To Live.

For the first time, I think I'm finally getting what it means to live.

Life isn't this crazy, untouchable thing we can't make sense of.

It just is.

It's this ginormous conglomeration of ideas, things, circumstances, dreams, wishes, heartaches, truths, lies, joys... 

It's moments that take your breath away and moments you wish your breath would leave you.

It's not something we have to try to do.

In fact, trying too hard actually hinders 

Life happens all around us.

It happens on its own.

{If we let it.}

It's so much bigger than you and I.

We can feel so far from so close.

Losing Grip.

It's scary.

To be in that place where we aren't holding tightly to something we see, to not feel that weight in our hands.

We feel all alone, like nothing can be done. 

It becomes a game of defense.

So we latch on to whatever we can find.

Because holding onto something seems to be better than holding onto nothing.

And we hold on so tightly that only death could break the clinch.

What we don't realize is that when we let go is when have the best grip. 

When we realize that what we're holding onto isn't really real, we can let go.

When we realize that the only thing we can hold onto can't be seen, we can let go.

When we realize that nothing in this life is worth holding onto more than the thing that created it, we can let go.

But until then, we're stuck feeling like we're losing grip.

Why not just let go?

{It was never mine to hold.}

To Love.

Lately, all I want to do is give myself away.

All of me.

Is this about a man?

Well... maybe a little bit, but no. It most certainly isn't. 

(Though, it manifests that way, too.)

It's this deep desire that's been rooted in me for as long as I can remember.

It's that thing in me that sees the good stuff when everyone else sees the bad.

It's that thing in me that sees what can be, if someone would just realize that they were worth it.

It's that thing in me that sees incredible beauty when everyone else just sees a screw-up.

But practically, how does this translate? 

It doesn't.

Love is not a practicality.

It is.

So, what does it mean to love?

I don't always know.

But that won't keep me from doing, from being, from living.

{Those who are willing will be used.

Those who desire will be filled.

Those who seek will find.

Those who yearn will be satisfied.}

Listen.

I hear a small, booming voice.

It says "yes" when I say "absolutely not." 

It screams "I know you can" when all I think is "I can't do this anymore."

It breathes "love" when all I can muster is "hate." 

Sometimes, I add more boom to it from the outside world.

Maybe if there's so much crazy around me, I won't have to listen to it.

But I can never quite drown it out.

It always sticks around.

It never tries to push too hard. 

It always stays right where I put it.

It never leaves. 

I just choose to forget it. 

It's everywhere I am.

It's in everything I do.

It's every reason I am.

It's every remedy to every need.

Can you hear it?

  

Chosen

"I chose you to come out of the world, so the world hates you..." - Jesus, John 15:19

I've often wrestled with the idea of us being chosen verses us choosing. 

(Working it out with fear and trembling, you know.)

After all, we love because we were first loved.

I think I've come to the conclusion that there simply isn't one answer... at least, not one I can understand this side of heaven.

The more I read Jesus' words, the more I realize just how big of a mystery it is, how entwined everything is, and just how much I don't need to know and am not responsible for.

All I know is what is, not how it came to be, and I think that's okay.
Some things are better left unsaid.
Some things I simply don't need a definition for.
The only thing I need is to {trust}, fully unbridled and unashamed.
And that's what I plan on trying to do.

{The chosen ones of God were those who let God pursue his interest in them, and as a result received his stamp of legitimacy.}

I very seldom want to know why.

I think I somehow innately get that the why really doesn't matter.

But right now, I want to know why. 

I probably won't get a chance to know, and maybe I shouldn't.

Besides, I'll bounce back soon enough.

It's just all-to-reminding that I am human.

That I let my heart get intertwined in places it shouldn't.

That others are human.

That we're all trying to walk this life out.

And I can either choose to forgive the offense immediately, or I can let it bind me and serve as an invisible barrier keeping me from the fullness of life I've been offered.