showing. It had been building the entire car ride up here and just showed itself then because I was alone in the house and went into the closet by myself and felt cut off from other people. Sometimes a shoe is just a shoe.

Still, for a moment I teetered on the verge of a panic attack. I really am a type A personality; I don't like being told I can't do something. If I set myself a goal, I WILL accomplish it. And right then I felt completely out of control because there is absolutely nothing I can do to alleviate the coming situation. And by situation I mean Ta not coming back up here next semester. He decided he wants to start teaching as soon as he can, and that means not being thirty minutes away and seeing each other three times a week. It scares me because I remember what it was like before he was up here.

When I start getting overwhelmed, I tend to either suppress or explode depending on the situation. If I let it out all at once, I'm done. That's it. It simmers down to a more manageable level. I do a lot of suppressing though. (Ha, Freud and I would have just shared a moment.) And that's harder because I retreat inward and it gets hard to do anything. Even talk. It becomes almost physically impossible for me to verbalize anything. And when that wave of lonely hit me full force in the chest with a sledge hammer, I felt the pressure seal vacuum shut and heard that inhaled pffffffp.

Then I walked out of my closet and noticed the cutest little pink sticky note stuck to my mirror. (A note here: my bedroom and bathroom typically stay closed. People, meaning my roommate and her parents when they come up, don't usually go in there. And there really wasn't any evidence that anyone had been in there - thank goodness because I didn't make my bed before I left Friday. I never asked where the note came from because really, I don't want to know.)

The seal broke in that satisfying way that the button on the top of a jelly jar pops up when you open it for the first time. I may have cried. Just a little. Ok maybe a more middling amount than a little. Time and again I get the opportunity to sit back and grin and laugh at myself, and I don't think I'll ever stop being amazed and appreciative of these little moments. They're my favorite things.

Here I would like to put a little side note about my favorite Bro Adam. When things like this happen, my first reaction is to tell him about it. He has been a good shepherd, patiently guiding me when I wander off into unhappiness. And this time he didn't disappoint: "Your God loves you, Sage. He does." I think I'm going to frame that somewhere. You da best, B.




Needless to say, I no longer feel alone. I want to hold onto this feeling forever because it's so wonderful. It's warm hugs and cozy blankets and fresh cookies and sunlight and bubbles and feathers and just pure love. I keep repeating it like it's a song stuck in my head, "Your God loves you, Sage. He does."

Never Ceasing

A list of things to pray when you need a place to start:

I am nothing and less than nothing; I will do what thou hast for me to do.

I will be still and know that thou art God. 

Thou art majesty and goodness and grace most free.

Oh Father, how I fail thee. Forgive me for my downfallings, help me to remember thee in my uprisings.

Dear Lord, thy mercy is boundless. It overfloweth my soul and cleanseth me.

Thank you.

Lord, please, in all thy mercy, remember those who are sick, weak, invalid, and less fortunate than we.

Thou hast blessed me far above what I deserve, O Lord. Infinitely more.

Help me to remember you throughout the day, dear Lord, and to keep this feeling of closeness to you.

I will love thee, O Lord, my strength.

Thou art ever with me, my Lord, my guide, my salvation, my refuge.

Help me remember, my Lord, to worry not, but to trust in you.

My ever gracious savior, of all things, let me to never forget to give thanks.

Please forgive me, my father, for I sin with every breath and am deserving of all the punishments from which you save me.

Thy glory fills the heavens and spans the whole of eternity.

Not my own glory, Lord, but thine. For thou art the only good, and I the chief of sinners.

Help me to forever feel thy presence, to forever work to walk closer to thee.

Please be with all those who are in pain, O Lord. Those who are ill physically, spiritually, emotionally.

Please be with those whom I love most, O Lord. Keep them safe and sheltered in your strong arms.

Please be with those in power, O Lord. Help them to make good decisions. Guide them with your infinite wisdom and your merciful hand.

Please be with those who look to thee, O Lord. Bless them for their faithfulness, and help me to be better at it myself.

Yoyo

coolspringspbc.org

There aren't many requests that I would make about this site. I think it's very well designed and the level of organization makes me swoon.

One I would make though, would be a shuffle option. I have a hard time picking which one to listen to sometimes.

Another one would be for some way to distinguish ones I've listened to from ones I haven't and a way to mark my favorites.

If I could make a favorites list, this one would definitely be on it. 

http://coolspringspbc.org/audio-sermons/?download&file_name=PhilipConley_2014-10-05pm_Isa40_CoolSpringsPBC.mp3

I ask a lot for reassurance when something has been proven to me over and over again in ways I can't deny. The fleece could be wet, and then dry in the dew, and then turned back into a sheep and I'd still be asking, "Is this it, Lord? Go this way?" It's kind of insulting toward The Lord really. It's like I'm that little kid asking just to see if his parent will change their mind. It makes me feel like I'm calling what he has provided unclean. If you refuse a gift too long, it not only becomes super awkward, it looks like you're an unappreciative jerk.

It's good to be cautious, but at the same time, it's also good to go on faith and quit asking when you know the answer.

Pie

Too many times I have to remind myself not to be vindictive. By desiring to angrily reply you are no better than the people who are angering you. It probably won't do any good anyway.

Speak not in the ears of a fool; for he will despise the wisdom of thy words. 

Prov 23:9

Also, it is prideful to think that you know better than them in the first place. What if you're actually the one that's wrong? That would be horribly embarrassing - to have to eat the words you so angrily and hastily put out. 

Answer not a fool according to his folly, lest thou be like unto him. 

Prov 26:4

So stop it, me. Pray for understanding on the subject for you and others and for patience when half of you get it and the other half don't because you never know which half is which.

Misha

It's amazing the differences you notice in your life once you make an active effort to do what you know good and well that you should do.

Stop doing things that make you feel iffy. Fess up to it, you know when you do something wrong, you just don't always want to admit it, especially to yourself. Do it anyway. It's so worth it. Whatever gain you're imagining that you're getting from doing wrong, doing right will give you so much more.

And pray about stuff. 

While we're on the subject of small things you can do to make major impacts. That's definitely one of them.

At this point I'm going to do something now that I haven't done previously in this whole blogging endeavor (although I would be glad to if anyone were curious enough to ask). I'm going to reveal the inspiration for the name of this post.

I have a puppy. His name is Misha. I have pictures of him on my phone like most mothers do their children. He loves giving kisses and snuggling and I believe I am his most favorite person in the whole world. He is at least part corgi because he has the short little legs and big ears that stand up when he's listening to you tell him how good a boy he is. He had so many ticks when we first got him that he was horribly horribly anemic and is just starting to feel better. He doesn't mind baths because you're petting him when you wash him. He doesn't mind car rides either as long as he can curl up in your lap. He does get in the way of homework sometimes because he likes having all of your attention, but he's learning that sometimes it's okay to just sit nearby. He was named after an actor that plays an angel in a TV show that TA and I both like. I say after, but really I think it was that we both happened to like the name and didn't mind where it had come from. I'm liking more and more though that he was named after an angel, even if it was in an indirect way and a fictional one at that. He keeps me company when I'm lonely and it's nice to think of his wholehearted and unreserved love.

So as we were cuddling last night I was reflecting about how content I am. Bro James's (fabulous) sermon Saturday night at the Salem really made me analyze things I do; I do want to "overcome" things I do wrong and temptations that seem to pop up so frequently. Some of my most repeated words are "get thee behind me Satan." And once I'd thought about it and started fixing things I noticed out of place, the flood gates opened and I could hear the angels singing Hallelujah she quit!

And as I was reflecting, I was scrolling through Cool Springs Church's impressive collection of sermons on their website. I love listening to preaching as I go to sleep. Not because it puts me to sleep, but because I find it wonderfully comforting and because I think it's a good idea to make God and his wonderfulness my last thoughts at night.

And when I was reflected and scrolled I came upon this little beauty: Rejoice Evermore. It was the name that caught me. Two little commanding words, and they just so perfectly fit my mood.

Now I have to admit something.

I don't like the idea of having "favorite preachers." I really think the one I'll like most is the one that The Lord blesses, and sometimes we miss blessings because we say "Oh him? I never get anything out of his sermons," and we just don't listen.

But Brother David is one of my favorites. I won't give a specific ranking, and I have a lot of favorites, but he'd be pretty high on the list if I did.

Seriously. If there were a Bro David fan club, I'd have the t-shirt. I asked Bro Adam to make me some cd's of preaching at the beginning of classes last fall, and there were two or three of Bro David in the mix. I've literally listened to them between 20 and 30 times a piece. They got me through the awful dreadful (aka first semester). I can't give the preacher all (or really any, I guess) of the credit though; those sermons just happened to be ones that God obviously and richly blessed, I would say most every time I listened to them. Still, I'd rank him pretty high on the list. 

It's amazing the changes that happen when you fix things. Or not really I guess. You know things get better when you do, but you don't really appreciate it until you do.

Joan

I like it when I do things that benefit others even though it may be detrimental to me. Actually, especially when it is detrimental to me. It's a martyr complex of sorts I suppose, but I feel better about it when I feel like what I've done has cost me something.

Bees are among the most noble of creatures I think. And I know that these thoughts don't seem to be linked, but hang with me. I like bees a lot, and part of it may be that feeling of female camaraderie, but I also like how they're industrious and protective of the hive and uphold their system no matter what. They have a lot of good traits. And they make honey, which I happen to really like too.

I'm a terrible swimmer. If you can even really call it swimming. I splash around a bit and hope I don't drown because really all that's keeping me afloat is doggy paddling and basic physics. I hardly spent any time in the pool at all as a kid and I still don't get in the water much now, just long enough to thoroughly embarrass myself and make the painful semi-annual hunt for a flattering swimsuit necessary. 

All this said, watch it all come together like relatives at a family reunion who haven't seen each other in years and barely know each other's names - awkwardly and full of regret.

School is looming and I look forward to it like I'm getting some appendage amputated. It's like I'm being led to the guillotine and I have time to think about how if it doesn't work right away I'll probably die of tetanus or some awful disease since they didn't bother to clean the blade.

(I said this would come together. I guess we'll see...)

But it's really not that bad. It's a change. But only slightly really because I'VE ALREADY DONE IT ONCE NOW. That's the part that keeps getting me. I'm scared of something that I've already experienced and survived. It realy can't be any worse than last year right? I think it's that I conditioned myself, except instead of dogs and bells and slobber, I associated school with debilitating anxiety and other negative emotions that keep the makers of Prilosec in business.

So what's getting me through this minor attack of nearly paralyzingly fear is thinking about it like this: (and finally the tie-in) it's something I have to do, so suck it up buttercup. 

Going through this will make me smarter, and more experienced, but that's not very good motivation for me because benifits for myself just aren't that interesting. I can do without. It's thinking that I'm depriving somebody else that I can't stand. So I'm doing this to make people proud. So I won't have to depend solely on my husband in the future. So my children will have more opportunities. So that someday maybe I can help somebody with what I've learned. I'm metaphorically tying myself to the stake so academia can roast me in hopes of a better future for people I care about. The worker bee, nearing the end of her life, will crawl as many yards as it takes for her to deliver her load of pollen so that the hive will have food all winter. 

Quit worrying about it you little fool. It's different, but same isn't possible so work with what you've got. The little things don't matter. Enjoy the flower you're on and dont worry about the first frost in mid-June. Appreciate every good thing and pray for strength to get to the hive one more time.

Be Still

Let me tell you about being happy.

Not that that's a command. I won't be so presumptuous as to assume that I can command you to enjoy my enjoyment. And I put it in pink because that's how I feel, tickled.


A while back I posted about my "billboard." You just have to go back and read it because it's good - not the post itself, but it's content when paired with what I'm about to say.

Here's a link Banana - a type fruit, or a pudding. I seriously got chills when I reread it.

I mentioned in said post that there are times when you can think about what's going on and you just feel God in it. You just KNOW He was there and did that and it makes you feel just a little creeped out and a lot in awe. You kind of shiver and say, "Oh, You're good." 

But my happy thing:

Daddy gets a magazine in the mail from UAMS every so often, and a few weeks ago I picked it up for no apparent reason and started leafing through it. There was an article on Nurse Practitioners Specializing in Mental Health, which has a horrible acronym since it can't exactly be pronounced in any decent way. NPSMH nnnpuhsmmhuh…

I didn't know nurse practitioners could specialize. I had no idea this was even a thing. But sort of subconsciously something clicked I guess because from the moment I read that article I started picturing myself as that and nothing else. Not intentionally. I would think about something related to the future and realize I was thinking of that as a part of it. It's sort of like when you're dreaming and you realize you're dreaming and you kind of look around like "where on earth am I ???"

So a few days later I changed my major to nursing.

And I felt such a sense of relief. Momma's asked me about it a few times since then, and the best way I can think to explain it is this. When I started as a pre-med, I knew it wasn't what I wanted to do, but I didn't know what I DID want. Then I switched to psychology because that seemed closer to what I wanted to do. But the entire semester and a half that I was a psychology major, I felt uneasy. I worried that I had done the wrong thing in changing and I prayed and prayed and prayed and prayed and prayed that God would just show me what to do. And then the incident. So I was listening. I'd done enough talking and now it was time for me to shut up and sit down. And I happened to sit down next to that journal.

I felt such peace when I finally calmed down and said, "Ok, I'll do it."

I don't know when I was last in a hospital. I see nurses all the time, but rarely in the line of duty. But I am certain. I can't remember the last time I was truly confident in something. Wait, yes I can. See Goofball.

Wimple

I'm currently sacrificing happy dreams I could be having and increasing the likelihood of a grumpy morning, but I wanted to think about this and I think better when I can see it in writing.

When I think about the person I want to be, I don't see anybody. Not in particular I mean. Every now and then I get snippets.

Like I want to be the kind of person who can both knit and fix an engine. I'm working on half of that. The other half requires a good, patient teacher who doesn't mind an ignorant pupil as long as they're  willing to learn. Well both halves do I guess since I'm not exactly proficient in either.

I want to be optimistic. 

I want to be nice to people all the time. This one is particularly cool to me because I can actively experience it now and I know the wonderful feeling it gives. 

I want to find the balance between nievety and being willing to give people the benefit of the doubt. I don't want to be cynical.

I hope to always retain my slowness to anger with some people and I hope to work on it with others.

I want to be able to recognize vain pride in myself and deal with it.

I want to be better with people. I am seriously so awkward that it's actually painful at times. 

I want to be the kind of person that people come to when they have questions or need help with something.

I want to do things for people, just little, unexpected things, to make their day better. I love doing this now. I've heard before about the various "love languages" and how everybody is different in how they best receive affection, be it through gifts or acts of kindness, and I think everybody has a different way of expressing it too. I like doing things for people. Momma and I discussed one day how the majority of the money I spent over the last two semesters in Fayetteville was on gas, food, which I normally fixed for friends, and little things I brought home to her. It makes me feel good.

I want to have a green thumb. And I think there's a certain element of natural gift that you can't really develop, but I hope I have at least something similar to it.

I want to always read like I'm starved of words.

I want to be willing to listen but always grounded in what I know is true and right.

I never want to stop learning.

 

Tibetan monks

I have almost literally no self control. I think it stems from my intense drive to accomplish my goals no matter what. If I want to get something done, it will get done if it is at all within my capability. Telling me I can't do something makes it more fun when I do it. To some extent of course. I also have the intelligence to know there are some things I shouldn't do and I don't let those things hold any interest for me.

But then there are some things that I know are bad for me but aren't exactly outlawed totally, and those are the worst. Just foods. Ok, mostly foods. Well, and staying up past my bedtime. And netflix. 

Okay so there are a few things in that category. 

I have several divisions of "bad things" in my mind. Like there's leaving the lights on in a room when I leave and not throwing away trash and things like that. And those are numerous but easy to fix because they don't require a lot of energy. And then there's the opposite end of the spectrum with things that I would never ever ever do because they're inherent evils and I know they would have horrible consequences. It's the middle that causes all the problems. Things closer to the extreme side are easier to avoid. But seemingly "little" things like not eating that cake and going to bed at a decent hour because you know you have to get up in the morning are difficult because it's easier to convince myself they're not so bad. If I could ever convince myself that those things were unspeakables too then I'd have far fewer problems I think.

Capture the flag

I think I should get exercise credit for all the things I worry about during the day. It is a constant battle. I think it's a sort of addiction really. I feel like I'm not getting anything done if I'm not worried about what I have to do next. And it's exhausting. For once I want to just NOT be anxious about anything. 

It's a continuous war that I fight with myself, but I've come up with some ways to gain the upper hand.

I use my inner Spock. Sometimes I have to just tell myself that it is not logical to let this thing bother you right now. That issue won't come up for a long time; it is not necessarily pertinent in this particular moment and worrying about it right now is doing you more harm than good. By centrating on the possible negatives of the future you are neglecting the definite positives of the now. If you worry about your ice cream cone melting too long you wind up with sticky hands and a double chocolate chunk-flavored regret.

I focus on what I need to get done first.

I make myself stop and appreciate something right now.

I think of things that make me happy.

I do something to get my mind off of it.

I talk to somebody about it or about anything.

I try to remember my problems are small.

And above all I try to hold on to faith. It is a trial. Just one long trial, so try to remain calm and do your best to come out on the other side in a way that you can be satisfied with.

Banana

You know, sometimes you get things from places you don't expect. Blessings in particular. And those are the ones that make you stop and chuckle and shake your head and say, "I know that was you, God."

 It's been a long time since I've posted, and that's because I haven't had anything really that I wanted to talk about. I don't like posting about little things really; I'm more of a big revelations kind of person I guess. But I really should post more often if for no other reason than that I think it would help me to see His influence more clearly if I had a record of all the little changes over a span of time.

For instance:
Ta's out of school. He's graduated from college. I'm super proud of him in a way that I've never really felt for somebody before. Saturday was a really great day that marked the beginning of a new and exciting stage, I think. He's coming to Fayetteville in the fall to start in the physics program (which makes me even more proud, I'm practically beaming) and that'll be the closest we've been in four years. We're hoping to get to see each other every day, which is something that hasn't happened since before he graduated high school. It's strange but terribly exciting. I think back to right after he graduated and how much I dreaded him moving away and it's funny. For a long time I've only seen him on most weekends and texted him most days. I told him this summer that us being together is just too much wonderful to absorb. And it occurred to me that from this point on we are together, pretty much for any and all earthly future. It's wonderfully comforting. I thought back to before we were together, and I loved him a long time before he appreciated it, to when I can remember wanting not just for him to like me, but also for me to be able to be there for him and be his friend. There are so many instances when I look back of God in our relationship and it makes me happy. I thank God very frequently for the wonderful boy.

But that's not really what I wanted to talk about. It's just really easy to get me distracted when it comes to Ta. I could talk about him for hours (insert fluttery hearts and mushy nonsense).

I hate not knowing what I'm going to do. Not in an immediate sense, or even a relatively close at hand sense. I have no idea what I'm going to do in five minutes. I may decide to quit typing and go to bed. I may eat a cheese stick. I don't know what I'll be doing at 3 pm next Tuesday, and I'm okay with that. But in the overall scheme of the next few decades, I want to know what the general plan is. I know part of it, and he gives me great comfort. But I don't know what I'm going to do for the rest of my life. And that really really bothers me. As a naturally anxious person - seriously, as an unlicensed and completely unauthorized authority, I would definitely diagnose myself with Generalized Anxiety Disorder (I may also be a tiny bit of a hypochondriac) - I tend to find things to worry about. Being in college, it tends to focus on that. Also being in college, people tend to talk a lot about the future and what are you majoring in and what do you plan to do with that and oh I didn't realize there was any money in that but I'm sure you'll do fine. It's kind of terrifying.

Sometimes when complete strangers ask me what I'm going to be doing with the next several decades of my life I consider making up some rubbish because I don't want to say I really have no clue. I'm actually in the astronomy program and I'm studying to be an astronaut when they finally get that program working again. I just passed the entrance exams to Harvard Law. I've been traveling around rural France trying to find myself and learning French.

I am a psychology major. I enjoy psychology. I think it fascinates me because it's a little taboo. It's intangible but still scientific in a way that doesn't really deal with equations or formulas. It's a frontier that is ripe with potential and it affects everyone in one way or another whether you realize it or not. Past that though, I don't know what specifically I want to do in psychology. I could go into therapy. As the one giving it I mean, although the other role might be nice too. I could teach, but I don't think that's ever really appealed to me. I could be surprised though I guess. I could do experimental work, but there again is the problem with I don't know what specific area interests me most. At the UofA campus there are several labs, most of which deal with drug addiction, anxiety, and mood disorders. There's a school in Missouri and a couple in Texas I think that have forensic psychology programs. Which is super cool, but I'm not sure about the practicality of it.

There's a lot of really huge decisions that loom over me in the dark hours of the night, weighing on me, smothering me with the wet blanket of uncertainty while I'm frozen, sleep dancing away from the dark thoughts and leaving me alone and defenseless.

I don't know how may times I've prayed for guidance. Lord, I'll do whatever you want me to do, whatever you think is best. Just please guide me in the right direction. Take my hand and pull me down a path. Maybe a billboard. With neon. Something. Anything.

And so many times nothing.

I'm a true, blue-faced idiot.

Really I am. It almost makes me laugh, my own stupidity.

I try to read two chapters of my bible every night. It gives me a little while to just focus on something good and feel a little closer to Him. It helps me clear my mind and stop anything I was working on so that I can go to sleep in peace with thoughts of heavenly things. In theory. One night I was reading in my dorm room after Luke and I had been watching TV, and Caroline had come home so we had all been sitting there chatting for a while, and Luke just up and asked me what I was reading about. Most of the time I kind of just did it quietly while everybody else went on about their business, but this time he asked where I was. And he asked me to read it out loud. So I did. And it was I Kings 19.

11. And he said, Go forth, and stand upon the mount before the Lord. And, behold, the lord passed by, and a great and strong wind rent the mountains, and brake in pieces the rocks before the Lord; but the Lord was not in the wind: and after the wind an earthquake; but the Lord was not in the earthquake:
12. And after the earthquake a fire; but the Lord was not in the fire: and after the fire a still small voice.
13. And it was so, when Elijah heard it, that he wrapped his face in his mantle, and went out, and stood in the entering in of the cave. And, behold, there came a voice unto him, and said, What doest thou here, Elijah?

Then Luke asked what that part meant, about the still, small voice. And as I was explaining it I nearly punched myself. There you go. Billboard. Might as well have slapped me in the face with it. Idiot.

The next day during our theatre class, the artistic director from TheatreSquared was there to talk to us about professions in theatre, but instead he grilled us about our passions. He spend an hour and fifteen minutes making me feel like I was sitting in a metal chair on hot asphalt in mid-July on the Sun. I realized I don't know what I'm passionate about. There are things I enjoy, like baking and reading and picking pretty flowers for Momma, but nothing I would feel so strongly about as to use the word passionate. He told us to write down what other people said we were good at, then what we thought we were good at, then what we wished we were good at, and then what we were passionate about. My list was disturbingly blank in areas, and it unsettled me. If I can't even think of things that I can feel confident in my ability to do, how can I possibly find any sort of drive that will fill my future career with this undying and wonderful passion he spoke of??? And then he finished me off with a quick jab to the heart of it. He said that you can't let other people tell you what you're good at and let that control what you attempt to do. You have to do what you feel. And he actually said something along the lines of "it's funny, I don't know why I'm mentioning it, but isn't there something in the Bible about a 'still small voice' or something?" I died. Then and there. Let it be written on my stone. So I stopped, took a breath, and said, "OK Lord, I get it, I hear you, I'm listening."

I'm not going to say that that's where all my problems were solved. I didn't hear a voice telling me to go up into the mountains or that I was the chosen one, but I did start listening a little closer. It's kind of depressing how the little things that you know you should do and don't or shouldn't do and do anyway start slipping away and creeping up respectively. It's even more depressing when you realize that it's been happening and now you have a big mess waiting on you to get busy sweeping. It's hard to figure out where to start.

I still don't know what I'm going to do.

Today I was listening to the conversation of some people discussing the future and God's hand in it, and I heard a tiny voice.

Interesting tidbit thrown in: they've done studies on people with auditory hallucinations, and it's been found that during a hallucination, Brocca's area, which is typically active during speech, lights up. So they think that instead of thinking of a hallucination as other people talking to you, it's really you hearing your own voice and not being able to recognize it as your own. And that's kind of what this voice reminds me of, in a completely not weird or psychotic sort of way. It's like it's my own voice giving me mostly unsolicited good advice. Like my own little Jiminy Cricket chirping away up there beneath the mounds of garbage collecting dust.

Anyway, it told me to join the conversation. So I interjected my own comments about things I had experienced, and I was rewarded with this - Saul was a mighty man, very prominent and powerful, but Paul had more.

Philippians 4:11 Not that I speak in respect of want: for I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content.

And I was slapped in the face again. And accepted it with humble awe and appreciation. 

It doesn't matter. Find something and stick with it because going back and forth and being all wishy washy about it will get you less than nowhere. Whatever I choose to do, the Lord will bless me if I do it uprightly and seek the narrow path. I heard someone say one time (I believe they were ordained but it might have just been a snippet I picked up along the way somewhere) that the Lord has blessed me thus far, why should I doubt that He will continue?

It's all going to be okay you little fool. Why would you ever doubt it? I feel like this is the cliche ending to a sappy movie where the hero skips off into the sunset while birds chirp and a choir sings. But I'm okay with that because I've always loved cheesy.

I know I'll always have a magnificent and awesome God who will guide me even if I am completely obtuse and need to be pulled by the hair of the head sometimes. I'm not going to starve, and I won't be completely miserable. And He's given me a pretty swell boy to help me through it too, and that doesn't hurt anything. To quote the little aliens from Toy Story, "We are eternally grateful."

Mellon Collie

I have a relatively high level of self-awareness in most senses of the phrase. I'm not so great kinesthetically, but I know my emotions and my attitudes toward things and my thought processes. It all comes back to my tendency to forever analyze things. I never stop asking why and how. 

So it's rare that I can't figure out what I'm feeling. If I'm scared or anxious I break it down and ask myself what the specific cause of the discomfort is and what I can do to fix it. If I'm happy I know to feel that emotion wholeheartedly and revel in it so that I can remember it better later. 

But sometimes everything is so mixed up that I really can't tell. Like right now.

I feel uncomfortable; not specifically worried or frightened, but not completely at ease. I feel contentment and satisfaction when I think about this past week, my vacation from school. But not completely satisfied because it's over and it was so nice. A little blue. I feel rumpled, out of sorts, slightly on edge. Like I'm waiting for something. Maybe a little dread mixed with an understanding and a resignation but without resent. 

So it's not that I don't know what I'm feeling, but that I'm feeling so many things at once it's hard to smooth them out into a managable form that I can fold nicely and put away. 

What I do in these situations, and in situations like the aforementioned scared and anxious states, is think. Particularly during periods of the negative emotions, my mind works overtime. And the conclusion I've come to is that in a lot of circumstances what I can do is just enjoy this particular moment. There's something good right this very second even if I'm terrified of something within the next hour or day or week. My bed is soft. I'm not sick. I can see so many different colors and they're all pretty in one way or another. 

I pick one of the good emotions mixed in there with all the rest and try to focus on it. The contentment for example. It was nice to get away from school and not have to worry about anything for a while, and I did have a lot of fun. All week I looked forward to Ta and I going to Crystal Bridges, and then Saturday came and it happened and now it's over. 

And the general steady flow of time is kind of depressing to me. No matter how much I'm looking forward to something, how much I enjoy it, it'll eventually be over, and I don't like the feeling of it being over. I have this weird phobia of missed opportunities, it's strange and specific, but intense, and once something I really enjoyed has passed I always feel like there was something else I should have done to have made the most of it. 

But instead of dwelling on that, I look forward again. I was excited about this weekend, now I'm excited about next weekend and then the end of the semester and then summer and so on. Deep down I don't really want any of those things to come any faster because I think the anticipation is half the fun. 

I try to think about things that make me smile. And not in a whistful kind of way, but in the way that you can feel your eyes crinkle and you know it's for real.

And I try to remember to think about right now too. I really am content with some aspects of my life at this very moment. Happy even. Hopeful. Excited. Optimistic. (Head over heels.) 

Things I love

Chocolate

Good music

Blue

Soft things

Driving fast

Cheese

Cake

Cheesecake 

Bagpipes

Accordions

Christmas lights

Baking

Hugs

Little dogs that give kisses

Cute shoes

Sunshine

Patriotism

Scary stories

Movie theater popcorn

Roller coasters

My sweetie

Being able to see what you've accomplished

Mexican food

Long car rides

Hawaii license plates

Puns

Cheesy movies

Pretty words

Looking at city lights at night from the top of a hill

The smell of wood shavings

Laying in green grass and watching clouds

Picking flowers

Someone playing with my hair

Loving things

Martha

Currently in my history class our assignment is to watch 8 short segments of a movie (posted below), read an excerpt from a book (also linked below), and write a paper. I enjoy the class. I think history is very interesting, and my professor treats it like a big story. But I never really expected to be blessed through it. Goes to show you can't predict when and where God will see fit.

The story of Martha Ballard, a midwife in the time of the revolution, is truly inspirational. I feel an affection for this woman and a connection in that I don't doubt where she is now if her journal reflects accurately her life.

I think I'll enjoy writing this paper.

 Part 1: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dPOjpoCSefk Part 2: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I67-y38CB0o
 Part 3:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v28GKOIDSxA 
 Part 4: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FFwlXh48AJ4 
 Part 5: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2JyUhEGMsxQ 
 Part 6: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pFDmY1iAVMI 
 Part 7: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kOI0yOv75pU  
 Part 8: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J2dVDGv_SNQ 

http://dohistory.org/book/100_introduction_txt.html

Gasaaaaaahrrrrummmbalednkalsnfjfkv

Sometimes you just need to pull your hair back, change into comfy clothes, eat some chocolate, and freak out.

Do some quick yoga, relax a little.

Watch some Joy of Painting because it really doesn't get any more chill than Bob Ross painting happy trees

Think of everything you have to do and everything that could go wrong and how little time you have and what really is the meaning of life

*possible anxiety disorder

Eat more chocolate, feel bad when you realize you've eaten every bit of junk food that crossed your mind in the last twenty minutes.

Realize you've done nothing productive.

Wonder if you even know what productive is and if you've ever actually done anything like it

*possible obsessive compulsive

Cry 

Cry some more

Wonder why the world hates everything beautiful

Cry some more

*possible mood disorder

Get in bed and try to keep from thinking about things, pray, fall asleep while praying, feel guilty about that later...

Things I'm Glad I'm Not

Due to be decapitated
Lazarus
A wench
A pamphlet
Cursed to forever speak ye olde english
Canned meat
Alone in the universe
A mannequin
The queen of some tiny, hardly noteworthy country
Dumb as a rock
A rock
A rock star
Bacon
Sir Francis Bacon
Named Francis
A bowling pin
The artist behind a political cartoon
A goldfish
Indebted to the mob
In Antarctica
Being held hostage
On a pirate ship
Buried up to my neck in sand
Stuck in a bottle
Allergic to chocolate
A clone
A dodo bird 

Goosfraba

Sometimes I think there's a part of my brain that's always deeply relaxed and is really good at giving advice. I just don't always listen to it. It's like this little Yoda/Tibetan monk figure sitting calmly in a corner somewhere watching as I run around frantically like a chicken missing something.

I really do give myself good advice.

Try to be more forgiving and patient with people. You don't know what it's like for them.
Be appreciative of all the wonderful things in your own life.
Try not to worry about the future; you'll wind up somewhere eventually, and then just try to enjoy wherever you are.
Think of nice things you can do for people instead of thinking about what you'd like.
Yeah, you probably shouldn't eat those leftovers.

I think of these things and I realize, hey, that's not a bad idea...

and then I flap my little chicken wings and fly/flop into another feathery tizzy. Because I figure with my deep coordination deficit I'd probably be a really terrible flier, even for a chicken.

Red

My family tree, or what little I know of it, roots mostly in Northern Europe. The only things I've heard have come from family stories. I have a truly impressive compilation of ancestry composed by a relatively distant something-or-another that details her lineage, tracing it all the way back to an Englishman coming across the water in the early 1600s.

Elsewhere in the book she makes a brief mention of the Williams side, which is quite a bit closer to me individually, whose North American founder traveled from Ireland. 

That might be the part I enjoy mentioning the most. I'm not sure why, but there's something about the country that makes you want to belong to it. While the thread I have to tie me to that land is tiny and by no means a well established connection, it is a live nerve. I know very little about Ireland, but I still think of it fondly. I want to embrace probably more of it than I'm actually at liberty to.

I've also been told that there was American Indian added to the melting pot at some point. 

I myself am an American. I would like to take pride in that. I cry when I hear the national anthem and I want to hug every person in uniform I see and I think bald eagles are quite majestic. But it's a strange relationship really because some days the flag makes me weep with pride and appreciation and other days I want to hang my head in shame. I am an American though, for better or worse.

I come from tough people. People who worked the land and people who worked for other people and people who just worked. And I'm very proud of that.

There are multiple Confederate officers in my tree. Many many farmers. A couple people who founded Primitive Baptist churches in southern states. At least one doctor. Too many John's to count. And one guy who killed a bear with his pocket knife. 

I enjoy researching my family tree. I know some people think it's pointless because it's a bunch of dead guys who didn't do anything of major importance to the world and what does it matter now? But it's interesting. I think it's neat to be able to see the census from 1884 that's shows your so many greats grandfather as a little boy. His father couldn't read or write, but he worked as a hired hand or farmer or railroader and kept food on the table for his family.

It makes me proud, and it makes me believe in myself. To know that there were good, smart people mixed in there no matter where they came from. Somebody somewhere down the line is going to point to my name in a book and say there's soandso. She did this and that and she was great.

I never thought one picture could sum up an entire person...but wow...this is the closest thing I've ever seen...

Goofball

I have a certain subject that I like to talk about anytime, anywhere, to anybody...which is a big deal for me because I don't like to talk just a whole lot to most people. I'm always afraid that I seem rude or callous when I try to talk to people. I just don't know how to do it right. I'm about as clumsy verbally as I am physically.

But strike up a conversation with me about Ta and prepare for a deluge. I hope you brought popcorn. Not that it's that interesting, I just figure you'll probably want a snack at some point over the next three days.

I can honestly say I've never loved anything the way I do him. I adore that boy, and it's not an overstatement.

And I know that I'm young and (probably, although I'm not going to completely admit to it because I'm also a little stubborn) foolish, but when you know you just know right?

They don't have a word for what he is to me. In common vernacular, he's my boyfriend, but I don't like that word. He is my best friend, and he does happen to be male, but he's more than that. He's my confidant, my knight in shining armor, my go-to and support. He's my sounding board, one of my biggest fans, and my reprimander when need be. There are other people who hold some of these titles, other people who are terribly dear to me who love me very much, and I them. But he's just different.

There are certain fundamental things that you just live accepting. The sky is blue. Somebody told you that once and you didn't question it, you just accepted it. You breathe air. You eat food. For me another one is Ta. He's just a part of normal.

And he's the best whatever he is that I could ever want. 

He makes me laugh. All the time. Almost constantly. I know part of it is my absolutely dreadful sense of humor, but he also tries really hard to amuse me, and that in itself makes me smile.

He wants to make me happy. And I know this both because he's told me many times and because he shows it so well. I, among others, have accused him of being about as romantic as a root canal, but he really is a big sweetheart if you know how to look for it. 

We've grown together, and I mean that both like we've each grown in the time that we've been together, and like the way two branches of a tree can fuse if they're held together long enough. We've both changed drastically, and it's exciting to look back and see it, and it's exciting to look forward and know that we will continue to do so. 

He's not afraid of talking about the future anymore. In fact, he brings it up probably as much as I do. He'll rub my feet and let me have a sip of his drink and I'm pretty sure he'd hold my hair back if I ever had to throw up around him. Which are all really big things for him. And I've changed too, but I think mine were in ways a lot less openly evident. 

He makes me stronger. He makes me feel beautiful even when I don't want to. He makes me believe in myself.

He makes me feel closer to God for many reasons. Not the least of which is that he really is one of the best people I've ever met. And for all of you saying "uh huh, yeah, that's what you think," you are correct, I do think it. He is well-behaved and respectful of me. He prays. He has his shortcomings, and I'm equally aware of them. But he's a truly good person, and I admire him a lot. It makes me try harder to be a little better myself. And it makes me happy to know that we both try to put God first in everything we do. I feel like that makes us stronger every day.

And I'm not going to lie. I have wondered before if I'm absolutely sure. But every time I have, something's made me sure again very quickly. I know he's not perfect, but neither am I. He loves me a whole lot and that makes me happy. And I love him a whole lot too and that makes me very happy. 

Four years isn't really a long time. It's very brief in the overall span of things, but a lot can happen in one day, much less 1,495 of them. And I like the days he's in. I'd really like a lot more with him, that goofball I adore.

On the Origin of Nomenclature

Call me Ishmael.

For real though, please don't. 

It occurs to me that when I began posting I didn't offer any explanation of origin or any preface of apology. And really I think I'm ok with that.

I figure somebody would ask if they really wanted to know why I named this doohickey mabob or any of my posts what I did, and as for any expression of regret for poor grammar and worse spelling, I don't relish the idea of pointing out beforehand that I'm going to mess up so you can look for it later. I'm all about surprises.

I feel like my sense of style is very well developed in my writing. I don't enjoy talking out loud most of the time, but I don't mine writing down what I think usually. *I think it's because I'm less afraid of conflict and embarrassment when I don't have to worry about a face-to-face interaction.* I can pretend everything's ok in a really regrettable situation if I can't see the person's reaction to the entirely stupid thing I just said.

I'm not afraid to make mistakes in my writing, sometimes because I'm blissfully unaware and sometimes because I just don't care. It's not that I'm completely ignorant of proper English or utterly rejecting of the structure. Sometimes I just like the way it looks. Sentence fragments have their uses. Even if they are the bane of every high school English teacher.

* denotes random psychological wandering

It is I

Starting college was probably the toughest experience of my life. Which isn't saying much I don't guess...there aren't just a whole lot of terrible things to be in the running for worst. But moving away from home was definitely tops.

I've always liked being at home. I don't know why I have such a strong bond with my parents, but I do, and the thought of being without them for extended periods of time causes me nearly physical pain. And I understand that it's something I need to grow into. I'm working on it. Just don't rush me.

But the first couple months of my first time ever not living at home was easily the lowest point of my life. 

One night I was talking to Momma about how everything seemed to get worse at night. I would be laying in bed with nothing but my pillow and my thoughts to  haunt me, thinking about home, almost obsessing over how much I wished I could be there to eat a real supper with them, watch tv, go pile up in bed and just be together. And Momma said that well, you know, the devil knows just where to get you and when. Don't think he doesn't know that those thoughts are what's going to hurt you worst right now.

But that's not the part that really fixed things. It helped, a lot, but the next part did too.

She said that when the apostles went out on the boat and the storm hit, don't you think it was terrifying? And then Jesus was there, and the storm was still going, but He was there in the middle of it with them. And when Peter started walking toward Jesus he was on top of the water, but then he realized where he was an he started paying too much attention to the storm and the waves and his faith faltered and he was afraid again and sank. And life is a lot like that. We can't pay so much attention to the storm that we take our eyes off God or we start to sink. God will keep us afloat, just have a little faith.

That story seems to pop up in times when I really need it, and Brother David mentioned it again this weekend. It also works really well as a starting place from which my metaphor-loving brain can branch out rather rapidly.

I've been on boats of all sizes ranging from little kayaks to great big cruise ships, and there's a certain level of unnatural-ness to all of them. The first time you step into a boat of any size there's a sort of new connection that you form with the water. It's a sort of respect-based relationship where all the respect has to come from you or the results aren't pretty. You have to understand that you are dependent upon the water, you have no connection to solid ground anymore, and if you refuse to acknowledge the way the water moves and sways, you won't stand long. 

And life's situations are a lot like that. You have to accept that there's very little you can do to control the movement of the water, the predicament you're in, and you just have to hold on and float.

Once you see that you can survive though, you notice a sort of rhythm to the sway. It's a beautiful dance between you and the wave, slowly climbing to the crest and then gliding smoothly back to the trough. And when you realize that holding on to something solid, looking at God instead of the storm, will keep you safe, you really enjoy it.

And I've been to the ocean several times. I can't say that I enjoyed all of them, but I've been. 

I just hate sand. It multiplies. You wash it off your feet and out of your clothes and then suddenly it's everywhere again. 

Anyway, the things I actually enjoy about the beach are the waves. The way they come and go. Again kind of like life's troubles. 

But if you focus on a particular spot in the ocean, a particular distance away in the future, you see the water rise and fall over and over in a weird way so that the water never looks like it's getting any closer, which makes you not only feel tiny and insignificant, but also a little sea sick. We can't spend all our time worrying about a point in the future when there's so many little ripples tickling our feet, bringing in little seashells and sea glass bits of happiness.

That conversation that night still makes me cry every time I think about it, partly because that particular pain is still somewhat of a fresh hurt, and partly because Momma's advice was so true. 

I've spent many long nights thinking about it since then, giving me plenty of time to come up with strange, vaguely-connected metaphors in order to (psychology alert) make me feel like I understand something about the squall of life so that I can be better prepared to batten down the hatches. 

Ahoy maties... 

Purple

I've always liked little things.

I don't know if it's because I've always had small hands so little things fit better or if it's just another in a long list of quirks, but I like really little things.

I remember this toy castle I had when I was little. It had towers and banners and a drawbridge and such, but my favorite parts were the tiny unicorn and Pegasus that went with it. They were small equine even to a five year old.

I've always had an eye for detail. I enjoy looking really closely at things, seeing the minute intricacies. I think the human body, physically anyway, is most interesting on a cellular level.

I think it's good, important even, to pay close attention to small things, to details.

And enjoy them. That's the most important part.

Wiggle your toes. What does it feel like? Are you wearing socks or are your feet under a blanket? What does the fabric feel like? Is the space you're in warm? 

Touch your skin. Think about how weird it is that you can feel that contact in two different places. Think about the thousands and thousands of cells in that one spot. 

Now touch somebody else. Ponder for a moment how strange it is that that's as close as you'll ever be to another person in this life. You can't get any closer than physical contact and that's weird. You can't be with them like you can God, and that's good, just strange to me.

And the sense of touch isn't the only one that's good for detail-appreciation.

Listen really closely. Can you hear the air move? Can you hear your heartbeat? Have you ever been able to feel and hear your heartbeat at the same time? It's so cool. I wish I had a stethoscope just so I could listen to my own heartbeat. It's a trippy feeling, just to know that you're alive. It's really poetic and enigmatic and all that stuff and it gets really deep really fast so I can't do it for very long, but it's still nice.

And if you're still long enough, concentrating on just being, you get really into noticing things. Emotionally invested. You see a leaf fall and you notice all the colors in that one little bit of nature and it makes your heart ache to know that so much beauty can be held in four square inches of leaf. You hear your cat sneeze and it evokes a surprised burst of laughter because there's something indescribably funny about animals sneezing.

The saying is that the devil is in the details, but I really think God's got a monopoly on that market. 

Bugs are a really great example of that. There are bugs that look like plants and bugs that look like other bugs and bugs that look like the stuff of nightmares, but each one is a miraculous accumulation of cells that works almost flawlessly for a very brief span of time for an almost neglegible purpose (individually, put very many together and some work will get done one way or another, consider the ant). 

In lots of different yoga exercises the instructor will say to imagine your breath/life/energy flowing into every part of your body. Inhale and let it reach deep down into your toes. Exhale as you rid yourself of bad energy/vibes/thoughts. Inhale and let yourself relax, feel your connection with the ground; exhale and relax your muscles as you imagine your worry being released. Which is sometimes a bunch of bologna, but the idea is kind of nice and actually useful I think. 

We should live in and with every piece of ourselves, experiencing everything fully, which might be the most hippy-ish thing I've ever said. 

God created the most amazing stuff. I want to stop and look at it.

The Struggle Bus

The one thing that I gleaned from California when we went for FBLA (other than the fact that sand bugs are real and quite harmless, albeit incredibly creepy when you notice antenni tickling your feet) is that there is this vehicle that everybody rides on even if you don't know it. It's known as the struggle bus.

One of the speakers at the national convention told us this story about one day when everything was going so wrong that he wasn't on the bus but chasing after it frantically begging to ride.

There are those that casually step on and ride for a stop or so, those that drive, those that chase it down the street, and those that have a permanent seat. I would be a reluctant member of the last classification.

But I don't begrudge whoever it was that snuck me that lifetime ticket. Really.

I'm the kind of person that gets hit in the face by falling leaves in the middle of a crowded public space. Which is more symbolic really than actually traumatizing.

I'm the kind of person that spends hours studying and then stretches for approximately 37 seconds before falling and landing with all my body weight on an electric plug, imbedding the larger of the two prongs in the soft tissue between my thumb and index, making it forever impossible to open pickle jars.

I'm the kind of person that, almost exactly one week later, steps on glass and walks around leaving tiny blood smears because it's shallow enough to be only minorly painful but too deep to get out.

I'm the person who nearly a week later wakes up with extreme stomach pain, passes out in the hallway, wakes up with a bloody lip, and goes to the doctor to find out it was literally nothing. (And the same person who found out after not being able to purchase textbooks that scholarship money does not cover that particular health expense.)

It's kind of nice to belong to a place, even if it is a cracked plastic seat on imaginary public transportation. I like to imagine it like I show up at the bus stop every morning, maybe with coffee in hand, greet the chipper, plump, older gentleman named George who drives the bus, and sit in my old familiar seat with a quiet appreciation of routine. 

And none of this has intentionally been a complaint, simply an admission of an accepted fact. I am comfortable in my seat, even if it does have slightly higher medical and insurance bills. I like to think it's part of my charm. An adorable little quirk if you will.

Being able to laugh at yourself is an important, even if slightly painful, ability to develop. 

I like to think of the little things that happen as challenges. It kind of makes me want to walk in slow motion while really cool music plays and something explodes in the background because I know I've got this. 

Eschew

It sounds like the tag line for a cheesy zombie movie or something.

Evil. It's everywhere. And it wants to eat your brains.

But for real...it's an oozing, infectious disease climbing over the defense walls of your mind to eat away at your conscience and make you hate yourself.

We have to remain ever vigilant and be continuously rebuilding and adding to our armory, always making sure to wear the armor of God and keep it polished. A sword is no good if you let it get dingy.

We should do our best to separate ourselves from things we know are bad. And that's the hard part for me, not knowing what's wrong, but admitting that I know it is. I'm really good at convincing myself things aren't really as bad as I think they are. Oh cake? Well I had a salad at lunch. 

It's almost an art really. Training yourself to listen to that little voice instead of quietly smothering it quickly in the back of your head. I heard a preacher say one time that your conscience is a little pointy thing inside of you that pokes you when you do something wrong, but if you ignore it long enough it wears down and doesn't hurt anymore. I think realizing that your little pokey thing has been ground down to a dead little circle is much worse than getting poked because then you're faced with the difficult task of sharpening it again. 

And the devil. He's a crafty character. He knows where the walls are crumbling and he can ooze his way in. He knows when you're at your weakest and he can easily overpower you. I don't know what he looks like and I would imagine that I don't want to know, but that picture of him as the mustache-twirling, maniacly laughing guy with horns works well enough. 

I try to never forget to pray for forgiveness. I do it at odd times sometimes. Just walking down the sidewalk or brushing my teeth it'll just pop into my head and I repeat it over and over because I know with every breath I should be begging forgiveness and giving thanks that I'm already forgiven.

Praise The Lord.

Beg forgiveness.

Pray for His blessings.

Thank Him.

And repeat.

Tiiiiiiiiiime is on my side

I really think that Einstein's work was probably realy depressing. I mean, you spend so much time thinking about time and, given enough time, you find out you really know nothing and can do nothing about time. 

The strangest thing I can think of off the top of my head is time. I think it's so weird to look back on something you did not too long ago and remember what it felt like in that particular moment to be alive in that particular situation. It's almost like you leave a little piece of yourself in every moment and when you remember things you're going back to visit ghosts.

But enough of that existential mumbo jumbo.

Another thing that has recently come up that I think is worth a few characters on the digital equivalent of a diary you leave out in the open secretly hoping somebody will read it because you have the underlying desire to feel interesting and included and are incapable of divulging your thoughts to an actual person so you have to do it in a passive method...(no, no psychology gobbledygook here at all...)(I'm just a tad impressed by my knowledge of synonyms for nonsensical jargon)

Anyway...

Time is a fickle creature. It doesn't like you to think you can control it.

Which is where faith comes in to play yet again.

It's kind of funny how much peace we can find when our plans go down the drain. The future is actually one of the few things I don't worry about too much because I know that it'll all be okay eventually. I have faith. It gets tested, but that just gives you a really great feeling when you come out stronger than you were before (kind of like how I imagine exercise must be for other people).

Whatever happens, God is with you. He will take care of you. There are so many wonderful reminders of faith in scripture and in song. His eye is on the sparrow, and I know he cares for me. 

Even if ye have to suffer an infirmity for thirty and eight years, it doesn't mean that relief will never come. Hold out hope, have faith. Even if it doesn't happen like you were planning, and who are we to plan anyway, The Lord will provide.

Oh ye of little faith, stay strong just a little longer.

Rainbow

I've heard Bro James mention the rainbow analogy at least twice in the past month, and I've enjoyed it every time. It's an accurate metaphor I think. For a moment every now and then God grants us the ability to clearly see the beautiful blessings He gives us, but if we're too busy looking at the storm of things going on around us, we miss getting a glimpse of His grace and goodness. I heard it said once that God gives us little "handfuls of purpose" like Boaz did for Ruth (a beautiful picture that continues further than that I think and that I love to read about), but that if we don't do our duty and take advantage of the blessings like Ruth did, then it's just grain to be eaten by the birds while we starve.

We should live in the moment more than we do. The man who is sad because things are over lives too much in the past, and the man who worries about things lives too much in the future. If we don't focus on what's happening right now we only really half live our lives.

Find something good in this moment right here. This heartbeat is another one that you didn't deserve but God saw fit to give you. Cast all your cares on Him, someone who can bear them a lot better than you can, and be grateful that you can do that.

I have a thing on my wall in my room that says "Live every minute with love in your heart, grace in your step, and gratitude in your soul." I can't help but think that maybe the person who designed that one knew what they were talking about because randomly strung together words that are supposedly "inspiring" are rarely so accurate. I see it nearly every day, and I should take it to heart more often. 

Live in the moment. Trust God. Tell Him about your worries and let Him handle it because you don't have to try to do it all yourself. 

It'll be ok.

Prayer

Prayer is a really great thing, which is an understatement. It keeps me going better than coffee during finals. 

It seems silly to me that we worry so much about everything when all we really have to do is talk to God about it and chill because He's got this. 

Right now, for instance, I'm laying awake when I should be going to sleep, allowing the dread that I've been more or less successfully fending off for weeks now to build up while I think about my pending journey back to the realm of academia, but more disturbing - away from home.

I don't like living by myself. I'm definitely not a people person, but I've been in a house with 4 people and several pets for almost a dozen years now, and I don't handle a quiet Shoebox very well. It gives me time to think up things to worry about, including, but not limited to: classes, waking up to go to them, studying, doing well on tests; being an antisocial, second breakfast-loving hobbit on a campus of 25,000+ people; thinking I should be involved in more things to beef up a future resume; being away from home...

I lay awake sometimes worried that I'm not worrying about more. Like if I'm not developing stomach ulcers I'm not getting the job done. (Which is a common characteristic in people with anxiety disorders by the way. Not that I spend just as much time diagnosing as I do worrying.) It's like a twisted kind of hobby.

Which is really just incredibly stupid when all I have to do to experience the most profound peace I've ever felt in my anxious little life is pray about it.

I worry about being alone. And when I get scared of something I break it down and analyze it and try to understand why it scares me. And it's not really that I'm afraid of being alone. This definition of alone being by myself for an extended period of time with no direct contact to people I love, you understand; I can handle sitting in a room by myself or reading alone for a few hours. Most fears are of some unpleasant stimulus being present like snakes or spiders or crazy looking guys with weapons, which are healthy fears to some extent, but I dread being alone because it's a loss of a comfort I've come to rely upon greatly.

One of the great things about God, though, is that He's really mobile. Put Him in your pocket. Take Him anywhere. I shouldn't dread being locked in the Shoebox because I can pray to Him from there as well as anywhere. 

We should develop praying like a reflex. Like when we're little and we get a scrape and we run to Momma for a bandaid. Every time we get a cut or nick emotionally or any other kind of -ly we should run to God looking for comfort. 

And I want to do that. I want to talk to Him constantly. I want to walk down the sidewalk with a conversation going in my head like I'm talking to my best friend. I've always thought it would be kind of neat to have someone who's able to hear your thoughts and talk to you with theirs. And then I smack myself and think of what an idiot I am for not realizing I do have one.

Everything's going to be alright.

It's all part of the growing process which is always challenging and more than a little painful.

Just take deep breaths. Enjoy this moment while it's here and quit worrying about the next one.

Remember to pray.