"Let's Be Friends"

It started Monday night. A older gentleman (between 50-70? best guess) came into our store. I greeted him and asked if he needed help - nothing out of the ordinary. He proceeded to tell me it was his first time in the store and why he came in. He was looking for a necklace to give a friend of his who had helped him through losing his wife two years ago. As I empathized with him, I gave examples of how I understood. This led to a lengthy conversation. During this conversation, he asked me my name (Rachel,) and I told him. He, then, asked for pen and paper. I wasn't sure what he was doing, but I gave it to him anyway. He asked me if I "was okay with this." I told him I didn't know, since I didn't know what he was doing. He wrote down his name and phone number and gave it to me. He told me he liked me and that he would love to keep talking and maybe form a friendship. He wanted me to text him that night so he knew it was me. I told him I would when I was ready (which would be never.) That conditional phrase was apparently lost in the communication. He asked me if it was too fast, too soon. I could do nothing but be silent. He walked around the store a little more and then "excitedly" came back up to me and asked me if I was working the following day. I told him "no." He was only slightly disappointed that his friend wouldn't be meeting me...
Fast forward four days. Friday night. About a half hour before we closed, this same gentleman entered the store. I quickly swapped places with my CLT and went to put things away in hopes of "avoiding" him. She said he sped up to catch up to me. He, then, proceeded to ask me if he had given me the right number. I told him I didn't know, I hadn't checked. He continued telling me he was concerned I hadn't been given the right number (since he hadn't heard from me yet.) I went up front to my CLT, asking her questions about my job at hand - legitimately - and then grabbed a box of items that were to go on the opposite side of the store. I wound up helping a woman over there until the man left. My CLT, then, notified me that this man had told her to tell me, "hello." I'm guessing his greeting to me previously wasn't sufficient?
I'm afraid this man will come back into the store and continue to try and "befriend" me. I'm very uncomfortable with how he has approached me and spoken to me. He had even acknowledged "Oh, you're probably working... BUT - " and hindered me from doing my job. This feels like a very gray situation where boundaries are being crossed. I don't know if I could've prevented this from happening or if it could've happened to any one of us. Should I have said "no?" Maybe. I don't know if that would have changed things. But I certainly didn't say "yes." And THAT is what should have been respected - not the "no," but the absence of "yes."

The Definition of a Number

Numbers. In some way or another, they're in control of our lives. Our money. Our age. Our weight. Our time. Numbers wake us up in the morning when our alarms buzz with a strategic amount of time to get ready for our schedules. Numbers wait for us when we get home as our dinner goes in the oven set at a predetermined temperature for a calculated duration. They sing us to sleep as we lay our heads on our pillows knowing that in a particular number of hours, the cycle will begin again.

I've lived my entire life dependent on numbers. My age, my GPA, being number two of four kids. Some numbers never change. Others never achieve consistency. Growing up, those numbers were based on visitation or the amount of days until I was another year older. Now, being a college student, numbers can determine my future - financial aid, credits, grades, practicum hours. Along with attending school, I work in a book store. Anyone who works in retail knows the numbers are most important - discounts, balanced tills, sales, conversion rate - no matter what sort of items are being sold. Numbers aren't always accurate, nor are they always fair judgement of work ethic or quality.

A couple walks into a store. Both of them are counted in the conversion rate. Together, they make one purchase.

What is your conversion rate? 50%. A failing grade. Does that mean the employees haven't done everything required of them (and more)? No. Yet, retailers seem to think there's something wrong with that store, or those associates. They define the store based on one number - one set of data - that isn't completely accurate.

 She sits, sorting through her clothes as she cleans out her closet. Wanting to donate them to those in need, she begins separating everything into piles based on size. Her 120 pound frame looks in the mirror and wonders how it still manages to perfectly into the size 10 jeans that lay in a pile off to the side.

A 95 year old man still loves riding roller coasters.

Bill Gates, the richest man in Washington state, has millions and billions invested in charities.

A busy mom only gets an hour to herself when her kids take a nap. It's the only time her newborn will sleep for more than 30 minutes. 

A girl with 153 IQ gets a 3.5 in high school - because what she's been through has prevented her from reaching her full potential.

Numbers. They define our lives, but only because we let them. They're contradictory. They can influence or manipulate,  relieve or incite. Numbers are meant to show the worth, the importance, of something. Why do we let that something become US? Who we are is not a number. Or, it shouldn't be. But every part of our being wants to make our understanding tangible. It wants to see a limit on our souls - what is our value? How good are we? "On a scale of 1-10..." We get on a scale and see a number. The higher the number, the lower our value. But it's the complete opposite with material possessions - the higher the number, the greater the value.

So, how do we stop focusing on a quantification? This very qualification is what's destroying relationships. It's destroying team work, respect, self-confidence. This quantification is doing nothing to increase any sense of being, but reducing quality of person. I'll admit, I've fallen prey to the sociological ideal that beauty is a number, that success is a number. I want to get away. I'm learning how, building strength for when my mind stops being logical and my heart starts seeing worth for quality - the quality of being a living, breathing, heart beating, imperfect human.

The Things They Told Me

 A response to: http://www.upworthy.com/theres-an-ugly-way-some-parents-deal-with-their-kids-in-private-that-should-be-exposed-in-public?c=ufb1 (See video below)

They told me at 5 I would get to start Kindergarten
They told me at 6 they knew I was special.
They told me at 7 that I was too smart for my own good.
They told me at 8 they were getting divorced.
They told me at 9 I couldn't protect myself anymore because someone might get hurt.
They told me at 10 that I was a liar. 
They told me at 11 if I lost weight I would be cuter.
They told me at 12 they bullied me to protect me.
They told me at 13 they didn't want me anymore.
They told me at 14 it was my fault.
They told me at 15 to get over it.
They told me at 16 I would be a high school drop out and single mother.
They told me at 17 that character didn't matter.
They told me at 18 I wasn't good enough for them.
They told me at 19, "all you have to do is reach out to us."
They told me at 20 they were better than me.
They tell me at 21 they wonder why I feel the way I do.
I tell them nothing, because they've told me I wasn't worth their time.

 

(Part 2) - The Things HE Tells Me

He told me at 5 He knew my future.
He told me at 6 He made me unique.
He told me at 7 to be myself.
He told me at 8 I was a part of His family.
He told me at 9 He would protect me.
He told me at 10 He knew the truth.
He told me at 11 I was beautiful how I was.
He told me at 12 He would never hurt me.
He told me at 13 I would always be wanted.
He told me at 14 I was innocent.
He told me at 15 to forgive so I could move on.
He told me at 16 I would have big dreams.
He told me at 17 that even when no one was watching, I made Him happy.
He told me at 18 He'd made me enough.
He told me at 19 to hold on as I reached for His hand.
He told me at 20 I was set apart for a purpose.
He tells me at 21 He understands what I've been through, because He's experienced the same.
I tell Him my all, because I've been made His everything.

What is Family?

This is the question I've been asking myself this last week. On Saturday, I learned some information that sounds like it could be straight out of a book or movie. The books make it sound so much easier than it has been.

I grew up only knowing 3 of my grandparents. I had both my mom's parents and my dad's mom. My Grandfather was truly an irreplaceable man in my life. He was a father figure to me. The only grandpa I ever knew. He passed away last year and every day I miss him. I had both of my grandmothers, so my grandpa was my one and only. I never knew my dad's dad. I knew his name, the state he lived in, and my father's opinion of him, but nothing more. I had exchanged maybe 5 emails with him when I was 11 or so, but it was so long ago, I can't even remember what was said.

Grandpa Robert Sprague. And he lives (lived?) in Florida. That was the only information I had on this man. I also know he had two sons - my dad and my uncle. But I learned information that changed that. I found out he had a daughter, too. My aunt? Or is she? My dad's half sister, about 8 years older - we never knew she existed. What is her name? Where does she live? Do I have cousins? I've since become overwhelmed with questions and confusion with what to do and feel. You see the movies about people who find long lost relatives and they're completely overtaken by joy and emotion. They build their relationship and it's like they were there all along.

Nope. In my 21 years of life, my grandfather never sent me one birthday card. He never wished me a merry Christmas. He never called to congratulate me for anything. He was never a part of my life. And how could he be? He was "banned" from my life. I didn't have a say in it. I would have wanted to be able to talk to him, invite him to performances, send him school pictures or a graduation announcement. He wasn't allowed in my life.

My little sister has three little brothers. My brother, Daniel, and her two half-brothers, Ethan and Declan. "But wouldn't they be YOUR brothers, too?" Yes, but no. Let me explain. My dad made it clear he didn't want me to be a part of his family. Am I related to them? Yes. But I'm not a part of that family. And here is where additional confusion comes in - because my grandfather is on my dad's side, and I'm not a part of my dad's family, is he still my grandfather?

All this has come at a time where I was already pondering a valid question posed by the group of girls I meet up with for bible study. "Do you feel alone in the church as a woman? And if you do, how so? In what way?" My answer? I didn't feel alone as a woman, but as a person, certainly. I go to church every week and sit with "my people." They're lovely people. A group of Deaf and interpreters and their families. I feel alone in that I'm still just a student. I don't have my family there. I'm accepted as a member of the group, but I can't totally relate, nor am I related to. But these people are a part of my "family," and for that, I cannot thank them enough.

The people who have accepted me despite anything and everything are those I call my family. I have a work family, a church family, a school family. So, what is family? When can you call someone a part of your family - friend or relative? Is blood really thicker than water? My life sounds like a book, but it's far from a fairytale. Thank you for being here for me in this new chapter of my story.

The Time I Lost My Phone (Then Found It) and What I Learned From It

My phone is my life. I know what you're thinking. I'm crazy and that's weird. And while that may be true, I have plenty of reasons for saying it. For example, if it's not in my calendar, it's not happening. Sorry to those of you I may have bailed on or forgotten about unintentionally, it probably wasn't in my calendar. In fact, I've had to call doctor's offices to be reminded of when I set up my appointment. I also have my pictures on my phone. I love taking pictures. I also love the memories and reminders pictures represent. When I accepted the fact I was never getting my phone back, I still couldn't accept that months of pictures would be gone.

Several months ago, I read an article about a man who found his phone, which had been stolen, because of an app. It had GPS tracking, a siren that could be played if you lost your phone, and the ability to back up data. It also scans apps when they're downloaded or updated to make sure there's no malware. I went in my app store and downloaded it - just in case.

As I got out of the car and realized I didn't have my phone, my first instinct was to look around in my car. We searched under and in seats. We searched the shopping bags we had. We even wound up going back to the store. Still, no phone. We called and called. And called. And called until the battery was nearly dead. I went to the Verizon store to see if they could track it, but because I didn't have their insurance, there was nothing they could do. Then I remembered my app. I had forgotten the name, but I remembered what it looked like. A quick google search and I found the name of my app: "Lookout." 

My phone was checked in to a location in Colbert. After realizing that the date it was pinged was 6-28 and the address was my cousin's, we tried calling it again to discover the battery was dead. What could I do? The only thing I could think of was, "pray." I had people praying everywhere. Praying that I would find it; praying that God would physically move it from one place to another - He'd done it before. I woke up and headed to the store to check one more time if anyone had turned it in. Still nothing.

I went to work, planning on going by my mother's house and picking up a spare phone so I could have a clock and a means of communication, among other things. I decided to call my phone one more time, on the off chance whoever had it charged it - IF someone had it. It was on. No answer, but it gave me SOME form of hope. I quickly went online to GPS it. There it was. I rallied my mother and we hopped in the car to drive to whoever had my phone. Some people may think, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" I know. I had the same thought as we got in the car. And arrived. And confronted the person in possession of my phone.

It happens that the lady who had it wasn't all there. She had previously suffered a stroke, so she was a bit eccentric. She said the cashier at the Dollar Store where I had lost it had asked if it was hers, and without thinking, she had grabbed it, since hers was similar to mine. When she realized she had it, she also realized it was dead. Her husband charged it so they could turn it on and try and contact someone. I had turned the siren on my app on. So when they turned it on, it went off. And they panicked! She and her friend debated what to do because, "They are coming for it!!" One of these women happened to be from Detroit, if that helps you imagine how it may be said.

Anyway, these ladies adorably bantered back and forth until they went to retrieve it from where else but the garbage can. Because that's where it went in the panic. Long story short, I have my phone back!

In the short time I felt out of communication from the world, I learned how much I rely on time. I was always wondering what time it was. I'm not sure if it's just who I am, or if there's a real reason I'm so trained to need to check the time. I also learned that social media is so important! The article I found about an anti-theft app lead me to downloading one, which lead me to my phone. Power of prayer works. I try and believe the best in people. I didn't know what happened to my phone, but I also knew that if that person wanted to use my phone, they'd have to turn it on at some point, relaying their location to my app. Thankfully, the people who had it were understanding and were trying to get my phone back to me - even if it wasn't the way any of us had planned, but then again, when is man's plan God's plan? Now, to find a way to bless these people...

Summer in Spokane - Manito

Every so often, I get to go out and take pictures in fancy places. :) This isn't exactly one of those, but it was nice being able to take pictures. My favorite things to photograph are definitely flowers, but I've been trying to venture just a little...
:) Let me know what you think - comments and suggestions are much appreciated! Also, any advice, tips, or tricks you can offer, please do.

Running For [Your] Life

I love my church. I really do! It's a place I feel I have people I can go to if I need advice, prayer, even a good laugh. It's the same place that's been there from the beginning of my story and been a refuge. It's a place I've run to - emotionally - when I needed some extra help. My church has been a huge part of my story and I have many memories tied to it's comfort.

This Sunday, the pastor made mention of something that triggered a memory of mine to hold me captive. You could call it a flashback if you'd like, but it didn't hold me hostage. Yes, there's a difference. When was a time in your life that you felt like you had to "run for your life," in one way or another? Some people might have memories of running to avoid getting in trouble with the cops, their parents, teachers, etc. My story is (quite a bit) different.

I ran in fear attempting to get away from my fear. I had an understanding and when I saw my fear coming toward me, I could only run. I wasn't strong enough to face it alone, if at all. Other people got involved and my situation remained unresolved. Eventually, I was put in a circumstance where I had to become strong enough to face it alone, even when it was magnified. I went from running for my life to fighting for my life. And I had to do it by myself.

If I hadn't been where I was and gotten to where I am when my memory held on to me, if either one of those had been different, I probably wouldn't have escaped it unscathed. It held on to me, took me captive, but I wasn't a slave to it. God has built up a network around me who understands, comforts, and can give me advice - even if it's tough love - when I need support.

I don't ask for help often. When I do, it's usually because I've done everything else and it's my last option. I don't enjoy it. I don't like it. And my ability to ask for help only when I've run out of means is progress from where I was of not asking for any help. Ever. But these people and this place... It's comfortable. No, not comfortable, just less uncomfortable with that discomfort being absolved by their comfort. That sounds really weird, but I have a point...

...The point is, when you stop running from pain, fear, discomfort, and run to Christ, HE will provide you with safety, healing, and comfort. The end.
Kidding. Sort of.
The Psalms are riddled with chapters that feel like MY story: a distraught heart, crying out for help. And help comes. Resolution is had. And even though we don't live happily ever after here on Earth, we have that hope in Heaven. Even the best days come with challenges, but if we take a moment to ask, stop running from the fear, allow ourselves to feel the discomfort, we can still sing.

Psalm 13 (my personal favorite - hence, its inclusion here as opposed to any of the other 149 chapters):

"For the director of music. A psalm of David.

¹ How long, Lord? Will you forget me forever?
    How long will you hide your face from me?
² How long must I wrestle with my thoughts
    and day after day have sorrow in my heart?
    How long will my enemy triumph over me?

³ Look on me and answer, Lord my God.
    Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep in death,
⁴ and my enemy will say, “I have overcome him,”
    and my foes will rejoice when I fall.

⁵ But I trust in your unfailing love;
    my heart rejoices in your salvation.
⁶ I will sing the Lord’s praise,
    for he has been good to me."

Grace That Transcends Understanding

Sometimes, I catch myself asking, "if God is so good, why did He let [this] happen?" Sound familiar? I've been mentally "pre-processing" Father's day this year. It's going to be a tough one after losing my grandfather last August and not otherwise having a constant father figure. But this Sunday, I got an answer, or, in the very least, perspective.

My church has been going through a series called "BC: Stories From the Thick Part of Your Bible." We've been taking and pulling apart various stories from the old testament and relating them to our lives today. Moses and the Red Sea - I've heard that story dozens of times growing up and dozens more as a teacher in Sunday school, but never had I heard it quite like I did. You see, Moses was only a willing vessel. He wasn't anyone terribly special. In fact, he was an outcast, a murderer, and a stutterer. But God used him. You see, Moses didn't part the Red Sea - God did. And this story has a pretty happy ending, but it took trusting God to get them to the other side of the water.

For those who don't know the details of the story, Moses led the Israelites out of Egypt after the ten plagues. It took TEN hardships for Pharaoh to let his slaves go free. But he changed his mind after God's people had left, so he led an army after the Israelites to capture them and oppress them once more. God wasn't about to let that happen, so He put a pillar of smoke to guide His people during the day, and a pillar of fire by night. The Israelites thought they were free. That is, until they saw Pharaoh's army catching up to them. They were terrified. They may not have been slaves to Pharaoh bound by work, but they were slaves to Pharaoh bound by fear.

We all have things in our life that have shaped who we've become. We have fears and questions that bind us to where we used to be or where we might be right now. God has provided a way to free us. God showed His grace to the Israelites when He parted the Red Sea. Can you imagine?! Walking between these walls of water, eye to eye with whatever creatures may be dwelling in the dark, afraid they might crash down on you - what faith! They had to trust that going through this dark and scary place, already in fear of the people chasing them, God would keep them safe.

Sometimes, God allows us to struggle, to feel pain, to be afraid because He is showing us grace. I know that sounds kind of paradoxical, but trust me here. I struggled with this, too. I asked Him, "God, why did you allow my father to abandon me, instead of protecting me? Wouldn't it have been better for me to have a dad than to feel completely rejected?" This was His answer:

"My daughter, you and I both know it was for the better. I had great plans for you and being a part of that place, you would have never been in the position I needed you to be in for my plan to be fulfilled. You were made for that kind of greatness. Beloved, I call you my child - you have a father in me. I won't ever leave you and will love you always. You felt alone and scared and hurt. But I was there. You were protected - worse things could have happened, but I didn't let them. By my grace you were freed. I know it stings, Dear One, but what could have come would have hurt far more."

You see, I liken it to going to the doctor after you've cut yourself. In cleaning your wound, they may use rubbing alcohol. That stuff HURTS when you pour it on a cut (or abrasion or the like). But it makes the injury better. It prevents deeper hurt. You allow the doctor to increase the pain for a moment because you know it will make your hurt better. And that's God's grace.

I don't always understand why I hurt and I often wonder why I had to hurt in the first place, but if I can remind myself it's God's grace preventing a worse struggle, it brings a bit of comfort to the pain.  God never abandoned the Israelites. God never intentionally hurt the Israelites. In fact, God knew His people would see pain, and because He knew this, He provided an alternative. He allowed them to feel the lesser pain of life than the greater pain of death. God allowed me to see a lesser pain of abandonment than whatever the greater pain may have been. It's hard to accept, but knowing His grace has gotten me this far means more than any answer to the question, "why?"

Dear Grandpa, If I Could Tell You One More Thing...

A part of my world was lost with you,
why did you have to go?
Your sorrowful eyes speaking to mine,
saying more than I'll ever know.

A part of me went with you,
connected at the soul.
And though I may still be here,
my heart feels so cold.

Both mind and interest intertwined,
you understood my thoughts.
Now, though I think and analyze,
my mind is elsewhere, lost.

My world came crashing down
the day I said good-bye.
Though, I never used that word,
it was too hard to try.

I remember sharing parts of me
while sitting there with you.
And when I whispered, "I love you,"
you replied, "I love you, too."

Good-bye meant loosing parts of me
I've never been without.
I knew not how it felt 'til now,
I've finally figured out.

Grief took me by surprise that night,
the next day, again once more.
Inside myself dwelt an abyss,
emptiness to the core.

Here one day, but now you're gone,
I may never understand.
But I know I can't control it,
God has a bigger plan.

We sang a requiem for you
the day you went to rest.
Now you're free in heaven,
done with your earthly quest.

I'll miss you now and evermore,
hearts bound in likeness true.
If only I could say once more,
"Forever, I love you."

A Trip to the Park

I was never an artist. Not by the standards I grew up knowing "art" as. Hand me a pencil and I can write my name. That's about as much skill as I have with a writing utensil. But, if you give me a sheet of music or a camera, the term "artist" becomes everything I represent.

My friend and I took a trip to the greenhouse of a local park. I was inspired. When she first told me of her desire for adventure, my first (and only) question was, "can I bring my camera?" I craved satiating the negative energy I had pent up by exchanging it with creative energy. And that's just what I did.

Everyone has a story to tell. I love listening to other people's stories. I love venturing my curiosities into other cultures or lifestyles so I can see from a different perspective. I love being able to empower another to share their story. That's what this is for me.

You can call me crazy. I talk to flowers. But they talk back in ways that my camera can't capture. I can get pretty doggone close if you ask me, but to accurately portray the song of the petals and the dance of their aroma is beyond digital experience.

I don't know that I enjoy telling my story as much as I enjoy hearing others' stories. Which rings true for my position in relation to a lens. I tell my story if people ask, but no one usually does. I feel more natural being the listener than being the speaker. It's a good thing the world has so much to say.

The funny thing about being behind the lens is what you choose to see the beauty in. Some artists choose people, others choose places.

I love hearing stories. Real stories - I'm not really a fan of fiction. I think that's why I enjoy hearing about other people's lives. What they've been through, however big or small they may think it, is important. It's made them who they are today, so clearly it's valuable.

It's pretty common knowledge that without three essential things, flowers can't grow:

1) Soil

2) Water

3) Sunshine

Without soil, a flower has nothing to dig its roots into. It has no security, no belief it will be sustained. People need the same thing. Without security, assurance, consistency, people wither.

Water can provide life or death. The rain beats down, threatening the livelihood of survival of these fragile flowers. But without the rain, the flowers would die of thirst.

It seems a human necessity that we have struggles. We have storms of life. The rain beats us to the ground and we don't think we can get up. But we don't drown. We learn that the rain doesn't always have to destroy us - it can give us life and satiate our thirst. Sometimes, we don't even realize we're dehydrated until we take in that first gulp of humility.

Sunshine. It's finally spring and it's lovely to see the sun more often than grey clouds. I don't know about you, but when it's winter, I get really impatient for summer. I love the warmth. The sunshine is beautiful and comforting. It produces food and energy. But it can also scorch and steal away nutrients.

We need the sun, but we also need the rain. The good in our life is good for a while, but without some struggle, we could never grow.

Their colors are so incredibly unique. Even those that look similar can't ever be the same.

So it is with YOU. You can compare yourself to everyone else in the world, but no one will ever be as good of a "you" as you will. Stop comparing yourself, because you're ALL beautiful in your own special way. No one is more or less lovely than you.

The only perfect flowers are the ones that are made in a factory with polyester and plastic. Every real flower has a real struggle to survive, a time to grow, a point where they're at their most beautiful, and times when they feel a bit wilted.

But when you examine each one in a bunch, you'll find they all have their flaws, but when you put even the most different of them together, you can create something extravagantly beautiful.

People really aren't so different from flowers after all...

And this is Kacie. She's a Disney Princess. I'm not kidding. She's one of my favorite people. We met in choir my first year at SFCC. We've sung in Carnegie Hall, Grand Central Station, Pike Place Market, in the car, and various other locations... No big deal or anything.

"You have too many Simon Cowels in your personal judging panel."

It's a harsh truth. I know I'm my own worst critic. I just never realized quite what it all meant.

The other day after one of my classes, I had the worst anger. It was triggered by my own deficiency, but catalyzed by having light publicly shed on my disappointment. I had a bit of time before I had elsewhere to be and I knew I needed to calm down somehow or the rest of my day would fall apart. I walked into my teacher's office and asked if I could just sit. Most of what I was feeling was a struggle with my worth. I didn't realize how angry I was with myself until I sat down to let myself feel through it. I was hurt. My teacher continued to work as I sat there and simply thought about why and what I was feeling. Eventually, I had processed enough to want to talk about it.

Now, I've talked with this teacher about several things before. This particular topic has been no exception. We've discussed my insecurity, its source, and questioned why it exists. We've talked about everything from accepting "failure" to discerning my own value. Having someone completely honest who sees from an outside perspective is golden - if you don't have someone to do that for you, you need one. Or multiple. What I love about this teacher is the fact that she isn't afraid to tell me what I need to hear versus what I may be wanting to hear. She simply looked at me and told me, "You tend to be your own worst critic. But there only needs to be one Simon Cowel." Truth sometimes hurts. I have spent so much time focusing on what needs to be fixed that I don't have a voice that tells me what I do well.

So what about you? How many Simons do YOU have? I can guarantee you that if you're feeling a sting from that soul punch, you probably have one too many. Here's another question: from what or whom do you evaluate your worth? My answer came in the form of a circumstance - "this happened so this is my worth..." and "if this were different..." But let me tell you, if I continue to base my worth off what happened to me and how my life could've been different, my energy will be wasted. My situation may never change. So, what now?

Naturally, I started thinking about "what value do other people see in me? Why am I valuable to them? Why do they care about me?" I began evaluating my worth based on how I think others view me. I know what you're thinking. "RACHEL! Stop that! Don't look to others to determine your value!!!" Truth be told, it has actually turned out to be beneficial. I analyze the people who care to be around me, who I laugh with, spend time with, who love me and I think, "why?" There is no reason. It's quite perplexing to me. I grew up with conditional love. You have to be a certain way, do and have certain things in order to be accepted and important. And maybe I was just in the wrong place. Because now, I look at my life and the people who want me in theirs and they don't care what I can and can't do. They don't care what I do and don't have. They see me as valuable because I exist. I understand a lot of things; I've been told I'm pretty smart, but I can't seem to grasp this concept quite yet. People love me because I'm alive and human. Why can't I love me for the same reason?

Why is it so difficult to love myself when it seems so easy to love others? Is it because I know my flaws and other people don't see them? Or because I care about my flaws and other people don't? Am I the only one who asks these questions? Do people even see my flaws? People don't love me because I'm not flawed. People love me in spite of my flaws. And if other people can do that, then maybe I should, too.

Learning to love myself will be a journey. And I hope that you'll all stick with me for this journey. And maybe you need to join me on this adventure, I don't know. But we really all need each other in order to make it where we want to be.We can't do life alone. We weren't made for it. We have to support each other; it's the only way we'll be able to withstand the flames of life.

Tell me your story. Come along with me. Give some advice. Love people despite their shortcomings.
Until next time.
Love, me.

Through the FIre

"Worship is the heartbeat of God." -Bobby Moore

My church's college group recently began a series on worship - the nature of it, why we do it, and how we do it. It's a basic Christian necessity to worship and worship wholeheartedly, even when we don't feel like it.

Growing up in a Christian school, I heard many talks on worship, how it's important, how to "fake it 'til you make it." I'd heard messages before that mentioned how King David would worship, even in the midst of struggle. You can hear the struggle in his writing (Psalm 13, for example). I've looked at stories of people worshiping God and encountering incredible oppression for doing so, like Paul and Daniel. But I never really thought of worship the way I did when I heard the story of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abendigo last night. I'd heard that story dozens of times before and have seen the Veggie Tales version even more than that.

While King Nebuchadnezzar was in power, he ordered a giant statue be made for worship. When trumpets sounded and music played, the people would gather and bow down and worship this idol. Rack, Shack, and Benny (for spelling's sake), followed God's commands, so they refused to bow down. The King was not very happy about that. He ordered they be thrown into a fiery furnace to die if they continued to refuse. Still, they did not bow down. So they were sentenced to death. But here's where the story takes a drastic turn - they STILL worshiped God, even as they were being thrown into the "fireplace of doom." God sent a divine being to their rescue, and the fire didn't singe even a hair on their heads. The King saw this and had them released, proclaiming THEIR God was the one true God and He alone should be praised.

God is brought glory when we worship Him. But, when we worship, we are also glorified through Him. Rack, Shack, and Benny praised God, even to death, and when they were saved, King Nebuchadnezzar promoted them to power.

When we worship God through our struggles, He sends help to sustain us. We see the fire. We're in the middle of the flames and we can touch the embers, but we're not burned. When we worship, God is there to protect us from the pit of fire we can see and feel, but, like Rack, Shack, and Benny, not a hair on our head will be scorched. And not only will he sustain us, but He will elevate us. He will bless us beyond our imagination. And it was only yesterday that I saw this in my own life.

Last week, there was an accident at school and I saw more than I had desired to maintain my sanity. The trauma was nearly unbearable as I struggled from day to day to keep myself from bursting in to tears for no apparent reason. The whole event came at a really unfortunate time for me, since I was still processing some other things from earlier in the month. But worship has always been a saving grace for me, a sort of sustenance. The trek through this last week was a slow one and it involved little sleep and plenty of struggle, but at the end of it came more than I could've dreamed.

I doubt my abilities. Often. And that may or may not be an understatement. But my teachers have this crazy amount of belief and trust in me. Why? I have no idea. But they tend to believe in me more than I do myself. It was evidenced when I was called in to talk to the head of my program about something. She sat me down and said, "The 3rd year students will be leaving, and we have this practicum assignment that will need to be taken over. You'd train for it during Spring, and next Fall, it's yours if you want it. Some other teachers and I talked about students who we thought could handle it and your name came up." Ummm... What? Me? It was the sunshine at the end of a dreary thunderstorm of events. I'm still having a hard time believing it, and I don't know that I will until I get there. But in giving up my struggle this week to God, in praying for the persons involved in the accident, in talking with people who could support me through it, I found continuity of strength and elevation of esteem. God is glorified in me and through me. If worship is the heartbeat of God, and I'm His desire, then I am His heart.
I am His worship, and I will give me back to Him, because I was never mine to begin with.

Seven.

This post will come as a surprise to most of you. Heck, it'll be a surprise for ME, given I ACTUALLY post it. I don't normally do things like this, but I felt like it was time to share a bit of my story with my world... I understand I may receive criticism following the posting of this. It's meant to empower, not condemn or libel (especially on account of its truth.) It's definitely not my whole story, and there are several chunks missing (for a little more see my Father's Day post from 2 years ago.) Anyway, here goes nothing...


Seven.
That might not seem like a big number, but when you consider it's the equivalent of 2,557 days, it doesn't seem so small.
2,557 days.
7 years ago today, my life changed in a way not many people even understand. Even I don't always understand it. Let me back up a little bit...

My parents have been divorced since I was eight. More than half my life, this is my normal. My parents had a parenting plan, and in it, every summer, I would spend every other week with my dad. The summer I turned 13, camp happened to fall on my mom's week, so I got to go, but the last full day was a Friday - trade-off day. That meant I had to leave camp a day early so my dad could pick me up at my mom's house. Coincidentally, I got sick that day. My mom came to take me home, and shortly thereafter, I called my dad to tell him I wanted to stay with my mom and rest. My dad wasn't a fan of that idea, and fearing what would happen to me otherwise, I laid down on my mom's couch and refused to move when he came to pick us up.

Now, my history with my dad has always been, shall I say, rocky.

My decision to legal action. After taking my mom to court, the judge declared that I could either resume visitation or go to parent/child counseling with my dad on the stipulation that he would choose the counselor. There was a reason I had left, so I wasn't just going to go back. I chose the latter route. I wanted a say in my life where no one had heard me before, and this was a solution... so I thought.

For years, I had always felt like I had made a mistake, because what was to come was nothing short of traumatizing and painful. But, in all actuality, it was the better of the two decisions. You see, if I had chosen to give in and simply return things back to how they were, I would not be where I am today. Yes, I struggle daily with my past, but I've also been more successful and happier than I ever could have been. Victory is WON - not handed over.

After the counselor was chosen, we spent three months every Thursday morning together for an hour in that office. Being 13 years old and having to defend yourself against not just one, but two adults - and both were supposed to be protecting you - you learn to become strong and suppress emotions quite readily. At the end of that three month period, the counselor told me I should resume visitation and "ease" back into it. Little was I aware that "ease" meant going back to how things were right away. Two months later, my dad and I hit another road block. I was over it by the next week. He, apparently, wasn't. The day my older sister turned 16 (7 years ago today, for those keeping track), my mother was with her at the DMV for her written driving test. What would be my last conversation with my dad went like this:
"Rachel, do you have your house keys?"
"No..."
"Okay... (upon arriving at the DMV) Rachel, grab your stuff. Everyone else, stay here."

Not really a conversation, but I like to hold onto it as such.
He walked me in and had me sit down next to my mother. He told her I could not go back with him "until the air is cleared." Because I was supposed to know what that meant? It wasn't until a few WEEKS later that the parent/child counselor called my mother and I in to explain what had initiated my abandonment. I could only sit there listening to the things I was being accused of. The air didn't need to be cleared from my end.

I've reached out and asked for forgiveness, invited him to events and hoped and prayed that one day, he might do the same. But in the last seven years, the favor hasn't been returned. In the last seven years, I've had to re-learn my worth. And I'm still learning. The scars will forever remain and make me who I am, but the wounds are being healed. Slowly, but surely. I am worth it and have to remind myself every day. Even if it takes me another 2,557 days...

I Can Just Be Me

You know those points in your life where you are in the midst of so much uncertainty and confusion you feel like everything is just out of control? Well, I'm there now. I am asking myself so many questions about things beyond the "here and now," it feels like my life is spinning in directions I have yet to know. I feel such contentment for where I am right now with school and work and church. But a part of me craves more. A part of me questions every aspect of my future and says "where will you be a month from now? 3 months? A year? 3 years?" What does my life hold for me?

My senior year of high school, I thought I had my life planned out. I wanted to go to MSU and major in biology, then work on pre-med and become a pediatrician. It was my perfect plan. I loved science and kids and I could move away. But God had other plans. My heart was called to stay here. The blessings that have come from listening to my greater plan I don't have the room to write here. I decided to focus my work toward an AA degree, then transfer and continue my plan. Well, that didn't happen either. I took one communication class and was hooked. It made sense to me, and I loved learning about people. After all, I spent most of my time sitting in silence learning people. I took what I could and decided to finish out my AA degree, having no idea where or what I wanted to do after graduating, but I wanted to work with people and communication of some variety. Music or spoken, radio, newspaper, whatever it was, I just wanted to touch people's lives and make a difference.

I'm in the Interpreter Training Program (ITP) right now. How did I get here? Well, it took some convincing, several dreams, a lot of thought, many people questioning me, and a couple arguments with God about it. You see, my stepmother was an interpreter. I know just how small the deaf community is. I didn't want people to change the way they viewed me in the profession because of someone who shares my last name. I was a MUSIC MAJOR. I told myself I wanted to be a music teacher... The decision I had before me was one that would change the direction of my life, and it wasn't going to be easy to make. I made a list of "pros" and "cons" (which were actually represented by stars and sad faces instead), and prayed. A lot. And thought. And talked it out with people on both sides. And thought some more. And prayed even harder. And after, still, more dreams, I had made a decision.

I love where I am. My peers are lovely most of the time and I'm learning so much. I'm making friends I would not have been able to before and have mentors in people I never knew existed. I'm happy and the only person now doing any comparing of me is me. After this year, I will have one more year and then I graduate. After that...

Well, I don't know, really. I still want to work with people and make a difference in their lives. And I want to continue on and get a BA and Masters. In what, I have no clue. And where? Good question. I do know that I still want to go away, but with a different focus. And while I'm trying to control all of that, I will wear myself out by running around and pushing myself harder to get everything done so everything goes perfectly. Yeah, no. I have a greater God that can take care of making things work out. After all, I am only human. Nothing I do will make me perfect or come out perfectly. It's only by His hand that anything can compare to perfection. So, why do I spend my time stressing out about things I don't really have control over anyway? Because I'm human and think I can. Because I write my plans in pencil, but God holds an eraser and permanent marker. And believe me, I've tried arguing His plan. It doesn't work. I'm surprised I haven't wound up in the stomach of a fish yet, on my way to a place I don't want to go...

Kidding aside and with the topic of school, I've had people ask me, "why are you here? You're too smart to be here." Well, it felt right. And what business is it of yours anyway? You see, there's this stigma that being "super smart" you have to be in some crazy "intellectual" profession after graduating from some super University. An engineer from MIT, a doctor from Stanford, a physicist from Harvard. And here I am. At community college. Studying to be an interpreter. The world has no idea what its standards are. I'm slowly, but surely, having to come to grips with the fact that the profession I am studying right now might not be highly recognized or praised. But it's important. And it's DIFFICULT. And it's rewarding and beautiful and requires more mind power than I have yet to discover. My mind is special, yes. And it could be somewhere else doing something else right now. I've come to terms that I probably won't study at Oxford or Cambridge, and that's fine with me. That's not where God needs me right now. I've learned that when I follow His plan, my life makes more sense, my life is less stressed, and I can be content with just being me.

Just listen to this song and you'll see where I'm coming from:
"I Can Just Be Me" - Laura Story

Let Me Tell You About Me...

So, a while ago on facebook, a viral post went around that went a little something like this:
X number of facts about (person) that people might not know. Whoever liked the post would, then, be given a number. I kind of wanted to participate, but I didn't feel like sharing my life in that way. Kind of funny to me that I would choose here and now to share it, but here goes nothing:

1) I have been a member of Mensa since I was 7.

2) My middle name is Lee-Ann. It is spelled EXACTLY like that. Please get it right. And it is spelled as such because of my Grandfather. His name was Lee. I was born the day after his birthday, and it's quite fitting, since he and I are basically one in the same.

3) I started learning sign language when I was 9. I went to the school library and took out books on the subject. I guess it's fitting with where I am in school right now.

4) I'm sorry, but I don't like country music. It and rap are really the only two genres I don't willingly listen to. Rap for the message, country for the memories...

5) I love baking shows: Next Great Baker, Cupcake Wars, Ultimate Cake Off, The Taste. I'm pretty picky about the cake I eat. I love to cook and bake and enjoy watching shows and looking at food that is delicious. I just wish I was much more skilled.

6) My story is fairly unique and I tend to keep it secret because I don't want people to see me differently. I'm willing to tell people if they ask, but it might take me a little while to figure out just the right words.

7) The words I choose are meticulously thought out. People have judged me for my verbiage, but I would rather speak deliberately than just say words meaninglessly.

8) I would rather watch a documentary than a fictional movie. I'd rather read non-fiction books than fiction. I don't know why I don't like made-up stories. Maybe it's my unquenchable thirst for knowledge and learning that fiction books just can't even come close to satisfying...

So, I hope that gives you a little more of an idea of who I am... So, tell me about you!

Bonus fact:
9) My legal name is Rachel Lee-Ann Sprague, but I was given a sign name and I have an African namesake - Fatou Sarr.

Life in the Single Lane: Part 2

Recently, I've been attending Life Center church on Sunday mornings. The series we're in is called "The Meaning of Marriage," based on the book of the same name by Timothy Keller. Now, I'm single. Very single. This has since become a struggle for me. Formerly, the church I had attended seemed to be all about relationships. And while I wouldn't mind friendship and fellowship, their focus was on a different kind of relationship. It was shocking to people when someone of my age was single. Marriage became a sort of status and people definitely treated you differently for being single. Now, being single and hearing this series, it brings a new perspective.

Here's what I've learned:
1) It IS possible to take and apply characteristics of marriage to your daily walk with God as a single person. The book of Isaiah seems to be filled with the image of a bridegroom and bride, likening it to the relationship between ourselves and Christ. In a marriage, there should be love unconditionally, forgiveness, closeness, and vulnerability. That's what God wants with us. We have to be vulnerable with him, forgive ourselves, and believe He loves us unconditionally with loving Him in return. The pastor giving the talks during this series isn't exclusive with his sermon. He includes challenges for the single people, as well as the couples, to deepen not only our understanding of the message, but also our faith in and love of our "bridegroom."

2) The commitment of a marriage relationship is supposed to be like that of our relationship with Christ. Referencing his own vows, the pastor proceeded to say, "Your spouse should always be your second love - only second to Christ." So, really, as long as Christ is my first love, I'm not missing out on too much. It's a lifelong commitment. You can walk away if you so choose, but it won't make you any happier. In fact, it might do the opposite to you.

3) Why not commit your life to Christ? He committed His for you! I feel like this doesn't need much explanation. Christ LOVED you so much he DIED for you. He committed his life for YOUR benefit. He didn't willingly do it either. Before you completely disagree with me, check out Luke 22:42 (NIV) - "Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me; yet not my will, but yours be done." (See also: Matt. 26:39) He didn't want to go through with it. He asked for the suffering to pass him over. But he still obeyed his Father's plan. I ask myself, "if God asked me to die for the people who hurt me, would I?" Honestly, I don't know if I would. It's REALLY easy to sacrifice your desires for people who are kind to you and love you. But God didn't promise easy. Just like in any relationship, there will be times where you disagree, want to walk away, want to fight back. And you certainly can. That won't change the fact that God is so committed to you that He will NEVER walk away, even if you walk away from Him.

4) Being single isn't a handicap. No, really. It doesn't make you any less of a person just because you have yet to find your "other half." Sure there are benefits to being married. But there are also benefits to being single - spending time building "outside" relationships, pouring into other people, focusing on loving God wholeheartedly, to name a few.

5) When you give Christ your heart, any hurt that may come along is easily healed. I think this is a great time to bring in a possibly bad analogy. It's much better for someone to have a heart attack in a hospital than be hours away from the nearest help. When you're near the "spiritual doctor," your fragile and wounded heart is much more readily helped.

My focus shouldn't be on finding a husband. My focus needs to be on finding the love of Christ so purely that it doesn't matter what stage of relationship I'm in; that Christ love fills me so fully loving another becomes a goal and treasure - not an obligation.

Until next time.

Living Life in the Single Lane

Recently, a lot of people I know are getting married, having kids, or are entering relationships. I was having a conversation with a friend today about my relationship status and what I think of some of these relationships I'm seeing. I'm perfectly okay with being single (except when teachers give me unsolicited relationship advice. Then it's simply awkward.)I've never had my first kiss or been in a relationship. I'm not looking for a significant other, but what may happen, will happen. With all these weddings and baby showers and future engagements to look forward to celebrating with my friends, I've noticed a few things.
Society tells us, girls especially, that we need to be in a relationship to be happy, popular, or have some sort of status. This simply isn't true. As a Christian, I have to look at the perfect example: Jesus.
1) Jesus was better able to serve God because of his singleness. Jesus was able to devote more time and attention to his calling and the work of the Heavenly Father because he didn't have a physical family to focus on. He wasn't set on getting married, so he could focus on the present and future work of God with his life.
2) Jesus could devote more time to pouring into others because he didn't have a significant other. You know EXACTLY what I mean. Imagine this: your BEST friend in the ENTIRE world, the person you share your time and heart with gets a boy/girlfriend. Suddenly, you become a third wheel. And what's more, they stop talking to you and are too busy to hang out because of this new relationship. But, Jesus didn't cast anyone aside. He made time for everyone. He was able to spend time with more people than if he had a wife/girlfriend/kids to care for.
3) Jesus remained celibate until "death did he part" to set the standard that relationships aren't all about sex. Okay, we can have a bit more fun with this one. But in all seriousness, how many times in an hour do you see a commercial or hear a song using some form of seduction or implication of sex. We're challenged to "save ourselves" until marriage, because that's what makes marriage sacred. Society has become an "ease of access" society. Everything is, quite literally, at our fingertips. People can go and get married on a whim, and get a divorce just as quickly. With internet in our pockets, we can access facebook and email in a matter of seconds. What's to stop someone from looking up a xxx site in the same amount of time? Society encourages it, but Christ's life was lived with the intent to be counter-cultural.
4) Jesus was already a king, so a relationship wasn't going to give him higher status. It's come to my attention that being in a relationship automatically makes you better than someone else. Or, so it seems. While in biblical times having a family gave you some status, today's values have shifted. Jesus had a spiritual family. He had spiritual children and grandchildren, brothers and sisters. His status was not dependent on how many biological children he had or the number of wives he possessed (King David, Jacob... Anyone?) Now, I work with junior highers. I remember being in junior high, if you had a boy/girlfriend, you were all that and a bag of chips. Why? Seriously, could someone tell me why? Being in a relationship simply means you found someone you want to share your heart with. How does that invoke a status of being above anyone else? If someone could help me with this one, it'd be appreciated. My point is, in order for Jesus to make a difference and be important, he didn't need to be with anyone. He just needed to be himself, who he was called to be, and love everyone.

Ultimately, my singleness can only be an asset. Why live life thinking it's a handicap to be single?

By the way, my cats say 'hi.' Relationship status: Single, but committed to Christ and his work in and through my life.

The Irony of a Day Like Today...

As I was writing this as my status, I saw an opportunity to expand and share:
"When I feel like I struggle to believe how much my Abba Daddy loves me, situations happen like today - where someone might look and go "man, that sucks!" I look and go "I am so blessed, because that could've gone so many other ways..." Safe, protected, provided for... And we even made it to church on time. :) And that, my friends, is how I know that God was there in CT. That is how I know that in those times where life sucks and isn't going the way we think it should go... When troubles seem almost overwhelming... That's how I know that I can take a step back and go "I am blessed. I am loved." Because if I wasn't, I'm not sure my burden would have been quite so light. My God is not just a good God... He's a GREAT God!"

On my way to church at 8:30am, I was driving down a very icy road. As I went to turn at a green light, I wound up sliding right through, and since I had started turning, I had to correct myself. (probably) Over-correcting, my car swerved and turned until it jumped on the curb and slid off, doing a 180, finding myself facing traffic. I put on my blinkers and got out to look at the damage. A flat tire? Car still running? No other physical damage? "Awesome," I thought, "I'll just get it down the road and change the tire." A guy pulled up with his teenage kids and asked if we needed help. When we got it off the road to a parking lot, we got the spare out and put it on. It wound up that the spare was also flat. Not wanting me to wind up driving on my rim from losing my spare, the family offered to drive me and my friend to church a couple minutes away. As we thanked the family, we got to church just as it was starting. I walked in and felt so overcome by what had just happened, I broke down.

Now, yesterday I wrote a blog post about some things I struggle with... Believing people cared about me, struggling with knowing and accepting just how much God loves me... Today, I can say I know just how much God loves me and that people DO care. I serve an awesome God...

Potential situations that could have (and maybe should have) happened:
1) The light could've been red.
2) There could have been traffic around or behind me that could not have stopped.
3) I could have wound up in on-coming traffic.
4) I could have torn my bumper off (or any other number of car-related damage) from jumping the curb.
5) It could've been two tires.
6) No one could've stopped.
7) I could've rolled the car.
8) I could have run into the fence surrounding the yard where I went up on the sidewalk.

With the potentials in mind, I realized just how good my situation turned out. As I cried with thanks, I realized what it might have been like for the parents in CT... Waiting to see their kids. Finding them and being thankful, because other parents didn't turn out so lucky. I know my God was in CT, because the situation ended. Because there wasn't a second shooter at a second school. Because there wasn't a second shooter at that school in a different area. Because Victoria Soto hid her kids and sacrificed herself to protect them to avoid even more loss.

I know that God never gives us more than we can handle. I'm so certain - because as I slid and tried to turn on an icy sheet of a road, I felt a peace. I was willing to go wherever my car led me, even if it meant to the next street to turn. When my life doesn't go as I plan, do I fight it? Or do I wait for the next turn? I could handle slipping and sliding around on the road. I could handle changing a flat tire. But could I have handled greater damage? Could I have handled injury? Maybe not so much.

I know I serve a great God because of the trials we go through. If it weren't for the potentials, how would we know how safe we really are?

My Greatest Struggle

So, I haven't written anything in a while... Every time I sit down to write something, nothing comes to me. I'll write something, then decide I don't want to say it, so here it is...
I struggle with writing blog posts because I don't know how much of myself to reveal. I struggle with knowing what information is safe with which people, particularly because there are people in my life I can't trust to keep something private. I struggle with vulnerability because in previous moments of letting my guard down, I've gotten deeply hurt.
I struggle with being me, because I fear that if I'm me, people won't like me. I struggle with sharing me because I'm afraid people will leave me behind more broken than before.
I struggle with allowing myself to really feel what I'm going through and feeling. I struggle with accepting compliments because I don't feel deserving.
I struggle to accept the reality of what I've been through because I don't want to believe it happened. I struggle to think people care about my situation and my story, because "if they did, they'd ask about it."
But, I also struggle with reminding myself that I'm not the only one who goes through this. That I'm not alone. That my Abba Daddy loves me... And that is my greatest struggle.

The Parallels to Love

Some of my favorite memories from when I was about 6 or 7 was singing with my dad in our basement. He instilled in me a love for music and singing. I can remember him pulling out his guitar and teaching me different songs. To this day, if I hear a worship song I sang with him, it brings tears to my eyes. Now, my dad is in no way perfect, and as I got older I began to see the love leave his eyes and voice. I cling to the childhood memories as I faced the inevitable reality of growing up.

The heaviness of feeling abandoned brought to light another love that only gained in power the more attention I gave to it. It had always been there, but had been filtered through the love of my father: the love of my Abba Daddy. When I lost my father's love, there was something hanging on to me, keeping my head above water as my life changed drastically.

I don't know if you've ever thought about it, but the love your daddy has for you can, and generally does, determine how you view the love of God.

1 Corinthians 13:4-8:
Love is:
Patient
Kind
Not envious
Not boastful
Not proud
Not rude
Not self-seeking
Not easily angered
Keeps no record of wrongs
Does not delight in evil
Rejoices with the truth
Always protects
Always trusts
Always hopes
Always perseveres
Never fails.

That love, biblical love, sounds so nice, doesn't it? I remember my dad telling me he loved me "unconditionally." His love would never fail me. As I got older and learned that word didn't mean what I thought it meant, my idea of love was skewed. Love became conditional to me. I felt like "people would only love me if..." It altered my behavior so when I disappointed someone, I would feel sick, because I thought they couldn't love me. 1 Corinthians 13 tells us that's not love. It's so incredibly tough to grasp what real love is - especially in today's society. Maybe the fact that God's love is unconditional is something you, like me, struggle with on a daily basis? Maybe someone has told you they love you unconditionally, but in the end, you find out it was conditional? There are so many verses, I can't choose just one!
Proverbs 20:6 says, "Many a man claims to have unfailing love, but a faithful man who can find?"
Psalms is scattered with evidence of his unfailing love. In Psalm 13, the author was severely struggling with life. It was weighing him down. But the one thing he could count on was God's unfailing love.
Isaiah 54:10 tells us that it doesn't matter what we do: "Though the mountains be shaken and the hills be removed, yet my unfailing love for you will not be shaken nor my covenant of peace be removed," says the LORD, who has compassion on you."
God's love for me - for YOU - is unending. In Ephesians 3:17-19, Paul is praying that we "grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge--that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God." His love is that filling and that unending!!
I pray for you the same as Paul prayed for Ephesus and every Christian today: that you could grasp the unending love God has for you - seriously, no matter what you do, He'll never stop loving you.

Even Kings

I have to admit to you a love of mine. It might even be a love of yours, and if it is, GOOD CHOICE! Being a poetic and lyrical person, I have a deep, deep love for the book of psalms. Psalms is fantastic, and if you've never read it, please do at least once in your lifetime. The psalms are my favorite because of how completely they are able to relate to everyday life. They have such intense meaning, and they really make you feel what the author was feeling at the time of its penning. Even more so, I love the psalms because I am a huge, HUGE fan of the life and character of David. David was a "man after God's own heart." Now, I'm a woman, but I would LOVE to be known that way: as "a woman after God's own heart." David started off low on the totem pole. He was the shepherd boy that no one brought to mind when they heard the word "king" and even "defeating the Philistine giant."

Psalm 13 is one of those passages that you can read in a time of great distress, but by the time you're finished reading it, you're so emotionally involved in it that your mood changes with the attitude of the passage. Let's have a look at it, shall we?

"How long, oh Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me?
How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and every day have sorrow in my heart? How long will my enemy triumph over me?
Look on me and answer, oh Lord my God. Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep in death;
my enemy will say, "I have overcome him," and my foes will rejoice when I fall.
But I trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation.
I will sing to the Lord, for he has been good to me."

I can't imagine what David may have been going through when he wrote this! He felt like God had forgotten him. A KING felt like God had forgotten him. This incredibly powerful man, who had slain tens of thousands of men, was anointed by God, and defeated a giant, felt like God wasn't there. Wow. David didn't have it all together. David had a true yearning for God and an honesty with his pains that gives me hope. But, at times, I feel the same way David did. I feel forgotten by God. I feel like I can't see him. And I very much feel lost, confused, and troubled by my thoughts and the culmination of the things unclear in my life and heart.

Recently, a woman I look up to and trust my heart with prayed over me in my confusion. I didn't even know where to start. She asked for any examples, but the only thing I could say was "I don't know." You know how that feels? To not even know what you're confused about because there's so much else there? When she prayed, God gave her Psalm 13 to tell me. Psalm 13 is my current favorite passage in the entire bible. It relates so much to my life:
things are so unclear, I don't know what to do
I feel forgotten and lost
I feel like my enemies have it better than me and use it against me
but...
God's love for me is unfailing, even when I fail. I'm so grateful that I'm free by Christ's blood. I thank the Lord for the incredible friends he gave me that help me when I can't find my way. I sing to him, because he gave me a gift to give back to him.

When my friend said Psalm 13, my heart felt a burden being freed. Why? It reminded me of something I have personally found critical to my walk: when I feel like I'm at the lowest of low and there's no possible way I can get any further down, I need God to pull me up, and he'll only help me out of my pit if I ask him. The tears said it all - God has not forgotten me in my time of need. He gave me that verse because that was how I felt, but also because I needed the reminder that when I feel that way, even if I don't get answers, he'll bring me peace.

The Truth Shall Set You Free

It's summer. The season I should be using for a break, I've taken as a chance to grow and learn by several different means. I'm taking summer classes in order to enjoy my school year while graduating next year and I'm interning at my church, being poured into by wonderful people while gaining valuable work experience and facing growing opportunities.

One of my tasks as an intern is to attend women's bible study every Tuesday night. Now, this might have been something I would do anyway, but being able to be a more involved part of it has definitely brought more of a sense of belonging to the group. Currently, we're going through a series by Beth Moore, a petite southern speaker who has an incredible fire and passion for God, called "Breaking Free." As it's Independence Day, we recognize the freedom isn't free at all. It takes giving something up.

This last week's homework for the series was the kind of homework that you hate to love because of how directly it speaks to you, but you can't seem to stop working on because you're so involved in it that you'd feel guilty for not completing it. It's all about finding freedom by becoming free of captivity that, to be honest, I wasn't aware that I faced. We need to identify our weaknesses so we begin to rely on God as our strength.

"We tend to think our weakness is stronger than God's strength." - Beth Moore
Why? WHY do we think that? We do know that it's called a WEAKness for a reason, right? But how often to we think that our problems are bigger than God? "He can't handle what I've been through." "I've just committed too big a sin to be forgiven." "How could He still love me when I haven't shown Him love?" Sound familiar? But I know my God is almighty. He is powerful and bigger than anything I could throw at Him. I've had, and will continue to have, my fair share of issues. I've felt weak, abandoned, alone. I've had to rely on strength other than my own to get me through some really trying times. And no doubt I'll have to go through those times again. In fact, I find the times that I need help most are when I have to be honest - with myself, and with others.

Honesty is freeing. It's tough and growing and requires vulnerability. I don't like to be vulnerable. I have to have trust God and rely on Him to feel comfortable sharing the truth with people. Even just how I'm doing requires leaning on Him that nothing bad will happen in my vulnerability. When I rely on Him and am honest, I find a freedom that keeping whatever it may be inside prevents.

My challenge to you today is be honest with yourself. What's holding you back from your full potential? Self-confidence issues? Family problems? Difficulty overcoming denial of something that you know will grow you, simply because it's not comfortable? God never promised us comfortable. He promised growth.

It's Not Vacation... I'm Still Working On Myself.

This last week, I had the awesome opportunity to go to Hunters, Washington, to participate in a VBS at Cedonia Community Church (check 'em out here: http://cedoniachurch.blogspot.com/) as a crew leader. Now, I have to be honest: that position was not my first choice. See, as a junior high leader, Pre-K/K team member, and the various other areas of small group leadership I've had, I had "crew leader" down. I felt the need to grow elsewhere. But, I was placed as a crew leader. I was actually rather upset with that fact, but, because I knew that the devil would use it against me, I decided that I would go wherever I was needed with a servant mentality, since the trip was never about me anyway.

The very first night, we did foot washing at evening devos. The leaders went around the circle, washing the volunteers feet and praying over them. After I was prayed over, I hurried to the basement. It was quiet, and no one could hear me, so I walked around, talking to God, explaining to Him how I felt (even though I'm sure He already knew) while crying. I told Him I wasn't sure what He was doing, but I knew He had a plan. I know He still does, as I still have that longing to be beyond where I was - having a desire to grow in more areas.

But have you ever felt that way? Like you're supposed to be put somewhere and when you're not, you're kind of bitter and angry about it? It's almost like you feel God's telling you "this is where I want you" but when it doesn't happen, you get kind of frustrated and confused? That's where I was. I thought, "God, you said these were your plans for me, but I'm still at this spot. What are you doing? I thought you said this was how it was supposed to be."

It wasn't until A) I talked to someone about it and B) until I could overcome my bitterness that I really saw what God was doing. I had the mentality that THIS is where I would be at THIS time. But that wasn't God's timing. I still believe He has that plan for me. And now I know to WAIT patiently. Yet, how many times do we try to hurry up God's plans for us? We just disappoint ourselves and go through more hurt than we really need to go through. We have to learn to wait on God, and He will bring about His plans at the right time - the point where it will bring Him the most glory.