Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness

I've been thinking some about how my being an American has shaped me, my values, my beliefs, my expectations for how life should be, how I create meaning in life, etc, and how this is so different from someone who is Ecuadorian, Turkish, Iranian, or Bangladeshi. As Christians, I think that we like to believe that our beliefs and worldview match a Christian worldview, that our beliefs and how we see the world is entirely shaped through Christ and the Bible. I think that our cultural worldviews often shape our view of Christianity more than the vice versa.

In the US, we live our lives pursuing happiness. And I think sometimes it makes us miserable. It's in our constitution, that everyone has the right to pursue happiness, and I think reflects a cultural mandate that our chief purpose is to be happy. That if we're not happy, if we suffer, if we feel depressed, then something is wrong with us or the world and it needs to be changed. We make most of our decisions by asking, "Will this make me and others happy?" "Will marrying this person make me happy?" "Will this career make me happy?" "Will living in this city make me happy?" "Will doing this hobby make me happy?" And that mindset certainly affects how we approach Christianity - "Will believing this make me happy?" "Will Christ bring me happiness and fulfillment and a good life if I follow Him?" Many Christians continue to try to squeeze happiness out of the gospel as if that were its main purpose, and others walk away when they're not happy.

And I see this as very cultural because some cultures don't pursue happiness like we do. Some individuals don't expect to be happy all the time, if at all. My friend was telling me about a line from the movie Beyond Rangoon (which I haven't seen), where the lead character (an American woman) is talking with a Burmese political official who tells her basically, "In Burma, we expect suffering. We're not shocked by it. We don't expect happiness." Some cultures are better at accepting suffering. My Iranian friend said that this is true of her culture and many other cultures. She said that this is reflected in media, in movies particularly. In the US, most movies have a happy ending. Not all, but a lot of them do. We want to see happy endings because we expect that for ourselves. But in other countries, movies are more tragic. They end with death and mourning and wailing, because that reflect their expectation from life. In the US, we are shocked by suffering and tragedy. We protest and cry out, "Why do bad things happen to good people?"

I'm not saying that we should just lay down and accept suffering and not try to end it. We should be seeking to end injustice and cure cancer and AIDS. There is much needless suffering in the world, and we shouldn't just shrug our shoulders and be indifferent. But perhaps we should be more accepting of our own personal suffering. Perhaps I should be more accepting of personal suffering. By disposition, I'm a pretty optimistic person. I like being happy and I can easily find positives in many situations. When I'm unhappy, I just want to be happy again as soon as possible. I've found myself frequently unhappy this week, often without being able to do anything to change the circumstances that contributed to my unhappiness. I found that the times when I just accepted my unhappiness, when I just acknowledge, "Ok, I'm unhappy right now, and this sucks, and I want to be happy, but I'm never promised happiness, so I can be unhappy right now," were my most peaceful moments this past week.

And does this reflect the kind of outlook I should have as a Christian? Looking at the early church in the New Testament, the church seemed to expect suffering, but there was also much joy. Joy in fellowship with other believers, in pursuing a new way, in enjoying the blessing of the Spirit and salvation. But that joy went alongside the suffering of Christ, the suffering of following a narrow way.

Nothing I'm saying is new or revolutionary. This is all influenced by psychological theories I've read or studied, conversations I've had, or sermons I've heard preached. I'm just trying to examine myself more in light of these thoughts, trying to understand my cultural expectations for what my life should be like, and hold those in light of what could be more true.

the "big" day

Tomorrow is the "big" day. Match day. The day where I find out if all of my efforts on my applications and interviews pays off getting matched at an internship site.

If facebook posts are any indication, my cohort-mates seem to be freaking out in anticipation. My friends and family keep bringing it up, with one friend saying yesterday, "I'm nervous for you!" This is a big day that is giving anxiety and excitement to thousands of graduate students across the continent.

And me? When I allow myself to think about, I feel excited and nervous and antsy and all the usual emotions. But this past week or so, I mostly haven't been thinking about it. I've been acting and thinking like this is just a normal week, not a week leading up to some life-altering announcement. Oh, it's definitely a big deal for me and something I've excited about. I've organized a dinner out with friends to celebrate with me or console me if I don't match. But I've still got other things to do this week and other things to look forward to this weekend. Surprisingly, I think I went almost the entire day yesterday without thinking about it. Maybe it's denial. Maybe it's healthy. Whatever it is, it's helping me get through this week without being a big bundle of craziness. I am an 11 after all, what with all my nervous energy and stuff.

Still, I probably won't sleep well tonight.

I don't miss you

This evening, while driving home on my bicycle, I thought about one of my best friends, a classmate, who went home early last week for Thanksgiving. I wished that she were still in town. I wished that I could see her before this upcoming Monday. I missed her. So I sent her a text message telling her that I missed her.

Which made me realize, I don't miss a lot of people. I don't miss my dad. I don't often miss my friends who live in other cities and states. Worst of all, I don't miss the guy I recently started dating who lives in another city. And all of these people, at some time or another, tell me that they miss me.

Am I cold and heartless? Am a horrible daughter, friend, significant other? Am I too selfish and absorbed in my current life that I fail to think about the people I care about who are far away?

Maybe. Probably not. I think the key is that the amount I miss people is almost directly related to how often I see them. My friends who live in town, who I'm used to seeing on a regular basis, those are the people I miss the most when I notice their absence. On Sunday, I saw a friend at church who had been out of town for a few weeks. I had missed her. Things happened that I wanted to include her in, but I couldn't. I wanted to talk to her at times, but I knew she was busy. I missed her and I was excited to see her return. My classmate I mentioned above? I see her 2-3 times a week, so after 6 days without seeing her, I miss her. Whenever I move or someone else moves? For a time, I miss those people a lot.

This applies to the friends and family who live in other cities. How much I miss them is related to how often I see them. The friends I see almost every two months? After 3 or 4 months, I start to miss them. The friends I only see every 6 months? Sometimes sooner, but by 9 months I start missing them. I'm used to these people not being a regular part of my life. I don't expect to see them more often than I do. So, how much I miss a person has less to do with how much I care about them but rather how often I expect to see or talk to them.

And the guy I'm dating? He says, "I miss you," and I say, "I'm excited to see you again." I don't miss him that often. I think this is two-fold. First, we've never lived in the same city and I don't expect to see him more often than we see each other. If we continue dating and I move to another state (which I hope to do next year), then I'd miss him. I imagine that if we were to go a day without talking, then I would miss him. Second, this relationship is so new and I'm not diving in headfirst like I usually do with relationships, so I'm still not quite used to him being a regular part of my life. In the past year and a half since my last serious romantic relationship, I've become quite happy and content with the single life I've been given here. Back in the spring, I recognized that I was happy and though I wanted to date, I don't want a guy coming in and messing with all the good things I'm enjoying now. I realized that any guy I let into my life in a significant manner better really be worth it to let him in and let him start messing up my daily routines and future plans.

But isn't this horrible not to miss the guy I'm dating? Shouldn't romantic love be all-consuming? Shouldn't I be swept off my feet and can't stand to be away from him? Maybe. Probably not.

here we go again

Today, I was relieved to start my period.

NOT because I thought I could be pregnant (let's not start any rumors), but because I thought I could be getting depressed. So I was relieved to discover that I'm probably not depressed, but was probably PMSing. I really should start charting, for a variety of reasons, one of them being that I won't be so worried about my emotional wellbeing when I find myself feeling depressed and overly emotionally for a couple of days.

And I realized that the emotional roller coaster of internship applications has begun. In the week, my moods rapidly change as I've felt accomplished, overwhelmed, anxious, relieved, depressed, proud, apathetic, excited, hopeful, despondent, competent, failing, and so on and some forth. Sometimes I feel despair for a few hours only to feel exhilaration and hope a couple of hours later until the next low comes. And this feels all too familiar. Almost four years ago, while going through the graduate school application process, I wrote this in a post -

It's amazing what a rollar coaster this application process has been and continues to be. One week, I'm stressed and worried that my applications won't make it in alright, and the next week I'm elated to receive two phone interviews. One day I'm relieved and joyous to turn in my final application, and the very next day I'm turned down by one of my top choices. I had no idea how emotional this would be. But I should have known. If it's not a boy, it's this, or a job, or a death, or a friendship, or a fight, or a trip abroad, or an illness, or a child. This is life. My one constant is my Creator and Savior who understands all of this and leads me, despite my fears and doubts and fickleness.

And so it begins again. I've strapped myself back into another roller coaster for another crazy ride for the next 5+ months of applications, interviews, rejections, rankings, heartache, and accomplishment. An intern recently described this process as like the graduate school application process on steroids.

Maybe I'm kidding myself, but I think I'm better equipped for this process that I was four years ago. I have great, knowledgeable people supporting me. I'm more accomplished and have clearer goals for my career. I have a cohort of classmates going through this process also. And maybe, just maybe, I'm older and wiser and less emotionally reactive than I was four years ago. I know that's true, and maybe this is a refining fire that will show me how I've grown and continue to mature me through the process. I already feel like I've been growing in self-knowledge and awareness in the past few weeks since I started this process.

Four years ago, this blog really took off as an outlet for me to write about that application experience. My supervisor today asked me how I was coping with this stress, and I have some things in place, but I realized that I haven't been writing about this experience. Talking and thinking and praying, but nothing tangible down on paper or on a computer screen that I can process and reflect back upon. So, maybe this is the beginning of a revolution without dancing renaissance in which I become a prolific writer once again. Maybe, this blog will become my partner once again, riding alongside me as I'm strapped into this little cart that at times feels awfully shaky but it will still get me to where I'm going.

joyful tears

Tonight, I cried for joy for a dear friend. I don't know if I've ever cried tears of joy before, but if I had, they weren't like this suddenly overwhelming feeling of joy and excitement and shock and love that had to express itself in the most human way possible.

A lot of things have been on my mind this evening. I'd already planned on writing an entry when I came home tonight. But those things can wait. In the middle of everything else in my life and soul, it's a blessing to pause and remember this.

Tonight, I cried for joy and I want to remember that moment. Tonight, I experienced that I can love another person enough to move me to an emotional display that swept both of us away. Tonight, that is enough.

anti-climactic

Apparently a big, important, fancy bill was passed today.

How has the public at large responded?

Have I witnessed crowded parades cheering? Mothers crying tears of joy? Or men and women taking to the streets, crying, "Fascism!"

No, not really.

Have I felt a tangible wave of excitement in the air among the individuals I walk by? Or a cloud of dread hanging over their heads?

Not exactly.

Just some facebook comments revealing mildly excited praise, a couple of good-tempered debates, and muted criticism. No angels singing. No devils cackling. Just one anarchist friend ranting, but he'll always find something rant about as long as we have a government, now won't he?

I'm sure in due time there will be emails and symposiums about What This Will Mean for Our Dear Profession, but right now we're more concerned about passing statistics and deciding where to apply to internship.

I have a feeling that someone is sad that she wasn't the mother who birthed this bill, but dry your tears ma'am, there are still problems in the Middle East to attend to, and you could get 1/4 credit for solving them if you keep your chin up and roll your dice right.

By the way, I'm still here, in the blagosphere.

jealousy

How can something so ugly be so natural to us humans? It's as if him saying, "Thou shalt not covet . . . " he was saying, "Thou shalt not feel hunger." Is jealousy an action? A choice? Or is it a feeling? A state of being that overcomes me and entangles me in ways that are often difficult to shake loose? I don't feel like I choose to be jealous like I might choose to tell a lie, but I certainly entertain jealous thoughts, I feed them when they come, giving them enough light and water to stay alive until I distract myself with something else.

So how do I kill it? How do I be not jealous? Ideally, I should rejoice for my friends when I feel jealous of them, celebrate the things and opportunities that they have, even when I selfishly desire them for myself. But sadly, it's easier to focus on the good that I have or bad that they have to get rid of the thought that I want what they have. "Well, I may not have that, but I do have this, and this is really great," of, "Well, they have that which I want for myself, but they also have that which I don't want, so I should be glad that I'm me and not them." It's great to focus on what I'm thankful for, to rejoice in my blessings, but that kind of comparison, of measuring myself up against you seems just like the thing that is at the root of this jealousy in the first place.

Am I even capable of killing it? Maybe I just need to confess and repent and ask for forgiveness and healing, and remember that I'm not the One who killed it, I'm not the One who nailed it to some wood where it died. But the very word "repent" implies action, it implies a turn, a new direction. So where do I turn when I feel jealous? Towards gratitude, contentment, trust, love for others, towards things that often seem so much less natural to me. Again, I must turn to the One who not only killed it, but who opened the path for those things that I truly desire, the things so much more foreign to me than jealousy and pride and selfishness. He must have experienced it too. He must have been tempted by it also.

I hope that one day, I can really truly learn to rejoice with you and to want the best for you more than I want it for me. Until then, I'll keep fighting this thing I hate, and rejoice on the days when rejoicing for you feels easier than worrying about what I don't have. Even reading this feels dirty and ugly, and I'm tempted to delete it, and forget that I ever confessed these things. But I need to see the dirt before it can be washed, and I know that you experience it too. And again, it's not as if I'm confessing a secret felony I commit, it's more like I'm saying, "I breathe."

birthday eve

It's the night before my birthday and I just feel like crying.

I feel sadness. I feel longing. And I feel frustration with myself that I'm feeling this way even though tomorrow is my birthday, tomorrow is my day of celebration, of turning 24, and I will spend more time with friends and family, as I already have this weekend, and I will receive good wishes and kind words and love and appreciation. And I'm afraid that I'll be ungrateful, that I'll just feel mildly appreciated, and not deeply loved, and not truly enjoy myself like I'd like to on my birthday. But maybe feelings aren't everything. Maybe I can still receive these things from others, and still treasure and ponder them in the days and months to come, and maybe even if I don't experience immediately the joy and encouragement of such things, maybe they will still take root in my heart and blossom into further blessings that I can continue to experience in times ahead.

2009 has been such a year so far, and though I wouldn't change anything, I'm ready to hit the reset button. It's no longer heaven and hell side by side, but rather a bait and switch has occurred. The amazingly good things went down the tubes and the shitty things have improved and continue to improve (and I rejoice in that). Some things that were good two months ago continue to be good, and continue to get better. None of the goods or bads are as extreme as they were two months ago, which almost seems just how they should be. I suppose that I do believe that everything is just how it should be, though often things feel horribly off. I wish I could change some of this, but I do believe that I'm receiving what I need to receive and growing and becoming more the person that God has created me to be, a new creation, being transformed and renewed. I see evidence of this growth, and know that it's not just some nice cliche that I tell myself and others to feel better. No, this growth is real, I know without a doubt that I am more mature that I was a year ago, two years ago, four years ago. Sucks that it takes experiencing pain to realize this growth, but I'm grateful for the truth and reminder, whatever package it comes in.

All the same, I'm ready to hit the reset button on my life, to start fresh in several things, to not be around reminders of this past year anymore, though it's been a good, wonderful, fun, exciting, growthful year in many, many ways. I am just ready to step into the new. Thankfully, still living as a student, these resets occur every few months, and in the upcoming months, the reset button will be hit multiple times, starting tomorrow. Beep. Now I'm 24. Then next week, beep, new job. Two weeks later, beep. New class. Beep. New practicum setting. Beep. New place to live, new roommates. I don't see these changes as erasing the past or trying to forget anything, but I do feel excited about them as I see them as new opportunities, fresh starts, improvements, blessings, gifts. Reminders that nothing is permanent, that as the wind whips the clouds across the full moon, so too will God move me away from the tears and pain, and move me toward his goodness, his love, his mercies, his tenderness, into the beautiful newness.

Why do I post something sharing sadness when I should be celebrating and joyful? Maybe because it just feels so wrong, that I should be happy right now, damnit. Happiness will probably come tomorrow, maybe not all day long, but maybe some of the day, maybe even most of the day. Why do I write this now? Do I want sympathy? Probably. Let's be honest, I appreciate the sympathy and the concern, even though sometimes it embarasses me when people respond overly concerned. Why do I write this now? Why do I want to remember the last day of being 23rd as a sad one? I write this in the confident hope that I will soon look back on this post, and realize that I don't feel this way. I write this is the hope that being 24 will be better than being 23, that being 24 will mean less tears and more smiles and laughter and hope, and even if I experience more tears this upcoming year, that 24 will mean being more mature, experiencing more love, and feeling more confident.

It's the night before my birthday and I cried. It's the night before my birthday and I stood outside, alone atop the highest hill in this town, listening to nothing but crickets chirping and distant dogs barking, and feeling the cool, gentle, life-giving breeze. It's the night before my birthday and I'm kinda smiling.

remembering what I do

I wish I could fully describe for you what a priviledge it is to walk through someone's valley with them, caring for them, challenging them, experiencing their lows, opening up their emotions that frighten them, exploring and understanding themselves more and more, and then, seeing them walk out of that valley, into the hills and green plains, having learned from their pain, having recognized strengths within and around them, finding more hope and more truth, and having grown and changed for the better.

Right now, in this moment, this afternoon, I love what I do. For all of the challenges and frustrations that my education and chosen profession bring me, I love and cherish being on this journey with others. I am priviledged. I am blessed.

heaven and hell on earth

"I have this theory of convergence, that good things always happen with bad things. I know you have to deal with them at the same time, but I just don't know why they have to happen at the same time." - Diane Court, Say Anything

There's a lot that I relate to Diane Court about - feeling embarrassed and uncomfortable when praise is heaped upon me, feeling insecure and fragile despite my successes. She's the girl that has so much going for her, so much success, seemingly has it all together, but is human, and frail, and weak, and scared, and needy sometimes.

And these past couple of months, I've related a lot to this quote of hers, to the feeling that good things and bad things must happen together. I don't know if I fully believe in her convergence theory as the way that life is, but lately, it seems rather accurate. Some things in my life are really shitty, and some things are amazingly good. Things are either growing and blossoming in exciting directions or falling deeper into a dark pit, and even the stagnant things are pulsating and aching to go in one direction or another. There has always been good and bad things coexisting in my life, but never can I remember them being so extreme. The good is heavenly, and the bad feels like hell. Maybe that's a little dramatic, but sometimes it feels that way.

Still, I'm surviving every day, and some days even thriving. Through both the good and the bad, I know that I'm growing more and more into the person that I'm made to be. Opportunities to develop professionally also turn into opportunities to develop personally and opportunities develop personally and spiritual turn into opportunities to develop professionally, and there becomes more and more of an overlap between who I am as a student and counselor and who I am as a friend, daughter, girlfriend, roommate, sister, as all of these roles fold into one another, creating the one entity that is me.

"Am I just babbling? Do you know what I mean?" - Diane Court. This could sound vague, but I just don't know how to write about the good or the bad specifically, which is maybe why I haven't written much this year so far.

At the beginning of the year, I dedicated this verse to my 2009, Isaiah 42:16 -

"I will lead the blind by ways they have not known,
along unfamiliar paths I will guide them;
I will turn the darkness into light before them
and make the rough places smooth.
These are the things I will do;
I will not forsake them."

I had a sense on January 1st that I would be embarking on unfamiliar paths this upcoming year, but really didn't know what was right about the bend. I'm experiencing good and bad experiences that are rather unknown, and in ways, unlike anything that I've experienced before. I can say, "This is sorta like x," but no, this is x to the extreme, so much so, that it's not even x anymore, it's z or something. So far, 2009 is the year of extremes, the year of change, the year of utter pain and incredible joy like I've never experienced yet.

a few moments

There's something really invigorating after a hard, long day filled with more tears than seem necessary, to step outside into a windy night, feeling the gales blast around you, as if the wind will rip off your tears and sorrows and send them flying far far away into the night air, and the sky looms overhead, strangely still blue from the city lights, and small clouds are visible across the sky, and if you look closely, you actually see the clouds moving, quite fast probably, accompanied by the lone airplane moving in the opposite direction of these clouds, and it all seems so big, the wind, and the sky, and you seem so small in comparison, and there's an odd comfort in that, knowing that there is something so much bigger than you, and your sufferings are just a small piece of a much bigger, much grander story, and in light of eternity, this time is short, and realizing this maybe isn't enough to make you smile, but it's enough to make you pause, and this pause is good, and in this pause, you feel life.

a lot like love

This evening, as I was the final person to leave the clinic, I paused while walking out to my car, lingering on the sidewalk, staring out at the empty parking lot before me and the field beyond it painted by perfectly circular pools of street light, all because for the first time this season, I felt it.

It feels a lot like love, a lot like being in love. Or at least, that's the closest feeling I can compare it too. It happens in the autumn and winter, when I step outside and feel the cool, crisp air, I feel it, and I feel like I'm in love. It's not precipitated by any particular thought, it's just a feeling that overtakes me, triggered by this special type of weather. If you've felt it, then you know exactly what I'm talking about. If you don't know what I'm talking about, then I wish that I had the words to truly describe it.

So for a few moments, I stood alone, and almost didn't recognize it at first as I gazed at the field and the lights. I tried to think, what is this feeling? Do I wish that someone was here? Then I realized, this was it, this feeling that I experience every year. It caught me by surprise this time. Upon this recognition, I smiled, allowing myself to feel it, to experience it, to let it settle into my body. Then, the lights in the park turned off. I entered my car, started the engine, and was welcomed by "Say it To Me Now" from the Once soundtrack. So I drove home, and screamed along with Glen like I always do when this song comes on.

here's my heart

Let thy goodness, like a fetter,
bind my wandering heart to thee.

Come Thou Fount is one of my favorite hymns, and we've been singing it pretty often in church lately. Last night, when singing the verse that I can relate to the most, the word goodness just leapt off the screen and into my conscious. Goodness. I need so desperately to believe that God is good, that He is goodness, that goodness is Him. Instead, I believe that I am good, and I kick and scream and cry against what God appears to be doing, when I need to discern what is from God and what is good and I need to rest in that goodness and be accepting of it.

What reminds you that God is good? How has that goodness been a fetter to keep your heart close to His?

Goodness knows, I need these reminders beyond feelings, beyond reason.

Somewhere
Between the lost and the found
We're all hanging empty
Empty and upside down
But I'm hanging on
Though the fall may tempt me
And I believe in the dawn
Though I tremble in the night
Somewhere
Amidst these ins and these outs
There's a fine line of purpose
I follow even now
Through the haze of despair
That confuses and hurts us
I look to see that You're there
And I run toward Your light
Somewhere
Beyond these reasons and feelings
Somewhere
Beyond the passion and fatigue
I know You're there
And that Your Spirit is leading me
Somewhere

green, living, and growing

It must be genetic. Like my cousin, my thumbs aren't green either. My roommate is gone for the summer, and at the very last minute she asked, "Hey, can you water my ivy? It just needs it every two weeks." This seemed like a really simple request, I mean, of course your roommate is responsible enough to water one plant every two weeks, right? Poor little ivy went an entire month without water. I noticed this about a week ago. This little guy by the sink was looking very droopy and brown, and I realized that it had been at least a month. How ironic, it sits right by the sink, all day long, watching me rinse my dishes, fill up my Brita pitcher, etc, but never receiving any of this overly abundant water to quench its own thirst. I think it's starting to recover. A few of the leaves on the ends of it look green, which might be new growth, who knows. Ivies are supposed to be hardy little plants, so I think it'll make it.

I think I'm starting to recover too, and I feel like there are parts of me that are becoming more green and coming back to life again. I finally feel like I can breath easy and receive water for my thirst. This past week has been good for me. This weekend is good too. At least for the present, I'm letting go of worrying about making friends, finding things to do, running around, trying to outrun my loneliness. You can't outrun loneliness, by the way. Or at least I can't. I'm not that fast of a runner. And the running just gets exhausting. So for the time being, I've stopped. And you know what? When you stop running from loneliness, sometimes it stops chasing you. Instead of trying to find people to spend my Friday and Saturday evenings with this weekend, only to be disappointed when someone's busy or when my ex shows up, I'm resting. I'm working on my papers due next week, hanging out at coffee shops, watching X-Files, making rice krispie treats, journaling, reading, relaxing, and praying.

I'm praying that I'll understand God's love for me more, that I'll see myself as he sees me, that I'll see him as I should, that I'll start trusting him again, that I'll let go of my fears, and really have faith that he will take care of me and give me all that I need. I don't think this will all happen in one weekend, but I'm trying to get to a place where I can rest my confidence in God, and love myself as he loves me, and not seek constantly seek approval from others, and be ok with being alone, and still need others, but not needing others. I think when I'm in this state, a lot of these worries will become insignificant, and I'll be open to receiving from God and others, and eventually able to freely give. I've been giving, or at least going through the motions, but at the heart of my giving is loneliness and feelings of being unneeded, and through giving, I've been hoping to be filled with something else, whether it's just filling up my time or giving me a sense of being needed for a few hours.

I feel good about this. I don't feel lonely. I don't feel unloved. I don't feel rejected. I feel at peace. Not overly happy, not excited, not thrilled, just peaceful.

About a month ago, I noticed that at the bottom of my blog I had this quote from a Rich Mullins song: "I am home anywhere, if you are where I am." I want this to be true, and today, I'm starting to believe it.

good lyrics

I don't listen to a whole lot of Christian music these days, but I listened to these songs yesterday and the day before and I liked what they said to me, so I decided to post them.

"40 Acres" by Caedmon's Call

Out on these Texas plains you can see for a million lives
And there's a thousand exits between here and the state line
About the last time that I saw you
You said call me Pandora, call me a fool

And I'm thinking this view it could do you some good
So drop these scales and take a look

There's 40 acres and redemption to be found
Just along down the way
There is a place where no plow blade has turned the ground
And you will turn it over, 'cause out here hope remains
'Cause out here hope remains...

Out here the Texas sky is as big as the sea
And you're alone in your room like an island floating free
Your spirit's hanging in a bottle out on a tree
You say that you're the black sheep, I say you're still family

So throw that bottle to the waves
They'll bring you in to me and from the shore you will see

Out here the Texas rain is the hardest I've ever seen
It'll wash your house away, but it'll also make you clean
Now these rocks they are crying too
And this whole land is calling out for you

Definitely written by a band from Houston! I really do enjoy long drives out in the Texas countryside, because the sky is so big, and everything's wide open, it really does feel like there is hope and redemption to be found out here.

and

"Hush" by Waterdeep

When you feel like the days just drone on and on and on
and you feel like the nights are quickly gone

and on the inside your heart is gaping wide
and on the inside you feel like no one's on your side
well, I am

When you thought you could rest, but you found out you were wrong
And there's another need another battle
another one more thing that comes along

and on the inside
you hear the fall but you hate the falling sound
and on the inside
you can't pick another broken piece up off the ground
well I know

CHORUS

Hush little baby don't say a word
Daddy's gone and bought you a great big heaven to rest in
He's bought it with blood and put the seal in your heart
it'll give you the hope you need to get up and start again

when all the things you thought you left behind are still hanging on
and everything you try to do right ends up all wrong

and on the inside everyone else seems basically fine
but on the inside even they won't let go of the dead and cling to what's alive
well I AM



The first time I heard this about a year ago, almost exactly, I broke down crying, and listened to it on repeat until I felt better. It was really weird, I didn't even know that I needed to cry, but sometimes you hold back the tears too long that you forget they're there and then you need a good song like this to release it all.

too many sad words make for sad, sad songs

I've been listening to a lot of great music lately that has done nothing whatsoever to improve my mood (Ryan Adams, The Frames, Tom Conlon, Copeland, Imogen Heap, Iron and Wine). I love this music, but I feel like I need to do everything I can these next couple of weeks to keep my mood and energy up. So, today, I switched to some peppier music, which today was the Decemberists, and tomorrow will probably be Ben Folds. After that, I'm not sure. But I really need to listen to happy music right now, not necessarily fluffy pop, but good songs that make me feel alive, that make me want to dance and sing along and make me believe that I can conquer the world. What are some songs/musicians/albums that lift your spirits and bring you life? I welcome any recommendations.

On the topic of music, what do you guys think about the ACL lineup? I'm considering buying tickets as my birthday gift to myself this year. And a good wine stopper. Last year, my self-given birthday gift was getting my hair colored. Maybe next year it'll be a tattoo. But I digress . . . which bands would you be excited to see at ACL? What's the probably that you will be attending?

24 hours: the aftermath

• Screamed, cussed, threw pillows, and slammed doors. Check.
• Called a church friend who saved me from destoying my house by letting me come over to cry on her shoulder and not be alone. Check.
• Called my best friend. Check.
• Texted my best friend because she never checks her messages, and she actually called me back. Check.
• Went to church, cried while singing "I need you Jesus, come to my rescue . . . this world has nothing for me." Check.
• Ran past one of his roommates while going to the bathroom to get tissues. Check.
• Skipped out on my pastor's dating sermon to help same church friend with the kids in the back. Check.
• Went to a departmental meeting, faked being fine, and left as soon as I could. Check.
• Called my mom. Check.
• Drove to another church family's house, and talked with them. Check.
• Drove back to first church family's house to borrow a Francine Rivers book. Check.
• Came home, realized my keys were missing, called every place I'd been that day. Check.
• Went back to church family's house because our pastor was over. Pastor, husband of friend, and I drove to the church where we didn't find my keys. Pastor asked how I was doing and I asked him to pray for me. Check.
• Came home and successfully avoided my roommates. Check.
• Stuffed cards and pictures of him in a drawer. Check.
• Changed my background picture from a picture of us in a field of bluebonnets to an empty field of dandelions. Check.
• Texted best friend and asked her to pray for a good night's sleep for me and for me to feel better in the morning. Check.
• Read scripture from our women's retreat and prayed that I'd believe it. Check.
• Went to sleep fairly easily, but woke up at 3:30 and repeatedly woke up tossing and turning for the rest of the night. Check.
• Woke up feeling numb and started going through the motions of getting ready. Check.
• Coughed up green mucuous in the sink. Check.
• Cried and prayed in the shower. Check.
• Felt nauseous, but made myself breakfast anyway. Check.
• Explained to my roommate that the dog hadn't gotten lose, but I was the reason for the mess in the bathroom yesterday. Check.
• Called my boss to tell him my keys were missing and told him I was having a terrible day. Check.
• Called best friend again crying on the way to work. Check.
• Arrived at work, found substitute key. Check.
• Wrote him an email, asking him a question that maybe will give me more closure. Check.
• Emailed other close girlfriends, explaining situation, and asking for prayers. Check.
• Emailed friends about going to Feist concert next Tuesday in Austin with me since I was going to go with him and his roommate and he kindly still offered to pay for their tickets. Check.
• Wrote a silly but extremely honest blog post about what I've done the past 22 hours. Check.

What can I say? Love's a bitch that needs to be slapped around, though it feels like I'm love's bitch and she's the one giving me a beating. I'm sure these next 24 hours will be better, but please say a prayer for me.

decongestant, vitamin c, zinc, advil, antibiotics, coldeeze . . .

After spending a week denying that my coughing and congestion were no more than a bad case of allergies, yesterday I found myself feeling light-headed, exhausted, and extremely cold, and returned home to discover that I had a 100 degree fever. Joy. For the first time in over a week, I'm finally just relaxing - still in my pj's, sitting on the couch, letting my mom give me pills and feed me waffles. I'd like to read one of the books that I got for Christmas, but I'm not sure that I could concentrate on anything longer than a paragraph, so instead I'm catching up on my blogs.

It's shaped up to have been a pretty good Christmas break for me. I'm surprised, because it was off to a rough start, but since Christmas Eve things have been mostly nice. I've seen almost all of my extended family - grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins - and have really enjoyed their company. This Christmas Eve and Christmas Day were some of the most pleasant in my recent memory. I've enjoyed the company of old and new friends, had some great conversations with folks, and threw a kick ass New Year's Eve party. I flew to Houston for the Texas Bowl with an old friend and made some new friends. I rode the Titan at Six Flags. I got some great gifts, and have had some successful shopping experiences, expanding my professional wardrobe which I'll begin wearing in a few weeks. I've seen some good films, and have started to read some good books. I went to Mexico and played with kids who I'd love to adopt. I've watched the friendship between my old and new cat develop from hissing and avoidance to playful chasing and tolerant enjoyment. I've been complimented. I've felt loved and cherished. Thanks.

Still, I've felt lonely, disappointed, and confused, and cried more than once these past few weeks. But the love that I've experienced certainly outweighs those negative emotions. I really didn't think that it would be, but this has been a pretty good break.

Ok, I've spent enough mental energy for now. Let's go watch some LOST and get excited about January 31st.

striped socks and track shoes

I cried tonight while watching Juno. I never expected a clever comedy about a sarcastically witty pregnant teenager to make my cry, but it did. I wasn't bawling or anything and the tears weren't even falling down my cheeks, but I was wiping my wet eyes by the end of it.

What other films have made me cry? The Lion King, Armageddon, We Were Soldiers, Crash. I'm sure there were a few others, but it's somewhat rare for me to cry during a film. It's usually scenes of extreme loss and grief that cause me to cry tears of sadness, but my tears during Juno weren't tears of sadness - at least not for the characters anyway. There was a sense of loss, but mostly I felt joy for the characters who had found something that they were deeply longing for.

What films make you cry?

kum ba ya or something

A week ago, I attended the last class of my first semester of graduate school. After we completed our presentations, our professor gathered us in a circle. She told us how she always likes to do a closing activity with each of her classes, as well as when closing with one of her clients. She likes these closing "ceremonies" because it helps her and others to say good-bye and gives all an opportunity to reflect on the meaning of the experience. She asked us to hold hands, and then said that others in our department joked that the "counseling psychology professors want movable furniture so we can hold hands in a circle and sing kum-ba-ya." We laughed, but were all relieved that she never asked us to sing. Instead, we each briefly commented on what we had learned from this course, and our professor gave us a longer reflection of what she thought of our class.

Like this professor, I also appreciate closing ceremonies. Having just written about saying good-bye, it dawned on me, "Good-byes are important to me!" I once said something to the effect of, "I don't believe in good-byes," but I think what I really meant was, "Good-byes aren't permanent." As I've recently transitioned and moved, I really haven't made a big deal out of saying good-bye since I truly believe that each of these good-bye will eventually be followed with another hello. I do believe in good-byes, though I sometimes downplay them, good-byes are important to me. I love the opportunity to reflect on the meaning of an experience or a relationship. I crave meaning.

Goodness, sometimes I'm the queen of closure. Frequently after a break-up, I'll write a long letter to the former boyfriend, because there's always something to say and some question that I want answered. They usually thoughtfully respond, and this closure helps. But what I most love to hear is, "You were meaningful to me. Though we didn't work out, you have touched my life in a special way and it was meaningful." And that's what I want to say when I say good-bye to anyone, "You were meaningful to me. Though we're parting now, you have touched my life in a special way and it was meaningful. God be with you until we meet again."

But sometimes you don't say this. Sometimes you just borrow each other's DVDs and say something awkward like, "See you in January, or not," laughing and smiling. Whether meaning is overtly expressed, or good-byes are downplayed, something is shared between two or more in these closings.

God be with you, until we meet again.