My Morning

You are my morning
But morning comes so often that I sometimes forget to stop.
And notice you
Because even as you light everything I do
I still take for granted that you’re my sun and my moon

You are the star that guides me home
And you’re there waiting for me still
But sometimes I let myself get lost along the way
Not quite sure what home is anymore
But I know you’ll still find me

You are the glue that holds me together
Which is why I don’t always fall apart anymore
Yet I still try to hit things like they’ll break me
I am completely whole
But I act like I’m something so broken I’ll never be fixed

Even with all of this though
You forgive me still
You’ll take me back every single time
But I do take this lightly?

You could be my everything
And I’d still find a way to say I’m not enough
Why will I never believe that I’m good enough?
How many times do you have to say it?

Am I really in love with you?
Is this really what love is?
Even in your love, I find myself wanting
So I’m asking you to take me away
I’m asking you to fill me up.

Feeling Appreciative

The thing about life is, growing up, you don’t realize how easy you have it.  I mean, yes, a lot of kids grow up with rough lives, but I was blessed to be born into a middle class American family.  I always had everything I needed, and some of what I wanted.  I wasn’t overly spoiled, but I had toys to play with and a bike and a yard.  We had dogs and guinea pigs and birds and mice and snakes and tarantulas and bunnies and fish (not all at the same time).  I had friends and an imagination.  I got a cell phone when I was 13, even though I didn’t use it too much when I first got it.  I had my own car when I got my license, and my parents paid for my gas.  They bought me all my clothes and cooked all my food.  I was thoroughly taken care of, even when we didn’t always get along.

When I got into college, it took me more than a semester to find a job.  My parents helped me out until then.  Even more so, they paid for almost half of my schooling, while the rest was covered by loans, so I never really paid anything out of pocket.  When I had my own job I started paying for gas and such, but my parents still pay my cell phone bill.

As an adult, especially with school loans about to kick in, I’m thinking about how blessed I am.  I am so thankful that I was born where I was born into the family I was born into, even though I don’t always appreciate it.  I’m thankful that I can always go to them if I have problems, and if I crash and burn, they’ll still be there for me.

Life is tough and paying bills and cooking your own food and doing your own laundry sucks sometimes.  Being an adult isn’t always the best.  But I am free.  Thank God for freedom.  Thank God for fun hotel jobs and dope camp jobs and the best roommates anyone could ask for.  Thank God for Finland and the people who come from there (Anu).  Thank God for provision and joy and happiness and creativity.

I moved back to the area because my mom has cancer.  I felt God calling me to be closer to her.  But He has brought me back here for so much more than just that.  If you’re a pray-er, it would be so awesome if you could pray for health for my mom.  But if you’re just here to read, that’s cool too.  Just remember where you came from, and maybe count your blessings.

Two Weddings, Two Days

I went to two weddings this weekend; one on Saturday and one on Sunday.  One in Mammoth, the other in LA area.  It was a lot.  But this isn’t so much about the wedding as it is about my thought process and laughing at myself and realizing that things can change, and that they probably need to.

Before I moved to Mammoth instead of staying in Nevada City, I had kind of written off attending the wedding in Mammoth because I already knew I would be driving in order to go the wedding in LA, and I was closer with those people.  However, seeing as I was living in Mammoth and the wedding happened to be taking place on the property I currently live on, there was almost no saying “no” to going.  And I went.  The weird thing is, even though I grew up in this area, I don’t have many friends here.  I left them all behind when I left this place behind, and most of them have moved on with their lives as well.  Now that I’m older, I don’t even remember how I used to make friends.

So I went to the Mammoth wedding on my own, and sat with someone that I kinda knew from high school.  I changed into something more comfortable for driving, and then I went to the reception, committing to one hour.  But the reception was in a small church, and it was packed full with people.  I was getting claustrophobic and my social anxiety was acting up, and I was also anxious to get on the road.  One of my roommates was standing with some people I know, and they all knew I was uncomfortable.  Because they thought it would be funny, they all crowded around me, which was funny, but also made me have a minor panic attack.  I started crying, but I was laughing at the same time.  It was ridiculous.  Then I went and stood by another one of my roommates who was supposed to film the entrance of the bride and groom.  However, when the bridal party came in, they had nowhere to go except right where I was standing, which put me in the center of everything.  I backed out and hid in the plants.  This whole experience was rather traumatic, but later gave me a reason to laugh at myself.  What are you if you can’t laugh at yourself, really?

At the LA wedding, I was completely comfortable and content, and I had all of my old friends around me, but there was so much catching up to do that it was draining and almost overwhelming.  Everyone commented on how tan I have suddenly become, and I had to explain the whole story of moving to Mammoth and postponing Portland far too many times.  I’m glad I went, but I am so tired and weddinged out, I almost never want to go to another one, even though I have two more this year at least.

In all this driving and wedding traveling, I had a lot of time to think.  I laughed at myself for the ridiculous situations I put myself in, and I realized I have been accepting my anxiety as a part of me that cannot be changed.  I laugh at myself over it sometimes, but in reality it is nearly crippling.  I should be able to go to crowded places or parties where I don’t know anyone and not feel like I’m falling apart.  Why have not been trying to fix this?  Why have I not asked God to take it away?  Why have I simply accepted my disabilities as something God made me with?  I think it’s time that I grow up, because things should probably change.

Witnessing to Witnesses

Have you ever had something happen and wish you had said something or reacted quicker moments after it was too late?  I think most people have.
That happened to me yesterday.  I was sitting in the park by myself because I had a bit of time before I had to be at work.  A man started to approach me and I instantly felt uncomfortable, because meeting strangers usually gives me anxiety if I’m unprepared.  He was about 15 feet away when he says, “Do you want life?  You need to accept the blood of Jesus.”
I looked up at him managed to stammer out, “Um… I already have.  I actually have my degree in–”
He cut me off saying, “Don’t take it personal!” While walking away from me quickly.
I wish that I had asked him to stop and come back to have a conversation.  I have to admit that I was offended that he immediately assumed I was some sort of a heathen when he had only seen me from a distance.  I was also put off by his approach.  We could have actually had a conversation that brings life, and maybe we could have learned from each other.  Instead he made a snap judgment about me while I allowed him to have it.

All of this makes me think how often we make snap judgments about people.  But his snap judgment was more than just that, as he had no information about me to judge.  He just saw a stranger and assumed I was “unsaved” and that he was better than me due to this.  The more I have had these thoughts though, I realized that I often do the same thing, albeit on a different level.  When I make friends from work or meet someone in any place that isn’t some sort of Christian affiliated format, I assume they are not Christian.  However, I do not try to “get them saved.”  No, I am much worse.  I just don’t talk to them about my beliefs unless it comes up in conversation.  It doesn’t even occur to me to ask someone what they think about God or life or death or heaven or hell.  I just let them be and wait for them to ask a question.

So what’s worse?  Assuming someone is a heathen and witnessing to a witness?  Or assuming someone doesn’t care and keeping your beliefs to yourself?

One Year

It’s amazing how much can change in a year.  Think about where you were a year ago.  Last year at this time I was living in Eureka doing an internship.  I had a year left of college and I didn’t know what I would do after that.  I played with the idea of figuring out a spoken word tour, but I’m not ambitious enough to bring that idea to fruition.  I started formulating what eventually became the plan to move to Portland post graduation.  I made friends that I hoped to keep for the rest of my life.

A year ago a pair of my friends had recently gone through a breakup, making their relationship somewhat less than friendship.  There was so much anger in that situation, but looking at them now, one of them is about to get married and the other one is happily spinning toward engagement.  A year ago neither of them would have expected this.

A year ago I thought that at this point I might have my life somewhat figured out.  I thought I would have my book on its way to publishing.  I thought I would have a cool job or some other thing going for me, and that I would be living in a cool city like Portland, sipping coffee and hanging out at pubs with my hip friends.

The day I left the camp in Nevada City I had a conversation with one of the other employees.  He told me that Chicago is on his heart.  He said that he feels God is sending him there, just not yet.  He knows he’ll be there eventually and that he might invoke change, but he has some things to figure out first.  Portland is on my heart.  I feel like it’s where I belong, possibly where I am being sent, but maybe not yet.

I came home, because right now this is where I am supposed to be.  I’m hoping to take a job and move up to Mammoth, but I really don’t know what the future holds for me.  No, I don’t know how I’m going to pay off my student loans.  No, I don’t know when my book will be finished.  No, I don’t know when I’ll move to Portland, or England, or anywhere else.  But I think that’s all okay, because who really has their life all together, especially at 21?

So, I’m taking one year.  One year to make no plans, but to just see where life takes me, where God takes me.  Where will I be in a year?  I don’t know, and I’ve decided not to care.  I need to focus on what is in front of me.  A year of freedom, maybe.

When Plans Change

I am a planner when it comes to my life.  I knew what college I was going to from the time I was 15.  I knew I was going to intern the summer before college as soon as I found out that was an option.  Since January, I was pretty sure I was going to work at a camp in Northern California to save money and then move to Portland come August.  All my plans, although some of them stressful, have been there to keep me sane.  I started work at the camp last week, however, I had to learn that plans sometimes have to change.

I was sitting in the airport a week ago Saturday when I found out that my mother had been re-diagnosed with cancer.  I tried calling home, but none of my calls would go through.  I felt in my heart that I needed to go home, instead of going to camp, but I ignored it, thinking it was just a fleeting thought.  When work at camp started I felt out of place and uncomfortable, but that’s to be expected in any new place.  By day two I was starting to feel very depressed and that I needed to go home to help out and be with my family.  Day three I called my dad and talked about coming home.  Then I quit and drove home.  That was Wednesday.

I always swore that I would never move back to Bishop.  Now I have a job in town.  I’m still saving money to move to Portland, but that might be postponed indefinitely.  I feel like my life just got to the harsher parts of the roller coaster, and I’m wondering what God has in store for me.  Right now I’m trusting Him to heal my mom and to take care of me.  I’m expecting Him to point me in the right direction, but there is so much confusion.  I have had the longest week of my life.

Provision

I may have mentioned this before, but God provides.  He provides in lots of ways, and not always when you expect Him to.  Sometimes He provides when you don’t  even think you need it.  My basic theology is that God does what He wants, and it’s not our job to explain things for Him.

Anyway, last August I was going to San Francisco with one of my best friends.  I was close to being broke and my dad was going to loan me some money, but then a $20 bill appeared in an area of my purse that I didn’t usually put cash in.  So that was cool.  A few weeks later I went to the bank to take $20 out, but when I opened my wallet to get my debit card out, I already had $20 in my wallet.  Both of these were miracles that were providing for me right when I needed it.  I couldn’t think of any other way that this could have happened other than God just providing because He wanted to, and because He loves.

Yesterday I was running my last errands in town before I went home to pack up my things to fly to Spokane and also to spend my summer working at camp in Northern California.  I got cash out so I could pay for taxis, food, and parking during my few days of traveling by air.  I got back to my car and drove home.  When I got home I found a $100 on my passenger seat in my car.  No one has ridden in my car, besides my brother, in about a month.  And it wasn’t there when I left town to go home.  My only response is that God gave me money again.  He’s providing at the most random of times.  But this only increases my faith.  It gives me the faith to trust Him when I need Him most, and also the faith that I am going in the right direction with my life.

God’s cool.