Dreams Deferred

35 days

2011-04-26T20:22:00.003-05:00

I wish that when he told me that he was going to come home I could cry a little less, and believe him just a little bit more. He says he has peace about it. I wish I had that peace. I wish that every day of silence didn't amount to a day of me imagining worst case scenarios and constantly wondering what he was doing and where he was at. I wish my life didn't revolve around hoping for stupid Facebook notifications signifying a message from him or that he had commented on something. I wish that every morning when my cell phone alarm went off I didn't get my hopes up thinking it was him calling. I wish that every night before I fell asleep I didn't have to try so hard to imagine what it was like to have him sleeping beside me, trying to find a comfortable way to press my face against his back, listening to the way he breathed when he fell asleep. I wish I knew when I will see him again, when I will hear his voice and feel his heartbeat, and for once be able believe with absolute certainty that everything is going to be okay.

Woah

2011-03-19T18:34:00.002-05:00

In 5 days, I will be with Jeremy again. I am kind of freaking out. I can't even pinpoint why I'm suddenly getting overwhelmingly nervous. I tend to over think every aspect of my existence, so it doesn't surprise me in the least that I am suddenly wigging. I am excited too. In my more lucid moments I remember how much fun it is to just be around Jeremy. Even if we are pushing a broken down car out of the middle in the road, or playing cards, or laying in the grass at Pike's Peak, or sitting on a bench having a cigarette, I love being near him. But it has been almost 8 months. And Jeremy left as I guy that I loved, and he's coming back as someone I can't imagine my life without. Funny how that happens when all we've had is the occasional letter, Facebook message, and phone calls (during which some of the time, understanding each other is reduced to a frustrating guessing game). But somewhere along the line I have come to realize that he is all that I want in a guy, and I'm beyond happy to be his, and I haven't been around him in this context. I haven't been around him at all. And going from a relationship based on phone calls, to being around one another 24/7 four 14 days is going to be a shock. And then he's going to leave again, which I have already established will be the worst feeling in the world.
It's weird too, because this relationship I have with Jeremy has become some sort of alter-ego for me. I have my life in Chicago, with my friends, my school, the memory of a me that I very recently used to be. Chicago feels like home. There is nothing of Jeremy there. The only connection that ever would be in Chicago is Christie, and the past few times I've been in the city, she hasn't been there, and I haven't even been around Christie but once as Jeremy's girlfriend. Then, there is my life here, in Crawfordsville/Ladoga, where there isn't even a hint of Jeremy. Jeremy is from that weird transition period where I ended up in Colorado for the best summer of my life, right after the worst semester of my life. I was caught on the fringe of an identity crisis, and the most epic fall from grace that I could imagine. And Jeremy just happened to be right where I landed. And for three weeks I let myself fall for him at an alarming rate and as suddenly as it began, that weird phase of my life ended, and with it went Jeremy. And now he is going to pop back in my life and probably shake it up once more, and then leave me with my boring life in which I feel as if I am going nowhere fast, just waiting to figure out where and what I'll be when he comes back. I want what I had with him in Colorado on a far more permanent basis. Life with Jer is fun and exciting and to be loved the way that he loves me is kind of indescribable. And if I can only get Jer for 2 weeks at a time for now, I'll take it. Because those two weeks are worth every second of waiting in between.

I play a damn good fool

2011-01-12T23:21:00.002-06:00

I've been realizing that when it comes to my heart, I can be pretty careless. I wear it on my sleeve like it's nothing. It seems that at even the slightest indication of care or interest, I put it all out there. I hold nothing back. The only person I ever played my interest down with was Sam. Because although he pursued me, it was off an on, and despite all the flirting and the 'dates', I was still just the girl he called when he had a crush on an Asian chick. Someone he could really be with.

Despite the huge risks, I always pour out my heart and give it all. Because I love loving. And then I get hurt, and wonder why the hell I could never be good enough despite the fact that I did give it all. If anything, I care too much.

When I fall, I fall hard and fast and my heart is committed. And when I start to get scared and doubt, it's too late. Extracting my feelings would be like trying to extract a bullet from my flesh without leaving a wound where I was shot. There's no doing it.

With Mark, one kiss after a few too many drinks was enough to set my hopes so high, that despite the fact that he turned out to be an ass hole, I couldn't stop caring and wasting my good intentions on him. And the worst thing about Mark was that he knew how much I cared, how much I liked him, and he played it up. He used my feelings to stroke his own fucking ego and treated me like trash. And although I boldly told my friends that it was his loss, I suppressed the true conclusion that I had come to, which was that in reality, I was worth absolutely nothing. One can only be treated like trash for so long before they begin to believe that they really are trash.

I wish I could be more hesitant. You would think I would be after being hurt over and over. I wish I wouldn't just say everything on my heart and mind. I wish I could be more careful, because by the time I start to distrust, and my over-analyzing brain is freaking out, I've already made a fool of myself.

A few of my favorite people...

2011-01-09T23:06:00.005-06:00

I find myself often referring to my 'favorite' people. So I thought it might be worth noting. They are in no particular order, but these people stand out in my mind as people I would not care to have to live without, and I am thankful for having them in my life. I love them all.

Sasha: When I think 'best friend' a few names come to my mind, but the best of my best friends would without a doubt have to be Sasha. I've known Sasha since 3rd grade, or at least that's when I remember her becoming a regular part of my life. She's been there through everything. She probably knows me better than anyone, and she is the one person that I have that I can tell absolutely anything to without any fear of condemnation, or for fear of losing her friendship. No matter how much time passes we always pick up where we left off. I definitely miss having her around.

Ruth: Hands down the 'coolest' friend I have. I am NOT an easy person to live with, by any means, and although on more than one occasion I came home to all my stuff in trash bags on my bed, I couldn't ask for a better roommate. And although our battle over music was a constant one, we managed to compromise on most occasions, and probably thoroughly offended every girlon our floor. But Ruth is more than the world's best roomie. She was never once afraid to tell me when I was being a dumb ass, and when I realized what a dumb ass I was, she never said "I told you so" but comforted me when I bawled my eyes out over my sheer stupidity. She's a ballsy friend, and one I need. My appreciation for her is unending.

Austin: Oh, Austin. Austin is one of the very, very, very few people (very few being two) who saw me at my absolute worst, who knew how badly I fucked up, who was literally with me at my worst moment to date. And he somehow still saw my worth. Austin kept my head above water when I was drowning in despair. And although he could have very easily written me off, he defended me. And I have seen Austin transform into a guy that I admire and respect more than I thought I could. I am fiercely proud of him, and through all of his bull shit, I feel privileged to know a small part of his journey. I could probably rave about Austin a bit more, but the fact is, he's a great friend, and a loving brother. I have also never been kicked out or chased out of more places than with Austin, but that is another matter all together. :)

Dave: To try to describe Dave in a brief paragraph is impossible, but I'll try. I adore Dave. He is one of a kind. When I say one of a kind, I mean I have never, and will never meet a soul comparable to David Thomas Ulrich. I remember our first conversation in a Starbucks after we voted in the presidential election together. I remember being flabbergasted by the maturity of this young guy. He is so grounded, and so real. He is an open book, sharing his life with others for the benefit of all who are blessed to know him. I miss having long talks with him at dinner, where he would pull various seasonings for food out of his backpack. And I have never played with a guy's hair, or any girl's hair for that matter, as much as I did Dave's. Granted, I have never put dreads in anyone else's hair. (I'm sorry they didn't work out, Dave. However, I don't regret the early mornings and hours spent destroying your great, hippie hair.)

Aaron: My little brother. I haven't been the best sister, what with my tendency to up and leave rather frequently, but the relationship and closeness I have to Aaron now is not something I want to lose. And although I have lost a lot of sleep worrying about him, I know he is the one person I can count on in my family to stick up for me when certain mothers and girlfriends are being nasty, psychotic bitches. Aaron knows my damage best, because he's been through all the same shit. The protectiveness I feel for Aaron is unlike anything I have felt before. He will always be my little brother, and I would do anything to spare him the pain he's dealing with.

Jacquelyn: Jacquelyn and I are almost too similar to be

best friends. Our influence on one another is certainly not an advantage. I wish I could calculate how much time we have spent just sitting and avoiding life. Or how many hours we spent lost on the streets of Chicago. Jacquelyn is one of the few girls in my life that I have more of a sister relationship with, but after three years of ridiculously close proximity, I think it's to be expected. And although after our first meeting in CPO and I thought she hated me, I'd say we ended up pretty alright.

Christie: One of the few friends that I can get into a nearly physical altercation with and still end up cuddling before bed at night. :) Christie and I have had some less than friendly moments, but I don't know what I would do without her loving influence in my life. It's not for no reason that I call her 'mom'. I envy Christie the love that she has, and disappointing her is the hardest thing

for me to do.

Jer: Although you haven't been in my life very long at all, I think you're pretty swell. My love for you and my relationship with you isn't comparable to any of the above, but I have never found it so easy to enjoy anyone as much as I enjoy you. Loving you is pretty effortless, even if our relationship means a lot of work. I am a very, very lucky girl, and I hope to be yours for some time.

I drove to Chicago, all things go, all things go...

2011-01-08T20:34:00.002-06:00

I miss Chicago more than I've ever missed any place before. It's hard to believe that such a large, cold, busy place could be the best home that I've ever had, but it is. I remember in my first semester that my parents forbid that I go anywhere alone, even to the Starbucks a block away from Moody. But my fear of the huge, obnoxious city quickly deteriorated, partially because of necessity, and partially because of the comfort that I soon acquired on the streets near Moody. I went from not being able to walk to the S'bucks a block away, to traveling an hour and a half round trip to Humboldt Park by myself, going by buses, train, and foot. I went from being afraid of the city, to wanting to embrace every aspect of it. Fortunately, I had friends who were not afraid of exploring the city, as many Moody students are prone to be.

I miss hazy warm nights where walking through the city wasn't a trial and it didn't matter if the bus we were waiting for was an hour late. I miss walking on the beaches and playing ultimate frisbee at night. I miss getting lost and stumbling upon hip places like Reckless Records, Myopic Books, Buffalo Exchange and all of the joys of places like Wrigleyville and Wicker Park. I miss Navy Pier and the fireworks. I miss getting caught in warm downpours and getting back to school drenched to the bone, all for the sake of Dunkin Donuts with my best friends. I miss almost everything about the life that I had there, and I would give almost anything to have it back again.

This is not okay.

2010-10-19T19:17:00.002-05:00

I have moments where I know that things will not be okay.

I was surprised to find an email in my inbox from Jeremy at 2 in the afternoon. He normally emailed me from 10pm-5am, my time. And the length of the email upon opening it surprised me.

As I read the email, I couldn't believe the words my eyes were taking in. I had to read the email twice before the gravity of it settled like a heavy weight in my stomach. Before I could stop the tears, they were rolling off my cheeks onto the keyboard.

This is not okay.

He is not okay.

I am not okay.

The horrors of war are okay when they are safely contained on a movie screen. Or confined to the pages of a book that a stranger wrote. But when they are from the person that you love, when they are as fresh as the blood of innocent lives lost, or a village still smoldering, then it is not okay.

My body aches. My heart aches. There is absolutely nothing that I can do or that I can say to offer comfort in this situation. This seems to be as wrong as the world gets. I pray, but for what? That Jeremy can see what he saw and somehow be okay? That he can get back to life in the states and be happy again, laugh again, after witnessing what he has seen? That whatever and whoever is left after an air strike can move on with their lives without a body of their child, or their husband, or their wife to mourn over? Christians, in these circumstances, would seek to see those affected come to Christ out of these kinds of circumstances. But what Muslim is going to seek after the God of the men who just ended their lives? What hope is there in such destruction? What kind of light can pierce that darkness? I don't see any. You can't tell people that "It will be okay."

It will not be okay.

Fall and the Mega Awesome Playlist.

2010-10-07T13:53:00.003-05:00

I am sitting on the front porch of my grandparents house, listening to Derek's "Unfinished and Untouched Mega Awesome Playlist!" Yellow, by Coldplay is currently playing, and it fits the mood of this autumn day quite nicely. The elementary school across the street is getting ready to let out, and parents are lining up down the block to pick up their children. Across the street at the play ground, one tree is beautiful, brilliant shades of gold and orange. The rest are stubbornly remaining green for a few more days or weeks. Children shout as they play a juvenile version of Ultimate frisbee across the street at the ball diamonds.

This is my first day off in a week, and I am rather enjoying the lovely day. Every thing seems to have that 'right' feeling. Of almost perfection. Because surely nothing can ever be perfect. Perhaps perfect would be having Jeremy sitting on the porch swing next to me, but I'm sure I would find other things to long for even as he sat beside me.

I've recently developed a strong aversion to accepting the present. The present, as in present-tense. Now. This very moment. I avoid it like the plague. It is rather unfortunate, because I could probably be making much more of the here and now if I didn't spend all of my time missing the past and longing for the future. I also spend an absurd amount of time thinking about 'the Ghan' as it has been affectionately titled before. I think that it is probably natural to spend so much time thinking about the war, seeing as it pretty directly involves me now, whether I want it to or not.

Life definitely isn't how I expected it to be a year or so ago. But I feel fairly certain that this is where I'm supposed to be. I guess I should just accept it.

2010-10-01T10:26:00.002-05:00

The rhythmic thumping of clothes being tossed around in the stainless steel dryers that line the wall are occasionally punctuated with the chirruping of the arcade games on the other side of the laundromat. The bright florescent lights illuminate the table I am sitting at and glare off of the table top with epithets carved in the surface acknowledging who will be together forever, who is a whore, and who is a bitch. I sat with my head bowed, facing the windows and the automatic doors that open at the slightest hint of movement, letting in the last few chill breezes of a late September night. In the glass, I can see the reflection of a guy sitting in the far back corner of the laundromat, hunched over his cell phone. I sit and wait for my friend Kara to return from the bathroom, absorbing the sense of loneliness that has consumed me for the past two days.

Loneliness that is temporarily relieved by a brief email at two o' clock in the morning. Loneliness that is wearing me thin. I am hoping that in the next few days the loneliness will retreat to whatever place in my heart it is lurking and let me feel happy again. But in reality, this loneliness is going to be a long-term companion. Perhaps I'll just get used to his heavy company.

We Are Broken

2010-09-28T14:20:00.003-05:00

As this week ends, so does Jeremy's second month in Afghanistan. It is hard to believe that he has already been gone for two months. It is even harder to believe that I have to do this for another 10 months. It is days like this that are the hardest, days where Jeremy doesn't even seem to exist, where he feels impossibly far away, and time is playing cruel tricks on me and not even passing at all. I have never missed anyone so terribly. I never imagined that it would be this hard. But there are times where I think about how, somewhere on the other side of the world, there is a guy as crazy for me as I am for him, who misses me like I miss him, and it is a small comfort.

I have been reading "Blood Makes the Grass Grow Green" by Johnny Rico. It is an account of his time spent in Afghanistan in 2003. It is a much more sarcastic and humorous perspective on war, and it isn't very disconcerting to read as far as violence goes. It has however irritated me in a way that I wouldn't imagine. The soldiers in Rico's unit are bored out of their minds thus far in their tour in Afghanistan (about a couple of months in), and their duties consist mostly of 'guarding dirt'. They don't feel like they are at war at all, and are anxious to be involved in action. So much so that some of Rico's fellow soldiers contemplate shooting a random Haji simply out of boredom and not because he poses any threat to them. They treat the Afghans as less than dirt and hate them as a people group. They are at war with the Taliban, but their disgust is openly directed towards all of the people of Afghanistan. There is no sobriety in their group and they mock and tear apart care packages from caring civilians in the States. Their absolute boredom and total lack of purpose in Afghanistan gives them an almost primitive, animalistic mentality. It is actually rather discouraging to read, because the characters and their attitudes and actions are kind of despicable. Of course, I should not be quick to judge, because I could never imagine what those kind of circumstances can do to the mind and the spirit. Rico is simply portraying the outward actions and attitudes of his comrades, and there is not a lot of insight into the machinations of their thoughts and how they are driven to the point they are at. Rico himself has a kinder attitudes towards the Afghans, but still partakes in the disturbing, stir-crazy antics of his fellow soldiers.

I refuse to imagine that this is what Jeremy's squad is like, given that the circumstances are completely different. I know that they are incredibly busy, and the area that they are in has a lot of Taliban influence. They aren't just there guarding dirt. They are at war. I would imagine that the places that their minds go is a far more dangerous kind of 'crazy' than what Rico and his comrades were experiencing. My fear for Jeremy isn't simply a fear for his life, but a fear for his mentality when he comes home from Afghanistan. I speak from almost total ignorance. I know nothing of war. I can only read about it in Johnny Rico's book and understand very little of it from Jeremy's letter. I can hesitantly read news articles about a new assault in a river valley outside of Kandahar. But really, I know nothing, and I can't really imagine what it is like for Jeremy. I can only hope and pray that God brings him home safe and sound.

[Fall]ing

2010-09-09T16:24:00.002-05:00

The living room of my grandparents house is lit with early evening sun. Its 80 degrees, but the humidity is low, leaving it warm and comfortable with the breeze. From where I sit, I can hear kids laughing and shouting on the playground across the street. It is a lovely September day, and I can only think of a few things that could make late summer evenings better.

It is the beginning of harvest time, and along my way to work and into town every day, there are tractors parked in the fields, filled to the brim with soybeans and corn. The leaves are just beginning to lighten noticeably into yellows in reds, and occasional gusty winds are beginning to rob the trees of their foliage.

Driving home on this particular evening, I realized that when it comes to thoughts of him, they are becoming as frequent and as necessary as breathing. Living in a town where there is nothing to remind me of him, where we have no memories, leaves me feeling a bit disoriented. There are pictures of him in my room, and I sleep with the blankets we bought on Pikes Peak. In the cooler fall mornings and evenings, I wear his flannel shirt. In my wallet I keep our ticket stub from the penny arcade in Manitou Springs. And I am almost ceaselessly listening to the music he loves, while my mind wanders to Afghanistan, and I pray ceaselessly for his safe return. Our few weeks in Colorado seem little more than a dream, and that dream is what I am living for.

Its not that I am not engaging in the reality that I live in, but the greater part of my heart is usually wrapped up in this nearly non-existent relationship, this love that most days just seems like a figment of my imagination. In the past 38 days I have received 3 brief Facebook messages, and heard his voice once. It is never enough. I think daily of how wonderful it will be to be waiting for him at the Bangor International Airport when he comes home, to hold him and be kissed by him, to hear his voice. And I never think of the end of that 2 weeks, because it signals the unfortunate end of yet another good dream.

"I'm right here and I must admit I've been pining for you. You're my wish...I just hope when I cast my spell you'll be falling for me. Because falling in love could be the first thing. Falling in love could be the worst thing. Falling in love, there is no rehearsing; retarded in love."

Koi Tattoo

2010-08-23T15:02:00.004-05:00

I ran my fingers over the smooth skin of his forearm, tracing the outlines of his colorful tattoo. I was overwhelmingly happy to be with him again. I sat close to him on the couch, holding on to his arm, my head on his shoulder, the way we had sat many times before.

When I opened my eyes to find myself alone in my bed, with my brother right in front of me, rifling through my purse, I was instantly consumed with disappointment. Aaron asked if I would go to Lafayette with him, but I was desperate to fall back asleep and into my dream again. Upon returning to sleep, there was not a single moment of Jeremy in my dreams. I was alone.

Dreaming of him only makes it harder. Although for the time that I'm asleep and 'with him', I am happy, when I wake up, his absence is so much stronger. I feel panicky that I can't see him and hear him. For a moment I feel as if these next 6 months are impossible. It is the worst feeling in the world.

Neon green

2010-08-02T15:33:00.002-05:00

It stung like a violent wind that our memories depend on a faulty camera in our minds...

There are specific memories that I wish that I could capture and preserve perfectly, with out any trick of my imagination trying to embellish or lessen the moment.

Very early this morning, we sat side by side on a wet bench, barely under the cover of a tree across the path. I can hear the rain falling on the leaves, on the pavement, on his jeans. I can feel the cold drops on the back of my neck. I can taste the cigarette, smell the smoke. I want to savor every word he said, the feel of his head on my shoulder. Our feet side by side on the sidewalk. My hand on his on my leg. The song that he sang. I want it all, perfectly stored away.

I want to remember laying side by side on my bed, our feet on the ground, our hands over our own faces, not speaking.

I want to remember the feel of his heart beating through my shoulder as we sat on the couch, his head leaning heavily against mine, and his deep breathing as he slept. I want to remember the dread of his phone vibrating in his pocket indicating the cab was here to take him away for six long months.

I want to remember the heaviness of it, the impossible weight of goodbye.

Foolishness

2010-07-15T09:03:00.002-05:00

There is an unfortunate madness about love. It gives love a proclivity for danger, for impossible risks, for hurt and sorrow. It fosters irrationality and has a way of creating illusion.

There isn't anything greater than it, really.

However, there is only one who loves right, and the rest of us are left to gamble with what we think we understand of love.

We will always be young and naive in this sense.

We will always be the subjects, and it will always be our master.

Lessons

2010-06-08T19:43:00.002-05:00

I spent the entire day in Chicago yesterday, and it was a lot of fun, but it just left me wanting more. There is a hardly a place that I frequent in the city that does not have some memory attached to it. Most of the memories are very good, and some of them are more bitter than sweet. Most of the memories, whether good or bad, remind me of things that I want terribly and cannot have. Other memories remind me of things that I love, and will have for the rest of my life.

Either way, leaving the city for a few weeks and being apart from all of my friends has given me a new perspective, and is teaching me one of the hardest lessons that I have ever learned, and I am not being the most obliging pupil.

My heart has this terrible habit of always longing for things that it cannot and should not have. My heart is always seeming to misplace its priorities, always seems to put the wrong people and things first. It refuses to listen to my head, to logic, and reason, and what it should know from years of experience. My heart, silly thing, is impulsive, shallow, and most unwise. It is also deceitful, deceiving its own self, and fickle. My heart can instantaneously flux between hatred and love, bitterness, envy, and selflessness, control and submission.

In short, my heart is my greatest enemy, most of the time. Lately, anyway.

If it would only be still, and for a moment remember who loved it first, who loves it despite its great and numerous shortcomings, perhaps it could learn to love properly.

Memoirs

2010-05-30T13:41:00.004-05:00

The smell of fresh-cut hay is one of my favorite smells. This is very telling of how I grew up as a kid. The smell takes me back to lazy afternoons in the hayloft above where my white horse dozed in his stall, occasionally whipping his tail about to fend off flies. As I drive down State Road 32, past newly mowed fields, the smell fills my car. When I smell hay, I smell leather; bridles and saddles. I smell fly spray, which always reminded me of the smell of Fruit Loops. I smell the distinct smell of sweaty horses and sweaty saddle pads.

When I drive past a horse grazing in a pasture, its face obscured in a mesh fly mask that protects its eyes from irritating flies, I can instantly remember the feel of the mesh in my hands, the faux fur that wraps around the horses muzzle and around his ears. I can feel the fine hairs of his forelock slipping through my fingers as I pull it out from under the mask. I can feel the velvety softness of his tapered muzzle under my fingertips.

As I continue to remember, I imagine hooking my fingers through his halter, and pressing my forehead against his, sans fly mask. I imagine the feel and smell of his breath as he exhales deeply. I can feel his upper lip working over the top of my shoulder, where my neck and shoulder meet, his whiskers tickling me.

It has been seven years since I watched a stranger's trailer take my horse away. It has been 12 years since I first sat on a pony and took a riding lesson. Yet I can remember those sights and smells, the feelings and textures as if it was yesterday.

Summertime, summertime

2010-05-28T19:18:00.002-05:00

I spend most of my day reading and wishing. A small portion of the day is devoted to job hunting and working my tedious Craigslist/Rentjuice job. Right now, I sit on the porch swing on my grandparents front porch. Across the street at the small basketball court, four boys are shooting hoops, swearing loudly and talking smack. Another car pulls up and three more boys pull up. Instantly, shirts are taken off, greetings are exchanged. The ball diamonds next to the courts are empty and quiet, with the exception of a few birds pecking about. The grass glows in the setting sun, save the places where the houses cast their shadows. Down the sidewalk a father and daughter work on tending the lawn. The little girl must be four or five, and her blonde hair radiates like a halo about her face, the sun illuminating the stray light strands that frame her round cheeks. She deftly maneuvers a rake two times her size, mimicking daddy. Dogs barking are heard from all corners of town. A four wheeler revs in the distance, down by the post office. Mr. Utterback peddles by on his bike, his twin boys in tow in a small cart following behind. Father and son start a game of catch with a football in the diamonds, and a girl sits on the far side on the yellow and green bleachers with her dog. Pick up trucks roll loudly buy in a small town consistency. It all seems picturesque, small town America as it should be. Straight out of a Norman Rockwell painting.

There seems to be no care of the pollution and destruction of the Gulf of Mexico, no hint of a war in the Middle East, of the rising crime in Indianapolis, just an hour away. There are just missed rebounds, "More time on the playground, daddy!", and a tumble off the tricycle.

Pick-up games of basketball, a turn on the merry-go-round, and slightly tattered American flags reflect the simplicity of the idea of the 'American Dream'.

Dichotomy kills.

2010-04-26T19:36:00.004-05:00

Every drink numbs me. I do not even recognize the girl who stares blankly back at me from the mirror. Dichotomy kills.

fated to pretend

2010-04-03T23:59:00.002-05:00

As I was saying goodbye to my newly adopted cousins, 6 year old Isabella charged through the front door out onto the porch where I was standing. "What happened to Arni?" she chirped. I couldn't believe she even remembered his name. She couldn't remember mine half the time. It had been months since she had last seen him. Braydon was right on her heels reiterating the question.

"I broke up with him." I explained.

"Why?" Braydon asked.

"He isn't nice." I lied.

I leaned against the cool gray concrete, resting my elbows on the side of the porch. Braydon was looking up at me expectantly from the front steps. I stumbled over my words for a moment, at a loss. "He was nice when he was here," he pointed out in his nine-year-old matter-of-fact way.

"I know. He was nice. He still is nice. It is hard to explain." I finished lamely. Braydon shrugged and stepped down onto the sidewalk. I was bewildered.

At least it didn't hurt this time.

Almost a week ago I was sitting on a park swing without too much to be concerned about, just a Systematic Theology exam that was coming up.

Today as I was sitting on a park swing watching my three cousins playing on the playground, the uncertainty of my future felt tangibly heavy. Things used to be so certain. I would marry Arni and live happily ever after, more or less.

Now I have the overwhelming feeling of having no place to go, no direction for my life, and just utter confusion. Everyone else's lives go on, while I am stuck trying to make a living in Chicago. On my own.

I can't handle 'on my own'. I have never really had to do it before.

Oh. Snap.

2010-03-31T19:25:00.002-05:00

I owe Moody 1800 dollars by tomorrow. They aren't going to get it, so they are dropping my enrollment. It looks like I might be taking some time off... I have been questioning for awhile now if I should finish my time at Moody. I am getting tired of school. I am not that good at it. I don't even need a degree from Moody to do what I want to do. Yet so many thoughts are assailing me at the moment... I just want to be done with school and have a degree, but I don't know if that is what is best for me. I need cheaper options at the moment. And I am just so tired of school. But I want to stay in the city, because this is where my friends are... The thought of trying to find a job and a place to live is a little scary to me though. I am definitely not sure what I am going to do. I just hope that they don't drop my enrollment for this semester. That would be awful. I would try to get a loan before I let that happen. Oy. At this moment, coming back just isn't an option.

Hello, Homer Hiccolm.

2010-03-31T02:09:00.003-05:00

I lay on my back on the hard concrete, my head propped up on Dave's backpack. My cell phone lay beside me playing Death Cab for Cutie. The sun was shining directly in my eyes. It was so warm that I couldn't complain. I just lay, listening to my friends chat, the music playing, watching as a seagull sailed above.

A Gemini named Pat

2010-03-26T23:55:00.002-05:00

I startled as I turned and saw her staring in. Standing, slightly hunched, with her black coat and fly away grey hair, she seemed a very imposing character in the window. I only caught a glance of her before I turned back to my friends, swearing in shock. I didn't chance a second glance, but returned to the conversation we had been engaged in. I looked up at the more aesthetically pleasing appearance of the waiter as he wiped off a table, the candlelight playing across his face in a flattering way.

The lady appeared again, but this time right next to me. She sat at a table behind us, directly behind my own chair. Throughout the rest of our meal, as I was slipping inconspicuous glances at the waiter, Tanzi's attention was held by this mysterious woman. I still hadn't had a chance to appraise her appearance other than the haunting impression I had as she was standing outside. Tanzi indicated that if he was in a better mood, he might invite her to join us at our table. Ruth and I more or less ignored his suggestions, quite content to enjoy our own conversations. (We hadn't seen Tanzi in quite some time, and there was a lot of catching up to be done.)

"I have a question for you. Actually, it isn't really a question, but something funny..." I heard her say to the waiter (and Tanzi reiterated for Ruth and I). Within a few minutes, she was bustling from table to table, talking with different patrons as they tried to enjoy their meals. At one point, I stood to go to the restroom to blow my nose. To my slight dismay, I noticed she was heading the very same direction.

As I entered the bathroom, she was washing her hands at the sink. "It smells like paint," she barked. I didn't quite know how to reply, as I could not really smell anything. "Doesn't it smell like paint?" she demanded.

"I'm not quite sure what the smell is," I remarked, noncommittally.

"Am I wrong? Does it not smell like paint?" she replied, incredulously. She patted the countertop of the sink. "No, this has been painted recently," she reassured me. I mentioned the condition of my nose and the lack of my sense of smell.

I stepped out of the stall that I had been snatching toilet paper from. She turned to face me. It was her eyes that shocked me.

"I need to be able to see you," she informed me. She stepped closer to me. Her eyes were bright and eager, yet at the same time, they looked blinded. They were almost completely black. It was unsettling. She stared hard at me. She asked me a random question. I can't remember what it was now, but I know that it made me chuckle. I answered her question affirmatively.

"Are you a good cook?" she asked.

"No." I replied.

"Are you sarcastic?"

"Yes."

"You are sarcastic?" she asked, her tone incredulous.

"Yeah, I'm sarcastic." I asserted. She seemed a little baffled. She then proceeded to guess my astrological sign. After prattling off a few incorrect guesses, she conceded.

"Tell me what it is then."

"I'm an Aquarius."

"February 6th?"

"No."

"January 25th?" I held up my finger in response, indicating to guess higher. She guessed lower. "The 24th?" I shook my head. "26th?"

"Yeah."

"I'm a Gemini," she explained in a matter of fact sort of way. "Gemini tend to have split personalities. I had to choose to not be that way though, you know, not mean one day, and nice the next. If you are mean to someone one day, then someone could be mean to you the next day, and make you have a crappy day. So instead of being a shitty-ass, I try to be nice, because what goes around comes around. That's my one motive for being nice, you know. My doctor, he tells me 'Pat, there are two things I like about you. You have a great sense of humor, and you're very sweet'. I get my sense of humor from my dad. I am like my dad in a lot of ways. He only ever said one thing to hurt me. He said to me once, 'Pat, everyone in that grocery store was probably thinking how ugly you are. You may not be pretty, but you have a good sense of humor.' So, I said to him,'Well, since I get my looks from you, they must have been thinking the same thing about you!' and he told me that that was a pretty smart remark!"

I wanted to tell her I thought she was pretty. Not in an insincere sort of way. I hate being cheesy and trite, but I do find that most people have something distinguishably attractive about them. I could see how, in her youth, Pat could have been a very pretty woman. Her haunting eyes bored into mine as I studied her face, her prominent nose and high cheek bones, the way her bangs lay flattened against her forehead. Her voice changed slightly as she continued to share with me.

"I am like my dad in every way, in the way that I look, even in the way that I talk, although I sound more feminine than him. We had the same rhythm in our voice. Is that the right word? Rhythm?"

"Yeah, intonation maybe. The way your voice rises and falls," I offered.

"Yeah. My other doctor tells me I was just like him. He passed away four years ago." Her dark eyes shifted and she looked past me.

"I am really sorry," I said, catching her wandering gaze. "I'm a lot like my own dad too," I added. The conversation lost momentum.

"What is your name?" she asked.

"Sanyelle." I replied, emphasizing the 'S' as I am so accustomed to doing. No one gets the benefit of the doubt anymore. I introduce myself to everyone with the assumption that they are hard of hearing.

"Danielle. That's a nice name. I'm Pat." she replied cheerfully. "Well, Danielle, I hope your cold goes away, and I hope that I see you here again. I am here all the time," she explained as she pulled open a stall door.

"It was nice meeting you, Pat," I replied as I exited the bathroom.

Upon returning to the table, I finished my drink in brooding silence. She reminded me of my mother.

all the thoughts wasted on you. and you. and you.

2010-03-25T19:25:00.004-05:00

One showed up in my mini feed last night. A new picture of him taken by his new girlfriend. "Oh you look so great in this picture babe!" she says. "Thanks Sweety!" he replies. I throw up a little in my mouth and wonder how I ever dated him. For as long as I did. And almost married him. Oh gosh.

One texted me this morning. Of all of his countless friends, apparently I am the only one who might know which tax form he would need. And then he ended our brief text conversation with "Have a good day ms denim expert." Should I even bother telling him that I don't work at the Gap anymore? I mean, he has no idea of anything else that is happening in my life. So, instead, I didn't reply at all.

One walked past me in CPO today. He reached out and touched my arm. In my mind, I reciprocated with a kick to the balls. Jacquelyn glared at him. I called him a name under my breath a few moments later, thinking he was gone. He was just around the corner. I really hope he heard.

snip, snip

2010-03-23T12:50:00.001-05:00

I swore that I would never get rid of the stuffed dog that he won me at King's Island. He had invested at least 50 dollars in winning it for me. I had never owned such an expensive stuffed animal.

Yesterday, as I lay in my bed staring out the window while Deanna and Julianna chatted on the couch, I thought once more about my emotionally eventful Spring Break. Deanna held the giant stuffed dog in her lap, fiddling with the red plastic collar and the floppy ears. I suddenly loathed the dog. I wished I could destroy it. Instead I offered it to Deanna, who seemed to enjoy it and saw its value as a good pillow. I looked at the pictures on my wall, pictures that I thought that I could look at without feeling pain. However, knowing that Andrew now has a new girlfriend has opened old wounds and brought on a whole new realm of feelings that I have never experienced before.

There is a picture of us kissing in the snow, a few pictures of us at the zoo, pictures of Christmas, and one of my favorite pictures of just him.

Now when I look at the pictures of him, I thought of all the time that was invested in him, in the relationship, and all the many memories that accumulated over the two and a half years we spent together. That coupled with the two bridal magazines on my book shelf has become too much for me. Especially since there is some new girl in his life that is filling my shoes. I hate what this is doing to me, this nasty side of me that it is slowly and methodically revealing. I know with total conviction that marrying Andrew would have been a horrible mistake for both of us. I know that he is not the best guy for me. I have since met many guys that I know would be better suited for me. Yet I do not like the idea that there is anyone out there that is better for him than me. I am such a bitch.

I know that these feelings are wrong, that they are foolish, selfish, and jealous. I cannot squelch them though. I can't stand the thought that after all that I invested in him, in that relationship, that someone else can just step in where I left off and make him happier than I ever did. There is also a lot of angst over the fact that he has moved on and is happily in a new relationship when all I have had is three guys in my life who "like me", but apparently not enough to do anything about it. All around me happy relationships are springing up and I am stuck in the same rut dealing with my trashed emotions and wondering when some man is going to come in my life and remind me that they do really exist.

I write this with a lot of bitterness. I write this from a very wrong state of heart and mind. I write this because all I have seen as far as relationships go with family and guys is failure after failure after failure. I am sick of constantly being let down. And I am sick of just being able to think and say, "Lord, be my everything," when I honestly feel no sincerity behind it. I know what my life should look like. Why can't I make it happen?

In other news, I just got a text message from my mother. Incredibly predictable. The same old story that makes me realize that I have even more removal to deal with in my life. I mentioned in my last post that I have to be done with home. I have to be done with that entire unhealthy community. The thought terrifies me, but also brings me a great sense of freedom. With my mother, things happen the same way. She always initiates contact, and after much prayer and thought, I reciprocate. There has been so much pain and so much shit that has happened, and the abyss between myself and my mother is increasing. I have muddled my way through trying to understand forgiveness, but I am slowly but surely learning that forgiveness does not necessarily mean reconciliation, especially if there is abuse present in the relationship. And there is so much abuse between my mother and I. I cannot even fathom a relationship with her at this point. That doesn't mean never, but it does mean right now, I cannot have relationship with her for my own sanity and my own safety. However, I wish that it could be simple, that I could just step back from her and forgive her and then move on for a time in my life when there isn't that self destructive relationship present. Even just recently, my attempts to let my mother into my life has twice blown up in my face and led to the usual hateful and abusive retaliations on her part, followed by an attempt to ask for forgiveness and manipulate me into a relationship with her.

Yet even as I write this, my heart is breaking. I know that my mom doesn't have any friends. I know that she is entirely alone. She has lost her whole family. She is not in a loving relationship with any of her kids. She has two ex husbands now. How can I resign myself to this and be okay with this much suffering in my mothers life and not try to reach out to her and love her? Yet how can I constantly subject myself to the abuse of being in a relationship with her?

Today in chapel we sang the song "This Is My Father's World". One of the lines that we kept repeating was, "This is my Father's world, why should my heart be sad?"

I can think of more reasons than I can count that I should be sad. This world is such a shitty place. There is heartache everywhere. I am certain that God is not happy all the time about the state of His creation, the state of His children. This is His world, and He is sovereign, but sorrow and heartache is a tangible result of the fall, and that is in fact, the world that we live in.

fragments

2010-03-22T19:04:00.002-05:00

The sky above Chicago at twilight is a beautiful robin egg blue. The skyscrapers are bathed in a pale glow from the sun sinking in the west. It is a cool spring evening, and my window is cracked to let in the chill breeze.

I sit and listen to music, my thoughts throbbing in my head. Spring break taught me so many things. Most importantly, and most terrifyingly:

I am closing the door on home. And I don't have the faintest idea who I am.

I have divided myself into so many pieces, I cannot decipher what parts of me are real, and what parts are not. I know what I long for. I know who I want to be. I know who I want in my life, and who I don't want. Yet who I am, at my core, is a mystery.

Of late, I am constantly plagued by the same thoughts that have formed painful themes in heart and mind. And my greatest problem is probably that I cannot manage to disconnect my heart from my mind.

I am constantly restless, and this forms a thirst for new and exciting things. There is so much in life to experience, and life is so short, I want to be able to experience as much of it as I can. There is so much to see, so much to do... Yet I am stuck in the monotony of school work, and the endless grind of homework and working to pay my school bills. I am far from where my heart roams. I long to be around horses, around people that are broken and needy, places I have never been before.

I long for stability too. I want a place that I can come to when my heart does long to pause and rest. I want a community that is safe for me, where I will find love and support. I have this at Moody, but no where else. In the next three years, my Moody family will be scattered across the world, and I will have to rebuild again, or come to terms with what it means to be lonely.

This desire for stability plays off of my need to have someone to love, and to be loved by. As for now, I want a relationship, but am not quite ready for the serious commitment of marriage and settling down. I am simply not ready for that. I am looking for it in the future, but for now I want someone in my life to share my sense of adventure and to enjoy what it is to be young and not tied down by excessive responsibility. I just want to have a lot of fun for now, and make the commitment later... With that commitment comes the stability that I long for. Someone who I can come 'home' to, no matter where 'home' is.

At the end of the day though, the only one who can meet all my deepest needs is God. He is the only one Who is truly constant in my life, but it is hard to find all of my satisfaction in Him. He is the One who understands and knows me, better than I know me. He knows my needs and is faithful to meet them, and I know He is the One who will always be with me, no matter where I find myself.

There is always so much more to say. And I finish this post feeling sufficiently dissatisfied.

The last straw...

2010-03-19T18:48:00.002-05:00

Worst day of spring break ever?

Well. If you consider the following:

1. Went to the doctor for an increasingly worse sore throat. I had to see my mom's favorite doctor. Never have I dreaded going to the doctor so much. In less than five minutes, he decided what antibiotics I need. As he was writing up my scripts, he lectured me. On how I need to be there for my mother. He even pulled the "You go to Christian school... You can find room in your heart to love your mother." There was so much I wanted to say to him. Starting with "Who the hell do you think you are?" I could have told him that I have tried to tell my mother many times that I love her. I could have told him that yesterday I went to see her for the first time in six months, but she did not want to see me. She didn't even acknowledge me, but instead got in her car and drove off. Yet, I'm not accountable to my family doctor for my relationship with my mom. Last I knew, he was there to diagnose my physical ailments. Not my family issues. I was so pissed off that I drove for over an hour. I drove 25 miles down a highway, to the interstate, and then took back roads through the southern part of the county I live in. It was warm enough to have the sunroof open and the windows down, and it was an opportunity to think about things and just cry, something that I have needed to do for a long time.

2. Upon arriving home from my long drive, I took a long shower, and then sat down to relax and watch TV. After sitting down with a coke and some chips, I heard a loud hissing sound, and a lot of dripping. There was water pouring out of the kitchen ceiling. Literally pouring, as if there was a miniature tsunami coming from the bathroom above. There was. As I ran upstairs, I found a large bag of my clothes soaking in a puddle that was rapidly forming. Water was gushing from some unknown source beneath the toilet. I called my dad, who instructed me on how to turn off the water in the basement. In the time it took for me to figure out how to shut off the water, two ceiling tiles had collapsed and broken to pieces as water continued to pour from the bathroom upstairs. There was water everywhere. By the time I was done frantically running from the basement to the upstairs, both pairs of my shoes were soaked all the way through, and my phone ended up drenched as well. (Fortunately, it is still working.)

Its not the worst that could happen, but in comparison to the rest of my two weeks off, today was definitely the most interesting.

girl with broken wings

2010-03-15T15:48:00.001-05:00

On the porch, she will sit,/light another cigarette,/and take a sip of anything that makes it right./She's outside,/trying to hide/ from the fight just inside,/where her mom and her dad destroy each other./And on the phone she will call/every boy, yeah, one and all./They will touch her in all the right places./And in her room, she will slide/down the bed and try to fly,/and she will fall once again for the feeling./And as he grabs her brown hair,/she is faking/that the feeling he gives her is real/as the floor underneath the bed is breaking./She will finish what she starts with "I love you."/So from her head to her toes;/nervous hands and runny nose,/all of this just for one night of feeling./And in her ears she will hear/all the things that hide her fears/of dying young and making plans for the future./And all the marks on her arms/symbolize a fractured heart,/and all the boys that were smart/left her alone./So from the roof, she will fly/15 feet down the side/of the house where she once was happy./Yes it's true, she's aware/that she is breaking./And it's true, she can't do anything./Well in her blue underwear/she is thinking how in Jesus' precious name/she got here./Well it's sad, but it's true,/she is ending./But for now, she will pray for some wings./On a black Cadillac she is landing hard,/yet her parents' biggest worry is the car.

-Manchester Orchestra

I heard this song countless times before I actually listened to it. It breaks my heart to think of how many girls this song represents. There is no exaggeration in this song of the pain that it speaks of. This is reality.
How do I help?
I am surrounded by what seems like hopelessness. On the news, I heard of a woman whose toddler was playing in a busy street because she was too high to notice that the child had ran outside. What is going to become of that child whose mother is now in prison? He will probably be shuffled around the child care system from foster home to foster home.
What of the girl who woke up outside of a dorm on IU's campus after being raped by someone she thought that she could trust? How does a young woman recover from that kind of pain? How will she ever find healing, especially if she does not know Christ?
I hear story after story of children, teenagers, young adults, adults, even the elderly being abused and broken. I feel as if there is nothing I can do that will make a significant contribution in helping these people to heal. All I can hope to do is share the love of Christ with the suffering people that I do encounter, and pray that He will work miraculous healing in their lives.
And for the rest, for all the people in this world who are hurting so deeply that I will never meet, I can only mourn for them and pray for them...

Today I stood and walked away

2010-03-08T00:04:00.000-06:00

"Today I stood and walked away, I'm never coming back this way."

I jogged out to my old beat up Taurus. I could barely see my breath. The ground was soggy, and the grass smelled wet with the rain that had fallen in the past hours. I looked up briefly at the sky, catching a glimpse of clouds and stars. It felt somehow strange and perfectly normal to be standing in the Lewis' front yard. Being at Sasha's house practically epitomizes my high school years. There were weeks where I spent more time at her house than I did my own.

The whole evening had been kind of surreal. I sat in the auditorium of my home church watching the youth group lead our evening service. They did a puppet skit that I had done when I was in high school. I barely recognized any of the kids in the youth group. Things were so different since when I was in the youth group. Back then we had actually had a youth pastor...

I realize now that not only has my church changed so much since I attended, but I have changed so much. I wonder if the 17 year old me would recognize the 21 year old me, or would have believed it if someone told her that she would someday have tattoos, had moved on past Arni, and would have a taste for things she never thought was okay.

I never dreamed that I would have a life without Arni in it. I used to think that tattoos were trashy (mostly because of my mom) and that drinking was wrong (because of my church). I never thought that I would enjoy the music I do today. I dress differently now. I have grown up, for the most part. And the most formative years of my 'growing up' have taken place in downtown Chicago.

How different would I be if I had gone to Cedarville or Grace? I wouldn't have met the people that have had the greatest influence on how I think. The past year has completely transformed the way that I see myself and the way that I think about God. I am still being challenged all the time in how I think about God. Its not even the professors that I have, but more so the friends that I have. My friends are so diverse and come from such different walks of life, all bringing into the mix a different way to think about things and consider God.

I think my environment has a lot to do with how I think and act too. Living and working in downtown Chicago has definitely given me an edge and a confidence that I would lack if I had stayed in a small town. I also live in a city with countless options of tattoo parlors. This combined with the fact that my best friend and every other Moody student has a tattoo led to my own tattoos. I also live in a city where there are literally countless bars and pubs on seemingly every block of Chicago. Seeing this lifestyle playing out in front of me every weekend has also had an influence on how I think.

What if I had never left Crawfordsville? What if I had stayed and done community college like so many of my friends and just stayed and worked here. I feel like my spiritual growth would have been stunted. Not to say that people who don't go to Bible College can't grow more spiritually, but I have had the chance to sit under the tutelage of great biblical scholars, and have had my faith challenged and stretched in ways I never would have dreamed possible if I had stayed home.

However, I do know that God gave me a desire to see the world, to stretch my horizons constantly. Even Chicago is growing old on me. I am ready for newer and better things. I am glad that He has called me out of my comfort zone into different places. I am glad that He has given me a passion for things that will provide plenty of exciting years. I am glad that He brought me into Chicago, a place where I could grow into myself.

It does cause me to question how much of a person is genuine personality, and how much of a person is just effected by environment. I have always had a desire to be 'rebellious'. I have always loved dying my hair and changing my looks. There are people in my life, such as Jacquelyn, who encourage those tendencies in me. But there are other aspects of my current lifestyle that I know are just because I live in a big city... I guess as time goes on, and I move from place to place, I will learn more of what I am really made of. One thing that will never change is the work of God in my life, which I am thankful that He will continue, no matter where I am at.

It is time to bid farewell to the quiet, small town part of myself for now. Perhaps I will come back to it again.

2:28

2010-02-17T02:27:00.000-06:00

It is 2:28AM. I have been studying Asperger Syndrome and Autism since 6:30PM. With one break. I am physically and emotionally drained... Yet I am also very excited. And intrigued. And very sorrowful.

I have just watched 3 documentaries about living with an Autistic Spectrum Disorder. The first one was from the perspective of mothers who are raising a child with Autism. These women were women who have forsaken their own personal happiness to devote their lives to caring for children who cannot relate to them, respond to them, can barely speak to them. Children who will never be able to function fully in society. These women are exhausted and despairing, some on the verge of hopelessness. Some whose husbands have left them. The divorce rate among marriages who have a child with Autism was quoted at being 80%. I cannot even imagine...

One woman was speaking of having a daughter who could not be put into the public school system because of the severity of her disorder. She said that she would rather drive herself and her daughter off of a bridge than deal with the school system. Another woman described a future for her son that was void of any lasting relationships. He would never marry, never have children. She wept as she described the feeling of being at a wedding and watching the mothers and sons dancing, knowing she would never have that opportunity with her own son. The hopelessness is heartbreaking.

The second documentary was about a middle aged man with Asperger Syndrome. He described what it was like to realize that people have emotions, something that he never experienced himself. He was egocentric, in that he just assumed that every other person existed the same way that he did- on a purely physical level. He only understood what could be seen, measured, touched, he did not understand what it was like to feel something. He stands at a zoo, watching the monkeys, observing that even they know how to respond to a fellow creature who is injured, they know how to care and have relationships. This does not come naturally to this man. He has to learn. He prefers crystals to people. Crystals have regularity and predictability... People do not.

The third documentary featured a 14 year old named Reuben. Reuben has an IQ of 154, only about 10 points less than Einstein. Yet he is terrified of crowds, struggles to shop for groceries, and is bullied because of his social ineptness. He is absolutely brilliant, but still manages to feel like an idiot when it comes to relating to people. He feels more empathy for a book that has been purchased and therefore has a sense of belonging than he does for a fellow person.

Within the Autism Spectrum Disorders there is great variation. There are those who are more cognitively disabled, and there are those who are Autistic Savants. For example, the real Rain Man: A man who can tell you all about the interstate systems that connect all of the cities in the USA, who can tell you within seconds of being asked how old Winston Churchill would be this year, and on what day of the week his birthday would fall, who can memorize the numbers of a phone book and what number belongs to who, who can read two pages in 7-8 seconds (one eye on each page) and retain 98% of what he just read... there is also Daniel Tammit who sees numbers with colors, textures, and personalities, who can remember thousands of the numbers in Pi. There is the man, who after being smashed in the head with a baseball bat, can recall the weather of any date since his accident, for example "August 10th of 1981 was a Wednesday, and it was overcast and cooler than usual"... It is mind blowing what the human mind can be capable of. Yet the genius doesn't come without cost. These men struggle to have relationships with people. They cannot understand human emotion. When they see a person smile or laugh, frown or cry, the neurons in their brain simply don't respond. What would it be like to lack emotion, to be surrounded by people that you can't relate to and understand, to be an alien? How terribly lonely it must be... Yet some of them don't even realize that they are alone.

How do you present the Gospel to a person who can't feel emotions? How can you make them understand their need for a personal relationship with God? They can't function relationally. It is overwhelming to me.

Yet there is hope for these people. And one way I have seen it happen is through the healing powers of animals.

As a young girl in middle school, one of my best friends was an old white horse who had been badly abused and abandoned. The connection I had with him was inexplicable. He needed me and I needed him, and there was something very healing found in that relationship. Children who are abused, who are unable to connect and relate to people, who have disorders of all kinds can find healing and acceptance with animals. In the case of Autism, take for example the story of Rowan. Rowan was severely autistic. By the age of six years old, he was not communicating, had no control over his bowel movements, and was prone to fits so intense he was compared to the exorcist. His life was radically changed after running right under the hooves of a hot tempered horse. Instead of trampling him to death as was expected, the horse dropped her head and instead displayed submission to Rowan. Rowan's father instantly sought permission from the horse's owner to let Rowan ride. As soon as Rowan was put on the horse's back, Rowan began to speak full sentences. He was instantaneously calmed. There was something about being on a horse, or holding a goat in his arms, or petting a reindeer, that soothed Rowan's troubled soul.

Children who are badly abused, who can't form bonds with people because of an attachment disorder, they can form bonds with animals. An animal, whether a horse, dog, cat, or goat, can provide a listening ear without any form of reproach or condemnation, a security that humans cannot offer.

To some it sounds bogus. But to anyone who has a beloved pet, it is certain that there is something about an animal that can be calming and comforting, that can offer hope and the feeling of being needed.

There is so much good that can come out of animal assisted therapy. Children can be aided physically by being around animals. Horseback riding can be used to strengthen children with cerebral palsy. The rocking motion of a horse's gait triggers something in the brain that encourages speech development. Children can build character though AAT. Having to care for an animal also teaches a child responsibility and gives them a certain feeling of ownership. Children can find emotional healing with AAT. They can talk to an animal without any fear of being judged, condemned, or shouted at. They can learn to trust something. And what a foundation for teaching them how to have a relationship and trust in other people, and perhaps, eventually, their Creator.

Animal Assisted Therapy and Equine Therapy can meet many needs for children with disabilities, but it cannot fulfill their spiritual needs. Perhaps it can be a means, but in itself it cannot show a child the love of Christ. And that is what excites me about my own role in working with kids through this kind of therapy. I would love to be able to minister to a family with a child who has a disability. I would love to just love them, and share with them the love that I have found in my relationship with God. I would be thrilled to be able to have any kind of connection with a child who finds it hard to relate to and understand other people. And even if they could not understand or engage with me in a relationship, I could still show love and reassurance.

The more that I study and learn about kids with Autism Spectrum Disorders, the more anxious I am to learn more and to get involved in the ministry that I have such a passion for. For now though, God does have me at Moody Bible Institute, and I know that it is with purpose. Although I sometimes wonder if it is the best school for me, God has miraculously brought and kept me here, so I am trying to not take advantage of the opportunity, and to learn what I can from the classes I do have... All the while God is refining and cultivating my heart for Him and for the children that He has created.

Disoriented

2010-02-16T15:02:00.000-06:00

Systematic Theology is an interesting class. It is just a little too much for 2 hours, right after lunch. Normally I have my laptop with me, and I pass the time playing solitaire and spider solitaire while putting forth a sincere effort to stay awake and pay attention. However, upon returning to my room to get my dear laptop today, Ruth had left it on and unplugged, resulting in no power. Therefore, no laptop... So I actually took notes. And tried to pay attention. And what do you know? Now I have a lot to blog about...

Today we talked about faith and repentance, issues that I sincerely believe that most Christians don't think about and consider enough. Our faith is complex and the way that we live our lives should hinge on our belief, therefore serious consideration should be given to these seemingly simple issues. What is faith? What is repentance?

When it comes to faith and the whole process of election, salvation, and sanctification, I find myself questioning and reconsidering of late. The conclusions that I have come to at this point are as follows:

For His own divine purpose and good pleasure (why He would find pleasure in this, I do not know), God chose me before time. Wow. He did NOT choose me based on any foreknowledge. He didn't see that I would be receptive to His Gospel and choose me because of it, He chose me because He will be glorified in it and because He takes pleasure in it. All I can do is be sincerely appreciative for this gift of life that I do not deserve. Because of this decision to take mankind and redeem those He chose, Christ had to step in and take the punishment of sin upon Himself. Therefore, Christ, Who in His very nature is LIFE, submitted Himself to death. While hanging on the cross, He bore the wrath and hatred of God. I cannot imagine the depths of the suffering of the Lamb of God. But because He took my place, I now have life. Not only do I have life, but I have fellowship with God and innumerable and immeasurable spiritual blessings.

As I have discussed in a past post, the idea that God, YHWH, the One True God, impregnated a Jewish girl to give birth to His holy Son, who would grow up only to die on a pile of trash outside of Jerusalem is absolutely absurd to the human mind. Of my own human volition, I would never buy it. Who would? Paul wrote to the Corinthians, "The natural person does not accept the things of the Spirit of God, for they are folly to him, and he is not able to understand them because they are spiritually discerned." (1 Corinthians 2:14) So, praise God, He granted me faith. I have come to the conclusion that God reveals Himself and His love, His lavishness, His grace, His freedom, and His life to those whom He has chosen. What else can our response be but to choose Him? We were created for fellowship with Him. It is what it means to be human. If a lion is offered a salad or a steak, the lion will choose the steak. It is what he was made for. If God offers life or death, love or wrath, our natural inclination will be to choose life and love.

I have not been able to fully flesh out all of the implications of this doctrine, but I know that I am chosen, that I have eternal life. I know that I have been offered the love of God and that God has granted me the faith to believe it. There are points in all of this doctrine that I could be wrong about, that I have misunderstood, but over the past year, this is where I have found myself.

Today I was challenged to rethink repentance and its implications. Repentance, as I have been taught growing up, is a turning from a lifestyle of sin and choosing to walk in obedience. However, this was challenged today. Repentance can certainly entail this obedience, but our salvation cannot rest on our choice to never sin again. It is a commitment that we break every single day. Perhaps we can alter our language in this theology. As Luther put it, repentance is a reorientation. It is a choice to no longer be oriented to self, but to God. And out of this choice, out of our new desire to please God, we choose to say no to sin and self, and say yes to the things of God.

I have found the thought of reorientation far more profound and impacting than the thought of choosing to sin no more. Because I will sin again. And again. And again. And again. But if I reshape my thinking to reorient my mindset, my heart, and my will to the things of God rather than the things of self, it is something that can be decided instantaneously by the grace of God, a choice that will no doubt include flux, but can redefine my life.

Death to sin, coming alive in Christ.

It is a daily labor, but hopefully a labor of love. It is a labor that brings life and joy. It brings us into closer fellowship with God, and perpetuates our conformity to Christ.

Happy New Year

2010-02-15T16:17:00.000-06:00

I am overwhelmed with school work. Therefore, I blog.

Today I was supposed to go to my PCM. In the five weeks that school has been in session, I have been to PCM once. That was two weeks ago. So, being the dutiful and responsible student that I am, I left for Chinatown at a little after 3 this afternoon. As I was waiting for the train, I didn't notice any of my fellow students waiting for the train. I thought perhaps they had caught an earlier one. I was enjoying my music, listening to One Headlight by the Wallflowers. As I got on the train, I sat across from an attractive guy wearing dark aviators. He had long-ish curly hair that was falling in his face. He pulled out a clear ziplock bag of what I naively thought looked like tea. However, I do not think that most people roll up tea into a joint. He just sat there with the joint in his mouth until he got off on the next stop. My attention was then drawn to another attractive boy- also wearing sunglasses in the seat diagonal to mine. As I was noticing his attractiveness, I also noticed he was massaging the neck of the guy sitting next to him. A little weird... And then he was rubbing his ear.

Dang.

I got off the train in Chinatown, oblivious to all of the signs that wished all visitors a happy new year. I also did not question that the majority of the people on the streets were white. As I got to Pui Tak, the obvious became clear to me as I peered in the dark window.

In vain, I called several friends in hopes that they could look up the number for my PCM partners, just so I could be certain. After standing outside shivering and cursing the fact that I was not up to date on the Chinese calendar, I stalked back to the train station and headed back to Moody.

Exactly one hour after I left, I was back in my room.

At least I already paid for unlimited CTA service. Therefore the only thing wasted was my time.

I am not my own...

2010-02-14T14:28:00.000-06:00

Prior to yesterdays post, I had not updated in over 2 months... One reason for this was for the majority of my Christmas break, I was taking a break in my relationship with technology. Another reason is that there was not much good for me to say. My life hasn't been horrible- there wasn't an absence of good things in my life- but I had let my circumstances drag me into a very wrong state of heart and mind.

However, throughout the most of Christmas break, I did find moments of healing even in the midst of a bout of depression. On December 25, after reading Psalm 143, I wrote:

"I am learning a lot about myself and my deep need for a relationship with God. I am finding that my heart is starting to resound more and more with David and his Psalms... My soul often despairs as I realize how much pain there is in life. But there is good in it. I realize more and more my need for healing, my need for a heavenly Father, and a heavenly lover. "

On the 27th:

"I still also struggle with the fact that so many of my desires are in contradiction with the Gospel, with the will of God. Its so hard to continually put those things to death. It become exhausting, to constantly fight myself and struggle to always persevere and not take the 'easy way out', which all leads to my constant propensity to self loathing."

Jan 1st:

"'Joy: an unsatisfied desire which is itself more desirable than any other satisfaction'- C.S Lewis"

Jan 2nd:

"Despair is an awful, awful thing. It is the loss of hope, the last flame flickering and dying, plunging you into an abyss of darkness. It is the thought of a loved one being in a place, that if it were yourself, you would never survive. My mother may never know or understand my love for her. She may die thinking that her children and husband hated her. The thought makes me ill. I despair- because I cannot see reconciliation or healing. I can only see the pain in my past and the future heartache that is always ever in store for my family."

Jan 3rd:

"My self-diagnosis? Depression. Also known as a predisposition to feel like shit about myself. But not only that- a longing for my innocence, for the summer of 2006, lying in the grass, midsummer with Catie, wondering if this could be what heaven is like. Cliffy throwing an ant lion in my hair, night swims, star gazing, John Reuben, Michael and our twin-ness, falling for the lifeguard. Everything was great then. My family was still intact. I can't really remember the bad things. Just all the good."

Jan 4th:

"I admire Amanda and her lifestyle so much, and the way she lives gives me so much to consider. What would my life look like if I closed out the influences of the world? Stopped watching TV and movies and got rid of my secular music? Is that even realistic for a 20 year old college student? ... And Friday I am seeing Arni. Good old Arni. If I married him, I could have the life I think I've always wanted. But I am think I am certifiable and that this is a horrid idea. I want a guy who will pursue me, fight for me, fight with me! It just sucks that I gave Arni a good 2 1/2 years. Not that it was time wasted. But now I'm in debt 2000 dollars to his family. Damn. And his parents dislike me. I burnt that bridge with my heretical blog. Hmm. Well I guess we'll see how fucked up things can get..."

Jan 5th:

"In reading Colossians it is so interesting to me the way in which Paul describes the death of Christ in legal terms, discussing authority, circumcision, ,trespasses and the like. The most beautiful thing is this: My God took on fullness of flesh while maintaining the fullness of deity and His authority. In His death and resurrection, He defeated and shamed evil and cancelled the debt of sin owed by believers. Jesus paid it all. All to Him I owe. Sin had left a crimson stain, He washed it white as snow. My debt is paid! I've been set free! God sees my as justified. Praise Him!"

Such was my Christmas break: a roller coaster of depression and discoveries of the heart of God for me, and my need for Him. Upon returning to Moody, I let myself go spiritually, and God has been slowly but surely nagging at my heart again.

So many bad habits have cluttered my heart and I have bowed to false god, after false god, after false god. Today, Pastor Nathan preached a sermon that I feel was just for me.

[Preface] Yesterday, I was on a train for 3.5 hours, which gave me a long time to think. The song "Holy" by Nicole Nordeman came on my Zune (which seems to have an uncanny tendency to find the minority of music that is Christian and play it while on shuffle). The song really got to me and started a long thought process of re-evaluating my lifestyle of late.

So here it is; the culmination of the train ride, reading the Bible for the first time in a long time last night, and the powerful sermon this morning:

God gave everything for me. Everything.

For the Israelites, their very existence was hinged on their relationship to the Creator God. Every part of their day was oriented towards God. Their lives were acts of worship- giving, thanking, praying, sacrificing, celebrating... Their entire identity rested on God. They knew that all that they had was from Him: the food they ate, their freedom from bondage, the clothes they wore, the crops they harvested. It was all from God. On their last night in Egypt, God spared them from the punishment he exacted on the Egyptians. Although during their tenure in Egypt, the Israelites too had turned to false gods and were equally deserving of punishment, God provided a way for them to be spared- a brilliant foreshadowing of Christ's work on the cross. After they found their freedom, He asked for the consecration of their firstborns, not only of their firstborn sons, but the firstborn of their livestock and later, the firstfruits of their harvest. The children would be consecrated to the LORD. The sheep would be sacrificed. Even the donkeys would have to be atoned for. Why? So that the Israelites were reminded that they owed their very existence to Yahweh. He in turn demanded the best of them, their worship, their love. The Shema demands that we love the Lord our God with all our heart, soul, and might. I cannot say in honesty that I have ever been able to love God that way. I will never be able to love Him the way that He deserves to be loved.

I do not understand, when I am reminded almost every day that I am in a relationship with a God who gave Himself fully for me, why I am not compelled to love Him above all else. Why it is that although I have a God who loves me so completely, and only wishes to see me become conformed to the likeness of His Son (which is the best possible existence to have), I always turn to other things in life to find satisfaction and pleasure? Why am I not so compelled to love God, and live every single day as an act of worship and devotion to Him? Where is the disconnect in my feeble human mind? He is God. The One True God. The God who died for me. The God whose purpose for my life is to enjoy Him, and therefore be glorified. Why do I spend so much of my life face down in front of the idol of self? Why do I run from Him? What must He do to fully have my heart. That is a scary thought. But it compels me to pray and plead for God to continue to break me, to remind me of my need for Him. Today was a good reminder. There are many things in my life that must be killed... The process will be a long one, until the day that I die. But He is faithful, and will not leave me here in this mess I have made of myself.

There is much more to be said, more that I would like to reflect on... but there will be more time for that. The bottom line is this:

I am not my own, for I have been made new.

Living for myself must be stopped. Living for Him, enjoying Him, serving Him; it must commence.

We suffer

2010-02-13T23:09:00.000-06:00

Another friend miscarried. She was at the end of her first trimester. What is there that you can say to ease the pain of a loss like that? God could have prevented this. Why didn't He?

Why?

Why are my parents getting a divorce? Why is my mother sick and alone? Why doesn't my little brother believe anymore? Why do unborn babies have to die? Why is there so much suffering outside my window?

The list goes on and on... God is sovereign, and He is good. He suffers too. He sees the world He has created, the people He has taken time to carefully design, and all of their pains. He allows death and destruction. He didn't stop the earthquake that ruined Haiti... It hurts Him too, so why does He allow all of it? I know that we live in a fallen world, that death is the result of our sin nature, but the amount of pain and suffering on this planet would seem to indicate that we serve a cold hearted God who doesn't have a concern for the billions of people on earth. So it would seem.

But that isn't the God that we serve. We serve a God that we cannot begin to understand. A God whose depths we would lose ourselves in if we tried to understand Him. We serve a tender loving God that has a very special love for those that He has chosen. And even those He loves He breaks, and binds them up again. He never punishes- Christ bore that. The life and death of an unborn child is not wasted. As cliche as the truth is, it is still truth: Our God has a plan.

Suffering is such an intense emotion, and common to all people, yet people handle it so differently. Today, as I sat and watched Christie weeping for her dear friend, I thought of my own times spent locked up and Christie and Jackie's room, sobbing- mourning the brokenness of my family. Jacquelyn, Ruth, Christie, and Christy sat around me as I wept, offering their soft condolences and praying for me. My suffering looked so much different than Christie's. There is always more anger in my emotions, more frustration. I question with more passion, with more disturbance. When it comes to feeling at all, to expressing my thoughts and emotions, it always seems to be more fiery than what I see in others. Christie considers herself to be a more emotional person, and as far as outward displays of emotion go, I would agree most of the time. However, my own emotions are more inwardly self destructive than outwardly expressive. And when they are outwardly expressed- it is more often than not inappropriately expressed.

I do think it is natural and okay to question and to be upset with our circumstances. We were not made for pain and suffering. We were created for complete, unhindered communion and fellowship with God. We weren't created for this separation, this process of living and dying, all the while being broken and brought low, our lives pockmarked with loss after loss after loss. It seems a great injustice. But if we, as sinful humans are seeking justice- we find it in damnation. That is justice. Yet God has reinvented justice, in a sense.

And one day the tears will be wiped away, and perhaps life will be like some vague dream, or some horrifying nightmare that we have been rescued from. And we will have what we were created for, we will be who we were created to be.

These Words Are Not Enough

2009-12-04T02:04:00.000-06:00

I don't even know how to address You, what to say to You that can even begin to describe where my heart is at this very moment. It has been so long. Tonight, You slowly pried away the grip that was on my heart, the grip that the world had. I nearly wept at the thought of You still loving me, being jealous for me, and longing for a relationship with me. I have rejected You, night after night, day after day. I have been heartless and severe in my avoidance of You. I have let my heart grow cold, angry, and bitter rather than softened by Your love.
It was the thought of seeing You, as I will someday. It was the thought of entering into Your presence and wanting nothing more than to throw myself into Your arms, knowing that no matter how foolish I have been, it has been me that You have wanted. You want me! Even when I don't want You. You know me, created me, have plans and dreams for me bigger than I could dream for myself. And God, You love me. You love me. I cannot wrap my mind around this love. It is unrequited. It is undeserved. It is grace at its greatest. This love that lead You to death, that brought me to life.
I have thrown myself at other things, relentlessly giving my soul over to carnality. I have let my thoughts fester. Rather than pray, I long for a life of fleeting pleasure. Rather than taste Your love and grace, I hungered for things that bring death. Why, when I have You and Your love, would I ever choose anything else? But I do. And God, I know I will again. Its just tonight, I was reminded of how You really feel about me. You aren't waiting to punish me. You already took my punishment. Now You long for my sanctification, my redemption. I long for the day when I can walk with You without my sin being in the way. I long for the day when I am only ever wholly Yours, where I will be in your presence, and the thing that I should have wanted all along, will be the thing I have for all of eternity.
Its You, that I need. Its You who loves me better than any person ever will. It is You Who will rescue me when I am drowning in the muck of sin I drag myself into. I know it doesn't do it justice, but its how I can relate to You, so please forgive me for its inadequacy. Its just where I am at.

"I could use a hero right now, and You could use someone to save. Someone who's like me, someone who's not brave, someone who's not free. With the darkness cometing down, I could use Your saving right now. I will wait for You, I will talk to You when no one is around. You could change me, You could steal me. You could turn all the lights on and show me the real me. Then maybe, if I'm lucky, You'll offer me protection, You could even heal me."

God, my need of You is so glaringly obvious. I am nearly speechless. But I need You. I need You to save me from who I am, from who I am becoming. I need a Hero. I need to be rescued. I just need You. I don't know where to start, but by declaring my need and desire, and trusting that You will save me.

So please God, I am running to You, rescue me.

Because I'm feeling like I might need to be near You.

Don't Go, Don't Go, so far away!

2009-11-23T19:19:00.000-06:00

Two blog posts in one evening. This is pretty bad. I just cannot resign myself to writing that paper. It will get done. It absolutely has to. But I just can't focus. I have way too many things on my mind... Just like I have way too many things... on my dorm room floor. Seriously. Ruth has been a saint these past few days.
Here is just a little bit of what she has to put up with:
On my floor there is
A smashed red plastic cup (...from the party we threw the other night. It was pretty wild.)
A pack of napkins. (...probably to clean up what the smashed red cup held.)
A bag of sugar. (Hey. Only half of the frosted MiniWheat is frosted.)
An empty carton of chocolate soy milk. (Definitely a Ruth thing.)
Another cup.
A copy of "Time Out Chicago". This deserves a real explanation. On the cover? Bella clutching Edward to herself. Edward has a huge stake coming out of his chest. The headline: "Twilight MUST DIE." I love you, Chicago.
An untouched bag of Miss Vickie's Smokehouse BBQ chips. (Someday soon, weak stomach. Soon.)
French in Action text book. (I must have been using it as a hard surface. I have used that textbook once this semester... Seriously.)
Cough drop.
Highlighter.
A Gap security tag. (You never know who might try to steal our carpet.)
My favorite flannel shirt. (I should treat you better, Flannel.)
Barron's Foreign Language Guide (Geez. You think I'd speak French or something.)
A bottle of Purell. (Or as Rainn Wilson might call it 'Flu-F***er, Germ Goo, Infection Lessen-er, Bacterial Genocide, or Gangrene-Be-Gone')
The blue shirt I dyed my hair in.
3 Walgreens bags. (Dang. I shop there way too much. There is one on every block here. Can't help it.)
Season One of The Office on DVD. (Damn computer doesn't have a CDrom though...)
Cover off of heating pack. (The actual heat pack will probably make an appearance shortly.)
School bag. (Haven't touched that in days.)
Air Freshener. (Victoria's Secret "Pure Seduction". Goodness knows there aren't any guys within 1000 feet to seduce on the seventh floor of Houghton Hall. But it smells good.)
*expletive* Just found the spray nozzle for the air freshener. Unattached. Rendering the brand new bottle of aforementioned room spray USELESS.
Copy of the Red Eye. (One of many.)
Speaker cord. (Now playing "Jumper" by 3EB.)
Ethernet cord. (Making all forms of procrastination possible.)
Multiple other cords. (Keeping me connected.)
Pen. (It doesn't work anymore. Just a few feet from the trash can... where it might end up in the next few weeks.)
Purse.
Heating pad. (For those wonderful flu-induced body aches.)
Best hat ever. (Plaid with faux fur. 100% Hoosier, baby.)
O gee. A Gap bag.
My wallet. Contents spilling out onto the floor include: Concert ticket (Jack's October 7th), a Friends and Family coupon, and receipts proving that, if I in fact had not spent all that money, I could stay in college.
*The following might indicate I am addicted to pharmaceutical drugs... This is in fact false.*
Wal-flu Daytime.
Wal-flu Nighttime. (now very empty.)
Ibuprohen.
Severe cold medicine.
A packet of flu information. (This is to ensure that even if the nurses at the Moody Health Care Clinic can't diagnose you, you sure as hell can.)
An empty Kleenex box.
A sock. (What dorm room floor would be complete without at least one sock?)
Two Club Crackers. (Can barely eat anything else.)
A bottle of tap water pretending to be SmartWater.
A ChicagoScene advertising Kilo Kai rum. (From the aforementioned wild party... Yeah. Right.)

So. What's on your floor? Its the new Facebook note craze. I promise.
Soon to come: What's on your Grooveshark/Pandora/Itunes playlist?

Hello, Doris Day.

2009-11-23T16:01:00.000-06:00

I watched New Moon. And then I got sick. Really sick. Serves me right, I suppose.
I am about to start writing what I know will be an emotionally draining paper. Which is fine. My emotions have been limited to "I HATE being sick!" and "I would LOVE to get better!" the past few days. Not even joking. Anyway. I haven't written a paper like this all semester. Needless to say, I am having a hard time getting started. But I have my introduction quote:

"Something had to be wrong--but we never considered that it might be autism... He would stare off into space. Go silent for long stretches of time, until one of the strange, demonic-possession tantrums would descend and consign him and us to an earsplitting, emotionally shattering domestic hell. Our boy, our beautiful boy, was floating away from us, and there was nothing we could do."

My paper is about the struggles of parenting a child with special needs. Its something I know nothing about. But it is something I have a heart and a passion to learn more about. I don't know that I will ever be a parent of a child with special needs, but I hope to someday be involved in the lives of these precious children. My heart goes out to them. I want to adopt from overseas, and I know that a risk in adopting a child from overseas is reactive attachment disorder. I know it would be a struggle to raise a child with RAD. Yet, I know that parenting in general must be a struggle. I have a heart for this kids, though. I really do. I want to love them, to make their quality of life better. I want to embrace them despite their differences, and love them for it.
Besides my love for young children, children with special needs, I have an increasing passion to be with horses.
The more I think about the part of my childhood that was consumed with Sonny, the more I realize how completely blessed I was to have a horse. Not to have any horse- but to have that horse. To have Sonny. I think that for my own needs as a rider, there could have been no better fit than Sonny. A rider has to want to control the horse. Horses are bred to be submissive to a rider. If they have an idea that the rider doesn't want to control them, they won't submit. As a little girl, I had no desire to dominate the big animals that I loved so much. And in turn, they took advantage of me. All but Sonny. Granted, he knew how to play me. He could fake a sore foot and get out of riding, but for the most part, his affections for me were as strong as mine was for him. And I think he tolerated my meek riding for that reason. We had a mutual respect for each other. We were both pretty scrawny. But we had a specific connection and understanding that I lacked with other horses. He read me well. And I loved him dearly for it. The memory of him being taken away from me in that horse trailer, whinnying desperately, still makes me cry. I still feel bad about selling him...
All of that to say, I long for that again. To have a horse. My own horse. A horse that... fits. The quote above is from the book, "The Horse Boy". It is about an autistic boy with an uncanny connection to animals in general, but specifically in horses. He finds healing in them. His fit is a horse named Betsy. As I read that book, learning more about autism and a humans connection with horses, I grew restless to be riding again. Almost every night for a week I dreamed of riding again. Then, while being sick, and having read most of "The Horse Boy", I dreamed I was autistic. I wish I could describe that dream adequately, but words fall short.
God has developed in my heart two passions that together, can bring hope and healing. For me, for children, for animals... I am growing restless being in the city. I have a far-fetched dream that if I can't come back to Moody next semester, maybe, just maybe, I can find a place that would put me up if I helped out... Like in New Zealand. I know a girl who did just that... I just need to be with animals, with kids on a daily basis. I am going crazy just having to dream about it all the time. Just having to write papers about it... But I am learning so much. I know God has me where He does for a reason. In the meantime He has blessed me with the children of The Children's Place Association. But I won't be able to see them again for almost another two weeks.

I really need to start writing this paper... *sigh

Sleazy Wednesday

2009-11-18T12:22:00.000-06:00

It is a sick feeling to wake up and grab your cell phone to realize that it is 9:41, and that you missed your 8 and 9 o clock classes. It's even worse to realize you probably overcut your 8 o clock. Your stomach sinks even further when you remember that you forgot to take your CWC quiz- for the fourth time in a row. At this point the only thing that you can think is:
FML.
What a great way to start the day.
Then you stand in chapel and wonder how the hell you managed to sink so deep. How you can be such a great person on the outside, except for the swear words that sometimes slip, and say all the right things all the time, and still be the worst of the worst on the inside. Spiritually bankrupt.
This is what it feels like to be dead.
And I cannot resuscitate myself.

Thrill.

2009-11-11T01:49:00.000-06:00

Sweat, dust, and leather. Shod hooves striking the dirt. Cheers from where my family hovered around my dad's little blue pick up. My hand was clenched tightly around the horn of the saddle. The other held the reins tightly. My faith in the sure-footedness of my animal was lacking, so although I held the reins high up on his neck, he was sure to tell that I wasn't completely letting go. He suffered through the heels of my boots pressed into his side, urging him to speed up, and the tension in my body begging him not to go too fast. Perhaps for a moment I would consider letting the reins out completely. It just took a few moments of hesitation and his gait was shifting, strides shortening, and he was abruptly halting. The race was over, we had reached the end of the arena.

My body used to be trained and disciplined to sit out a canter, even a gallop with maximum control. I used to have a center of gravity that allowed me to keep my seat in the center of the saddle. Sometimes I would grip the back of the saddle to maintain a deeper seat. Here I was now, so tense with my own uncertainty, a deep mistrust in the spirited pony that used to give me so much hell when I was younger. She was so rotund her saddle did not stay on very well, and my tension favored my right leg, pulling the saddle even further over. I felt sympathetic towards Hope for having to deal with such an awkward rider. I was frustrated with my own incompetency. I used to be so good at this. Although I was comfortable in the saddle, I wasn't competent. Katie urged me to take Hope for a run. I didn't like Hope's favoritism for the fence, because it nearly cost me my leg. When I had her out towards the road, I turned her back for home. A few things contributed to my nerves. I could clearly remember the plunging feeling when Sonny had lost his footing all those years ago, falling and pinning me to the dirt. The grass was tall enough in the field where I now rode to obscure any holes or uneven ground. Past experience led me to believe that although horses were meant to run over all sorts of terrain, some horses were a bit clumsier than others. Hope had already fallen once coming out of the creek. I had to have a little faith, so I urged her forward. Katie waited at the other end of the field with Ike. Hope needed no encouragement. As she leaped forward I felt-- It's hard to describe the feeling... It was thrilling, and terrifying, and exhilarating all at once. Still, a tiny part of me held back, but most of me didn't want to. And for just a moment, Hope sensed the overwhelming part of me that just enjoyed the speed and she broke into a full run. It only lasted for the briefest moment as my body responded to the speed with my usual tension. She maintained a gallop for the rest of the stretch. By the time she pulled up next to Ike, my legs were trembling so much I wouldn't have been able to stand.
After a moment, I slid off to stand by Ike while Katie decided to give Hope a real run. The moments standing with Ike were perhaps the sweetest. He was taller than Hope, and a beautiful chestnut color. At first he wanted to turn to watch Hope as she cantered away, but I held his head and tried to keep him from prancing on my exposed toes. Eventually he settled, and contented himself to staring at me. I stroked his face, his broad forehead, his velvety muzzle. He was beautiful to me, with liquid brown eyes that seemed to be fully comprehending how engaged I was in enjoying him.

*Heavy hearted sigh

2009-11-10T00:25:00.001-06:00

Oh feelings... Why dost thou toy with me so?
I am a woman. I am a complex emotional being. God made me that way. Sometimes it seems like a curse to be a woman. But how could I possibly say such a thing? God made women in His image. I bear the image of the creator. It is wonderful to be a woman. Even if my feelings sometimes feel slightly out of control. And even if it seems that there aren't any men in my life that appreciate my femininity.

His voice shapes me...

2009-11-03T16:19:00.000-06:00

His voice shapes me. The gentle timbre wraps around me like a blanket, tucking me into the bed of emotions he has made for me.

I know he doesn't give a damn about me, but there is something about him that seduces me into his way of life. He isn't attractive, but he is appealing. He is careless and carefree and he seems to be enjoying the path he has chosen. I feel miserable in my own. Obedience is chafing. He jokes with me, teases me, and makes empty promises. I laugh, and I eat the promises up, hungering for more.
I question how far God would let me go into that kind of lifestyle before he intervened. I wonder if He would intervene at all, or deliver me into sin. The thoughts are dangerous, and I am almost grateful for distance between us. Yet sometimes the desire to give up being 'good' is so strong it chokes me.
I am struggling with school, with dealing with personal issues, with my relationship with God. I am only young once...
Why should I stick around for something I can't feel at the moment? When it is easier to surrender to self than fight the good fight. My scenery is kind of dull at the moment, repetitive and constricting. His scenery- well it looks a hell of a lot better.

(And alas, he is so deceitful.)

Anesthetized

2009-10-24T12:57:00.000-05:00

A wine glass sits atop of a mahogany table. The glass is simple, composed of a base that rests on the table, flat, smooth and perfectly stable. The stem of the glass appears to be too slender, too fragile to support it's cup full of rich, red wine. The cup is hollow, wider at the bottom, slightly less so at the top. Its contents are a deep shade of red, almost purple. The glass is filled nearly to the brim of the sweet smelling liquid.
The air around the glass is suddenly disturbed by a noise. It is soft at first, a nearly imperceptible thrumming noise. It rises slowly, decibel by decibel. The glass is still. The wine within it shudders slightly as the bass of the noise deepens. The louder the noise becomes, the higher the pitch rises. The entire wine glass begins to tremble slightly. The lip of the glass oscillates as the noise wraps around the cup, its pressure tightening around the glass with an unseen grip of dominance. The invisible threatens the visible with its radiating noise that is now swelling to a deafening roar. The glass shakes, the liquid swirls-
With no resistance the glass shatters. Shards repel away from their origin with an unseen force, slicing the air with razor thin edges. Liquid rises through the air in red droplets, as if the thin membrane of glass had been skin, broken, and releasing its secret. Large pieces of glass smash into the mahogany, breaking into even smaller pieces. The wine pools on the table, streaming away from where the base of the glass lay, carrying in its current smaller fragments of glass.
The noise falls silent. The wine pools on the table. The glass lays in a hundred tiny pieces, reflecting light and a shade of red.

I sat on the gray cold steps in the dark. I tugged my coat more tightly around myself. The air is chilly. The darkness is intimidating. Before me lays the quiet town of Ladoga. Above me, the Milky Way spills across the night sky with a brilliancy that takes my breath away. The rest of the night sky sparkles, like a bag of diamonds spilled across a black velvet background. Behind me, my grandmother's house sits still, hiding within it three individuals. Inside of me... Inside of me there were tears longing to be released, emotions broiling with such an intensity that I could barely think straight. Hatred, anger, pain and fear churned like stormy waters within me. I tried to rationalize, but could not. There was nothing to rationalize.
I am the wine glass. I am fragile and frail. Inside of me I hold my feelings, emotions, passions, desires. My wine is a potent combination of deep, troubling issues. My wine is an overwhelming semester, a job, an ex-boyfriend that I gave myself away to, a divorce, a broken family, a numb brother, an absence of my closest friends. The alcohol is a depression. It starts of with a buzz. It warms me. It subdues. As the proof increases, my control lessens. Like a drunkard without inhibition, my anger, my sorrow pours out, manifesting itself in a reckless drive through dark back roads, in tears spilling over marked cheeks, in a raised voice at my mother. As the intoxication increases, a sleepiness settles in. The passion lessens until I am nothing more than a hollow shell, spent. The suppression is strong. I feel the angst, but it nothing more than a throbbing head ache.
Yes, I am the wine glass on the table, barely in control of my contents. The pressure of the sound threatens my very being, my existence, the feigned control I have of myself. What happens if I break? If I shatter and am destroyed, laid waste by the appeal of just letting go, not fighting the pain and the issues I am tangled up in? If I break- then I sink into an unhealthy oblivion.
Suddenly, at my moment of most intense apprehension, the noise is silenced.
I am turned over, and everything spills out. I am emptied.

"When all of a sudden, I am unaware of these afflictions eclipsed by glory."

"He is jealous for me. He loves like a hurricane and I am tree, bending beneath the weight of his wind and mercy. When all of a sudden, I am unaware of these afflictions eclipsed by glory, and I realize just how beautiful you are, and how great your affections are for me. And oh how He loves us. Oh how He loves us so. How He loves us all. We are his portion and he is our prize, drawn to redemption by the grace in his eyes, if grace is an ocean, we are all sinking. And heaven meets earth in an unforseen kiss, and my heart turns violently inside of my chest, I don't have time to maintain these regrets, when I think about the way he loves me."

I struggle to lose myself in Him. When my parents fail, He is my ultimate Father. When I don't have someone to love me and fill the aching void, I throw myself at His feet. When the pain threatens to overwhelm and the pressure of life closes in on me, I allow myself to sink into His overwhelming grace. When despair and confusion muddle my thoughts, and I can barely make it through the day without getting lost in thoughts about my family, I cry out to Him. He is the one sure thing. The One who loves when no one else does. He is the one who hung on a tree to pay for the sins I commit against Him and my loved ones every day. He is the One. He is everything. I must find my identity in Him. Not in my failing family. Not in my friends. Not in my goals. In Him and only ever Him. When all else fades and breaks and lets me down, He is faithful. Always, ever faithful.

2009-10-17T17:51:00.000-05:00

Until I spent two and a half years in the big city, I never understood how unique living in the country was. I never appreciated the cornfields at harvest in the fall or the cows that dotted the countryside. I never appreciated the endless trees of varying colors. I took for granted being able to see a full sunset, one that didn't set behind high rises and a parking garage. It is always harder in the fall. The city just chills in the fall. There are few places where you can see the leaves in their yearly panoramic decay, fading from bright green to brilliant yellows, oranges, reds, and purples. In Indiana, it is everywhere. I am sure it is everywhere anywhere outside of the city, but I get to enjoy it in Indiana. The leaves look even more incredible against a dull backdrop of endless fields of corn and beans. Just today, while driving through the back roads of Parke County, the sky seemed to explode in vibrant shades of blue against mounting, steely gray clouds. White clouds streaked against the bright blue, chasing beams of sun over fields and tree tops. It was incredible. The leaves of the trees stood out against the corn, and the sky stood out even more against the terrestrial color scheme.
Today, I was in Parke County to see the infamous covered bridges. Six small towns in Parke County each put together their own festival. The festival consists of essentially closing these small towns down to fill their streets with booth after booth after booth; people selling their wares and delicious home cooked foods. A person could enjoy a whole meal simply from the samples that are handed out. Fresh kettle corn, home made cookies-fresh and warm- donuts, smoked pork chops, jerky, home made cheeses, and much more are offered around every turn. Elephant ears, deep fried and beer battered cheese curds, fried green tomatoes, elephant ears, funnel cakes, broasted chicken, ham and beans with cornbread, homemade noodles and mashed potatoes (yes, served together), gyros, pizza, famous smoked pork chop sandwiches, homemade root beer, blooming onions... all that is greasy and delicious, all that is homemade by the Amish and Quaker families, all that one could want to eat in one beautiful backwoods small town. The booths not offering food offered anything that a person could imagine. There were booths for bikers, farmers, Native Americans, Quakers, Amish, infomercials, hunters, kids, and anyone in between. I was not surprised to see so much leather, flannel, and camouflage in one place. All of these booths were set up on either side of Raccoon Creek. You crossed from one side to the other over a beautiful covered bridge. Next to the covered bridge was an old mill. It was definitely not a safe place to wander around. There were a few moments where I was almost sure I was going to plummet through three stories of wood that had been built a couple hundred years ago. The mill overlooked the dam and the bridge. The old wheel was in the water, but it didn't turn anymore. It was picturesque. Next to the mill was a tiny little chapel. Very tiny. It was a while little building, about the size of a shed, on a steep bank on the river. The inside was adorned in white, with beautiful flowers and an ornate lectern. The whole small town was built in such a way. It was all old fashioned and quaint. The Amish and the Quakers seemed to belong there more naturally than anyone else, in their simple gowns and slacks, with their white caps and the men with long beards. All in all, the day could not have been more relaxing and enjoyable. It was so refreshing to enjoy a day in the country. Every aspect of the festival was simple. There only one man on a cell phone. One, out of thousands. Granted, no one else had a single bar of service, but it kind of nice to be ostracized from the rest of the world. That is, until Andrew got separated from us and we couldn't find him or call him. However, we were united again, and enjoyed the rest of the day with a place designated for meeting up in case we were separated again. It was absolutely wonderful.

Waiting for days that will never come

2009-10-11T14:26:00.000-05:00

I want to run. Run and run and run. I want to run back. I want to run through time. I want to run past the fights, past the love, past the regrets and mistakes. I want to leave the heartache and hell to the future, again. I want to run until I am sitting on a cement block under a tree in the rain, with a hill behind me and all that I could ever dream of before me.
I realize now, that when you have what you always dreamed of, it isn't a dream anymore.
When I was a little girl, I ran around the house pretending to ride a horse. I fed it and took care of it. I walked it around on an imaginary rope.
When I was older and had my real horse, I groaned when I had to roll out of bed early in the morning to feed him. I hated having to carry buckets of water from the cistern to his watering tank. Having my own horse wasn't so dreamy.
When I dreamed of love, of having someone to hold me and love me, I didn't realize relationships could be so hard and painful. When you can only dream of love, I don't think it is possible to know what love is, how it works. How it hurts like hell when it stops 'working'.
When I had that dream of love, it was wonderful. When I had love, it was wonderful as well, but it cost a lot.
When I had love, I understood it better. When I lost it, I understood it more.
Andrew loved me well. I loved Andrew as well, but I think I may have loved him differently then he loved me. When I love again, I want to love like Andrew loved me. He was more selfless. He gave up more for me than I gave up for him, in a sense. I am not sure if he should have conceded as often as he did. He made mistakes. But I have a feeling that his love was more of a service to me than mine was to him.
Love is a service. It is so much more than a feeling. It isn't something that works one day and doesn't the next. Love is a commitment to glorifying and making more of another person. Love is not about a person who makes you feel good about yourself. It is not about finding your best match. The purpose of love and marriage is to model the relationship that we have with Christ. Christ submitted himself in death. We, likewise, die to ourselves. It is not easy. I want to love a person in this way. But I know that my self will always get in the way sometimes. I have also realized that when we submit our human love to the divine love of Christ, it will be infinitely more easy to love like Christ loves. When we isolate ourselves from the love of Christ, how can we expect to love like He does? We cannot love adequately of ourselves.
Before I learn to love a man so radically, in a love that gives of myself to make him more of a man, I must learn to love Christ in such a way. I must learn to love Christ in a way that puts to death my own desires so that I may serve Him.
It is not easy. But by God's grace, we all can love like that. What would our world look like if we stopped loving ourselves by loving others? What if we started loving others by 'hating' ourselves?
I am just learning these things. I do not claim to understand the complexities of love and human relationships, of our relationship to the Divine. I know that I have loved, that I still love. I have been in a complex relationship. I am in a relationship with God. Yet, the deeper I get into God, the scarier it sometimes gets. The deeper I fall into my feelings for another person, the scarier it gets. And I am left running. Running back to when my life was simple. I didn't have to understand why God created some, just so that they might go to hell. I didn't have to understand what happens to an infant when they die. I didn't have to think too deeply about apostasy. Love was just something I felt for mom and dad, grandmas and grandpas. I loved Jesus. Just like I loved my horse. I didn't understand that it meant so much compromise, evaluation, and thought. That it was a choice I had to make everyday, something I had to struggle so much with. I had no idea it could be accompanied with so much deadly passion. Knowing these things makes it harder to proceed. Seeing the wild and more dangerous side of God causes me to proceed into Him further with caution. Seeing the promises and failures of love causes me to proceed into relationships with greater hesitancy.
Sometimes I just wish I could be the little girl with the white pony again. And without any other care in the world.

Nothing Gold Can Stay

2009-10-03T22:12:00.000-05:00

I sat on the bus, my orange juice and Dunkin Donuts in hand, backpack at my feet, and headphones in. I cared not to see the city upon departing, so I opened a composition notebook and my Bible and began to write out Romans 5. I was attempting to prepare myself for the day ahead. Once the city and suburbs faded to open stretches of interstate lined by trees and hazy, lazy creeks, I finished up the chapter and laid all books aside and spent the next three hours enjoying the look of fall in the country.

It was glorious. The leaves were only beginning to change to shades of yellow. Some were already different shades of orange and red. For the most part, it was clusters of green trees, with a dash of color to accent the foliage. The corn was turning too, from green to yellow to brown, to harvested. The soybeans had become a burnt red color. The sky was thick with clouds, though slight rips in the dense mass exposed a brilliant blue. The sun burned only like a silvery orb through the layers of moisture above. The land rolled gently out from the interstate, unfurling in a colorful mosaic, dappled with patches of silvery, shifting mist. I noticed herons and hawks in marshes and trees. I observed a herd of cows, a few horses. My heart was at rest. I have never before so appreciated what it is to see corn at harvest-time, to see the leaves changing, to be under open skies without a skyscraper or building other than a barn or house in sight. 3 hours on the road in flat Indiana never had been so exhilerating.

I wrapped my arms around the chains and slipped my hand in my pockets. The swing swung gently as my feet dangled over the gravel. I twisted the swing to face Andrew, and dug my mocassins into the rocks, unearthing wet pebbles. Ladoga was cold and quiet, the park was deserted. Few cars drove past. Few people walked by. I felt alone with Andrew. It was overcast; I shivered despite wearing two jackets. To the south of the park, across the street, on the other side of a row of houses, I could see the tree tops forming a colorful wall, hugging the small town. I felt as if I was tucked away from the rest of the world, in a safe haven where the only reality was us. Or the lack of us. As we talked, I stared down at my lap, watching my tears fall after they rolled off my cheeks and nose, down my chin. They mingled with the misty rain drizzling down on us.

I'm feeling like I might need to be near You

2009-10-01T15:44:00.000-05:00

They say that God works in mysterious ways, but right now I feel like I can understand pretty well what He is doing.
If you know me at all, or read this blog regularly, you know I like to have an idea of where my life is going. I would say that this is true of most people. You want to know what you will be doing tomorrow, next month, next year... Humans are creatures of habit. We like security.

I have no idea what the hell I am supposed to be doing. Life is one huge question mark. But, I am only 20 years old. I don't have to have everything figured out. I just wish that I didn't suck at the present. How am I supposed to do what God wants for me someday... when I can't even figure out how to do good at living life now? I am trying so hard. I really am. I am getting so incredibly discouraged by my lack of responsibility and discipline. I am out of control. There is no control left to be had. And that is what God is doing.

Today, I sat in my Creative Methods for Children feeling incredibly bitter because everything taught in that class is relative to church ministry. I just don't see myself doing that. Because if I see myself doing anything in the future- its equine therapy. My frustrations did stir one positive emotion, and that was a desire just to have my quiet time and talk to God about it. About everything. About how I overslept today, by 5 hours. How I missed American Lit, and Chapel... again. About I how I failed that exam yesterday. How badly I want to get out of this cold, wet city where there the perpetual cold and gloom makes my spirits sink even lower. I want to talk to Him about how confused I am, about how I want to know what He is doing in my life- if anything. I want to plead with Him to give my ex-boyfriend back, because it hurts. It seems unfair. If I could just have that one part of my life back... I'd be fine. Things would make more sense. I would know what I was supposed to be doing, what would be happening after I graduate. I would know better who I was...
But God is teaching me who I am in Him. I don't need to know what I am supposed to be doing with the rest of my life to know God more. And because life is so uncertain, I need Him all the more. I am driven to Him out of my fear and insecurities and my absolute need for His assurance in my life. Even if the unthinkable happens and I can't come back to Moody, or afford to go to Asbury, and life as I know it unravels, I know that He is constant. His love is constant, His mercy and grace is constant. When all else isn't, God is. It still wreaks havoc on me mentally and emotionally to be so out of control and unsure. Yet I know that God is doing a work in me. In the meantime, I do need to be doing better with what I have now. This semester has been the worst for me academically. I have never done so poorly in school. I know that I am a fairly intelligent person, so I feel like I am taking advantage of what God has given me.
Today has just been a bad day for me. It is hard not to be overwhelmed with discouragement. But if the very least that it does is drive me to my Lord, then I guess its not such a bad deal.

She's raising hell to give to me...

2009-09-30T03:41:00.000-05:00

Thoughts for the day:
*Living in Chicago is hard. I don't want to hear about a sixteen year old honor student beaten to death with railroad ties and then having his head stomped in... by other kids. I almost wept today reading about it in the Redeye. Life is so senseless sometimes. I don't want to walk past the McDonalds where homeless men and women beg for food. I am sitting on a couch in a cozy dorm room with my laptop in my hands without ever having to worry about where my next meal is going to come from.
*I am listening to Pandora while reading Romans and studying about Anabaptists. Right before I got off Facebook to do my homework Andrew popped up to say how much he loves me. Pandora just played 'our song', "Look After You" by the Fray. As always, it hurts. Its strange. I feel like I am moving on, but then I think about all of the memories, the time invested in each other... I remember the time in our relationship when we went to see the Fray in concert. It was in the beginning of our romance... It was good. It is gone. Matt asked me how things between Andrew and I were. I wanted to deck him in the face. I don't know how he is doing. I freaking dumped him. I'm sure he is doing great. Just like me. We're done. I am not sure how much more final I can make it...
*"We too might walk in the newness of life." Christ died. In His death, I died as well. He died so that I may die to sin and have newness of life. He died and conquered death so that He may never die again. So that I may die and live. A beautiful paradox. He freed me from sin's grasp so that I may be enslaved to Christ and righteousness. Christ didn't die so that I could live for myself. "For sin will have no dominion over you, since you are not under law, but under grace." I am not only standing in grace, but under grace as well. "What shall we say then? Are we to continue in sin that grace may abound? By no means! How can we who died to sin still live in it?" I have to be renewed. How can I be renewed? By being captivated by the Word of God, by being captivated by Christ. It isn't easy. But the result is worthwhile. The depth to my love of Christ will only increase...
*8 days until Andrew McMahon. Enough said.

A Boxcar on the Beach

2009-09-29T01:15:00.000-05:00

Overwhelmed with homework and life, I finally did the most rational thing that I could do. I ran to Christ. He met me and blessed me. O, how beautiful to know Him.
Life is hard for me. It is hard for everyone, I know. But tonight I was feeling the heat. As usual, it was my inadequacies, my failures, my lack of control over my emotions. It was confusion and bewilderment. It was a few tears. I am not 'emo'. I am broken.
I spent an hour in Romans 5. I am now secure in my failures. Because I am standing in grace. I could be doing much better this semester. I could have been doing much better in prayer and quiet times. I could swear a little less. The list goes on and on.
Do not misunderstand. I am not complacent in my failures. But I am transitioning from an unhealthy bitter disappointment in myself to a better and more beautiful understanding of costly grace.
Where death reigned, grace reigns. I am standing in grace. I have the love of God poured out in myself through the Holy Spirit. I have joy in suffering because its for my betterment. I have peace because Christ kicked death's ass.
I desire to spend time with God because I love Him, not because I think it gains me any more grace. I pursue Christ because I want to be transformed to be more like Him, because I need Him, because He is life.
I want to love Christ with an undying love. By His grace, secured on the cross, I can love Him with an undying love.
Praise God.
Praise Him for eternity.
By grace I can and will.

I find it kinda funny, I find it kinda sad...

2009-09-28T00:26:00.000-05:00

I just unceremoniously cut off the bracelet Arni made for me who knows how long ago. I can't believe that I can logically and correctly say 'who knows how long ago'. Today would have been our three year anniversary. If the pain of that realization doesn't suck, I don't know what does. This morning at breakfast, I sat with the guy who is now Insung's new roommate. "The replacement", I called him. Blow by blow, I realized just how finished things are. And how unresolved my heart is.
I didn't cut the bracelet off out of spite. I cut it off because it rubs up against my fresh tattoo. My freshly needled skin. It was kind of hurting. I probably never would have cut it off otherwise.
Last night, I shared the story of Arni and I with a girl on the floor. I got emotional... When is it going to stop hurting? Will I ever look back on this time of my life with anything other than a frown, a flinch, a tear? Sometimes I doubt it.
We talked tonight. Arni and I. Just on Facebook chat. He asked if I still loved him. I do. But it isn't the same. It won't ever be the same again. Somehow, I've learned to live without him. Its probably a good thing. I can go to Europe now. I can have my tattoo without wondering what his parents will say. But I still miss him. I miss his hugs. No one hugs me like he does. Like he did. Gosh this hurts...

Today Pastor Nathan gave such a wonderful sermon on loving Jesus. He spoke of Heaven with such longing that it almost brought me to tears. He spoke of a passionate love for Jesus that I want. Jesus is more than a chore. He isn't something to check off of a to-do list. We are to love Him with an undying love. A love that death heightens. I want to love my Jesus that way. Pastor Nathan reminded us not to get so caught up in trying to feel this love, but to simply focus on Jesus. Maybe hours spent in prayer with Him won't be such a burden. I can long for my time with Him for what it should be. Something as sweet as honey. It takes time. But I want God. I do. I just wish I didn't have to fight so much for it. Maybe having to fight for it will make it all the more precious. I do wish it were easier though.
After the sermon, Pastor Nathan gave us an invitation to pray with our friends. Another part of his sermon had been on the importance of best friends. I was so thankful for the reminder of how dear my best friends are to me. Jacquelyn and Christie, Ruth and Deanna, girls that pour into my life every day and make life all the sweeter. Sasha, who even despite the distance and the craziness in life finds time to have late night chats on Facebook... I am so incredibly blessed by the friends I have. I am blessed by great brothers who encourage me in my faith as well, guys like Zack, and David, and Sam.
So after the sermon, Jacquelyn, Christie, Amy and I all went into the stairwell to pray. It was an incredible time of prayer... the small church congregation singing of the goodness of God. I hope I never forget what it was like to be huddled in that stairway with the beautiful sound of worship behind my sisters and myself.
After church, Jacquelyn, Christie and I joined John, Tony, Abby, Katie, Ruth and several others for lunch at Des Pasadas. Being around John will always be hard for me after what happened this summer. I feel embarrassed and awkward around him, even though I shouldn't be... I don't know how to escape those feelings. And every time I see John, I think of Adam. And my skin crawls. But lunch wasn't so bad. John is nice enough.
Then came the highlight of the day--the tattoo. The whole process was over in about fifteen minutes. That includes paperwork, and two tattoos. It didn't hurt too bad. I am actually excited to get a second, and possibly even third one... It says proskuneo. Pros "towards" and kuneo "kiss". Literally to blow a kiss. Translated in Scripture as worship, prostration, or bowing in submission. I love it. It is on my forearm for all the world to see. I wouldn't have it any other way.

Dreams Deferred

2009-09-25T19:20:00.000-05:00

When writing a story, you write the character first.
[Enter Sanyelle]

I was born and raised in a small town in central Indiana. I was born in January. I hate the winter... I have always resented that I could never have a pool party for my birthday, or any other fun outdoor activity for that matter. My idea of fun has never consisted of freezing... When I say small town, it could be smaller. We have a Wal-Mart, a bowling alley, and a movie theater. Most kids smoke pot. My elementary school was in the middle of nowhere, in a small area called Garfield. Cornfields on almost every side. It looked identical to the other two elementary schools in our district. My favorite teacher was Mrs. Markland. Without her influence in my life, I would have turned out significantly different. I would have never owned Sonny. That in itself would have changed who I was in Middle School, what I would be dreaming to do after college, and what the picture on this blog would look like.
I had a good childhood. I was happy, well looked after. I was able to take riding lessons and dance lessons. I spent almost every Friday night with my grandparents. I was privy to root beer snow cones in the summer, and staying up later than I would at home. Monday nights meant dad fixing supper and playing hide and seek in the dark. I learned No Doubt and Alanis Morisette from those Monday nights.
I loved dancing. I quit though, and I regret it.
I rode western, and the first pony that I ever got to show was Tina. We were tight. The pictures from that show include a blue cast. I broke bones, frequently, as a child.
I used to just listen to country music. Then I went to Twin Lakes Camp and heard Switchfoot. Life hasn't been the same since. I still know every word to a lot of country songs. But now I know almost every word to any Andrew McMahon song.
I am afraid of rejection. Liking unrequitedly takes a toll on a young girl quickly. I like someone even now who will never like me back.
I'm a pessimist. I wish I wasn't. Life has been kind of dim lately. I am not good at setting boundaries. If I do set them, I break them. I am predisposed to self loathing. I am afraid of being vulnerable with anyone again like I was with Andrew, because it feels wasted. I am undisciplined and lazy. I swear sometimes.
On the other hand, I am passionate. I'm a strong person. I have dreams for myself, and I will try to see them fulfilled. I am spontaneous and love adventure, to an extent. I am a reader and writer and value intelligence. I can stop caring about what other people think when I need to.

I hate mornings. I think I always have. Let me clarify. I hate waking up. I actually enjoy mornings. The state of morning. Not its earliness. The sunrise, the temperature, the dew, the birds... Not the fact that I had to become conscious to enjoy it... I love nights. I love nights in the city because of the skyscrapers and the way they glow. The way the clouds move over the city and stand out so starkly against the dark blue sky. (I love the song "Dark Blue". Ask Ruth.) I love nights in the country because of the stars. The sound of coyotes and bull frogs.

I often miss being young.
I do have regrets, many things I would do differently.
I feel like I miss Europe, and I have never been there before.
I sometimes avoid reality by always planning for the future.
I struggle with being controlling and that scares the hell out of me.
I want to be a good wife and mother some day.
I don't find it hard to be open with people.
I love Harry Potter.
I want to marry the waiter at 3rd Coast.
If I could play any instrument, I'd play the piano.
I enjoy pretending I'm the shit, even when I am most definitely not.
I want to study Psychology some day. And get my masters in English.
Dr. de Rosset is kind of my hero. I want to be her.
I can't sing, but I love it. I love music.
I want to be mature when I grow up.
I'm terrified of dying. But I think about it a lot.
Heaven is going to be great.

I love God, and I am not good enough to be His daughter. But He chose me. I wouldn't have chosen Him otherwise. I like talking to Him, but I don't do it enough. I run from Him a lot, because I am overwhelmed with how often I fail Him. I am idolatrous. This speaks so much of Him... He is patient and loving, even when I am the epitome of unloving. The absolute best thing about knowing God and being loved by Him is that no matter how good I am, He doesn't ever love me any more. If I am the most appalling of sinners, He doesn't love me any less. He loves me like He loves His Son, Jesus. It is the most sweetest love I will ever know, and I will know it for all eternity. Being the selfish, controlling, fallen human that I am, I have a hard time submitting my life to the authority of Christ. But the past few months I have been learning what it is like to live for myself. It is far worse than living a life proskuneo. (Bowing in submission) I am going to spend the rest of my life struggling and growing and learning. It frustrates me at times, but He is faithful. Despite how faithless I am.

The List

2009-09-21T01:03:00.000-05:00

I have proskuneo written in pen on my wrist. In one week, it will be a permanent tattoo.
Ruth and I just made plans to go to Nebraska for Christmas. First road trip ever. (For me) Next year... California.
I looked at plane tickets to New Zealand for next summer. Damn. If you feel so inclined to support me financially...
Andrew McMahon. 17 days. 'Nuff said.
Europe. Must see. This includes: France, Italy, England, Scotland, Ireland, Germany, Switzerland, Romania, Spain. Anywhere I can get with whatever money I have.
Perhaps Cambodia?
Maine. Colorado. Someday soon, you better believe it.
Crossing off every book on De Rosset's reading list- hopefully before my life ends.
Writing a book that could appear on De Rosset's reading list. That may just be my new life purpose. (Not)
Seeing a kid learn to live with autism... Please, God.
Living my life with purpose and spontaneity...

Finding a man who wouldn't mind coming along? Unnecessary, but if he's hot, I won't complain.

I've finally lost my mind, and then I lost my way....

2009-09-19T20:03:00.000-05:00

I always sit down with my laptop with no idea what to write. I simply feel the need to. I have had so much on my mind these past few days, but I don't even know if its worth writing, or if I should write at all...
All of that to say:
Lately I have been wrestling with my sin nature. God created mankind to be perfect. To be wholly His, to life in constant fellowship with Him. That is what we were made for. Now that we are fallen, it goes against our nature to be in fellowship with God. Now, instead of craving God for what He is- my life source, I want the very things that break His law. I know that His law is in place to help me be set apart, to protect from the ravages of sin, yet part of me still desires to have the cliche forbidden fruit... When I hear a friend telling me how much fun it is to get trashed, a part of me wants that, for many horrible reasons.
There has been a periods in my life where I have given myself over the desires of my flesh, only to face disaster. I am still dealing with the incredibly painful consequences of my sin to this day. Despite the pain that sin brings, it still seems more attractive than honoring God's law. Why is this?
It is because I have yet to surrender myself wholly to Him. I haven't found in Him the greater joy of obedience. If I found pleasure in loving God with all of my heart and in obeying Him, I don't think that getting trashed would be so appealing to me. I would prefer to get caught up in being with God instead of being in some guy's arms.
I know that above all God is better. I know it in my head. My heart isn't convinced. My sinful heart is still begging for its destruction. My redeemed heart is fighting a losing battle. Sin seeps through everything in this world. Sin takes a drink and turns it into an addiction, a deadly loss of inhibition. Sin takes healthy desire and twists it into a pornography addiction, into premarital sex, pregnancy outside of wedlock. Sin takes everything that is beautiful and kills it. And yet that is what we desire as fallen humans- a passion that leads to death. We sell our souls for a summer of beer and sex. We wake up hung over and without the slightest idea of who we fell asleep with. We graduate college and marry. We wake up mid-life and wonder who the hell we married, and divorce them when we realize we never loved them after all. We throw ourselves into careers so we have money to pay for our newest addictions, the best car, the newest Iphone. We die- and then we really get what we were asking for. Its a sickness.
I think that we get the idea that we can live without God. We just can't die without Him.
Yet even unbelievers have a sense of the futility of sin. One artist puts it this way:
"And the bars are finally closed, so I tried living for the moment, until the moment finally froze and I felt sick and so alone."
So despite our craving for sin, I think that we know that it isn't all that there is to live for. But, we don't desire God on our own... Romans 3:11 is clear on this.
That touches on a whole other subject... The fact that God puts the desire for Him in the hearts of those He chooses. And for the rest of the world: They are damned. And chillingly happy to be so. And there my mind is blown.

On to other issues:
I am spending my money like its going out of style. (It probably is) I have no idea if I am coming back to Moody or not. But after concert tickets, a tattoo and paying off my debt, I am probably not coming back. I don't know what I am going to do about my internship. I know that I want to get overseas as soon as possible. I want to study in Europe this summer, but I also need to do my internship. Maybe it is possible to do both... If I do go to Europe, that will probably put me at least a semester and a half behind. I need to decide if I want to go to Asbury after I go to Moody. 4 more years of school... eh. I suck at school. But I love learning.
Decisions, decisions.
I need a break. But there isn't really one in sight.
I miss high school football.
I wish that my biggest decision in life right now is what I should wear to homecoming.
The great thing about life is that it can only get better. The most horrible thing about life is that it can only get worse.
The inescapable fact of life is that someday- you die.
But death is a whole other story.

Stream of Conciousness

2009-09-17T00:52:00.000-05:00

I wish I didn't feel so tired. I used to be able to write better, think better at night. Now I feel I have no clarity of mind at any given time.
I realize now that I want to return to Andrew for all of the wrong reasons. And here I am again, not feeling, except the longing to be accepted elsewhere.
I want to be better for you, whether you take me or leave me.
For a fleeting moment I felt better. I felt great, even. And then some girl took my laundry out of the dryer before it was dry and left it on the counter. Suddenly my mood was foul again.
Such a struggle to sit and read Romans 12 and feel so far from being the living sacrifice that loves her enemies and strives to be renewed. How bitter I am with myself for always, ever falling short.
Why are the good guys so few and far between? And why am I so tempted to settle for less?
It seems that the more I think about my own depravity, the more I experience guilt and self-loathing. Christ came for the sick. In experiencing the depravity, I am tasting His grace and mercy, renewed every morning. I have become quite the pessimist.
My Lord and Savior died for me. I am His, and He is mine. Despite the fact that I stray so far, so often, His grace is unending, if not more abounding, when I am feeling so low.
Taste and see that the Lord is good...
He is good. I have just been swallowing whole, and not taken the time to taste Him.

I write to stay dry...

2009-09-10T21:44:00.000-05:00

If I do not write, I drown.
If I cannot take a few minutes every day and unload my heart and mind onto a keyboard or a journal, I am almost overcome. Lately, I have had a lot to think about and consider. I feel like I need to sit down and write a few people some letters, letting them know what I think... But I feel like if I don't take time to think long and hard about what I should say, that my words would just end up obliterating relationships.
I hurt. Two people who I love a lot, two of the people I love the most are inflicting more pain than they could be aware of.
One of them I have no problem disliking. One of them I am seeking to have reason to dislike. One of them I want to say what I have to say and forever close the door on the relationship. The other I want to say what I have to say and then grow a deeper love.
Yet I know if I just spoke what was on my heart with no thought or censorship, I would be left staring at two burnt bridges. I tend to speak without thinking, acting on emotional impulse, rather than discernment and rationality.
I would say that I am a very emotional person. I am a passionate person. The combination results in a terrifying whirlwind of thoughts and feelings that exhaust me, that drain me, that harm me and harm others. It is not all bad, of course. There are benefits to being such an emotional being, to having passions. Yet at the moment, I wish I could turn off my emotions, shut down my heart and mind, and be a sad robot, made of nothing but metal. To be cold and hardened to all of this emotional turmoil, to hear something of break ups and broken families, and shrug.
Of course I know this is ridiculous. Life is all the more beautiful because of pain. "The shadow proves the sun." This pain will grow me, in many ways I am sure. This too shall pass. There will come a day when my tears are dried for good, and I will wonder why I cried so much over a boy. So for now, I will feel. And feel boldly. I will love again, with utterly reckless abandon. I have less than a century to enjoy a romantic kind of love between a girl and a boy, a man and a woman. I plan on loving to the best of my ability, whoever it may be. Although sometimes I wonder if there is anyone who can handle... me.

Kiss Me With Your Cherry Lipstick, Never Wash You Off My Face....

2009-09-10T14:02:00.000-05:00

The realization that I came to last night was a beautiful one, and it puts my soul at ease. It has begun a process of spiritual rectification that might otherwise have been much delayed. Although I have found spiritual comfort, my emotions are still raging inside of me, and when left to think to myself, I see a moving picture show in my mind.
These emotions, this flood of memories that assaults me daily and brings stinging tears to my eyes, I thought that maybe I had bypassed this messy stage of breaking up. Alas, it just came three months later than I expected it to. I knew all along I was not okay, but I think that God was being merciful so I could deal with the storm known as Adam. I don't think it would have been mentally or emotionally possible to deal with what happened with Adam as I was trying to deal with my break up. So now, as I work at Moody, alone, cleaning bathrooms, I have no where to hide from the sadness and the memories, the worries and concerns, the hopes and the fears. I must just deal with them.

I remember sitting under a starry winter sky, giving no heeding to the biting cold, sitting in a covered wagon. The top was rolled back and we sat beneath a dome of glittering constellations, taking advantage of precious alone time. The only thing to draw us out of our reverie was the long, high howls of nearby coyotes. Wrapped up in each others arms on that cold bench, I experienced for the first time what it was just to kiss... and kiss and kiss and kiss, to kiss until my lips were numb, and not because of the cold. I remember stumbling through the darkest of dark woods, where he had first held my hand, now clinging to him for love and from fear.

This is just one of many that rush through my mind, leaving me desperately sad and feeling alone. A huge part of me is a hundred miles away, and I am rejected.

A Thrill Of Hope

2009-09-09T23:56:00.000-05:00

"You who have made me see many troubles and calamities will revive me again; from the depths of the earth you will bring me up again. You will increase my greatness and comfort me again." Psalm 71:20-21

A shroud hugs the roof of Gotham, glowing red in the distant corner, hanging silver and spooky over the edge of the city. It glows with an ironic, ethereal beauty. A gentle, cool breeze stirs the air, like an almost pleasant shiver. Lights flicker on and off throughout the staggered buildings. Cranes dangle in air, appearing and disappearing in the ever shifting atmosphere.
I worshiped.

*My soul is in the hands of a God who impregnated a fifteen year old Jewish girl. This same God descended as man, born in a barn. He made chairs for thirty years. He was then arrested and beaten by Roman guards. He died a shameful death on a mound of garbage known as 'the skull'. This is my God.
How is it that I, of my own will, choose to entrust my soul to such an unbelievable story? How is that, of my own will, I would give up what could be a fun, wild life of pleasing myself?

I don't.

This omniscient, omnipotent, omnipresent Triune God, Creator of the universe, who holds all things together, stirred within my soul a faith that I could not have of my own accord. Not because of anything that I did, being an utterly sinful, corrupted soul- but for His own glory and good pleasure, He willingly laid down his life. In a moment that appeared to the world as defeat and weakness, Christ conquered death. At that moment, my damned soul was bought. God, who was born in a manger in a hick town, willingly gave Himself up to die an incredibly painful, lonely, dark death.

I cannot wrap my mind around how God, the one true God, could do such a thing for fallen mankind. I am awed that I am chosen by this God, that He gave me faith so that I would not have to worry about losing my salvation when I mess things up so terribly. When I have descended to the pits of sin, God looks on me and sees Christ's righteousness. He doesn't see me as a damned sinner, so dysfunctional and astray that there is no hope. He looks on me and sees His beloved Son, who suffered through thirty-three years on this not-so-pleasant earth. I have righteousness through faith. And my ability to have faith is a gift from God.

*Putting my trust in this God who came and lead a lowly, yet remarkable, life isn't like looking at a chair, evaluating whether or not it can support me, and then putting my faith in it by sitting on it. No, the story of God and His redemption of creation it too counter-culture, too against intuition and understanding just to decide, "Oh, I'll put my faith in that." It takes this great and unfathomable God to stir this faith within me.

And there are no words to express the gratitude I feel in being chosen to be a part of this epic story.

*Professor Quiggle gave this moving illustration in my European Reformations class today, in response to the question of the bonded will of man.

Somewhere Over the Rainbow

2009-09-08T19:47:00.000-05:00

I am sitting in Argo Tea, putting forth little effort in being productive... I should have learned my lesson from last night, in which I was up until 6 this morning reading and writing papers. I am reading the book RealSex by Lauren Winner for my Marriage and Family Systems class. It is actually really good. Kind of an awkward book to take to a cafe, but I have long since stopped caring so much about that kind of stuff.
As usual, I am incredibly confused about almost everything in my life. I am confused by my relationship, or lack thereof, with Andrew. I made it a whole summer. I was okay. And then the reality and the pain that I had been fleeing from finally caught up. And when it hit me, it was like what I would imagine being hit by a truck, or slamming into a brick wall would be like. It left me slightly senseless, dazed, and confused. The fight or flight process kicked in and I wanted to take flight, to keep running. Even now, I want to run. I want to leave almost everything. I want to remove myself from Chicago, from Crawfordsville, from anything that connects me to the issues that surround me. I want to buy a plane ticket and fly to New Zealand. I want to throw myself fully into a ministry where I spend all day with horses and kids, helping them to overcome their own tremendous problems, while I cower from my own.
He told me the other day that there was a girl that he liked. Just another way to hurt. Another blow. As he told me I instantly felt sick, couldn't breathe, and spent the next few hours sobbing while Deanna rubbed my back. The past few days I have found myself so lost in thought. The only time that I can escape it is when I am at the Gap. The Gap is like a whole other life to me. I can hurl myself into the job, working to achieve a possible distant promotion. I don't have to think about everything that is wrong with me. My problems follow me everywhere else, except there.
All of these feelings that are coming up because of Andrew are revealing a much nastier side of my self. The side of me that has blood boiling in my veins at the thought of another girl stepping in to take my place. I apparently think so highly of myself to think that I should be irreplaceable. Yet all summer I have been searching frantically for Andrew's stand in, only to realize that there isn't one, shouldn't be one. Not now anyway. I feel confused about how I should view this singleness. The thought of casual dating appeals to me, but the thought of committment to anyone but Andrew terrifies me. Another insight into my sick selfishness, the disconnect in my heart and my head. Instant gratification seems to be a pretty big priority to me. I can see that my attitude implies that Andrew should sit around and wait while I resolve all this inner turmoil, while always toying with the idea of dating other guys. I am such a jerk. I feel like I could compile a pretty comprehensive list of why guys should stay away from me right now. I sure as hell wouldn't want to date someone like me...
All of these things point to an even graver issue. My heart is *effed up. Like I indicated in my previous blog, I am feeling hopelessly lost. At the beginning of the summer, I felt as if I was putting up a valiant effort to fight my own destruction. And here I am, feeling rather destroyed. I feel so low that I can't even manage to mouth a prayer, to pick up my Bible. I feel so estranged from God. Yet in Church on Sunday, I was struck by my need for God in a new way. I was texting my brother throughout church, and he was telling me about his issue with his girlfriend. I began to feel very sad for him, wishing that I could protect him from what I see to be a very poor relationship and impending heartache. I wish I could spare him from the pain I know he is going to face. I have to deal with the pain that my mom has been abandoned by her family. I can't imagine how absolutely horrible that must feel, to be so alonen, and that is a whole issue in and of itself. I am responsible for part of that, but I don't even know how to reconcile that situation. All of this to say, I was overwhelmed and consumed by pain, by heartache, by the devastation of relationships. And then I felt a small stirring of hope in my soul. I need God. I need Him to heal me. I need Him to save me once again, not from my sin, but from myself. Instead of letting my pain beat me into the ground, I need to let it stir me upwards, to a Father who wants me to share my pain with Him, and to share His yoke with me. What a wretched person I am, that it is taking me so long to drag myself back to Him. Praise Him for His abounding grace!
I have so many thoughts and concepts swirling through my heart and mind right now. Every now and then I am faced with a cycle that I see in my family. I see my older sister, asking my dad for money so she can buy soap and shampoo, because there is no one to love her and care for her as she murders herself with meth. I see my mother, her mind altered by who knows what, leaving her unpredictable and hateful at times, and at other times, so needy for attention and love from others that when it doesn't come she is left feeling purposeless. I see her now, for the most part alone and abandoned, just like her eldest daughter. I beg that God doesn't let me follow in the footsteps of the women before me. I don't want to succomb to madness and hopelessness and despair. I don't want to find myself at the mercy of internal demons that I could never face, letting disappointment after disappointment leave me embittered and depressed to the point where no one can bear to deal with me. Life is so cruel. Satan has wrought so much havoc on my family... How can I be expected to overcome it?
Why isn't God doing more to stop it?

One need not be a Chamber -- to be Haunted --
One need not be a House --
The Brain has Corridors -- surpassing
Material Place --
Far safer, of a Midnight Meeting
External Ghost
Than its interior Confronting --
That Cooler Host.
Far safer, through an Abbey gallop,
The Stones a'chase --
Than Unarmed, one's a'self encounter --
In lonesome Place --
Ourself behind ourself, concealed --
Should startle most --
Assassin hid in our Apartment
Be Horror's least.
The Body -- borrows a Revolver --
He bolts the Door --
O'erlooking a superior spectre --
Or More --

Emily Dickinson

*Check out "effing" on dictionary.com. I found this term used often in Harry Potter, and also by my roommate... Unsettling where language is going...

Starting to feel...

2009-09-05T19:44:00.001-05:00

It hit me, as I sat for the first time today, on an old bench at a train station. "Memories like bullets fire at me from a gun..." At the most unpredictable of moments the pain rips through me. It is physical. It starts in my chest and washes over me, and for a second I am drowning in it, choking on it, unable to breathe because of it. And then it recedes, and I can catch my breath. But today the pain lingers. As I stood in line at the Sears Tower, Isabella tugged on my hand. I bent down, and she asked where my husband was. "I don't have a husband!" I replied with a laugh. "Are you asking where Arni is?" "Yeah, where is Barney?" she replied. I explained that Arni was in Indiana, and went on trying to explain how many of her there would have to be, stacked, to reach the top of the Sears Tower. Even Austin was asking about Arni, and Gil. I realized it wasn't just myself that was counting on the two of us getting married. The last time Arni and I had been together, he had been playing race cars with Isabella. I remember not feeling well, and getting up to go down stairs. I had stood up, kissing him on the cheek before heading down. As far as Isabella was concerned, he and I were married, although at the time we weren't even considering ourselves a couple.
The more I sit and allow myself to think about it, the more regret builds up inside of me. Everything about this summer, and the summer before, and even the summer before that leaves a bad taste in my mouth. The summers and their mistakes run together in my mind, one bad choice after another. The apathy, and living on the edge of self loathing is eating away at my resolve. I am comfortable with it though, and that is perhaps the most dangerous thing. What I am learning makes me feel good, and I am in college because I know I should be. I do the homework because its required to get the degree I want. I clean the bathrooms, and work at the Gap because it pays for school.
I don't read my Bible because I have convinced myself I don't need it. I don't talk to God unless I am apologizing for not talking to Him. I know I need Him, but at the moment I don't want Him. I am desperately sick. I could have avoided it, I am sure. But it is easier to blame other circumstances. It is easier to point the finger at what happened this summer, saying that it was the anger and hatred and bitterness towards the guy who came into my world and turned it on its head. Its easier to say that I just wore myself to thin with working both jobs. Its easier to say that breaking up with the guy I wanted to spend the rest of my life left me too depressed for the moment. But I am the root of all of those issues. My degeneration must have started before the summer. What an awful thought... How long have I been sinking? And now all of this baggage is weighing me down, and I can't seem to find a way back up. I don't even know if I want to go back up. I am tired, depressed, lonely... I want to move back with my grandparents and my dad. I am in no position to be at Moody.
I don't even want to be in love anymore. Seeing couples at Moody doesn't make me long for my past relationship, it gives me a sense of relief. Yet I miss Andrew. But I am repelled by the thought of commitment. I want something new though. I want to try new things, but I hope for the old things as well. I feel torn up and trashed on the inside. I am descending rapidly, looking back so far that I am always looking forward. I feel as lost as the lost... If not more so, because I know Who I am lost from. My eyes must be adjusting though, because the darkness doesn't seem so dark anymore.

Fin

2009-08-31T16:06:00.000-05:00

I think it is safe to say that the most hellish summer of my life is now over. At least that's what the temperature sign down the street has been telling me for the past week. My window is open and there is a chill breeze blowing in, shooing out August with a cold goodbye. I don't mind it so much. I mean, its not like I had much of a summer anyway. I hope there will be more to come. Maybe even in Chicago.
Yesterday I went to church. It was about parenting. It was my second time seeing John since I threw a fit in Tony's car. All I could think about was Adam. I want so desperately to be over it. I was thinking about this yesterday... I mean, my friends probably want me to either shut up about it, or do something more about it. But I have decided not to do anymore about it, but I have to be okay with the fact that I may never see resolution. It is all just so messed up. There is so much I don't know, like what Adam told John in his defense, what other lies he crafted, that I may take the blame. He knows what he is doing, that much is certain. It sickens me. I am obviously far from over it. I am trying to move on, to care less about what others think. But there is some creep out there who is moving on with life apparently unscathed. He can't escape God though. I should take comfort in that fact.

Mercilessness of Time

2009-08-09T14:14:00.000-05:00

The black and white photos were set against black paper. The pages were very worn, and some of the photos were slipping out of the small corners that held them onto the page. I looked at faces of people that I had only known as older great grandparents and great aunts and uncles. Yet these faces were youthful, they had dark hair and distinguished faces, cigarettes in their hands and smirks on their mouths. There were always pictures of couples and toddlers. My great uncle Darrel was quite handsome and seemed to always be grinning in the photographs. There were pictures of him and his wife Alberta looking relaxed and happy. My grandpa and my grandma always looked distinctly different. My grandma seemed more rigid, with her hands clasped behind her back. Grandpa seemed more laid back, a more easy-going smile on his face, rather than the roguish grin that his brother always seemed to sport. Yet grandma and grandpa didn't seem as affectionate towards one another as the other couples seemed to be. More often grandma seemed relaxed and outgoing with her sisters or girlfriends. Of course, all of these conclusions I have made merely based on one old photo album. Yet, as I sat on the couch, I was intrigued by these people that surrounded me with affection as I grew up. I realized how little I knew about my relatives. The pictures depicted brothers with their darling nephew, who would tragically die at only 30 years old. My dad's cousin was doted upon as the only grandchild for 11 years. One picture of my great uncle showed him in a field with his shirt off, the photograph forever capturing what it was like for him to be young and strong in the army, that classic smile stretched across his face.
My grandma was showing me these pictures after we had spent some time talking about what Ladoga was like when she was young. A time when the small town offered its residents everything they needed. Downtown Ladoga now has a small grocery, a liquor store, a tanning salon, a small cafe, a Library, town hall, and the post office. There is a small furniture store, a hardware store, and an old antique shop. A railroad runs through the town, passed a few abandoned builds and a Pizza King, where the conductor sometimes still stops for Pizza. When my grandparents were young, there was a general store where you could buy whatever you needed, a hat shop, a dress shop, a few barber shops and beauty salons. There were a couple of car dealerships, and four gas stations. Along the railroad was a lumber yard, a coal yard, and an elevator. There was a train depot. My grandma rode the train once from Ladoga to Roachdale. My grandma was afraid she was boring me, but far from it. I was intrigued listening to my grandparents describe a Ladoga that I had never imagined. A small farming community that seemed to be industrious for its size and provided for its community.
Why must things change so drastically? I will never be able to experience a simplistic life like that. Time drags on, taking with it memories and forcing change. Darrel's wife, Alberta is now in a nursing home, suffering from Alzheimer's. My grandpa's other brother, Bob, lost his wife four years ago after she had a stroke. Bobby Sandusky, his son, died in his chair at the age of thirty; something was wrong with his air passage.
I wonder if I would be happier living 50 or 60 years ago. I love my time spent with my grandparents in the country, at the fish fry with their friends and family coming to enjoy fish sandwiches and line dancing at the basketball courts. I enjoy sitting on the front porch, drinking sweet tea, as close as I can be to a simpler life, and a simpler time. Yet I also enjoy the thrill of the city, the hustle and bustle, commotion and action. I appreciate my laptop and cell phone. I am thankful that I have Facebook to keep in touch with friends I wouldn't normally maintain contact with.
I am sad at the prospect of time and the way it moves ever onward, mercilessly and graciously moving mankind onward, leaving in its wake only memories and a few empty buildings crumbling with age. Maybe someday my own grandkids will look at digital pictures, shocked at how I possibly could survive with such limited technology, and how I could have ever thought that the clothes and hairstyles that I wore were cool.
I will just have to be content with old photographs and the stories of my grandparents. After they are gone, who will there be to recount what their lives were like? It saddens me to know that this too shall pass.

Purple woes from the blacklisted blog.

2009-08-08T21:21:00.000-05:00

I just spent time and money on trying a radical new look. Well, maybe not too radical. But different. And it failed. I am kind of bummed. Well, not kind of bummed. Very bummed. I cut my hair just so I could dye the tips purple. And all it did was make the ends a very subtle shade darker. Oh well. It wasn't meant to be. But I now have purple thumbs. And spots on my neck that look disgustingly like hickeys. At least the hair cut is cute.
I am home again, enjoying temperatures that stirred a memory of what summer should actually feel like. How wonderful to escape the prolonged spring of Chicago to a place where my car overheats sitting in the drive thru at McDonald's.
The drive to my grandparents house from my parents takes you through nothing but country. I take US 136 out of Crawfordsville. The road goes past a small horse farm and then gently slopes into a woods and over Sugar Creek. The speed limit increases from 45 to 55 as you go down the hill. The road weaves easily through the trees, with curves you are supposed to take at 50. Its much better at at least 6o. Its one of my two favorites stretches of road. The trees trees are thick around it, and the gentle curves are fun to drive. As you approach Nucor Road, the trees fall away to your right, and there is a small field that dips slightly, planted with soybeans, and then corn. This particular field, bordered by the trees and the creek sometimes bears a shroud of mist towards the twilight hours. With the sun setting over the woods, the field glows a beautiful gold, with the tassels of the corn barely shuddering in a breeze. It is beautiful. I never thought there would be a day when I came to find the sunset over the corn fields of Indiana so breathtaking. Yet there have been many of those days this summer. Another favorite stretch of road is on Ladoga Road. There is a point where the road is straight, and very slightly hilly. It ends in a sharp curve over a creek and past another horse farm. Driving this stretch of road earlier today, between corn and bean fields, I love to put my arm out the window and just enjoy the speed, the sunset, the music playing, and the scenery.
I realized after my last blog that I am boring. If all I have to write about is my day at work, then I should probably not waste the time of the very few people who might be reading my blog. I have found that I am so frustrated about having my writing confronted. I now know specifically who my audience is, which is a little weird. I feel like now if I am too honest about what I am dealing with in my life that people will take offense. Its discouraging how much people hate and fear the truth sometimes. I am realizing more and more how offensive the truth can be.
Pardon me, but I am going to be a bit frank now. Speaking of offensive truth lets talk about A---. That is a truth that no one wants to hear. And those who have heard it are skeptical. Which leaves me with a mutilated reputation and a burden that I will have to bear until he admits what he has done. The whole situation has incurred such a swirl of emotions ranging all across the board. I have never had such unresolved tension. It has hardened my heart and is stirring a hatred within me that is hard to suppress. I dream about it often now. "A waking nightmare that is only worse when I am sleeping." I know though, that God is a just God, and that He will deal with the situation in His time and way. I know that He knows the truth and that His opinion of me is the only one that matters. I just really struggle with thinking that people that I look up to and admire may think of me as a liar, as someone who has serious issues. Only someone with serious issues would make the accusations that I have made with no foundation of truth. Alas, that is what I have been dealing with. My teenage angst has not passed since June, but merely been suppressed by unappreciative readers. How vague and moody I am feeling tonight. I assure you, there is always more to come.

Tick, tock

2009-08-06T15:36:00.000-05:00

I have to leave for work in two and a half hours. I have to have my room spotless before then. I have to have all my belongings packed, once again, to move down three floors. So, here I sit. I spend eight hours a day doing mindless, dirty, sometimes disgusting work. In those eight hours, my mind wanders. I day dream, I plot, I plan, and sometimes I pray. Today I spent way too much time plotting... It seems that there is a division among Brian Taylor's physical plant day crew. It is usually the Stalker sisters versus myself, Josiah, Nate, and sometimes Liz. We hide in closets, wardrobes, and under beds to startle them. We sit and talk while they bustle around efficiently, singing songs from musicals and Disney movies.
Yesterday we decided to take our pranks to the next level. Mental warfare. I worked alone with the Stalker sisters today. For a long while they worked quietly while I listened to my offensive music. They were in the kitchen, I was on my hands and knees scrubbing the bathtub in the bathroom. I was trying to think of a conversation to engage them in, but decided to let them do the talking. I turned off my music, reluctantly, to better eavesdrop. They turned on Disney songs. I instantly regretted my own silence. Yet, I patiently listened. And the conversations started. Significant portions of their conversation is now saved in a text message on my phone, which I sent to Josiah. Now, we wait. And the next time we are all together, they will hear the very conversation they themselves have had. Down to the word. "Josiah has a pet crab named Tom Hamilton, also? Bizarre!" This is what I do with my day. I get paid nearly 10 dollars an hour to connive and clean. Its not such a bad deal, until I am pushing a gigantic cleaning cart down Wells, sweating and swearing as a bar of soap falls off every few feet, looking like a fool...
I think of other things other new ways to prank my coworkers... I think of meaningful things. I think of a lanky blond playing the piano with such passion that I get a little weak in the knees... Haha.
Seriously though. I realized today that 20 years is a long time. Much has happened in the twenty years since I first graced this world with my presence. I am sitting with a miniature laptop in my lap, a touchscreen cell phone at my side, and looking out onto a street occupied by Hummers and smart cars. I have known of three presidents, including the first African American one. I survived Y2K. I watched the World Trade Center topple as well as a statue of Saddam Hussein. But what is 20 years? I am only 20 years old. Too young for marriage, for my own house, for a rental car, and for drinking. Yet in another 80 years I'll be dead. 20 years of my life has passed and what do I have to show for it? Not much. I haven't been further west than St. Louis. I haven't left these blessed American shores. I don't know what the hell life is. I feel like for having lived 20 years, I haven't lived much at all.
Thank You, God, for eternity.

Here I am.

2009-08-05T23:09:00.000-05:00

There is a square door in my ceiling that I have never noticed before. I wonder where it goes to. I wouldn't have noticed it if I hadn't flopped down on my bed in despair, listening to Andrew McMahon and imagining how wonderful he looks as he is playing the piano. I don't imagine that I will ever accomplish anything again until I finish the Order of the Phoenix, or chuck it out my window. In the meantime, I am picking up some fun British lingo.
My room smells like fish. There is rootbeer spilled on my mattress. Two cans of Sprite, two cans of Mountain Dew, one Portillo's cup, and three cups from the Commons on my desk. A McDonald's sweet tea at the foot of the bed. Yes, I do need to clean. And I have to be at work in eight hours. I should also sleep.
I have seriously contemplated giving up school and spending the rest of my life in a saddle. It would need to be seventy degrees and sunny at all times. Perhaps I am thinking of heaven.
If I were Donnie Darko, I would never have said the words "I love you, but I just don't like you." Things would have ended up so differently. I would have also decked Adam in the face and asked him what the hell he was doing. Maybe then I could wake up from this nightmare. Also, if I was Donnie Darko, I think I would never stop looking in the mirror.
Last pickup line I heard was, "Oh, you're a childrens ministry major? Well, I'm like a child. A mature child."
I feel hopeless when it comes to dealing with guys. Even as I think, "Sanyelle, this is a pretty awful idea..." my mouth opens and words come spilling out. I shock myself sometimes. And then spend hours kicking myself.
I would never date a vampire. Love never comes without risk, but I do draw the line somewhere.
I still wear the diamond promise ring Arni gave me. On my right hand. Its too pretty to sit in my puzzle box.
Free will is an immensely intriguing subject to talk about, but the thought of eternity makes my stomach ache. I would rather ponder the complexities of time within the context of how every decision and event effects my life and choices rather than try to wrap my mind around the concept of living forever. Ironically, I never want to die.
Yet I think of death a lot. "Do you feel when your last breath is gone?" "Love is watching someone die." "Every living creature dies alone."
Konstantine is one of my favorite songs. He never sings it the same. I don't blame people for begging McMahon to sing it at his Jack's Mannequin concerts. I may include the lyrics at the end of this post. I don't expect you to feel the same way about the song.
MGMT gives me nightmares if I fall asleep listening to it. Can you blame me? Last time I was listening to it, I woke up kicking the crap out of my cat thinking it was Frank the rabbit. I know- yikes. Speaking of MGMT and rabbits- Alice in Wonderland is coming out in March. Who could be a better Mad Hatter than Johnny Depp. No one, I am convinced.
Sometimes I wonder if I am better off alone. Marriage is the Moody theme, but I would think if they were such strong advocates of marriage, they would provide a better batch of prospects. Ouch. I just don't want to be a better pastor's wife. Sorry, boys. Where are all the tall skinny guys with dark hair and dark eyes, covered in tattoos and playing the piano? (Preferably more than just hymns...) Yeah. My prince will come. Who hasn't heard that one once a week? Of late, I have been boy crazy. Perhaps just crazy. I do spend a lot of time in cramped bathrooms with enough chemicals to make a decent meth lab. Okay. Enough procrastinating. I'll spend another 20 minutes copying the Konstantine lyrics, and then using poor judgment, will probably go to sleep rather than working on cleaning my room for room inspection.

I can't imagine all the people that you know
And the places that you go
When the lights are turned down low
And I don't understand
All the things you've seen
But I'm slipping in between
You and your big... dreams
It's always you in my big dreams
And you tell me
That it's over
Wake up lying in a patch of four leaf clover
And you're restless
And I'm naked
You've got to get out
You can't stand to see me shaking
No, could you let me go
I didn't think so
And you don't want to be here in the future
So you say
The present's just a pleasant
Interruption to the past
And you don't want to look much closer
'Cause you're afraid to find out all this hope
You had sent into the sky by now had... crashed
And it did because of me
And then you bring me home
Afraid to find out that you're alone, no
And I'm sleeping in your living room
But we don't have much room
To live
I had these dreams, in them I learned to play guitar
Maybe cross the country
Become a rock star
And there was hope in me
That I could take you there
But damn it you're so young
But I don't think I care
And if I hurt you thenIi'm sorry
please don't think that this was easy
And then you bring me home
'Cause we both know what it's like to be alone, no
And I'm dreaming in your living room
But we don't have much room
To live
And Konstantine is walking down the stairs
Doesn't she look good
Standing in her underwear?
And I was thinking, what I was thinking
But we've been drinking
And it doesn't get me anywhere
My Konstantine came walking down the stairs
And all that I could do
Was touch her long blond hair
And I've been thinking
It hurts me thinking
That these nights when we were drinking
No they never got us anywhere, no
This is because I can spell konfusion with a K
And I can like it
It's to dying in another's arms
And why I had to try it
It's to jimmy eat world
And those nights in my car
When the first star you see
May not be a star
I'm not your star
Isn't that what you said?
What you thought this song meant
And if this is what it takes
Just to lie with my mistakes
And live with what I did to you
All the hell I put you through
I always catch the clock it's 11:11
And now you want to talk
It's not hard to dream
You'll always be my Konstantine
My Konstantine
They'll never hurt you like I do
No, They'll never hurt you like I do
No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No
This is to a girl who got into my head
With all the pretty things she did
Hey, you know, you keep me up in bed
This is to a girl who got into my head
With all these fucked up things I did
Hey maybe baby, you could keep me up in bed
My Konstantine
Spin around me like a dream
We played out on this movie screen
And I said,
Did you know I miss you
Did you know I miss you
Did you know I miss you
Did you know I miss you
Did you know I miss you
Did you know I miss you
Did you know I miss you
I miss you
And then you bring me home
And we'll go to sleep but this time not alone, no No,
And then you'll kiss me in your living room, oh
I know you miss me in your living room
Cause these nights I think maybe that I miss you in my living room
We don't have much room
I said, does anybody need that room?
Because we all need a little more room
To live

...My Konstantine.

The Long and Short of It

2009-06-12T15:48:00.001-05:00

While he was gone, it was easy for me to say, "I can do this". When he wasn't there to pass in the tunnels at school, and to walk with me places at night when no one else could, it was easy to say "Its finally over". When he was thousands of miles away in China, I thought I could resist. Now I am thinking "There is no way". I thought that he wasn't what I really wanted. I thought that there were things about him that I just couldn't reconcile myself to. I thought I wanted someone who was passionate about the things I was passionate about, who shared my interests as well. I thought I wanted someone older, more mature. I still think these things sometimes. But now, when he is here, and making me laugh, and saying all the right things at all the right times- I think that he is really what I wanted all along. Yes, there are things that we both need to change, but isn't it possible that we can do this growing and changing together. I mean, aren't we going to have to learn to balance 'us' and God while we are still 'us'?

Dating and marrying Andrew wouldn't be a sin, would it? I know that there is idolatry in our relationship, a worship of each other and of the relationship itself. I know that that has to change. I know that I need him to learn how to step up and be a leader. I know that it would be foolish to get married now, as we are.

But every person I talk to gives me different advice! To some its apparently been obvious for a while now. To others, they don't understand why we can't just be together. We love each other. We do want to be together. So why not?

Why was I feeling so convicted that this was right, but I now feel like its all wrong? The past month that he was my ex-boyfriend I was miserable and confused. Now I'm happy and confused. I know that I was grown and stretched while he was gone, and I know there is a lot more room for improvement...

I know breaking up is not impossible. I feel like getting him out of my life is impossible. I have a ring he gave me on my finger, a bracelet he made for me on my wrist. I am using a computer he bought me that I owe him for. Next to me is the huge stuffed dog he wasted too much money on at a King's Island. The journals I write in are from him. Some of the clothes I wear were bought by him or his parents. My promise ring is still in a puzzle box he brought me from Florida... He is in my thoughts consistently. He was the man I was planning to marry next summer. We had even picked out a dog that we wanted... I still want him to be the man that I marry. I don't want to try to run from everything that represents him in my life. I want to be his. I don't know what to do with my doubts.

I wish God could just give me a call and let me know what the hell I am supposed to be doing right now.
Because I sure don't know. I love him. But I know we aren't where we are supposed to be right now. I just don't know how to fix it. I don't know what I want. I am twenty years old with my whole life ahead of me. I just want to please God, grow up, have it all together, and someday be his wife.

Maybe I should just suck it up and work as hard as I can to keep him at a distance and see what happens. Maybe I should just screw it and be his girlfriend again and pray that God would change both of our hearts. It is our hearts that are the issue, after all.

Oi.

I do not know.

But I do need to make a decision.

Four hour train ride, here I come.

Please, God, give me some direction. Open my eyes, open my heart.

Home

2009-06-09T16:20:00.000-05:00

As the hand on the sign stopped flashing and indicated that it was no longer safe to cross I turned to him. I wrapped my arms around him and held him tightly as tears filled my eyes. I have never been so happy and anxious to see a person as I was to see Andrew last night. I didn't want to let go. He told me he missed me and I quietly agreed.

Later as we sat side by side in the plaza, I realized there was no one like Andrew to make me feel completely at ease and satisfied, free to be myself at all times, whether happy, grumpy, sad, angry, or silly. He loved me in all of my moods- somehow. I don't have to have any pretenses with him, I can just be myself and enjoy it, and enjoy him.

Maybe it is true-

You never know what you have, until it is gone.

Maybe he isn't gone for good.

Sliding in the Rain...

2009-06-08T01:08:00.000-05:00

I found myself in a crowd of people, raindrops on my face, Kirk Franklin and a full Gospel choir singing in the background. It took me a minute to fall into step with the people all around me, and every now and then I was nudged in the right direction by a man beside me. But soon we were all in sync, laughing and singing as the heavens above us broke open with flashes of lightning and peals of thunder. I saw beside me a few girls I had just met that day, earlier in church, from Arkansas. I had just had Thai potstickers and a strawberry smoothie. I felt completely at ease and happy in a crowd of predominantly African American men and women dancing and singing around me, and grateful that I could share in such a meaningful moment with these worshipping people. Even as Kirk Franklin stopped singing, the crowd continued, women singing one part, with the men echoing. It was utterly beautiful. Those moments of worship with a crowd of thousands dancing and singing their hearts out, laughing and crying out a heartfelt 'Amen!' will not be soon forgotten. I hope to never forget what it feels like to do the electric slide in the rain with good friends and a crowd of brothers and sisters of all different colors.

Simply

2009-06-07T16:20:00.000-05:00

"I want to be free, free to dance and free to sing. Free to live and love and free to be me."

I do not want to think that this season is a season of my life going to waste. I don't want to think that the tears that I am shedding for him are tears wasted. I don't want to think of the nights without sleep as senseless and foolish. I can't help that when I dream this is what I see:

I stare at him for a moment dumbfounded. I see a smile on his face that is not a smile that the real Andrew Michael Smith would have on his lips. It is a cruel smile, a plotting smile. Suddenly I find words again, and my voice is at a full shout. "How could you do this to us? Why would you ruin everything? Why would you throw it away?" I am hysterical. I want to grab him and shake him, shake that smirk off of his face. Instead he calmly allows the police to lead him away- for good. I cannot bear the thought of it. This was my fiancee, the one who I loved more than anyone else.

I wake up, in anguish from the reality of the pain I felt in my dream. In reality, its not Andrew throwing away the future. Its me.
I couldn't sleep last night. He is coming home tomorrow and all that I can think about is how good it will feel to hold him again. I can't hold him, though. He is no longer mine to hold. I think of all the moments we've shared together. I can feel the pain of the harder moments, our struggles that we shared together, or supported one another through. I remember moments of joy, of laughter. I remember sitting out on a dock almost three years ago...

I sat on the dock, looking into the water, kicking my feet back and forth. I couldn't believe this was happening. The boy next to me was almost painfully quiet. This is what I had hoped for all summer. I turned shyly to him and waited for him to speak. It was perhaps the most awkward silence I had ever endured, but I didn't mind waiting, because I knew once we started the conversation, it would be good. I remembered all the times over the summer I had tried to catch his eye, being ridiculously loud and obnoxious during swim time. Kat and Sasha would mention me to him, without any interest on his part. Now he was sitting beside me, telling me he liked me. I remember, as swim time ended and I jumped into the water to swim back, I was incredibly excited but apprehensive. I didn't have a boyfriend yet, but I finally had the assurance that he was interested in pursuing a relationship.

Now I sit here, alone in my dorm room, contemplating what ending this relationship was going to look like, feel like. And there is only one word that comes to mind:
Hell.

I don't want to spend my summer moping, or constantly torn up over the loss of this love, but I can't escape the feelings. I have invited tragedy to my door, and I can't turn it away now. I have to face the decision I made and still try to enjoy life even as I tear it apart. I must learn and find peace in the fact that God still loves me. He made me with complexity, and it is my complexity that calls me to make decisions like this. I can only hope that I am making my Savior proud, and not continuing to mess things up. I feel like nothing that I do is right, that there is no good that will come from this, but I am comforted that despite all this, He loves me for me. He created me to be Sanyelle. Simply, Sanyelle. Hopefully, I can grow and learn from this, and continue to be me, pursuing holiness and maturity, honoring Andrew in whatever way I can through this. Perhaps he will grow as well. I can only pray...

Intense Moments for a Moody Student...

2009-06-06T01:35:00.000-05:00

The loud crunch of one car smashing into another set my heart racing in my chest. I couldn't see past the side of the bus stop, but I instinctively jumped backwards. The car right in front of us sped away, through the intersection, with a large dark SUV on its tail. The SUV pulled alongside the car. The window was down, and a hand holding a gun emerged.

I sat on a rooftop with three of my friends, enjoying a removed view of the city. It was a clear night and the skyline shone beauitfully. The moon glowed above us intensely, and the Big Dipper twinkled dimly above my head. I enjoyed the various conversations of my friends, the guitar playing and singing Ruth provided. It was chilly, but not too cold. It felt so good to be in the open, up on a roof, four stories above the streets below. The skyscrapers stood magnificently in the distance, and a random firework sparkled on the opposite horizon. I loved standing up there, my arms spread, enjoying freedom from the imposing buildings and having nothing between me and the sky.
We left late. Later than we planned. By the time we reached the bus stop not far from Rachel's apartment is was 12:45. There were people out and about, and I didn't feel particularly unsafe. There was a cozy bar on the corner, windows and doors open, showing people within enjoying drinks and good company. Ruth called the CTA- 20 minutes before our bus would come. I suggested we start walking, in hopes of finding a place to eat along the way. Chuck protested, saying it was safer to stay where we were. Ruth, Rebekah and myself decided walking would be better, so we set off. We came upon a Burger King a few blocks down and Ruth and I decided to run in and grab something to eat. Unfortunately, only the drive thru is open all night. So, driven by our hunger, we decided to go through the drive thru. We stood at the intercom with no luck. I thought perhaps we could just walk up to the window. There were three cars ahead of us, so we decided to return to where Rebekah and Chuck were waiting at the intersection.
We crossed back over to the bus stop and decided to wait there. Chuck suddenly suggested that we step back closer to the building behind us. I was momentarily confused until he pointed out that a car that had just passed seemed to notice us and had specifically turned around to approach us. At this point I began to get a little nervous. The car pulled up and two men asked how to get to club Excalibur. Ruth and I decided to go ahead and give them directions from where we stood a safe distance back on the sidewalk. Just as we finished explaining, I heard the smash of another car hitting the one right in front of us. I couldn't see the other car at first, but the guys asking directions wasted no time trying to get away. As they accelerated through the intersection, the SUV came alongside them. The passenger in the SUV pulled out a gun and leaned out the window.
I felt sick with terror and turned. I did not want to witness this. I didn't want to give the gunman any reason to turn the car around and come get the four of us, witnesses to the hit and run and now for some act of violence. As the first car got away, the SUV turned around. I thought to myself a lot of things that can't be repeated here, but I also took the moment to let God know I would prefer not to be shot down outside of Burger King on Chicago Avenue. We began to turn and walk quickly the other way, my heart racing and my body trembling. The SUV didn't pass us again, and we decided to stay at a bus stop about a block away from the one we had just been at.
I must admit, I was terrified, and I have never been so scared before. I have never been so close to a gun in the hands of someone who meant it for ill, or at least been aware of such. I have never felt the need to bolt like I did in that moment, to get away from these two cars and the feud that was escalating between them. It took a few minutes for my shaking to stop, for my heart rate to slow, for me to feel secure and not worried about a gunman in a dark SUV.

Where Do I Begin... The Art of Giving Myself Over.

2009-06-05T16:59:00.001-05:00

I sit on the El with my backpack between my feet, leaving the seat next to me empty. I leave my ipod at a moderately low volume in order to be able to hear the automated voice announcing the stops. A woman sits down beside me, so close that our shoulders brush. I continue to stare out the window with my headphones in my ears. She pulls out a book. The walls are up. I look out the window at the platform and see countless businessmen and women on their blackberries, with bluetooth devices in their ears or headphones connected to their ipods. Walls. Everywhere. Those without a phone to their ear or an earbud in hold books. There are millions of us in the city. Some are lonely, some are socialites. Some of us just can't bear to be exposed as disconnected, whether our connection is to a friend on the other line, the author of our book, or the voice singing sweetly in our ears. What would happen if we actually had to face the people rubbing shoulders with us? The woman sitting close beside me, the person jostling against me as we lurch around a corner?
I wonder what life would look like if we weren't surrounded by our walls of ipods, books, newspapers, and blackberries. I wonder what life would look like if looked the stranger across from me in the eye instead of staring at a blank cell phone screen.
He doesn't have a wall as he steps on to the El. He holds a can of diet Sierra Mist in his hand. I glance up at him as he steps through the door and sits across from me in a single seat. He places his backpack between his feet. This young man makes quick work of the can of soda and sits it on the ledge beside him. I silently disapprove. Perhaps he'll throw it away when he leaves. I continue to watch him (its hard not to as he is sitting three feet across from me, and its him or the rear end of the man standing close beside me). He looks up to catch me looking at him. We hold eye contact for a split second and I look away. He pulls out a phone and connects some headphones. I watch as he drops the phone down the front of his shirt and then pulls it down and into his jacket pocket. He then pulls out a journal. I am officially intrigued. I too like to write while I'm on the El. I silently approve. He soon gives me no reason to be ashamed of my people watching. The young man begins to crane his neck to see around the people standing around him. Focusing more towards the ground, he seems to be searching for something, looking left and right with such intensity I have to restrain following his eyes where they roam. He does this for a few moments and then quickly jots something down in his planner. I can't imagine what he could possibly be writing and searching for in the crowded El. I continue to stare, probably in a rather rude manner, as this man searches and scribbles. I wish I could ask him what it is he is writing. If he himself is a writer. He looks down at the ground between our feet. I shift uncomfortably under his scrutiny. I hate for people to look at my feet. I uncross and cross my legs while watching him jot something down in his planner, silently hoping he is not making note of my feet... I prepare for my stop and stand, taking one last long look at this curious gentleman and his inquisitive gaze.
I ended up in Lavazza, sipping an Italian-esque chocolate milkshake, talking to Ruth as she bustles around behind the counter preparing an interesting concoction of gelato, chocolate, whipped cream, and peaches.
I leave Lavazza as the sun sets in the west, leaving the city in a cool, dusky shadow. My headphones are back in and Jimmy Eat World blares in my ears. Its a bit chilly, but not unpleasant. I take some obscure side street that I had never walked down before and enjoyed the trees with the street lights shining in their leaves, giving them a pretty yellow glow. Instead of my usually brisk pace, I slow to a stroll and, for once, enjoy being alone. I pass an old Scottish church that has scaffolding built up all around it and notice that behind all of the platforms built up around it there is a rather quaint old building. The scaffolding intersects with the branches of a tree. It looks like some elaborate, out-of-control tree house. I smile at the thought. I walk past Washington Square Park and smile at a man walking his dog. He smiles back. It is pleasant to come across a person who isn't disturbed by the thought of making eye contact with a stranger.
I think as I walk...
I hate the idea of someone making guesswork of the matters of my heart. I don't like to be looked in the eye and told how fucked up I am. So, please don't.
But I know I have to hear it.
I lay in bed that night and my mind races, as usual. I can't stop thinking of Andrew. And when I face the facts and know that it is only going to get worse, I toss and turn. How on earth do I get to the point where I am ever going to be okay? Its more than I don't want to lose him. Its more than me losing the security that he gave me. Its more than me fearing for my future. Its more than I have an issue with surrender, with faith, with loving, with having joy. Its an insurmountable barrier of all things I need to 'fix' in my life, in my heart. I feel so far from okay.
This is the part of me speaking that is dreadfully far from a 'spiritual' perspective. I know I need to learn to give myself over to the healing hands of my Father. I need to submit my broken heart to Him and let Him do a redeeming work. It will take time, and at this moment I still feel fairly shattered.

Cloudy Night

2009-05-30T11:50:00.000-05:00

As I lay in my bed last night, I looked out my window for the first time after dark. Normally the blinds are closed, but last night, I left them open. From where my bed sits underneath the window, when I am lying flat on my back, I can look up and see mostly open sky. A high rise in the distance intrudes upon my midnight show, and the lights from Culby glare in my eyes. But for the most part I am privy to a view of the deep blue night sky, a dark ocean for white ghosts to sail smoothly and silently upon, borne by the cool summer breeze. I watch, content for a moment, as the shadowy clouds slowly creep through the patch of night. The sky glows with the lights of the city beneath it, and the clouds seem more like smudges against the shimmering night waters- their shipness upsetting an otherwise still night. But I am thankful for the clouds and their slow voyage past my window. They give me a sense of peace, of normalcy.
I lay, gazing up at the clouds, thinking of all the things that normally plague my restless mind. I think of love, of God, of family and my longing to be someplace more like home. I thought about the blog I had last posted 'You expect too much'. I think about one thing in particular that I wrote. I said that I wanted nothing more than to be with Andrew. It is true, that at some moments I am so overwhelmed with my desire to be with him again, to have that peace and sense of security. I feel my heart swell at the thought of hugging him and never letting him go. My chest heaves as I try to contain my sorrow and longing and all the pressure of all my emotions wanting to break free and tumble out in my tears. It is true, that sometimes I think that I need Andrew, that without him I am incomplete and insecure. But as I lay there last night, watching the clouds and measuring their speed by how slowly they creep past my window sill, I felt a sudden sense of shame.
I thought back to David's words in his Psalm:
"...there is none who takes notice of me; no refuge remains to me; no one cares for my soul. I cry to you, O LORD; I say, 'You are my refuge, my portion in the land of the living!'"
David, in this time of hiding from Saul, literally had no one to call friend. He had no one at all. Still, God, His Savior, was enough for him, in every sense. In reality, I am not alone, although I am now without the person that I love the most. And for me to think that I should say 'I want nothing more in this moment than to be with him again' instead of thinking 'I want nothing more in this moment than to experience You and Your refuge' seems outrageous to me. Jesus Christ holds the universe together by the power of His Word, and I cannot let Him fulfill any of my needs at any given moment? He is my Savior in all aspects. He loves me more dearly, more tenderly, more infinitely than any man will. He knows my needs before I do, before I have a chance to pray them. He takes care of the noisy pigeons squabbling underneath the Brown Line outside the window, and I don't think He is capable of taking care of me?
Today I read Psalm 144 and 145. Here is what struck me about 145:

"The LORD is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love. The LORD is good to all, and his mercy is all that he has made... [The LORD is faithful in all his words and kind in all his works.] The LORD upholds all who are falling and raises up all who are bowed down. The eyes of all look to you you, and you them food in due season. You open your hand; you satisfy the desire of every living thing. The LORD is righteous in all his ways and kind in all his works. The LORD is near to all who call on him, to all who call on him in truth. He fulfills the desire of those who fear him; he also hears their cry and saves them. The LORD preserves all who love him, but all the wicked he will destroy."

This is absolutely beautiful and comforting to me. Yhwh is essentially my everything. He is all that I need at any given moment. I need to trust Him and surrender to Him.

You expect too much

2009-05-29T23:50:00.001-05:00

You expect too much of me. How could You possible forget that I am nothing more than a weak, selfish human. I want nothing more in this moment than to take him back. Why would You deny me this? Why do You always ask so much?

A Severe Mercy

2009-05-29T13:32:00.000-05:00

Today, in a desperate attempt at feeling peace and comfort amidst a storm, I read Psalm 142 and 143. They read:

"With my voice I cry out to the LORD; with my voice I plead for mercy to the LORD. I pour out my complaint before him; I tell my trouble before him. When my spirit faints within me, you know my way! In the path where I walk they have hidden a trap for me. Look to the right and see there is none who takes notice of me, no refuge remains to me, no one cares for my soul. I cry to you, O LORD; I say, 'You are my refuge, my portion in the land of the living.' Attend to my cry, for I am brought very low! Deliver me from my persecutors, for they are too strong for me! Bring me out of prison, that I may give thanks to your name! The righteous will surround me, for you will deal bountifully with me."

"Hear my prayer, O LORD; give ear to my pleas for mercy! In your faithfulness answer me, in your righteousness! ...My spirit faints within me, my heart within me is appalled. I remember the days of old; I meditate on all that you have done. I ponder the work of your hands. I stretch out my hands to you; my soul thirsts for you like a parched land. Answer me quickly, O LORD! My spirit fails! ...Let me hear in the morning of your steadfast love, for in you I trust. Make me know the way that I should go, for to you I lift up my soul..."

Today I find myself broken. God has pulled away the crutches that have replaced Him, leaving me with no one else to turn to. Almost literally. Yesterday, I found out that because of an online banking error, all of my money was moved to savings from checking, leaving me with just a few dollars in my checking account. I was unaware of this transfer, so I continued to spend money as if there was 500 dollars in my bank account rather than 10. Needless to say, I overdrew my account and lost almost all of my money in fees- leaving me with 200 dollars. Today, I owe Moody 700 dollars. I have no way to pay it. I can't even call anyone back home for help. My cell phone service was dropped today, presumably because my dad could not pay the phone bill. If he can't pay the phone bill, how on earth can he help me come up with 500 dollars today? The Gap didn't start giving me hours today. I work today, tomorrow, Monday, and next Saturday. And on this meager amount of hours, I am supposed to be able to pay off my debt to Moody. I am despairing. I feel like the only option I have is to admit defeat and go home. I will be getting 40 hours a week, but not until the week after next...
I find myself crying out to God, just as David did. I feel alone and helpless. I have a few friends to turn to, but they can't help me. I can't call Andrew anymore. I can't allow him to continue paying for my school bill. For once in my life, it is just me, and God. I pray that He can do a miracle, that He can provide for me 500 dollars to pay Moody today. My faith is small. Worst case scenarios race through my mind. What if I have to leave Moody? What if I can't afford to come back in the fall? How can I possibly survive a summer at home? How can I get a job? What will become of my future? How can I afford to stay in school? What will I do without the few friends that I have? I am scared. But I cry out to God. "My spirit fails! Let me hear of your steadfast love in the morning!" God, what are you going to do?

Yesterday I read "A Severe Mercy". Straight through. It was suggested to me by a friend. It is the story of Sheldon Vanauken and his wife, Davy. Sheldon and Davy share a love that is strong and passionate, obtaining a oneness that set their love apart. Their pagan love was sheltered in the Shining Barrier that they had created for their love. They were the epitome of 'us'. They shared everything with one another, the same interests, passions, dreams, and desires. One of their greatest desires was for timelessness. Together they moved to Oxford, where they met some Christians, who, to their surprise, actually made Christianity seem like something worth considering. Through the shepherding of their friends, and C.S Lewis, Davy and Sheldon came to faith. Their pagan love was now lost, and they came under the control of Christ. Davy gave her whole self to Christ. Sheldon did not. He soon became jealous of Davy's new lover. He loved God, no doubt, but not like she did. He wanted to ask her to stop reading the Word so much, to enjoy more poetry with him. He knew he could not ask that of her. Davy knew where Sheldon's heart was. She knew that 'us' was more important to him than God. It was becoming 'us and God', but it must be 'God and us'. She prayed that God would take her if it was necessary to allow Sheldon to give himself wholly to God. That their love would die so that he could know God more.
About a year later, Davy died. God gave Sheldon a severe mercy. It was through Davy's death, through the breaking of their Shining Barrier that Sheldon would come to know God has Davy had known Him. Sheldon had to let his love die, which was a painful process that took place for the two years following Davy's death.
This synopsis of course does the book no justice. It was beautifully written. I cried nearly all the way through it. I would not begin to compare my love with Andrew to Davy and Sheldon's love. They were lovers for over a decade, and Andrew and I were lovers for merely 2 and a half years. But I will not write off my own love as insignificant. As I was reading the book, I first had some peace about my break up. I thought to myself, it is possible to have a love like that- a marriage of true minds. I want to hold out for a love like that. Then as it began to talk about Davy's death and the collapse of all that Sheldon knew, I began to question my own decision of forsaking a love. I love Andrew Smith. I love him dearly. I want him in my life. I want him to love, and to be loved. I don't want to think about life without him. Yet, I see that for both of us, it has always been about us and God. And like Davy, I have always been closer to God and us. I didn't have it, but I believe I was closer. Andrew had become so much to me. He was my best friend. He was the one that I could call and talk to about anything and everything. He helped me pay for my school bill. He never let me go without. I didn't need to trust God for these things, because Andrew was these things. We both needed a severe mercy. Even now, my heart is sick with love that I can't have anymore. I have to say goodbye to Andrew and let our love die if either one of us is going to get to know God as our all and all.
God has brought me to a point in the last four weeks where there is no where else for me to turn. I am without any help at the moment other than His help. I am at the point where I cannot call to anybody for rescue except for my Savior. (What a novel idea!) I have to trust Him to provide, and if He doesn't provide, that He will be enough for me no matter where I end up. If I end up at home without any of my friends and my church family, He will be my sustainer and all that I need. If I stay here at Moody and work all summer long, He will be my provider and all that I need. I will continue to subject myself to His Severe Mercy until I can say with full confidence like David, "You are my refuge, my portion in the land of the living!"

The Shining Barrier

2009-05-28T14:36:00.000-05:00

Sonnet CXVI
"Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! It is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wondering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved."
-William Shakespeare

Love. It can not be neatly summed up or understood by the reading of words through a page. If we read of love all the time, but never taste it ourselves through experience, then we will never comprehend to what depths love can move. When I think of love, my heart shudders. My mind races with countless memories, and tears sting my eyes. The love I found was beautiful, was deep, was naive, was reckless, was a teacher- and under its tutelage I learned more in three years than under any other wise educator.
It has passed. As the blossoms of flowers and trees bloomed into erect tulips and sweet smelling umbrella's of shade, love resigned itself to a long bitter death. With one last sweet kiss on my wet cheek, my heart failed and the love that was sweeter than life itself bowed low, signaling the end of its passionate performance.
The 'Shining Barrier' at last yielded its walls, and in the rubble of the stones that I had undone with my own hands, I wept. I still weep. I love him still, and will for a long time more. My longing for him, for a love that can 'bear out even to the edge of doom' consumes me. Our love was not that fierce, our barrier not that strong. The strands binding us together were deep, but too few, and now they hang limp between us as time begins to first open the wound, and then in some far away time, heal it.

Walk Through the Dark

2009-05-27T22:35:00.000-05:00

I step out into the cool night air and glance around. The lot behind the restaurant next door is fairly empty. There are people across the street getting into their car. Other than that there aren't many people out. It is late and damp, and I feel unsure as I head home by myself. I walk under the El tracks and sidestep puddles. As I stroll past the empty ball diamond, I take a moment to appreciate the shrouded skyline. The city is draped in a silvery mist, with the lights glowing dimly through. The Hancock tower bears a soft pink halo, illuminating the night sky around it with a purple tint. I look again at the street that I am walking down, anxious to be on the brighter street ahead. I notice that two men are walking ahead of me and are looking back at me. It makes me slightly uneasy, but as I approach the intersection, I cross onto the better lit, busier street and stay on the opposite side of the men. I feel foolish, being afraid of every unknown pedestrian out at night, but I feel it is better to be safe than sorry.
As I pick up my pace, now within a block of school, I take comfort in the fact that there is a couple just a few yards ahead, walking onto the Moody parking lot. I also notice that the two men cross back to my side of the street and stop ahead, under some small trees on my left. I follow the couple onto the parking lot, but their car is right at the entrance. I have to cross the empty lot by myself. Yet not by myself, because the two men follow me. At this point, my anxiety is rising.
"What up, bitch?" one of them shouts. I walk faster. Sweeting is right in front of me, and inside there will be a public safety officer. I clutch my bag tighter to my side and hurry towards safety. They are still following, but not quickly. I step for the sidewalk and one foot sinks deep into a puddle. Mud covers my foot and sandal. I don't hesitate. Within moments I am walking past Sweeting. As I glance behind me, the men trail off back towards the street. I continue on through the walkway past Doane and on towards the plaza. A few times I glance back, just to be sure.
When I get to the plaza I slow down. I am safe. My pulse slows as I walk into my dorm, now caring about only my muddy foot.

Unknown

2009-05-27T17:22:00.000-05:00

It is terribly frustrating to be at a point in which there is nothing for me to say... My heart is heavy, and yet there are no words for it. If I sit and stare at the computer screen long enough, perhaps I will be able to formulate words from my catastrophic thoughts. At this point, to do so is simply a waste of my time.

Xplosive Pizza Goldfish and The Hush Sound

2009-05-25T12:02:00.000-05:00

"Hourglass" -The Hush Sound
As we sift through the hour glass
We realize that an hours passed
And not a person here is innocent
Were both as guilty as a sin
It must have rained all through the night
The tires just couldn't grip right
So I took another long sip
And wiped away my chapped lips
This is how it ends
We believe every lie and say we're just friends
How long will it last
Before we scratch all the scripts and we rework the cast
As the hour met the minute hand
We kept racing through this foreign land
With no direction or a telephone
Together we were all alone
That's when the puzzle was finally pieced
We compromised until our bodies seized
To some we seem like colder creatures, well
We were warm until we went to hell
Cast the first stone
Lets pretend that we don't have a
Past the worst one
Forbid forget forget that you exist

I stood by the tracks in the cool morning air. It was overcast, looking as if it could rain at any moment. I looked down the tracks to where they disappeared into the woods, thinking how different this was than Union Station. I can't even compare stations, because there was no station where I was at. Just a small structure to protect those waiting for the train from the elements. I noticed a cardinal several yards away. In front of me, the broken body of a little sparrow lay on the pavement. Its feathers fluttered in the breeze. The rest of it was still.
This time going back to Chicago was very bittersweet. I had a good time with my family. I had been able to eat dinner with Sasha. Going home to Chicago wasn't appealing at the moment. There would be no one waiting for me. No one to welcome me back. Just the cooler Chicago air and the blasted wind. I had a lonely train ride ahead of me, and a lonely afternoon beyond that.
When the train arrived, I said goodbye to my dad and took my seat on the train. I quickly dismissed the thoughts of regret and doubt that assaulted me. I was only feeling so dismal at the moment because I was lonely. Staying in Chicago for the summer isn't a mistake! I have a job... and a few friends...
Then once again, as it does at the most unpredictable moments, the grief of my breakup washed over me. It came in a wave and covered me with its cold, bitter water. The force of it left my mind and heart battered. He would have been there to welcome me home. He would have always been there to welcome me home. He could have been my home. No matter where I went, he would always be with me or waiting for me when I returned. He would take me in his arms and spin me around, or would give me a long kiss. He was my future, my security, my hope. He was the consistency that I needed. When I went home and had a miserable time, he was there to talk me through it. If there was no one else in the city to pick me up at the train station he would have been there. When my time at Moody is done and my friends have all gone away, he would be there. When I go back to Indiana and don't have anyone but my family to visit, he would be there. And that security is gone. In the hole that Andrew left behind I see my weakness, my loneliness, my neediness, and I am devastated. I could pick up the phone and call him, and take him back at any moment, and he would do so gladly. I stare at my phone with longing, but I know that I can't. So I resign myself to my tears.

Sweet Home, Indiana

2009-05-24T15:19:00.000-05:00

It seems to me so strange that I feel just as comfortable and at home behind a John Deere tractor hauling hay, listening to Dierks Bentley, as I am riding the El through the loop, listening to Jack's Mannequin on my ipod...

There are things that I miss about the city when I am at home for a few days:
I miss the skyline and the feeling of people everywhere
I miss the excitement and energy and all that there is to do
I miss the beach
I miss the family that I have in the city

There are things I miss about the country when I am in the city:
I miss being able to see a full sunset
I miss the sound of crickets
I miss lightning bugs
I miss farm boys with their shirts off (ha ha)
I miss my family

It really is strange for me to never be fully happy no matter where I am. There will always be something missing for me. I guess it is good that I can go back and forth fairly often and literally enjoy the best of both worlds. Last night, I got to enjoy dinner with my dysfunctional family. Let me give you a taste of our dysfunctional conversation: (Thank goodness the food was good...)

Mom: My mom didn't like you, Terry. She always said I should just divorce you.
Dad: She liked me.
Mom: No she didn't. Every time I went down there she would always say, 'Why don't you just divorce him.'
Dad: That's not how I understood it.
(Meanwhile I watch my grandmother ((my dad's mom)) sitting across from mom with a rather pained look on her face. She quickly sides with my dad)
Grandma: She liked Terry.
Mom: No she didn't.
(There is no point in arguing with mom. The conversation switches...)

The drive home was beautiful. The sun was sinking over the cornfields in the west, hidden by walls of great clouds. There was a break in the clouds, and the sunlight poured through in shafts, falling in beams from the heavens, looking glorious. Shades of blue and pink stained the sky and the clouds and I thought out loud, "Definitely no creator behind that..." I enjoyed the car ride silently appreciating the handiwork of God, admiring the rays of sun that dotted the western end of the world.

Today, I drove back to my grandparents house for lunch. I dealt with the normal barrage of questions concerning my sudden break up.
"How did Arni take it?"
"Okay I guess."
"Whose idea was it?"
"It was kind of mutual, but my idea."
"Are you done for good?"
"Probably, grandma."

I don't need to be constantly reminded of what a great guy he was. I wish that we could have worked out. I already feel like crap about it. I broke his heart. I broke my heart. And apparently I broke the heart of his family and mine as well...

After eating lunch with my grandparents, they wanted to go the Ladoga Cemetery. I remember the last time that my grandma asked me to go the cemetery. It had been years ago. I sat on the laundry machine in the laundry room. She had explained to me that her and grandpa's head stone had already been placed at the cemetery. The thought of seeing their graves made my stomach turn, even though I knew they were alive and well. I didn't want to think of my grandma and grandpa dying. So as a young girl, I fought back tears and politely declined going with them to place flowers of the graves of my great great grandparents. My grandpa assured me, "There ain't no ghosts out there!" I meekly replied, "I know." My grandma hushed my grandpa, seeing my distress, and allowed me to stay home. I didn't even want to ever drive past that cemetery again.
Now, as a twenty year old, my grandma ventured asking me again. "We sure would like it if you would come to the cemetery with us." I balked. I thought about it for a moment. Maybe I wouldn't have to see the tell tale head stone. Perhaps I could just occupy myself reading the engravings on others. My grandpa spoke up. "There ain't no ghosts out there!" I meekly replied, "I know." My grandma hushed grandpa, and waited expectantly for my reply. I thought to myself, 'You are twenty years old, Sanyelle! You can handle this.' I accepted.
Upon arriving at the cemetery, I looked out across the small plot of land that it occupied, between a corn field and the woods. I noticed some confederate flags marking three graves. This concept is so strange to me. Indiana is very much a part of the north. I wonder if these were soldiers who fought in the civil war for the south. I wonder if that was so, if they turned in their graves at the notion of being buried in the north.
I noticed monuments with the urn partially covered with a veil. I could vaguely remember looking up that it meant after I visited Graceland Cemetery in Chicago. I asked Cha-Cha what it meant, just to be sure. The urn or vase represents flowers or leaves, which represent death. The veil represents mourning. Another interpretation of the common symbol is the departure of the soul from the body. On one of the monuments, engraved in the marble was a quote that I could barely decipher.
"Watchman, tell us of the night what its signs of promise are beyond the ------- of this veil, lo the morning dawns."
Watchman Tell Us of the Night is a hymn, but only the first part of this quote is part of the hymn.
I wondered across the breadth of the cemetery after stopping at the grave of Dessie Mae and Jesse E. Spencer, my grandmother's grandmother. As I walked across the cemetery, I paused at a small stone marked with color. It read the name of a girl with only one date: January 5, 1989. She was born 21 days before me. She would have been 2o years old like me. I wonder what pain she was spared from in only having one day on earth, if she even had that. I looked up, and noticed the stone to its right. On it read:
Marylyn Sandusky and William Sandusky
Parents of Janet and Terry

I paused and allowed my eyes to linger. I swallowed, turned, and walked away. The sun was incredibly hot. I was uncomfortable. I watched as my grandma and my great aunt swept off the head stones of their parents and cousins. I was intrigued as my grandma walked over to her own head stone and swept it clean and remarked about the bird droppings on it. "The birds are already after us!" she joked. I wasn't all that amused.
I'm not bothered all that much by death. Cemeteries don't creep me out. I just don't like being reminded of the fact that my beloved grandparents won't be around much longer. Aside from the absurdity of one very much alive person cleaning off their own head stone, the cemetery was rather peaceful. I reflected on the idea of the finality of death. Someday, my body would be buried in the earth, but it wasn't all that significant. The beauty of the death is the life that I know I will have beyond it.
I will be with my grandparents and parents. There won't be dysfunctional conversations around the table at the Marriage Supper...
On the drive home, I rolled down my windows and enjoyed the smell of country and summer. I listened to Bubble Toes and sang along happily. When Big 'N Rich came on, I indulged, with a sense of abandon.
This is my life... full of moments that are unique to only me and at the same time, common to all humanity.

Is it better to have loved and lost, than to never have loved at all?

2009-05-22T12:20:00.000-05:00

I recently found some 'journal' entries from a writing class over a year ago. One of the first ones I found dealt with my relationship with Arni. It is interesting to me how things have progressed since the time I wrote the journal:

"So, now to the boyfriend... We have been talking a lot lately, trying to figure out if this relationship is going to work out, with our differences. I wonder if maybe I should stay single because my 'fiercely independent personality' seems to buck at any thought of submission to anyone. But then I see what having Andrew in my life has done for me, and it has done a lot of good, especially now. Our relationship has taught me so much. I'm learning a lot about love and sacrifice and definitely a lot about communication. I feel and think about things so strongly, and I do not keep my thoughts or my feelings to myself. I let people know exactly what I am thinking and what I am feeling. Unfortunately when I tell Arni what I feel and think, he interprets it as me telling him what to do. For example, he wants to go to state school before going to Moody. I want him to come to Moody for a year for multiple reasons. When I tell him that, in a rather passionate, emotional way, he feels pressured to do what I want, and therefore, controlled. I am learning to communicate my passionate thoughts and feelings in a way that doesn't come across as manipulative and controlling. But, for all I know, I could be manipulative and controlling-... I don't want to be though. I know what it is to be the one manipulated and controlled. So, Arni and I are struggling to see if we can learn to communicate and blend our personalities (flaws and good traits alike) in a way that works. If we can't learn how to make it work, I can see it becoming [a very ill suited marriage], which I don't desire at all. Things are getting so much better between us though, and we are learning. Maybe this can work. I love him."

I am shocked as I read this. I am telling myself how foolish and ignorant I was as I wrote this. Of course, hindsight is 20/20. Do not doubt that I love him and we had a great relationship, but the issues were apparent, and they were significant. I did learn a lot about myself, and I learned a lot about what I need in a guy. It is apparent that I need a guy who will not let me walk all over him. I need a guy who knows who he is so that he isn't subject to my passions and my desires and my will- he will have his own. Granted, I want my husband to be able to appreciate my passions, desires, and will (most of the time), and I want him to respect me. But I want to know that he is so assured of who he is, and founded in Scripture, that I can still trust him and follow his lead even if I don't agree. I need a guy who won't be afraid to call out the crap in my life instead of passively watching me struggle to figure it out on my own. If I am being manipulative, I want to be confronted. I want a man who will challenge me. He will have his own opinions and he can challenge me with them. He will be excited about what God is doing in his life and will challenge me with that as well. He will be very intelligent. He will care about theology, philosophy, and literature. He will try to understand my fears and he will not brush them off. He will show me how my fears are unfounded or how they are, and he will protect me. He will know that I think that I know what's best for me, and if he knows I am wrong, he will lovingly point me the right way. He will know I think that I am strong, and even though I am not always, he will let me think I am, all the while being the support that I don't think I need. He will always remind me that he is not my everything, and he will always point me to the One who is.
He will pursue me, and allow me to enjoy being pursued, and being the woman. I will learn to rest and not be in control, because he knows what he is doing.
I don't want to wait for this. Part of me wants Andrew to be that man. But he is not. I need to have faith that God will provide a man like this for me, and we will have a blessed marriage. In the mean time, I will continue to learn and to grow and find my everything in Christ, and Christ alone.

Who I Am Hates Who I've Been, And Who I Am Will Always Ever Make Me...

2009-05-22T00:36:00.000-05:00

I wish that I could properly capture all of the thoughts constantly racing through my mind and bind them. Place them on a page, proper and pretty, with all the correct punctuation keeping them in line. Rather than having them untrained, overpowering in their confusion and chaos, I would have them neatly lined up in such a way that I can begin to understand myself. Instead, I try to focus on school work, while in my mind's eye I sit back exhausted at the exertion of trying to focus when my mind races constantly, never taking time to breathe or learn who I am. I want to learn, constantly. I want to learn about the world around me, while trying to comprehend how I fit in, the insignificant person that I am. I want to be found significant by someone else. I want to understand God better and who I am to Him. I want to understand His person and His work. I want to be able to, just once, think about just Systematic Theology instead of Systematic Theology and all of the things weighing down on my heart.
I want to just understand myself, once and for all, understand who I am in Christ and who I am as a sinner and not be confused about all of these feelings swirling inside myself, these doubts that nag and nibble on my resolve, trying to devour myself while I'm not paying attention.
Its not so simple as just understanding myself. My self will always be changing. I will continue to grow and to learn, to be shaped by Christ and to be shaped by knowledge. I think the best understanding I can come to of myself at this moment is that I don't understand. I think I should be okay with that. The most important thing that I think that any human can recognize about themselves is that we are all needy. Every single one of us. There is no autonomy in humanity. This is the most basic state of humanity that I can think of. We need a God who is supreme, who is bigger than ourselves to give us breath, to give us life, a purpose. We need Him to save us from the damnation we chose for ourselves long ago, and choose for ourselves everyday. Everyday I choose to damn myself. Every day I must then choose to let Christ save me.
With this understanding of myself- that I was a sinner on the path to hell, chosen by God before the beginning of time, and bought with a price, already but not yet fully redeemed- and needy of my Lord and Savior in every moment in the fullest sense of the word, I can begin to build on this understanding. Unfortunately, my head and heart disconnect, and I live my life as though my salvation was a momentous occasion when I was young, and not an ongoing process that is essential for everyday. By saying ongoing process I do not deny that Christ's atoning work on the cross over two thousand years ago was a sufficient sacrifice once and for all. I simply mean that I do not let Christ 'save me' everyday. Everyday I fight for myself. I fight for my own desires and my own will. I do not trust that Christ is sufficient in all areas of my life. He saved me from hell, but did he save me from my school bill? Did He save me from lonliness? Did He save me from sickness? This is what I mean when I say "I must then choose to let Christ save me" every day.
Right now, my life has a few common themes, exposed to me recently and over time. Some are redundant, and others are new and refreshing. A new one is the lesson of joy. I am constantly trying to view my thoughts and my concerns in the light of the joy that I am supposed to find in Christ. If I let Christ be enough for me, and stopped struggling against Him-- that is if I stopped seeing my way as best and submitted rather than strive for constant control-- wouldn't I find more joy in Him? And if I found more joy in Him wouldn't it be easier to love Him and let Him have the control He deserves as my Lord? I must lay down my life. I must understand what His salvation truly is. I must submit to His salvation. If I submit to His salvation and understand what He did then I will be moved to love Him for Who He is rather than out of duty. If I love Him for Who He is and understand Who He is, and who I am in Him, then I will find joy in a relationship with a redeemer who voluntarily died for me, which moves me to love unlike any other love, which gives me joy in Him, and He will have joy in me. What a thought.
I recently have been reading a book by Francis Chan entitled "Crazy Love: Overwhelmed By a Relentless God". In it, Chan describes the struggle in loving God. He says:

"It confuses us when loving God is hard. Shouldn't it be easy to love a God so wonderful? When we love God because we should love Him, instead of genuinely loving Him, instead of genuinely loving out of our true selves, we have forgotten who God really is... We are programmed to focus on what we don't have, bombarded multiple times throughout the day with what we need to buy that will make us feel happier, sexier, or more at peace. This dissatisfaction transfers over to our thinking about God. We forget that we already have everything we need in Him. Because we don't often think about the reality of who God is, we quickly forget that He is worthy to be worshipped and loved. We are to fear Him. A.W Tozer writes,
'What comes into our minds when we think about God is the most important thing
about us.... Worship is pure or base as the worshiper entertains high or low thoughts
of God. For this reason the gravest question before the Church is always God Himself,
and the most portentous fact about any man is not what he at a given time may say
or do, but what he in his deep heart conceives God to be like.'"

All of this stirs a thought process in my heart that I pray leads to an awakening in my soul to who God is. A person can only know Who He is by reading what He has to say about Himself. We can know of God and certain attributes of God through His general revelation, but to know God, to have high thoughts about Him, we cannot be content to hear about Him, but we must strive to know Him. And to know Him and His Son begets the process I described above. I am beginning to understand more of who I am, but it really doesn't come down to knowing who I am. Knowing who I am gives myself a certain assurance. Knowing who God is gives life.

A Broken Love Story

2009-05-20T20:41:00.000-05:00

I met him the summer before I went into the sixth grade. He was one of those guys that you had heard a lot about, but you never knew personally. I had heard stories. Good stories. I heard, and this was what really made me want to know him more, to be his friend, to be more than his friend, was the fact that he was a hero. He had saved me from something, something inexplicable, something I still can't fathom today. So, he had done this amazing thing for me, and I wanted to know him, so that he could save me in a more personal way. So I met him. I wasn't impressed. Looking back now, I must have missed so much about him. He is an impressive person. A wonderful person... gosh I was stupid. I was ignorant. I just wanted a hero. I wasn't ready for a best friend, let alone a lover. I could have been ready. I chose to keep living for myself. Love was about sacrifice. I wasn't about sacrifice. He was though. He was love. I spurned him. A few months later, I got freaked out. I doubted the fact that I had ever been rescued. I pleaded for him. I needed him so desperately. My body literally ached for him. My stomach was in knots. Tears flowed down my face. Panic ate away at all peace that I thought I had. Where was he? Was he still there, did he still call me his friend? After all, I had been a lousy friend. I called someone who was good friends with him. Was this man still there for me? I asked her in fear. She assured me that he still was. He would always be there. Despite the fact I wasn't such a good friend, this guy was loyal. I fell asleep, still nervous. My heart trembled in my chest with fear and excitement. I had to get to know this guy better. I was starting to see what I had originally missed.
We started talking every day. Some days, I would actually spend time getting to know him, rather than just rambling about myself, which was my tendency. The days that I missed him, I blamed on my lack of time. It didn't seem to bother me that even though he was wanting to spend time with me, I could just ignore him and do other things that I wanted to do. This was our friendship through middle school. It was pretty weak. I had a lot of friends who knew him themselves. We would learn about him together. We attempted to make a lifestyle of him. My offering to him was meager in comparison of what he deserved. It was cheap. He deserved the finest of all things I had. I gave him my worship on certain days. I memorized things he said. I tried to live by his example. I knew I could never be good enough. He deserved more than me. Yet, despite it all. He still wanted to be my friend.
In my first year of high school, I, I like every teenage girl wanted romance. He had it. I wanted it from the boy who sat across from me in art, or some other guy from over seas. This man though, he knew romance. He created romance. I found it in him on a summer night. He wooed me. He gave me the moon, he gave me the stars, he gave me a whole summer night sky full of treasures that I admired. He told me I was his. He reassured his affections, his deep deep love, through a curtain of twinkling lights. I found myself, falling in love. Suddenly, I was hungry for him like I never had been before. I wanted to know him even more, transcend this first name basis, this shallow hit and miss friendship and give him my heart. He wanted my heart. Our time together got more frequent. I went out of my way to see him, to know him better. Other people helped me to get to know him better. It was good. Not perfect on my end, but good. I slowly started letting him into different parts of my life. At first, I was just letting him make me a 'better person'. There wasn't much actual change. Then he started pushing me to go beyond just being a nice girl. He wanted me to be like him, and therefore, I did need to change. This guy had an interesting way of pulling me closer to him. It was mainly through the relationship with my mom. Things were falling apart, and I was getting hurt. No one could fathom the pain. But he did. He could comfort me like no one else. I would cry to him, plead with him to help me. To change me. To change her. I was still immature though, and had much to learn. He patiently taught me. I learned to lean on him, to allow him to continue to rescue me from life itself. He taught me to love better. And eventually, he began me greatest teaching and testing in love. In the summer of 2006, this man gave me the pleasure of meeting another young man. His name was Arni. He was cute, and he was a good friend with this guy too. Arni and I had a blooming romance. It was far different from the one I had with this other guy. This other guy loved perfectly, Arni did not. But Arni loved well enough. And he had a different presence than the other man. I could talk to him for hours on the phone. The other man communicated on a different, deeper, level. I could feel Arni's embrace. My other lover held me in a different way. As time went on, I grew to lean more on Arni. Arni had not saved me. His love fell short of my expectations. Yet, I chose him over my other friend and lover many times. Arni had been a way of bringing me closer to the other man, but we ended up drawing each other further from him. My romance with the other man was beginning to grow dimmer. I longed for him less. I didn't miss him as much. Arni seemed to be what I needed. Moments would come where my other lover would catch my eye, would turn my head. He would embrace me in a powerful way that took my breath. I would cling to him for some time, and then let go and walk away. I was playing the harlot. My shame grew.I write this as a broken lover. I miss him. My first. I have strayed far. The distance between us is far and leaves me aching. I can run into his arms again. I know he is waiting. I am waiting myself. I ask him for courage, for courage to break away from myself and from what I want to be his and only his once again. He calls for me. I listen and yearn to be his once more.

The Return of the Lion

2009-05-20T20:39:00.000-05:00

The absence of a person that we love is often hard and at time seems unbearable. The worst feeling is when we ourselves voluntarily stray from the one that we love. Today, I learned a little about God. I say 'a little' because there is so much to know about God, so much that I will never know, and so therefore the taste that I had of Him today was very slight in comparison. I learned about his infiniteness... My God works outside of time and space. He created time. With His own hands He formed space. But, He doesn't have hands... He doesn't have eyes, no ears, not a mouth to speak by. He is Spirit. This God, is unimaginable. I cannot even begin to wrap my mind around the fact that He knows me personally. I wasn't just random baby He stuck in my mothers womb and than wound me up to watch me totter through life... I was His own daughter, chosen before the dawn of time. He cares about me. He knows me intimately. He has a plan for me. But thats not what blows my mind... I am among the nearly 7 BILLION other people that He feels the same way for! This great, almighty God cares deeply for, and has a unique plan for this planet full of people! How crazy is that to think about?? What a great God. And knowing how huge and powerful and amazing and indescribable He is, that He just IS, well it brings me to my knees. And this amazing Creator that cares so deeply for me... well I need to know Him more. I need Him. And so this epiphany, this realization and new taste of the hugeness of God, brings me to a new place with Him... and I believe C.S Lewis described it beautifully...
"She never stopped to think whether he was a friendly lion or not. She rushed to him. She felt her heart would burst if she lost a moment. And the next thing she knew was that she was kissing him and putting her arms as far round his neck as she could and burying her face in the beautiful rich silkiness of his mane.
'Aslan, Aslan. Dear Aslan,' sobbed Lucy. 'At last.'
The great beast rolled over on his side so that Lucy fell, half sitting and half lying between his front paws. He bent forward and just touched her nose with his tongue. His warm breath came all round her. She gazed up into his large wise face.
'Welcome, child,' he said."
I met God today... I was overwhelmed with Him, with His hugeness, His love, His wholly other-ness. As I run to Him begging for His grace and mercy, I wonder how He receives me... Is He like this Aslan, drawing myself into Him with the affection of a Father, or receiving me as a lost servant to a High King, with solemn, regal- yet sincere, joy? I feel like Lucy in the paws of her powerful Aslan... This analogy moved me on so many levels, and I appreciate Lewis' beautiful and comforting take on this collision with the Creator.

Regrets

2009-05-20T20:37:00.000-05:00

I stood in front of the fireplace, a neatly folded piece of paper in my hand. It was a letter I wrote to my boyfriend Andrew my senior year of high school. What I had neatly penned in class was something I wished I had never had to write, and something that I hoped no one would ever read. To ensure this, I was going to burn it. If only throwing away this letter expressing my regret could do away with the memory forever, could change the fact that what I had to apologize for had happened. Just moments before I had found the letter on my dresser and read it, frowning at the contents. I wish that I could say what I had to say to Andrew nearly two years ago was not something that I still talk to him about today, that because of the regret I had then, that I have changed and have nothing to regret now. I wish. I wish that burning this evidence of my history would burn the history itself. But it doesn't. I opened the glass doors on the fireplace. I gently tossed the paper into the flames. It fell behind the grate of wood and was laying behind the fire, unharmed.I reached for the poker and stared into the fire.
My past, darkened by sins of all kinds, overshadowed by regrets, will not be burned. The choices I have made in the past 20 years of my life can not be undone, and the consequences are of the eternal sort. Granted, the stupid mistakes, the wrong pursuits, they have taught me many things, hard lessons. These lessons I don't regret, I just wish I had not been so hard headed, and that I could have learned without the pain. I stared anxiously into the fire. The paper had to burn. Being blackened by the smoke was not enough. It needed to be consumed, destroyed. Ashes. I opened the doors wider, preparing to shift the logs and stir the fire. Suddenly, flames leaped up, licking the back of the fireplace, consuming the neatly folded piece of paper. The orange glow of the flames satisfied me. I put down the poker.
I myself cannot undo what has been done. The fact is, what happened my senior year of high school can't be changed. It happened. What happened last summer can't be changed. I fear what other people think of me. I keep my sins to myself for fear of being judged, but how can I forget that the One great Judge is the One who was there watching when it happened. He knows my deepest darkest secrets. He sees all my sins. I worry about what other people think, what they would say if they read the note, if they knew all my sins... but I don't consider what the Omniscient, Omnipresent God of the universe knows and sees, and that is everything. I also tend to forget what He has done. The fire burns the paper, the paper acknowledging my regrets. The blood of Christ spilled out to cover them completely, and has left me white as snow. I can't change what I have done, but I have been forgiven. When God sees me, He doesn't see my regrets, my shames, my sin. He sees me through the blood of Christ.There is now no condemnation in Christ Jesus. Its only ashes.

Sleepless in Grand Rapids

2009-05-20T20:35:00.000-05:00

Its 5. In the morning. And I have thought myself into a hole so deep that I can hardly escape.In my mind's eye, I glance back, trying to size up the distance I have come. I shudder. My stomach is twisted in knots, and I feel as if I am burning. I feel around me the tangle and oppression of the comforter and fleece. My breath is caught somewhere between my lungs and my lips. My mind flashes back to the man on tv, bloodied, gasping for air, staring death in the face. He cannot breathe either. Yet he is fictional. His death is not a reality. I contemplate hell, and its reality, and that is why my heart races, my stomach clenches, and my body burns.What if I am wrong? What if I think I have it and I don't? I plead with God. Comfort me. I can't bear the thought of 'getting it wrong'. I toss and turn. I push off the blankets. I stare at the ceiling fan. My soul cries out. I need His peace. I need His comfort. I haven't doubted like this since I was a new Christian. I know I don't have it wrong. Yet in this darkness, this heat, I can''t convince myself that my faith is enough. Of course it isn't. My faith didn't save me. He did.
A man who was bloodied. In all reality. In every since of the word reality. He is reality. And without His 'real death', His 'real resurrection' my reality is hell...
Praise God, that God gave Himself for me.I hold my laptop in my lap. I need to see His Words. His promise of salvation. I need the comfort of... His death. And His life. I read Ephesians one. I almost weep at the comfort of my predestination. The choice of God to save Sanyelle Lee Sandusky, and pardon her from eternal damnation. I do not have to worry about being eternally separated from the my God. He has made a way. I am out of the hole that I dug with my futile thinking. I am in the security of the seal of the Holy Ghost.
Even as I type this out, and see it in print, a little shudder runs through me. But my heart no longer pounds. I feel cooler, my breath is easy. My mind slows as I see the letters form words on the screen. My thoughts... They do not come easy from my racing mind to my painfully slow fingers. Its so hard to communicate my beleaguered thoughts, assaulted by doubts.
I know I am not alone in this. Tonight I fight alone, but I know there are others who wrestle in the same way. Take heart, He is true. His Holy Spirit is upon your soul, and you are eternally sealed to Him.

Revenge

2009-05-20T20:30:00.000-05:00

Yesterday, I was watching the show, the Mentalist. I have not seen this show before coming home from break, but after watching it once, I was taken in by the main character, Patrick Jane. He is ‘the mentalist’ and uses mental persuasion to solve crime. After watching a few more episodes, I learned that Jane’s wife and child were brutally murdered by a suspect only known as ‘Red John’. In the particular episode that I was watching last night, Jane was solving a murder involving a group of men who owned land, and were being burned to death by an unknown arsonist. Together the group had murdered a man who stood between them and a very profitable piece of land. Jane fabricated a story of revenge in order to catch the person who was killing the first group of three men who had killed Dave Martin out of greed. I wish I could explain the plot better, but it is kind of irrelevant to what I am talking about, which is revenge in general. This first scene takes place after an initial questioning of one of the suspects who killed Dave Martin. The charming Jane Patrick is discussing using this suspect, Muchato, as ‘bait’ to catch the killer who is now trying to murder the new land owners. In speaking of Muchato he describes him as the ‘tethered goat’. Jane is talking to his partner.

Patrick Jane- “He’s not a goat, he’s ‘goatish’, he deserves to suffer a little.”
“Nobody deserves murder!”
P- “Muchato helped burn Dave Martin alive- out of greed.”
“Jane, we’re officers of the law-”
P-“You are. I don’t care about the law. I care about justice, and justice says that Muchato deserves to suffer.”
“That’s not justice, that’s vengeance.”
P- “What’s the difference?”As Patrick is about to leave his partners office he steps back in.
P- “We’ve never discussed this, I thought that it went without saying, but when I catch Red John, I’m going to cut him up and watch him die slowly, like he did with my wife and child. If you have a problem with that, we should talk.”
“Then lets talk. Because when we catch Red John, we are going to take him into custody and he will be tried in a court of law.”
P- “Not if I’m still breathing.”
“If you try and do violence to him, I will try to stop you. If you succeed in doing violence to him, I will arrest you.”
P- “I understand.”
“I hope you do.”

In the final scene, Patrick is talking to the daughter of one of the men who was killed, named Maddie. In a fit of rage, she claimed that she wanted the killer, Tommy, to burn the way her father did. Patrick tries to convince her otherwise.

P- “Your father killed a man, and Tommy killed him out of revenge. You know that right? Revenge is a poison. Revenge is for fools and bad men.”
Maddie- “I don’t care!”
P- “Yes, you do.”

After Patrick and his partner have left, his partner, who engaged him in the first conversation questioned whether Patrick had changed his mind about revenge.

“Revenge is for fools and bad men?”
P- “Its quite good, I thought. A load of nonsense, but good.”

This episode was very thought provoking to me. I began to question what I would do if someone was taken from me, or harmed, by a stranger, by someone who killed or hurt just for their own pleasure. How would I respond if I had a baby, a little child, and some sick person decided to take them from me so that they could have a thrill? Its not pleasant to think about, but unfortunately, it is not something that just happens on television shows. It is a reality for some people, a horrific nightmare come true. I would say that if I had a child and it was killed or kidnapped, that I would let the law take care of it. I can say that now, with little hesitation. I don’t think that I would have the nerve to do that now, to take another life. Perhaps in defense, if I had to defend myself or a child, but not after the fact. How different would it be though, if 10 years from now, I had a child that I would give my life for? If it wasn’t just a hypothetical situation, but a reality. I think that I might surprise myself.All of that is without considering what the Bible has to say. In the Old Testament, in the law, justice was delivered in the form of what we might consider revenge. If a person was caught in the act of murder, there was little that he could do in order to escape ‘justice’. He was in the hands of those who were offended. Only in a city of refuge could he obtain a proper trial. Yet, what about the New Testament? What about “Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord.” What about forgiveness? I would probably have to say that if we are controlled by the love of Christ that we would we try to suppress what our carnal nature would cry out, “Revenge, revenge!” Rather than plotting to ‘cut him up and watch him die slowly’, we would try to offer forgiveness and love. I think it is safe to say that if not wanting to kill someone who murdered a loved one, I would definitely struggle with hating the killer. Yet look at Steve Saint. His father was brutally murdered by the people he was trying to minister to. And the very man who murdered his father is now the man who travels with Steve. I think that is what Christ would love to see in believers who have been so tragically wronged. Granted, in Patrick’s case, if Red John is not repentant, if he continues to kill without mercy (which he does) then I would not suggest to Patrick to buddy up with Red John. But if Patrick was a believer, controlled by the love of Christ, then he should seek to love and forgive Red John, and be content with what the law can provide of justice. To me it is the fall that even sparks this instinct in us to kill those who kill. It is the fall that would even move a person to take another human’s life. It is only because of the fall that people enjoy murder, enjoy rape, enjoy abuse. It is unfortunate to me that we go to movies and we enjoy films like Saw that are saturated in senseless violence. It is unfortunate that we enjoy violent video games. It does give me hope for the future, for a new earth, and a redemption of all mankind. There will be no need for vengeance, there will only be peace, and the ultimate justice.

Constellations in the Sky[scrapers]

2009-05-20T20:28:00.000-05:00

I lay on my back and hold my breath. The night sky above me is far more beautiful than I had ever seen it before. The small window opening up to the universe was surrounded by trees, fringing the edge of my vision. The music of crickets and other nocturnal creatures whispered sweetly in the background of my enraptured mind. The group that I was with was praying aloud. How could I close my eyes? I didn't even want to blink. Silently, to myself, I fervently prayed, "Just one shooting star, God. I need to know that You really are there..." My heart was pounding with expectation. I had never seen a falling star before, and it seemed that confidence in my faith rested in the glimmer of a falling piece of rock in the dark night, light years away. I was young and naive, and like Gideon, I was putting my fleece out. Doubts, the arsenal of the enemy, had riddled my weak faith. This seemed like the perfect time and way for God to remind me that He was really there, that He cared. I was a star-struck thirteen year old, and He who I was fawning over wasn't on the cover of the latest Seventeen. I stared so intently at the stars that I could have probably willed one of them to break loose from its black felt background and crash through the atmosphere. In a split seconds my hopes were fulfilled as a bright light blazed a path through the sky and vanished in the beat of a heart. I thanked God, and closed my eyes. I felt the grass beneath me and the openness of something greater than me above. I felt so incredibly small, and at the same time I felt that I was a part of something so grand and marvelous that in being swallowed up in the immensity of it, I was as high as the heavenly constellations and as far-reaching as the galaxy spilling over my head. I was alive, and I found that life in Him.Fast forward seven years. I lay in my bed, looking out my window on the seventh floor. I can't even see the sky. The skyscrapers and high rises overlap, creating an impregnable wall between my eyes and the great beauty of the sky beyond. Yet, had I been able to see the sky, the unmeasurable amount of light radiating from Chicago would have dimmed the glory of the millions of starts and would leave only six or seven visible to my naked eye. In exchange for the brilliance of the constellations, I had the patterns of lights that consistently burned through the night in the city. The flickering of television screens through the windows of neighboring condominiums replaced my favorite star that flickered different colors. The halo of light that wrapped the top of the Hancock tower now dominated the lights of windows like the moon outshone the stars. I felt far removed from the natural beauty of God's creation, and felt suffocated from the fabricated galaxy that glared at me from my window. Instead of trees filled with sleeping birds, owls, and bats, a billboard advertising for Office Supply towers outside my window, with large fake crows, seagulls, and pigeons attached on top. I don't hear the chilling howl of coyotes, but the blaring of horns and the screeching of tires. I sigh, and continue to stare out my window. He feels so far away. He will woo me another way...

A Shadow of Life on the Shore

2009-05-20T20:26:00.000-05:00

I sit in the wet sand and look out across the lake. The water in front of me is grey, but on the horizon an almost dark green. The sky above is filled with a tangle of clouds in varying degrees of darkness. Behind them is the sky, with a tinge of pink from the setting sun. Rain falls on my bare arms and head. A warm breeze wraps itself around me. I feel peaceful on the outside, but there is no peace within me. A good ways out into the lake, up the shore from me, is a lighthouse of sorts. Its flashing lights flicker from red to green. It is steadfast and secure on the rocks that protrude into the lake. Between the shore where I sit and the rocky outcrop, the water tosses back in forth in a feeble attempt at waves. Beyond the rocks and lighthouse, the choppy water creates an ever shifting horizon. My soul is like the steely waters, restless and ambivalent. That point of security, the one thing on the horizon that isn't shifting and ebbing and flowing is the One who can cause my soul to be still. But there is so much water between Him and myself... A seagull hovers above the water, flapping its wings in earnest to stay in place, peering into the water that shudders in the wind. The bird gains altitude and then dives into the water, sending spray into the air. It resurfaces a moment later, perhaps with a prize from the toiling lake. I wish that I could be still. I wish that the waters of my soul weren't in such turmoil, that my thoughts wouldn't oppose one another and that my whole self could be of one accord. I wish that I could find peace and security and identity in my Rock and my Salvation. Instead I see Him as silent and foreboding, aware of my troubles, but not willing to offer any help. He is a silent watchman, standing by to let me choke on the water around me rather than to shine His light and expose a way out. I, unlike this lake, am not at the mercy of the wind. I can choose to still myself and instead of subjecting myself to the fickle desires of the circulating air, I can willfully look to the Rock and allow His presence in itself be enough to quiet my waters. If I patiently look for His light and allow His way to be better than my own treacherous way, then I am not drowning. I have to submit myself to an unconventional path. I rest here on the shore, content in my half-lived life rather than facing the unknown and setting my eyes on the rock, ready to plunge into His depths without inhibition. The bottom line is this: I live my life in fear of what God wants for me. I have created for myself a place of security, at the cost of having a life lived to the fullest. Living life to the fullest means giving up comfort. It means that life is found in losing it. This paradox will always be a hard one to grasp . I dabble in God's 'waters'. I wade out until I get too cold, or afraid of what lays in the deeper waters. Then I turn and walk back to the shore. Then I wonder why the storms of life shake me to my core. Its because I haven't given myself over to the wildness of God and His ways. I am not centered on His rock. I live with Him in sight, but not in His presence. And until I take the plunge and surrender to what feels like the terrifying unknown and allow Him to be the rock that I can hold fast to, then I will live a shadow of life on the shore.

First taste of love, bittersweet, green on the vine, like strawberry wine

2009-05-20T20:20:00.002-05:00

I love Chicago, but leaving the dirty, noisy city behind for the country is like taking a breath of fresh air after being stuck in a stuffy room for far too long. I was born and raised in a small town, and spent my last summer in an even smaller town. I spent the past day enjoying the country once more, and all of the beauty of open skies and rolling fields. It is more than just appreciating the beauty of the country and the absence of man made structures, but it is more about the memories I have of winding back roads and endless stretches of railroad tracks that are far less traveled than the El and subway. Driving on roads that I know better than any other, that have memories of summer nights with the windows rolled down and someone’s hand in mine is such a refreshing feeling to me. Driving past houses that I have visited and front porches populated with families and elderly couples is therapeutic after suffocating in a city where concrete buildings create formidable walls. There is nothing quite like a brilliant sunset illuminating fields of golden flowers and maple trees in early bloom. There is nothing like being able to see for miles over flat land dotted with trees and farms. There is nothing like seeing a horse grazing lethargically in a pasture or racing through a field with its neck gracefully arched and its mane streaming behind it. As I arrive in Ladoga, my mind is filled with bittersweet memories. It has been almost one year since…
I see the ball diamonds filled with young kids and their parents and my mind races back first to my past summer, and countless summers before. Summers of sitting on the front porch with Grandma and Grandpa slurping Root Beer flavored shaved ice. Summers spent on the play ground, or in the gulley catching frogs while Grandma fretted on the front porch, concerned about Aaron and I falling in the water. Summers spent eating a hamburger after playing ring toss at the fish fry, enamored with the pony in the little corral, begging daddy to let me ride it- just once. Summers of fireworks over the elementary school with the curiosity of what would happen if the sparks started a fire. Summers of Boy Meets World while sitting on the couch munching Hot Fries or Zebra cakes, or whatever else Grandma and Grandpa had provided to spoil me rotten with. A summer being foolish and frenzied with love, throwing caution to the wind and making mistakes I regret to this day. A summer of walks down the railroad track and over the bridge, enjoying the summer sun, wildflowers, and the creek winding sluggishly through the woods. A summer of writing from the window of my bedroom, wishing for innocence and simplicity again. A summer of getting home late from work, enjoying the smell of the country with my windows rolled down and a carton of my favorite ice cream and a bottle of sweet tea in the passenger seat. His black Rodeo rumbled deeply, sounding more like a tractor than a car, with one headlight illuminating the road ahead of me. I would turn off the headlights and creep down the county road mesmerized by the lightning bugs flashing around me by the hundreds. If I had known that it was going to be our last summer together, I wonder if I would have done things differently. Would I have kissed him with more passion knowing that it would come to an end, or would I have held back and let the passion melt away like the shaved ice? Would I have held his hand more tightly, or let him slip away? That summer taught me so much and left me with only one regret… Even now the memories leave a dull ache in my stomach and my eyes wet. Yet I can smile knowing that I have learned and grown more from this past summer, from all of my summers. So when I drive through Ladoga and see a couple hand and hand strolling down the street I remember with a small smile and a sense of longing what it was to have him venture into someone’s yard for a flower to add to my bouquet. I can smile at the thought of swinging on the swings together laughing like small children rather than young adults with the future staring them down holding promise and doubt.

A Rooftop Encounter of the Most Electric Kind

2009-05-20T20:20:00.001-05:00

I sit in bed, savoring the last twelve minutes before work, with thoughts of the Papal Schism and the Gutenberg press in the back of my mind. I hear the sound of tires on wet pavement and the thunder rolling in the distance. Out of the corner of my eye, I see bright flashes on the horizon. My hair is wet and sticking to my face and rainwater drips from the wavy strands to my arm. I glance up at the sound of thunder crashing. I sigh deeply and contentedly. I just got back from standing on the roof with my friends, watching God in all of His glory sear the skies with His power and glory. Every strike of lightning lights up my eyes and stirs something within my soul. I relish the rain on my skin and the wind buffeting around me. My heart thrills as lightning lashes out against the Sears Tower and leaves me pleading with God for just one more display of His might. I tremble slightly in the cold and ponder the chances of lightning striking...me. This is God's wildness. This is what I love and enjoy about serving the God of the universe, that He thinks to bless me with His nature, on a night when I need it most, when I hunger for His creation and feel disconnected in the city. This His wildness that I so desire.

I Am Understood?

2009-05-20T20:14:00.000-05:00

I couldn't express this better... so I'll let Relient K do it for me:
"Sometimes it's embarrassing to talk to you
To hold a conversation with the only one who sees right through
This version of myself
I try to hide behind
I'll bury my face because my disgrace will leave me terrified
And sometimes I'm so thankful for your loyalty
Your love regardless of
The mistakes I make will spoil me
My confidence is, in a sense, a gift you've given me
And I'm satisfied to realize you're all I'll ever need
You looked into my life and never stopped
And you're thinking all my thoughts
Are so simple, but so beautiful
And you recite my words right back to me
Before I even speak
You let me know, I am understood
And sometimes I spend my time
Just trying to escape
I work so hard so desperately, in an attempt to create space
Cause I want distance from the utmost important thing I know
I see your love, then turn my back and beg for you to go
You're the only one who understands completely
You're the only one knows me yet still loves completely
And sometimes the place I'm at is at a loss for words
If I think of something worthy I know that its already yours
And through the times I've faded and you've outlined me again
You've just patiently waited, to bring me back and then
The noise has broken my defense
Let me embrace salvation
Your voice has broken my defense
Let me embrace salvation"

Tonight I began packing up all my belongings for moving out of, and then back into, my dorm. I am a packrat, and have a lot of things to sort through. Among them are countless gifts from Andrew. I have a gigantic stuffed dog that he won me at King's Island, a scrapbook I made of our 2 and a half year relationship, picture after picture after picture. I have a nice digital camera, a diamond ring, a silver necklace... all wonderful gifts from a wonderful guy that I had to give up, I began thinking about what exactly I was forfeiting in giving up this relationship, and what I thought I needed in order to be 'happy' with someone. I feel safe in saying that there are few people who know me better than Andrew. Being known like that is special, and wonderful, and hard to explain. But I began thinking, why is it that I feel I want to give up on someone who knows me so well, which lead me to thinking, what is the difference in being known by a person, and then being understood... (I realize that my thought processes may be slightly hard to comprehend, but bear with me.)
According to Dictionary.com Know is:"to perceive or understand as fact or truth; to apprehend clearly and with certainty"
Understand is:"to perceive the meaning of; grasp the idea of; comprehend"
To me, the difference in knowledge and understanding is subtle, but significant. Andrew knows me. He knows about, more about me than most. He knows my passions. He knows my past. He knows my fears, my hopes, my dreams, my desires. But does he undesrtand them. Does he comprehend and perceive why?
I would argue that in some areas, Andrew does understand. In others, he doesn't. Yet, will anyone fully understand Sanyelle Lee Sandusky? Will I ever understand myself? I would argue that there is only One who will ever understand fully. He created me. He knows the details of my past better than myself. He understands my love for horses because He gave it to me. He understands my passion for children because He created me that way. He understands the way that I think because He wove me together in my mother's womb... He understands my pain, my fears, my desires better than anyone ever will. One of the reasons that I ended my relationship with Andrew was because we are both lacking in a lot of things that are necessary for making a relationship work. There are things that he needs to mature in and that I need to mature in. However, for me it was more than that. I have a great passion for things that he does not, and vise versa. I love thinking and talking about theology, about psychology, about philosophy. Andrew knows this about me, but he doesn't understand this about me. Andrew loves technology, computers, and cars. He is incredibly gifted in knowing and understanding those things. He thinks differently than I do. I know this about Andrew, but I don't understand it. These are things important to us, that we care a lot about. I wonder, is it selfish to want to be understood? Is it selfish to end a wonderful relationship on a basis such as this... Granted it is not the only reason... What it really boils down to is that I will never be understood fully by myself, let alone a man, even one that I love deeply. I want a husband who has similar passions as me, who thinks more like me, who I can understand better and who can understand me better. Yet he will never fully satisfy me. There is only one who understands me... If I seek fulfillment in this area outside of the Lord, I will always be disappointed. If I depend on being understood by other people, then i will be disappointed. I don't think its wrong to desire to be understood by others, but I know I will always be left lacking if I search for it in others before tasting it in God.

The Life of a Summer Moody Student: Day One "Take Three"

2009-05-20T20:08:00.000-05:00

You will notice that in the title of this note, there is the phrase ‘take three’. This is due to the fact that as I was at the end of writing this note, my computer deleted it. Naturally, since I will not be defeated by this man-made malfunctioning piece of ----, I took it upon myself to rewrite from memory all of the witty things I had said in my first attempt. In the midst of rewriting the second note, the computer did it again. Alas, here I am recounting my events for the third time, resisting the urge to break the window and this computer in one quick and therapeutic move. *Ahem.

I sit on the one square foot of my bed that isn’t covered by all my partially unpacked luggage. I barely have room for my feet between my bed and dresser. This implies that I am unable to actually use my dresser because of its ridiculously close proximity to the bed. This is the way that the room was set up for me… and I haven’t had the time to rearrange the furniture in this small dorm room. When I look out my window, I see Moody. Ah yes, nothing like seeing the clock tower I walk past on my way to class. Nothing like seeing the other wing of the dorm I live in. Who wouldn’t want to stare out at the plaza with the four trees that Moody has on its campus? I wouldn’t trade this view for anything. Not for the Sears Tower, or the Hancock Tower. Give me these plain brick buildings any day. I sit here in my bed exhausted after spending a day hiking around the city looking for my bank. Why must I look for my bank, you ask? Well dear reader, let me explain. I apparently bank with the most obscure bank in all of Chicago. Bank of America? Too stable. I need a bank that closes and disappears over night. Chase Bank? Too frequent. I need a bank that doesn’t occupy every street corner, and isn’t within four miles of where I live. You see, I just love to be inconvenienced in every aspect. That’s why I bank with Charter One.Why must I walk four miles to get to my bank, you ask. Well, due to the aforementioned qualities of my bank and my lack of a Upass or money, I must walk. First I must walk to where my bank was. Then I must call Ruth so she can look up where my bank is. It just so happens to be on the other side of Gold Coast. So, without a Upass or money for a transit card, I get to enjoy a long walk. My feet will thank me when they stop aching and are a little stronger. My stomach grumbles in aggravation. It demands more calories for this kind of lifestyle. It reminds me, politely, “Sanyelle, Tuna lunch kits and Goldfish crackers are not a substantial diet.” I reply, “Its okay, stomach. In eleven more weeks you can have Moody food again!” It turns, and not with excitement. So, here I am with a laptop in my lap that heats to 120 degrees Fahrenheit. I am currently burning a hole in my jeans, but I hear its fashionable these days…. The rest of my clothes are waiting for me in the dryer, and I have library books that will be overdue in a few hours. Don’t worry, dear reader. There will be more to come.

Real Drugs

2009-05-20T20:06:00.000-05:00

I have to write, because if I don't, the thoughts clutter my head and I can't focus on what I need to be focusing on, only what I can't get out of my head. My greatest distraction in life right now is my future. It will always be my greatest distraction. I always think ahead, think of what I want to be, where I am going to be, who I am going to be with. I rarely think about now. Only when I have to. Thinking about the past is sometimes too painful, so I think about what could be... my hopes, dreams, and desires. I have so much that I want to do, that I want to accomplish, and only aprroximately 80 years to do it. Rats.

There are things that I enjoy, but am not good at.
There are things that I am good at, but don't have time to enjoy.
There are things that I want to be, but won't ever be.
There are things that I want to do, but won't get paid for.
I want to be a dancer. When I am listening to music, I am internally choreographing dances in my mind. Granted, they wouldn't look good in actuallity, and I am not the best dancer, but I delight in dancing, in listening to music. I love singing as well, but we won't even go down that road...I want to be a writer. I love writing. LOVE it. I enjoy writing about my perceptions, beliefs, and experiences. If I had time, I would like to write an actual novel, but I don't want to make a fool of myself. I may have a way with words, but I don't think I could write a novel worth reading... Not some great piece of literature like Twilight...
I want to be a better theologian. Theology is starting to mean a lot more to me the more that I get into it. To some people its unimportant, and a waste of time. They say it doesn't matter, that we just need to love God. God it theology. Theo- God logy- discourse.... It's necessary, and its fascinating, and I'm learning so much about God. There is so much more to learn and I am actually really excited about Systematic Theology.
I want to be a philosopher. After taking Introduction to Philosophy, I was able to learn to think about other perspectives, consider the validity, and stretch my mind in order to understand totally different worldviews. Metaphysics...Epistemology...Ethics summarized by Socratese, Plato, Descartes, Hume, and Kant. Brushing the surface of Hyper(post)modernity. I like thinking about things bigger than myself, strange to me. I wish I could be an academician. Unfortunately I am not that smart...
I want to be a wife. This is kind of obvious I guess. I almost had the privelege of being Andrew Smith's wife, but I don't think that will ever be. I love loving, being loved. I don't think I would make a great housewife, but I could learn... while juggling my careers as a dancing, writing, academician. Along with that, I cannot wait to be a mother! I love children. I love having a baby in my arms. Seeing a mother with her child is such a beautiful thing and I can't wait to have that.
I want to be an equine therapist. I spent most of my time in middle school and elementary school with horses. I learned so much about them, how to ride them, train them, knew their bone structure, how to care for them. Coupling that passion with my love of children, I would enjoy spending the rest of my life ministering to children with disabilities, sharing with them my love of animals, and using the love of Christ to shape and transform kids. I wish I could be all of these things, and maybe they will alll have their time. I have to learn to be patient and pursue my dreams in God's time and in His way.

"Ask And You Will Receive, And Your Joy Will Be Complete"

2009-05-20T20:02:00.000-05:00

John 16:16-24
16"In a little while you will see me no more, and then after a little while you will see me." 17Some of his disciples said to one another, "What does he mean by saying, 'In a little while you will see me no more, and then after a little while you will see me,' and 'Because I am going to the Father'?" 18They kept asking, "What does he mean by 'a little while'? We don't understand what he is saying." 19Jesus saw that they wanted to ask him about this, so he said to them, "Are you asking one another what I meant when I said, 'In a little while you will see me no more, and then after a little while you will see me'? 20I tell you the truth, you will weep and mourn while the world rejoices. You will grieve, but your grief will turn to joy. 21A woman giving birth to a child has pain because her time has come; but when her baby is born she forgets the anguish because of her joy that a child is born into the world. 22So with you: Now is your time of grief, but I will see you again and you will rejoice, and no one will take away your joy. 23In that day you will no longer ask me anything. I tell you the truth, my Father will give you whatever you ask in my name. 24Until now you have not asked for anything in my name. Ask and you will receive, and your joy will be complete.

Tonight in small group, we discussed the passage in John describing Jesus turning water into wine at the wedding in Cana. I was challenged to see the verse in a different light than what had been previously taught to me. Through discussion of what joy is and where we seek and find joy, I began to think about joy in the context of my life, and particularly relationships. The more I thought, and the more I wrote about it when I returned home, the more I realized I was missing out on something great and life changing. All of this time, I have been trading the full joy of Christ for the cheap thrills of this world, and the temporary happiness found in my relationship.

I was in a relationship with a great guy for nearly three years. In this relationship, I thought I had all I needed to be happy, to have joy in life and in a marriage. If I was having a bad day, issues with my family, or if I was just worn thin, I had Andrew to call and to cry to. He would comfort me, and I would accept his counsel and be ‘satisfied’. If I was having financial problems or needed something, he wouldn’t hesitate to offer me help, to pay for my school bill or buy me what I needed. When it came to finding love and affection, Andrew was never lacking. I could turn to him to make me smile, to make me feel pretty and loved and cherished.Yet there is pain in my life that Andrew couldn’t begin to understand. There were days when all he could do is sit with me while I mourned for my family. There were financial burdens that even he couldn’t solve with his money. There were times when even after telling me I was beautiful and that he loved me for who I was, I still didn’t feel good about myself. All the while, there was Christ. This Savior who finds joy in me, waiting until I found mine in Him. He knows my pain, my financial burdens, and He died for me… What more could I possibly ask for? Why is it that I am so prone to searching elsewhere, anywhere, for joy outside of Him, the ultimate giver of joy? Why is it that I can begin to ascertain this joy, but can’t seem to obtain it? My sinful heart would rather have control and immediate gratification than to patiently sit at the feet of Jesus and just enjoy Him. When Jesus turned water into wine at Cana, he was doing more than just saving the skin of the host. He was introducing the people in Galilee to a taste of something far greater. I long to say with the Psalmist,

Psalm 63:1-8
O God, you are my God; earnestly I seek you;my soul thirsts for you; my flesh faints for you, as in a dry and weary land where there is no water.
2So I have looked upon you in the sanctuary,beholding your power and glory.
3Because your steadfast love is better than life,my lips will praise you.
4So I will bless you as long as I live;in your name I will lift up my hands.
5My soul will be satisfied as with fat and rich food,and my mouth will praise you with joyful lips,
6when I remember you upon my bed,and meditate on you in the watches of the night;
7for you have been my help,and in the shadow of your wings I will sing for joy.
8My soul clings to you;your right hand upholds me.

I want God to be most glorified in me because I am most satisfied in Him.
I want to cry out with David Crowder, “You are my joy!” and mean it and express it with a lifestyle of contentedness in Christ…
If Romeo never comes around and I am a single woman for the rest of my life, I want to go to bed every night knowing that I don’t need the love of any man as long as I have Christ.
If the money doesn’t come through and I pack my bags and leave Moody, I want to savor the presence of my Savior even if it isn’t in Houghton Hall.
If my dreams for myself don’t pan out, I want to rest assured knowing that I can have joy in the dreams He has for me.

He is all that I need, and I will learn to believe it, and live my life with a full joy that can never be taken away. “Ask and you will receive, and your joy will be complete.”

Summer in the City: Day Three "Watch Me As I Digress"

2009-05-20T20:00:00.000-05:00

I wish that my thoughts weren’t so prone to wonder. I wish I had better command of my mind. I wish my stomach didn’t flutter when I see you, that butterflies didn’t crowd in my abdomen at the thought of seeing you. I wish so badly that I didn’t feel this way, but I do. I wish these feelings were a switch that I could turn off and on. The feelings feel good, but they aren’t fair. They aren’t fair to anyone. They leave me nearly insane because they slip out of my control and my fingers are grasping for something that isn’t meant to be had. I tell myself I am unrealistic, hopeless. I am chasing after the wind. I won’t ever get a hold of this. I need more time. There is someone out there for me, and against all hope, I bet it isn’t you. So I wait, and I try not to look at you longer than I should, and I pray that you will never notice. I am a young, foolish, twenty year old. I bite my tongue, shake my head and tell myself to move on.It won’t be soon, but I will fight like hell to get over you. I am finding it harder and harder to be myself. I am finding that I hate being a woman sometimes. I don’t think men will ever have a clue as to how hard it is to be a woman. What it is to know what you want, but being unable to go after it. To sit and ‘be at peace’ and hope that some guy will fall in love with me. That the right guy will fall in love with me. It is so hard to be patient, to be the one with all the feelings and to wait for someone to feel that way about me. To have emotions that are so inconsistent and uncontrollable that even I can’t understand them… let alone expect someone else too. Regardless of being a woman or a man, I can’t lose sight of who I am in Christ- a sinner redeemed by God’s grace. It is so easy for me to complain in my state of discontentedness rather to enjoy who God made me. I am just at a new stage in my life, alone for the first time in a very long time, anxious to love again (even though I am not ready). I don’t know why I am so afraid of living life now. Living for today instead of my future. I guess it’s just a part of my controlling tendencies. I have plans for myself, things that I want badly but can’t have. And I would rather dream about tomorrow then live for today. Maybe it’s because today is so uncertain that I live for a tomorrow that I have devised in my mind. I spend so much time thinking about where to go from here, the man that I want to be with, the children that I want to have, the place that I want to live, the classes I will be taking next semester. The end of the summer when my life goes back to normal… But not today, when I am not sure how to provide for myself and I am caught in feelings that I can’t escape, having feelings that aren’t returned. Insecure, alone. Suffering through growing pains… I know my tendencies. I know my sin. I know my faults to a tee. I see how all of the things above are just indicators of something deeper, more sinister inside myself. I see that I am looking to take care of myself, live my own life. I see that I am relying on this unnamed dream that I have, this knight to sweep me off of my feet and give me the security I long for. I’m Sanyelle. I know Sanyelle better than anyone else. I know who I should marry, where I should go when I’m done with Moody. I am Sanyelle, but I don’t know her best. And this nameless knight will not know me best. I won’t take care of myself. Nor will he. There is only One. So why on earth do I do these things to myself? Why can’t I just let go? God made the universe, for goodness sake, and I can’t trust Him with my future, my love life, my hope and dreams? Where is this disconnect? For the rest of my life I will be learning. Does it come back to this thing about joy? Does it come back to the fact that I try to find my joy in everything, anything, anyone but Christ? Is it my desire for control in security because up to this point in life I’ve had anything but security and stability? Is it just the fact that I am sinful? A sinful, incompetent human being that just wants to be competent, and on my own terms? I will always be wrestling through these issues… Hopefully I will continue to grow, to keep on giving over my strong will and desires to the Lord of my life, and take joy in doing so…

I deconstruct my thoughts at this piano...

2008-12-01T01:07:00.000-06:00

There are situations that we face that upset the course of life as we know it, situations that rock our world, leave us breathless, and in the wake of their destruction they render us helpless and senseless.

I feel senseless. Or so overwhelmed with my senses that I cannot manage them enough to make heads or tails of what I need to do, or don't need to do. I wish that I was numb, unfeeling, cold, callous, insensitive. Yet, I do not want that either. What is life if we do not feel, and what are we if we do not love? Pain is a very real part of life, and I know that what happens in this life, although I do not understand it, God allows it for a reason. I don't have to understand, but I want to. I want to know why my mom's mental issues are tearing apart our family. I want to know why my dad can't stop smoking. I want to know why things are going to fall apart like they are.

Why is it that I feel so responsible even though I am not. Why do I feel like I should have all the answers, make all the right choices, when its not my place. How do I cope with this impending feeling of doom. I cannot run from my problems. I can't run from my family. I can't run from my feelings, emotions, and thoughts. As much as I would love to run from this life, to not have to deal with all of this stuff that is so far out of my control.... I somehow have to face it, come to terms with it. I would much rather die than deal with the repercussions of sin any longer. Is that cowardice, or just a healthy longing for the eternity that God has promised me?

A Little Bit of Frustration... A Lot of God's Goodness

2008-10-12T01:34:00.000-05:00

First, let me say that the transfer from my original Blogspot account to a google account was hellish... Its such hassle to go through to write a blog. Now I don't even want to write my blog. Oh well, I really want to give an update on what God has been doing in my life these past few weeks.

Here's an excerpt from my journal a few days ago:

"October 8

I feel like for the moment, I am looking at life through rose colored lenses. Life seems to be fluctuation between two extremes, very hard and overwhelming, and then suddenly, God's grace is overflowing. Not that God's grace isn't always overflowing, it is just more clear to me. I guess the way that I am seeing God's grace the most is in my relationship with Andrew. The relationship has been so marred by sin, by selfishness, and God has allowed it to continue to grow. Andrew and I have been growing much more intimate emotionally, and it is a beautiful thing to finally see happening. And I feel content in God's will for me. Its strange that this sudden intimacy has followed my prayer for God to take my heart, which is rightfully His. I feel like I gave God my heart when I got saved and then when I met Andrew, I essentially allowed him to have my whole heart. And being a sinful person, he hurt my heart. He put cracks and chips in it. But it is God who deserves my whole heart and He can heal my heart. I have always felt that, in order to reclaim my heart, God would require me to give up Andrew, but this is not the way that God is leading me. I don't know. I don't understand the way that God works, and I don't need to. All I know is that He is doing a work in Andrew and I and in our relationship."

That was the 8th, and on the 11th (today) I went to the Garfield Park Conservatory for a day of rest with some people from school. It was probably one of the best days I've had since being here at Moody. It was incredible. The gardens were beautiful, and I sat in a small grove of trees on a blanket in the grass. The weather was absolutely beautiful. I will share a little bit of what I wrote while lying there in the grass.

"My Sabbath

God it is so good of You to let me enjoy You, especially here in Chicago. How good of You to let me lie in the grass, under a tree, soaking in the sights, smell and feel of nature! God, You are so good! I do not deserve all the blessings You have bestowed upon me! You have blessed me with life, love, friendship, and most importantly salvation! You are a creative, beautiful God and I am in awe of Your creativity! Seeing all of the flowers that You have designed given life to, it leaves me in awe of You. The way that you kiss me with breeze and embrace me with the warmth of sunshine, God You made me this way so that You can satisfy me! And I have spent so much time chasing other things. Please forgive me. It was You who created me, who gave me desires and passions, and You can give me fulfillment! It is You God, only You! I want to proclaim 'Knowing You, Jesus, Knowing You, there is no greater thing.' "

Today was a learning experience. I learned a lot about how God feels about me, and how He fulfills me in many ways, including Andrew. It is amazing to me that God does not only love me, He delights in me. Today I found delight in Him as well, which is a very beautiful thing to have. I think about all the people in the world who do not know the love of God, and I realize that I have taken for granted the blessing I have in knowing God. How could I have possibly made it through this life without the love of God. I don't think that I could, and if I did, then I would be a miserable soul. God created me, my personality which some people do not like, my passionate independent spirit that makes submission hard... He gave me a strong sense of emotion, and an indescribable joy in nature. And He loves me. He loves me. He does not just love me, he delights in me. He made me the way He wanted me to be, and despite all the ways that I manage to mess up, He still delights in me... That is something that I can't grasp. But it is a freeing thing to try to understand. Shawn McDonald has a song called free with lyrics that say "I want to be free, free to dance and free to sing. Free to live and love and free, free to be me!" God gives me the freedom to be me, and He cherishes it.

Another thing I came to better understand today is how this boy fits into my life. I have a hard time balancing where my heart should be, such as ministry and marriage, loving Christ and loving Arni. What I have learned today is that it can all be the same thing. My marriage is going to be a ministry, and while it is not right now, I need to be focusing on the ministries that God has given me and enjoy what I can do as a 'single' woman. Also, my love for Christ is going to be a very different love then my love for Arni, its just a matter of how I show my love for both. If I am so wrapped up in loving Arni, that I forget to seek out Christ and give Him the love that He deserves, then that is where the problem lies. And I admit, I have pushed Christ to the side in order to give more of myself to Arni. Yet, loving Christ means loving Arni, and I need to realize that as well. I just need to make sure that my priorities are where they should be while I am still in this season of singleness.

I have more that I could say about the impact of this day, and on other things that have been going on in my life, but I shall save that for another blog...

You give and take away

2008-09-18T18:42:00.000-05:00

I have no words to say, yet here I am, wishing I could speak. There are a lot of thoughts, a lot of emotions, and a lot of pain built up inside, and no means for them to escape. This is rare for me. I love writing. I communicate best through writing. Yet there are no words for me right now. In looking at the words of the prophets, it is clear that they had a lot of thoughts, emotions, and pain, and they expressed themselves boldly before God. Jeremiah was bold enough to complain before God about what he saw as injustice. I feel an injustice, but I also know that God is just. But in remaining honest with the Lord, I feel even though I am far from worthy, I want Him to know how I feel.

God,

You are sovereign, and as I have always been taught, you have plans for me, for your people. I know that You are merciful, loving, and just, but I feel far removed from these aspects. I feel like suddenly its just myself, and You have stepped back to watch me fall, to watch me go back to the place where I thought I could never go again, to remove from me all of the people that I love and care about, and the future I thought I had secure at Moody. Yet, even as I type this, I see what You are doing, what Your purpose may be. But, I resent it. I really do. Yes, God. I love You, but not enough to put you before my boyfriend, my friends, my classes. Yes, God. I want to follow Your will for my life, but what about my own? I mean, You are the one who gave me these dreams, these goals. You are the one that put Andrew in my life and made a way for us to be together. You are the one who allowed me to get accepted to Moody. So are you going to take all these things away?

God, there have been times where I have been ready to walk away from You. To live for myself and forget about this faith that I have claimed. Yet I know, I would be nothing. Absolutely nothing. I would have no hope, no assurances in this life. And if I can continue to cling to these things that You have given me as my hope and my joy, that I still have nothing. I have this tendency, God, to take the gifts that you have given me, and instead of worshipping You, I worship them, and allow them to be the source of my security and joy.

You are very serious about being first place in my life, and it does not surprise me that You would do this, that you would rob me of everything that brought me joy and security to remind me that YOU are my joy and my security. And I know that this is what is best for me. Can I pray, can I plead that You would continue to break me, even if I still love these things so much? Do in me what I cannot do in myself. I want to live for You, and love You above all else, and if taking these things away that I depend on is the only way for this to happen, then that is what will happen regardless of whether or not I want them to. And in my honesty, I pray that it will not be so, that being broken would not have to hurt so bad.

Oh God, if only I could say, You are my joy, and mean it with all that I am. Be my joy, and if it must be so, then give me the grace to accept it and learn from it.

Father knows best.

2008-09-17T20:42:00.000-05:00

Lately I feel very lost. I have no idea where to turn to next, what to think, and how to process all of this. My faith is being tested to its limits. I have many questions for God, and I know that for now, they will remain answerless, or they may never be answered at all. And somehow, I have to be okay with this. I have always been told "God has a plan for you" but what do I do when I cannot see it? That is faith, I know. Complete trust in God. But honestly, its frustrating. I have dreams for myself. Doesn't God know that? Doesn't He know that I know what is best for myself? Of course, this is ridiculous.

He knows myself better than I do.

His dreams for me are far bigger.

I just wish I knew what His idea for my life is.

I am scared.

Moody might not be what God has for me, even though I can't imagine anything better than Moody. I am going to be engaged soon. What happens when I am separated from my soon to be fiancee... again? Yet, He knows best.

Father knows best.

My future is hanging on a thread before me. So far, God has removed every crutch, everything I have depended on until here I am, on my face, completely depending on Him, and realizing that He is Sovereign.

Believe it, Sanyelle. Just believe it.

I have my speculations on what God is doing. But really, who am I?? Just a human with thoughts that are not even big enough to come close to grasping God. I do see in my life though, that I have my priorities out of line. It seems that I have forgotten exactly why I am at this incredible school. Its for ministry. Lately, my focus has been on the big M word. I mentioned my soon-to-be-fiancee. I'll be honest. I want to get married, and the sooner the better. This thought has been a little bit consuming lately. That is not why I am here, though. I am here because I love children, and I want to serve God with ministry. Perhaps God is trying to grab my attention. Maybe He's saying,

"Remember Sanyelle, you don't have to be at Moody. There are people who are more serious about ministry than you are right now..."

So I must sit back and think, if I am going to be at this great school, I have to be here for the right reasons.

These are my speculations. I realize I am out of line, but I know God would rather have my honesty than a lie. He is a very good God, and I am in the palm of His hand. So I pray, and I try to trust, and I give Him my heart, however messed up and broken it is.

Genuine Worship

2008-09-10T11:10:00.000-05:00

How do I meet God? Sometimes I find him on the shore of Lake Michigan, when I am far enough away from Downtown that the constant drone of traffic isn't a distraction. Often times, I find Him in the worship of many saints gathered together. Whether it be young children belting out the words at the top of their lungs, or my fellow students praising the name of the King in chapel. That is where I met Him today, but it raised many questions in my heart and mind concerning how genuine my heart and emotions really are. As I worship through song, when certain songs are sung with words that I feel I truly relate to, it stirs up a lot of emotion in me. I tear up, and I tremble, and I feel so much joy its overwhelming. Yet, if I sing these songs alone, in the privacy of my room, I wonder if I would feel the same way. The heart of the issue is that I do not want to just feel these strong feelings about God just through an occasional worship chapel at Moody, but in my every day life. It is not that I want to walk around campus weeping and trembling, but I do long to know the presence of God in the same powerful way without the context of a thousand other people singing with me. What I am trying to say is that I want to know that the joy and emotion that I feel is truly sincere, truly impressed by God, and not merely the product of being in a 'super spiritual' context where 'everybody is doing it'. I want the joy of the Lord to fill me every day, to get a glimpse of the Almighty God in just quietly reading my Bible.

I have also noticed that I am also more prone to pour out my heart to God, to confess my sins, to hunger for Him more in general, when I am in these settings. When there is a 'worship leader' to tell me how to pray, and to tell me how to really talk to God. This is not a bad thing at all, but once again, it needs to be in my every day life, and not just in these chapels...

This morning was wonderfully refreshing, and called me to recognize God not just as a loving Father, but the truly powerful creator that I am unworthy of coming before. It is my earnest prayer that I will seek God as such in my day to day life, to have powerful worship of Him not just in song, but in every action, every breath.

Everyone needs compassionA love that's never failing
Let mercy fall on me
Everyone needs forgiveness
The kindness of a Savior
The hope of nations
Savior He can move the mountains
My God is Mighty to save
He is Mighty to save
Forever Author of salvation
He rose and conquered the grave
Jesus conquered the grave
So take me as You find me
All my fears and failures
And fill my life again
I give my life to follow
Everything I believe in
Now I surrender I surrender
Savior He can move the mountains
My God is Mighty to save
He is Mighty to save
Forever Author of salvation
He rose and conquered the grave
Jesus conquered the grave (x2)
Shine your light and let the whole world see
We're singing for the glory of the risen King...Jesus (x2)