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.