Wanderlust

I need to get better at actually posting what I write...

Anyway.

I really want to go somewhere.

No, not to the grocery store, not to the park, not to work or school or church.

SOMEWHERE.

Somewhere not here. Somewhere far away.

I want to go overlanding from Cape Town to Cairo, ride a camel through the Middle East, roam the villages of India, eat gelato in Italy, take the stairs to the top of the Eiffel Tower (... maybe I would rethink the stairs thing by the 18th story), have a camp out down under, stay in a Scottish castle, walk the white beaches of the Virgin Islands, zip-line through the Amazon, stay in a hut in Panama, hang glide in the Alps, cruise to the Antarctic, learn to belly dance in Turkey, go hot air ballooning in Egypt, learn to surf in Fiji, go to a luau and hula in Hawaii, go on a real safari, catch a salmon in Alaska, snorkel by the reef, go deep sea fishing in Maine. 

I want to explore, to aid the inner wanderlust.

Overall, despite kind of wanting to explore places, I've been relatively content being here. But the last few days I've been searching through websites for mission trips and reading overlanding catalogs online.

I have been bitten by the bug.

The travel bug.

The only issue is the cost factor... 

One day, I will go.

Hopefully, that day will be soon.

Pursue Me

Yes, it's been a while since I've actually posted anything. 

I have about eight unfinished posts sitting in my dashboard, and lately, my journal has been like my best friend.

My mind has been in a lot of confusion the past couple of weeks.

Confusion is a curse. So I told it to leave.

I've been learning a lot about what God has already given those who believe in Christ and how much we tend to mix the God of the old covenant and the new covenant. 

(Thank you Andrew Wommack.)

In the midst of my confused mind I found a fear that I have all too long been acquainted with: the fear to admit things to myself that I just don't want to admit. 

Because admitting those things makes them real.

And whether or not those thoughts are from me or not, there is a reason they are thought. 

And knowing the root of the thought is important.

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Like I said, lately, my journal has been like my best friend. Because for the first time, I'm actually admitting all of my thoughts in my journal instead of burying them in my mind. 

When I journal, I write directly to God. So, I'm also admitting my thoughts to Him. And myself.

Something I've never fully admitted until the last day or so is that I am ALWAYS the pursuer in my male relationships. ALWAYS. And ever since I was five, I've had a male focus. Yes, even as an intern, the one year I was supposed to not, I did. I rationalized it out in my mind, even when I felt God telling me to stop talking to him. I didn't want to. Instead, my mind somehow created some logic that went in the complete opposite direction of the direction God was leading me... and I did it in His name (which is sickening to think about). 

So, when my best friend was about to move a thousand miles away, you bet I didn't want to lose him. And I let myself go to a place with him I had never been: a romantic sort of place.

And I truly didn't feel like I was in the wrong.

Our relationship began, not because he asked me, but because I told him how I felt, and he responded.

HELLO: red flag.

It's supposed to be the opposite way.

But this way, I was in control, even subtly.

Which meant I was also the one leading (the starting point is important).

Things were fine for a little while. But then it started to feel off. And my mind started to think things I didn't want it to, that I didn't want to admit to myself. And when God started saying something to me, I didn't want to listen... because it meant giving up something I did NOT want to give up. 

So I felt confused. Because I was running from what God was telling me, running from my thoughts, and trying think of some other reason for me hearing what I heard - like I was hearing it from myself and not God. 

But this time, I couldn't ignore it. I knew it was God. And ignoring it hurt too much.

So, I had to end it.

My disobedience the first time made it harder the second.

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I need to be the one pursued. One million percent.

And that means being pursued by God and God alone first.

Because even with God I tend to be the pursuer,  to try and make my own calling work. But I can do nothing apart from Him; so what makes me think I can pursue Him?

My place is to simply rest in Him. He is the one who is supposed to pursue me.

So, from this moment on, I am making the conscious decision to be pursued and not to pursue.

This first means God.

And if God decides to tell someone to pursue me in a year or two, I'll be open to it, but not if I'm the one pursuing the relationship; it will have to be all him. I can't be the one in control; I can't be the pursuer.

Wow, what a tough lesson. 

But what a valuable one.

Here's to my lack of pursuit!

The Key

There is a key that I wear around my neck.

It does not open a door.

It cannot be duplicated.

You may think it's cheesy.

But I call it:

The key to my heart.

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Actually, it's just a really cool, old key that was once used to open a physical door.

It's more of a representation of what cannot be seen.

I have something sacred enough that it's worth protecting. And only the one with the key has the privilege of unlocking the door that leads to the sacred parts of me.

Notice: I said privilege.

It isn't a right.

Only one has the right to be called the keeper of my heart.
And that's Jesus.

But I have the right to give that privilege to one other, to be the keeper of my heart here on earth.

It's a big privilege with a lot of responsibility.

Once I give that key away, I can't ever get it back.

Once the keeper takes my key and steps in, he can never reverse what he has seen.

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The keeper will have full capability of destroying me.

But by giving him the key, I am showing him I trust him enough not to.

I know he loves me enough to not desire to.

And I love him enough to risk it.

It's a Process

Every season is different.

(Thank you Captain Obvious!)

But really, this season since leaving Teen Mania has been quite different.

I feel like for the first time in my life, I'm at a point where I can finally look at who I am how I'm supposed to, that I can see clearly the things God actually desires from my life, that I really am just a person, and it's okay to be who I am.

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Part of a song I wrote towards the beginning of summer goes like this: "And all this time I thought I was changing, turns out I was becoming me..."
I don't think God's goal is so much to change us, more make us into who He originally intended us to be. Yes, this involves changing us from who we've become, because who we think we are is different than who God knows we are.

The song continues: "On the outside I may not look like much, just a shell rough to the touch, but despite what you see, I'm in the process of becoming me."
It's hard to tell this process is happening when you just take a glance; the outside doesn't always do a whole lot of justice to the inner workings. Shoot, even just a glance at the inner workings doesn't always do a whole lot of justice. But that's because it is a process.

I think I forget that, sometimes, and just want it to be over. I want to be the butterfly already because this cocoon just keeps getting hotter, darker, and smaller (and a bit smelly on occasion...).

 It's such a blessing to stop, look back, and realize that all the junk you just went through was actually God pulling out the "real" you, the person you were created to be, not the one you always thought you were supposed to be.
And that makes the hot, dark, tiny, smelly cocoon worth it.

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Lately, I've been catching myself thinking, "I just wish this season would quicken its pace a little..."
It's going a bit slower than I would like.
I really, really like what's coming next.
But I know this season is this season for some reason, probably one that I don't see.
Thank God I do not appoint the seasons.
(All those people who hate fall would be coming after me with clubs.)

"Time exists because we couldn't handle everything at once."

Mushy, Gushy, Ugh.

Feelings.

I have them... I think.

Okay, I really do.

But I don't really experience them all that often.

Because there's a difference in having feelings and experiencing them, at least in my book.

And really, I don't like this about me.

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I can pinpoint the moment I finally shut down, almost permanently.

I was in seventh grade; it was a night in late fall. I had finally had enough. I broke down and cried the most heavy, heart-wrenching tears I had ever cried in my young life.

And then I shut down.

I didn't know it right then, but that would be last time I cried for nearly four years.

It would also be the last time I truly experienced my emotions in at least four years.

I shut down because back then, no one cared. I was put under more stress than many encounter in their entire life. And frankly, I was tired of feeling it. Because it hurt too badly, and all I knew was that hurt, that lonely worthlessness.

That night, I made a semi-conscious choice: I would no longer allow myself to need ANYone.

They couldn't be trusted, and I was just too much weight to carry.

I also decided that I would no longer feel.

(Though, I think this was more a defense mechanism to get through life.) 

I coasted on those decisions for the next four years...

Until I met Jesus.

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Little did I know it, but Jesus had been pursuing me for years.

I can only imagine how difficult I was to pursue. 

My heart was hard, totally convinced of my worthlessness and my need for NO ONE, it took me running myself into the dirt before I would even glance at Him.

Thankfully, He wasn't easily deterred.

Within weeks of allowing Jesus to enter the small opening I had given Him, He began the process of slowly peering into my darkest corners and sweeping out the dust.

That seemed painless enough; after all, brooms generally don't hurt too badly.

But once the dust was gone and Jesus' light started to illuminate the darkest corners of my chambers, revealing years of gunk built up on every surface of my innermost parts, He gently let me know it was time for cleaning. Deep cleaning.

When I agreed to let Him start the process, I knew it could prove to be pretty painful, and I knew that I could have to do some things I wasn't entirely comfortable with.

But His love made it worth it.

So I said yes.

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Well, since the night Jesus finally won my heart, I've only truly cried maybe a handful of times.

I've only really experienced my feelings approx. 30 times/situations (and that's being extra generous).

Sure, sometimes I felt things. But understanding that I felt them, processing that I felt them, knowing it was okay to feel them. Yeah, not so often.

It took two years before I wasn't totally numb anymore.

And it's taken almost another two for me to be soft enough to begin to experience the pain of others, again and not just recognize it.

Actually, I've felt others' feelings more than I've felt my own.

That night I decided not to feel anymore, I programmed my brain to tell my heart it thought differently than it did, and ever since, my brain and heart still operate by that philosophy.

But now it's time for that to change.

And I don't know if I can do it.

But I'm going to trust that I can, with my Jesus by my side.

This means allowing people in.

This means not freaking out too much when I start to experience all that encompasses what I'm feeling.

Because the feelings God gives are a gift; feeling what He feels for His people is a gift.

And in order for me to be able to truly treasure and know the strategies for pursuing His people, I must spend time in the weeping room, I must know their needs, I must stop acquainting myself with where they are and fully step into where they are. 

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For anyone who stuck it out this long: I applaud you. And I thank you for joining me for a bit of the beginning of this journey.

This long, slow, crazy journey.

It may hurt. But I know it's worth it.

It's worth it to love. It's worth it to feel. It's worth it to be more like Jesus.

Here we go.

Happy October!

Yeah, I'm a little late, but it's okay. 

October is still probably my favorite month.

Anyway, on to other things.

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I was having lunch at Chik-fil-a the other day, sitting alone because it was my lunch break at work, and I noticed several others... also sitting alone. This made my mind wander a bit.

What would they do if I got up and joined one of them, or proposed that we all join together since we were all alone? 

(This would be totally out of character for me, by the way.)

I do enjoy my alone time, but something in me thinks it would be awesome if no one had to eat alone.

I didn't actually get up and propose this, partially, because it was the first time I'd really thought about this, partially because I suspected they would all say no or act as if I was crazy, partially because I really didn't have all that much time, and partially because I really don't know what I would say. 

I tend to be pretty quiet when I first meet someone.

Hmm... maybe one day.

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Well, I should get back to studying for my midterm.

But I think I might take a walk in a bit, just to enjoy the beauty of outside.

Good or Bad?

I just woke up not too long ago (hey, I'm a college student with a part time job, I can sleep until 8:15....). I woke up to a text message from someone who was having a less than amusing beginning to their day. I expected the end of it to wrap up in a question for prayer for a "better day". But it didn't. Instead, it read, "yet, I'm strangely at peace."

Hmmm.

My initial thought was to pray that their day would get "better", but what the heck does that really mean?

My quick following second thought (which, admittedly, should be my first thought) was to pray that their reaction to the circumstances of their day would show the love of Christ to those around them, which is exactly what I did pray for.

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This brought me back to a thought I had a while back: what do we mean by asking if something is "good" or not? Do we mean to ask if it's pleasing and honoring to God, or do we really mean to ask if it's comfortable, easy, and pleasing for us?

Because really, I don't want my comfort to own me. And my feelings surely should not be the dictator of my day.

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Ephesians 5:9 says, "For this light within you produces only what is good and right and true."

This light within you.

Which means that the goodness comes from the light.

The light being Jesus. {John 8:12}

And, goodness is listed as a fruit of the spirit. {Galatians 5:22-23}

Merriam-Webster defines "good" in many ways: favorable, suitable, bountiful, attractive, pleasing, advantageous, virtuous, commendable, well-behaved, honorable, kind, benevolent, adequate, of the highest reliability.

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Now that we've talked about the good, what about the bad?

Merriam-Webster's first definition for "bad" is: failing to meet an acceptable standard.

Hold it right there...

Failing to meet an acceptable standard.

Now the question is, who's standard?

Who am I to say what is "acceptable"?

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And this is where I stop.

I have all-too obvious flaws. I daily peel off layers of soot that settle upon me. Sometimes, I think that soot fogs up the true goodness of each and every day, the goodness that is determined by the only One who has clear enough vision to see the real good.

So, what are you seeing, today?

Fall

Currently, I'm sitting outside on a beautiful, fall day in East Texas.

Yeah, usually it isn't this gorgeous here, even in the fall. Autumn is by far my favorite, but I've kind of missed out the last few years... fall down here is NOTHING like it is up north. But some how, I've stuck it out. Yep, this is the ideal day. Slight breeze, crisp air, sun (though I'm sitting in the shade), approx 65 degrees. Nearly *perfect*.

Too bad it isn't always like this. But somehow, I think if it was, I may just grow used to it, and the awe of it would diminish, which would be quite a sad thing.

For now, I'll just enjoy it while I can.

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On a slightly different note, it's almost October! (Hey, I said slightly...)

Which means, I get to visit someone *very* dear to me. It also means one month closer to moving!

Though I have greatly enjoyed my stay in the state of Texas, my time here is very quickly nearing a close. I'll be moving back to my hometown for just a little bit, saving up some money, and spending time with some special people, then it's off to another destination...

But for now, I'm going to focus on here.

Because it is today that I have been promised.

And tomorrow has enough worries of its own.

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Now, back to fall...

I love how crisp the air is, the leaves changing colors, the cool nights, needing to wear a jacket (and maybe a pair of cute boots ;] ), bonfires, cool starry nights, soups, stews, and crock pot recipes, hot lattes (with fall flavors), hot teas, scented candles, curling up in a fuzzy blanket, cuddling without getting too warm, being able to wear cute socks (hey, it's the little things), fall sunrises and sunsets, no mosquitoes (or fire ants, for all you East Texans)...

Yeah, I'm sure I could go on, but I think you catch my drift.

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Nothing too intense today. I got a bit frustrated earlier, but then I stopped and realized the absolute blessing God gave me when He created today. It's days like this that really speak to my heart.

~selah~

Through The Plexiglass

Depth.

I crave it.

Intimacy.

I long for it.

But almost always, I seem to push it away.

I don't mean to. I don't think I try to.

But inevitably, I do.

It's like I reach a certain point and can't get past it. I can't ever see where that point is before I reach it; though, it's always in the same general location.

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I read something, earlier, that went like this: "Pay attention to your earliest memories. The reason you remember them is because they were probably accompanied by strong emotion. At the point when your heart was wide open, something happened, and from a child's perspective, a message was imprinted on your soul that you probably still live by today."

Whoa.

If that's really the case... well, there are things I remember from very early on, and they are not pretty. God has completely healed me from my past wounds. However, I still have to relearn things that I realize I'm doing that aren't so healthy for me.

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In general, this plexiglass wall that exists is only with women. I don't have much issue trusting a man, but a woman... well, it takes a lot of time. I don't mind being open with them, but openness and the depth associated with vulnerability are completely different.

My female friendships have come a LONG way in the last two years; there are even a couple who have somehow made there way a bit past the plexiglass; however, I find that I have to really work at keeping them there, and that sometimes, I close them out and feel like I can't tell them things, resulting in me knowing all about them and me feeling unknown, without connection. It's kind of a viscous cycle, once it gets going.

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All this to say: I don't want to just get past the plexiglass; I want to take a sledgehammer to it. And when I'm done with the sledgehammer, I want to dig up the molding that kept it in place, sweep it up, and dispose of it.

I'm DONE with the plexiglass.

This may take a little more time than I would prefer, as it generally does, and I'll have to work at it daily, but it's worth it. It's worth it to get past myself and love people better.

"And I choose to believe, as I carry this cross, You'll carry me."

Write or Wrong?

As I was driving to Starbucks this morning (where I am currently writing from), I couldn't help but think about how long it had been since I have consistently written anything. My journaling started to lax - to roughly once ever week or two - when I was living on a tour bus for five months, which is legitimate, or so I choose to believe. But since returning to a more stable (less bus-like) lifestyle, my journaling has almost ceased to exist. Aside from about a handful of occasions, I have't picked up a pen (or a laptop) to jot anything down. And this is bad.

It may not be bad for you, but it is most certainly bad for me.

Because writing is how I process.

I don't mean that I don't comprehend anything if I don't write it down, but if I write it down, it is ingrained in my mind; it means I took the time to, not only ponder it, but also figure out where I stand on it, that I grasp it in such a way as to convey it to others.

Writing is how I speak to myself and let myself know that I am not some tangled, uninterpretable mess.

And {most importantly} writing is how God uses me to speak to the world.

(Or the small part of the world that He blesses me with influence in.)

So, when I'm not writing, whether it be prose or song, not only am I hindering my own self-development, I'm disobeying God, and potentially missing out on opportunities to impact those around me.

Gulp.

And that's a big deal.

So, here's to beginning again. Because for me, to not write is completely wrong. And I don't want my laziness, lack of effort, and stupid excuses to get in the way of something God is doing through me. Not that He needs me, but He is graciously allowing me to be part of His ginormous, incredulous plan.

The Invisible Line

There's an invisible line that exists in a relationship between a man and a woman. It is the line which distinguishes whether the relationship is a friendship or a romance. Depending on the relationship, that line is clearly marked right away. But sometimes, it takes years to define. Inevitably, when you allow yourself to get close to someone of the opposite gender, romantic feelings develop to some capacity, even if they are just fleeting. It gets dangerous when those feelings appear in both parties at the same time, yet neither say a thing about them.

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It's hard to say exactly when I crossed that line with one of my closest friends, but I know it was over a year ago. And I know I wasn't the only one.

The strangest part about it: we didn't do anything that abruptly announced it to the world. But in our minds, in our hearts, we both went there; we both stepped over the line. And instead of saying something about it, we pretended nothing happened, hoping we could just enjoy where we were and that the line would just dissolve, becoming invisible.

Now, in this case, there were stipulations preventing us from saying anything or going any further than we did, but that doesn't change that this has been an incredibly murky pond to wade through without any sort of definition or direction to go off of. It would have been so helpful if one of us would have spoken up as soon as we noticed something, if nothing else just to define our relationship as only a friendship. Because today, today my heart hurts. And even though I feel slightly lead on, I have no one to blame but myself.

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And though there are many questions I would like to ask, I know God's timing is perfect; this just isn't quite His timing for my earthly love story. And even though it hurts some, I'm completely okay with that. Because what He has is incredibly worth the wait and so much more than I could ever imagine.

The Treasure is Worth Seeking

You know of a treasure. But to get there, you must sail to a small, unmapped island at the very center of the Pacific. The waters are dangerous, known to swallow even the largest of vessels in a single gulp. And if you thought getting there was tough, you're in for quite the surprise. To find the treasure, you must journey to the very center of the island, cutting through what seems like miles of thorns, to get to the top of the single, rocky mountain that rests on the island.

Once at the top of the mountain, you must then unearth the gate that opens to a long, winding path through the center of the mountain. The path is dark and populated by moss and vine. At this point, it may seem like turning around is the best option, but you go just a bit farther and see light emerge at the end of the path.

At the sight of the light, you begin to run. It's taken you years, but the moment has finally arrived. You come to the final vine laden doorway, stick out your hand, push the vines aside and step through. You stop, in awe of what you have found. It's the most breathtaking sight you've ever seen; a secret oasis only known by you. You think to yourself, "I'm so glad I didn't stop!"

After a little bit, you finally gain enough composure to explore the treasure you have found. You get to know it, inside and out, every waterfall, every tree limb, every blade of grass and sand, every beautiful detail of the area. And at night, you are able to look up and gaze at the stars. It's been an incredible day, one that you won't be able to forget.

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A hundred years ago, the thought of a voyage across the open seas wet the appetite. Adventure was enchanting; the longing for it, unquenchable...

Now, everything we need, everything we think we could want, is at our fingertips; it's ours for the taking. But is it just about having what we want and need? Is the journey just about the destination? Or is there something to the voyage, the trek for truth, the danger it takes to get there?

Do you think you would have been quite as elated to find your oasis if it was handed to you and you didn't have to work for it? Would it have been as valuable?

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I feel a lot like like that secret oasis, right now; only, I don't feel like anyone is willing to go through all the work to come find me, to get to know me, to find me valuable. I don't feel worthy of uncovering. If only they could see what was beyond the shell of the mountain. And if only I could see what they see.

There's only so much to lose, so far to fall. One day, someone will be courageous enough to come looking for the treasure, to come looking for me, to dive into the depths of who I am. But until that day, I will choose to stand on firm ground, knowing that some One has already set sail. He has captured my heart and I His, with just one glance.