Choices, Choices...

There are so many things in this life that we have absolutely no control over. It can even be rather maddening when you realize just how few things you are actually in charge of. So, what can you control?

• The remote. It’s called a “remote control,” after all.
•  Who you vote off the island, Dancing with the Stars, the Amazing Race, etc. (Sadly, you have no control over The Bachelor, though.)
•  How you respond to situations.

Ahhh one of these things isn't like the other. That last one was serious. Good catch. You’re a smart one. *wink*

Personal responses are really all we can control. I've kind of been realizing this lately. I went through some situations recently that caused me to panic. It took me weeks to realize that I could actually control when I panicked and that I didn't have to if I didn't want to. I am in charge of my emotions, not the other way around.

In the same way, I’m in charge of my own happiness. We often say, “you make me so happy!” or “pizza makes me happy.” This is true. These things can lead to happiness, but at the end of the day, I am the only person who is able to decide when I am happy. So, I've been learning how to be happy for others, even when my first response might be a less-desirable emotion. I've been learning how to choose happiness for myself too.

Love is kind of the same thing. Contrary to fairy tale ending, follow-your-heart preaching, love is a choice. It’s not just the warm fuzzy feelings. Those are important too. But those don’t last. I've watched relationships close to me go through horrible changes and absolute destruction, only to hear the involved parties tell each other that they still loved each other, even if they didn't feel like they did.

At first, this was kind of shocking. I mean, no one wants to lose that romance. I still think it’s important to hang onto that and try to keep it alive. But even if it goes out, the most important thing is that the initial love is still there.

It’s a choice. It’s a choice to get up in the morning and pray for him. It’s a choice to take care of him when he’s sick. It’s a choice to want his well-being over yours. It’s a choice to rejoice with his success. It’s a choice to deny that base, sense of jealousy. It’s a choice to remain faithful. It’s a choice utter kind words that will build him up.

So today, I choose peace. I choose happiness. And most of all, I choose love. 

As If Those Moments Were Going to Go on Forever.

“Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and images of Mom Mom play through my brain. I see her shuffling through the house on those last days. She just went about her day, a little slower than before, but other than that, just the same. It was really cool to watch her live those moments, as if those moments were going to go on forever.”

As if those moments were going to go on forever.

Those words echoed over and over in my head. I was already crying on the phone as I talked to my mom. It hadn't been a particularly hard day, but I had awakened that morning and my first thought was to pray for Mom Mom. And then, I remembered. Any time Mom Mom is my first thought, and I have to remind myself that she’s gone, somewhere along in the day, I’ll end up in tears. 

I've been having a bit of a hard time lately. It’s been various things, but my boyfriend, my best friend, and my mom have been the best and strongest people in my life, because they've listened to all of my worries, my rants, my irrational fears, my spiritual troubles, and (as with this conversation) my tearful confessions.

But amidst all of my little problems, the spiritual battle that I've been facing lately, and my lack of faith and belief, I was reminded last night of something so important.

As if those moments were going to go on forever.

                Isn't that how we are supposed to live? I've been letting my worries and my own personal issues disrupt my life, at least mentally. I've been placing today’s concerns upon tomorrow, and worrying about the future. We were never meant to live that way. Here I am, 25, in perfect health, letting little things eat away at my peace. Yet, there was my great grandmother, well into her 90s, and on her very last days, she wasn't worried. She wasn't fretting about what would happen to her, what she would be doing tomorrow. No. She was shuffling back and forth from her bedroom and her living room, in her pajamas, waiting for the next PBS special to come on. She was giving me bridge toll, as if it was simply a normal visit and nothing had ever changed—as if nothing would ever change.

Was it denial? Not at all. She knew she was dying. She just didn't care. She still had life, so she was living it.

I cried. I cried so hard last night. Big, gasping sobs. I am inspired by how Mom Mom lived. But it doesn't mean that I don’t miss her every single day.

“How long does it take to stop hurting?” I asked my mom.

“Sometimes it takes a long time,” she replied. “I tried to prepare you,” she said, her voice trailing off.

I nodded, but she couldn't see it. “I know,” I said. “I just didn't want to believe it.”

It’s been 6 months and I’m still learning how to deal. But I guess more importantly, I’m still learning how to live.

This Time, I Want to Do It Right

This time, I want to do it right.

I want to trust you so perfectly

That I’ll never doubt you.

I want to believe in you

More than I believe in myself.

I want to love you in such a way

That if nothing else, I can at least say

That I loved you as perfectly

As this imperfect person can.

I want to think about your needs

So much that I put them above my own.

I want to consider you

Before I consider myself.

I want you to be free.

I want you to dance and live

As you always have.

I just want to dance with you.

I want us to find God together,

Pray together,

Read together,

Love God more than we love each other.

This time I want to do it right.

The Mystical Stuff

This is a blurb from my current story:

“I don’t understand the mystical stuff,” he said pensively.

“I wasn't raised on fairy tales or fantasy. I don’t dabble in the mysterious or the haunting. I never believed in soul mates or that love is predestined. Yet, I can’t help this persistent feeling that no matter where you were in the world, and no matter where I was, even far away from you, that if anything happened to you, I’d know. Because you are so much more than just a girl. You are the smoke that curls and vanishes in the wind. You’re here with me now, but you could slip away at any second. You’re nothing like other people. You’re ethereal, a shadow of a human. You have the shape and form of a woman, yet, I fully believe that you are something else entirely. You are Victorian; you are haunting; you are beautiful. You are strong and fragile at the same time. I rest in your strength, yet I am hesitant to even hold your hand or stroke your face for fear that I might damage your perfect visage. If anything ever separated us, whether it was time or distance or death or another life entirely, I’d tear away at the fabric of time. I’d charge through the distance. I’d defeat death. I’d conquer life. Nothing could keep me from you. It’s a strange, strange magic, this power you have over me. But I've never felt or experienced anything like it in my life, and the more I have of it, the more I crave it. I dare say it will kill me in the end, but for today, I take it in like a sweet poison and I’ll never get enough."

Season of Darkness

Sometimes you just get tired. Sometimes you’re tired of being alone.

I've got lots of friends, wonderful family, and I am loved. I always feel loved. But there are days when you look around the house and you miss family. Friends come to visit, and then they leave. I never feel lonely until they leave. I have the world’s best roommates, but we each live our individual lives, and the house is empty a lot.

Winter is a season of darkness. As long as I can remember, my memories of winter are shaded in different hues of gray. I don’t know if I’m vitamin D deficient, or in need of one of those fancy sunlamps, but I've always thought of winter as being almost the equivalent of darkness. Even the sunny days feel dark somehow.

The car, my beloved Betsy, is a source of a lot of worry these days. I feel like every single time I go to start her, something else is wrong. Lately, it has been every single time: bumpers, cracked windshield, wiper motor…

Get it together, Betsy.

But seriously, friends ask why I don’t just buy a new car. They haven’t seen my bank account. They don’t know my loan repayments each month. I wish they would just stop suggesting it. It isn't going to happen. It actually kind of hurts my feelings.

And here’s the really stupid thing. Every time something bad happens to the car, it feels like I’m losing Mom Mom all over again. Betsy was a gift to me from my great grandmother. She’s gone now, and I guess that in my mind, I've sort of come to see the car as all I've got left from her. In a way, the car represents Mom Mom.

I cried like a baby when I skidded on ice and for the first time in my life, had a bit of a car accident a few weeks ago. I felt like I had let my great grandmother down. I know that you’re not supposed to put this much care and love into a car, a material possession, but I can’t help it. Mom Mom was the only grandparent I've had who was there with us kids for our entire lives, who cared enough to make time for us, to see us, to love us. I mean, I had 25 years with her. That’s a long time.

So, I haven’t let go. Instead, I've put all of my grief into this car, this hunk of metal and (from the way the front bumper shattered with only 8 mph impact) plastic.

I guess that I’ll slowly figure this all out. It’s not a cry for help. It’s not a declaration that my life sucks, because it doesn't. I’m just tired. I’m still grieving. And some days, I just come to the realization that I’m far from the people I love most, and I have to do this on my own. 

Speak to Me

Speak to me in music,

The sound of songs I've never heard.

Let me here those untold lyrics,

Reach my heart with every word.

Speak to me in poetry,

Rhythmic lines running down the page.

Recite to me spontaneous lines

Or words from another age.

Tell me a story,

A tale from your past.

Let the words burn in my memory,

An image that will always last.

Express to me what is in your heart.

May it pour forth in ink and air.

My ears hear, but more than that,

My heart will listen to what you share.

For Good.

A few blogs ago, I wrote about a phone conversation with my mother that had gone like this:

“You know, these last two years have been the hardest ones of my entire life,” I said. “If I took all of the bad, tragic things that have ever happened to me, about 90% of them happened between 2013 and 2014.”

“I know,” my mother answered on the end of the other line. “It’s true. It’s been that way for us too."

This is true. These have been the hardest years of my life. When I was standing there, deep in the muck of depression and heartache, I thought I would never get out. I felt like God had abandoned me. But, he hadn't.

Oddly enough, it was in these moments that he stood the closest. He whispered in my ear, and he held my hand while I slept. When I cried out in my heart for him, he heard me, and he not only carried me through the mire of despair, but he delivered me from my darkest moments.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,

I will fear no evil;

For You are with me (Psalm 23 nkjv).

Last night while talking on the phone with someone, I had a “perspective moment,” where I think God allowed me to look back on the past several years and realize how far he’s brought me. Yes life has been hard. Yes, I lost loved ones. Yes, my heart was broken.

But something has changed.

I’m beginning to see God’s hand through all of the brokenness. God’s been slowly changing things in my life, putting together all the shattered pieces. And last night, I realized for the first time, that I’m starting to see pathways from the bad stuff, which has led to some good stuff. And it hit me, that if I hadn't gone through some of those difficulties, I wouldn't have been ready for some of the blessings that I now have.

Now, I’m able to more fully appreciate the gifts that God’s given me, and I’m able to help others who are going through similar trials that I went through. If I hadn't gone through those times, I wouldn't have been able to do either of those things. I’m reminded of this verse in Genesis,

You meant evil against me; but God meant it for good, in order to bring it about as it is this day (Genesis 50:20).

So, I know this is small, just a little taste of how God works…

But for me, it’s a big thing.