//memories…

This morning we drove to Mayo so my sister and I could get tested for hereditary paraganglioma-pheochromocytoma syndrome. Basically just drawing our blood to check for a mutated gene. It’s dominant, so there’s a 50/50 shot for each of us. We find out in 2-3 weeks.

As we were driving, I started to get nervous. Why? I was trying to figure that out - and then it hit me: the last time we drove here all together was the day of my dad’s surgery a year ago. Has it already been a year? And that’s the moment where memories started to surface, and still haven’t stopped. That season of my life is a blur, yet so crystal clear at the same time. I remember driving down there before the surgery. The entire car ride was silent. That could’ve been his last day, and still nobody said anything. The six hours between the time I said goodbye and hearing that he had made it were the weirdest I had ever experienced. It was literally like someone had pushed pause on my life. Floating. Numb. And I was numb anyway. I had just started going back to school when he went into heart failure on April 10th. I was barely hanging on in the first place. The month in between then and his surgery was surreal. My mom had shut down, but still made it look like everything was fine. Meanwhile I was cooking (which FREAKED me out), checking my sister’s homework, keeping people updated, cleaning, trying so hard not to mess up my own life more because they already had enough on their plate. I remember running until I couldn’t breathe. Sitting and staring at walls because I didn’t know what to do. After the surgery I remember driving 90 minutes after school to stay for a few hours before driving back to work and going to school. School…how did I do that? I remember spending long hours at the hospital, the smell making me squirm. It made me feel like I was back. Trapped. 

I will always hate the smell of hospitals. 

Memories like this come back. And although I really don’t like to deal with them, there’s still a lot that stems from that part of my life and impacts how I live right now. I still haven’t cried about it, really. I still can’t cry in front of my parents…however, that’s another story for another day. I didn’t really expect all of this to come flooding back so easily.

I need to spend some time with Jesus and get this sorted. 

//hey ho…

Here’s something annoying: I’ve felt completely mentally constipated for the past week or so. It’s so WEIRD. I can’t think straight, can’t get my thoughts out clearly, can’t write with the usual rhythm, can’t speak without tripping over my own words. Lots of things going through my mind, some of which I understand. That doesn’t even make sense in itself. Told you.

And I think that kind of describes my life right now. Still in between…close, but yet far. Time supposedly moving fast, but I don’t see it. It’s almost a week since Kosovo, which feels like it didn’t happen. Relationships are somehow still functioning, barely. Knowing who I am, yet not feeling it. Nonchalant, yet intense. Twisty and garbled, yet simple. Growing, yet wary. Tired, but not quite weary. Tying a knot at the end of my rope, determined to hold on. A lot of memories resurfacing that I would rather not hold in my thoughts. Trying to forget, yet remembering. Anticipating, yet waiting. Painstakingly. 

//in a moment…

First of all, when you listen to a recording of a Jesus Culture song, you can feel the Holy Spirit. That is NOTHING compared to hearing them played live, and I mean it. Seriously, I could’ve stayed there all night. I’ve never had so many goosebumps in my life.  I don’t even know how to describe it. The presence of God was SO strong and thick in that room. I laughed, I cried…God just poured out His love on me. I have goosebumps just thinking about it.

As I was going over there, powering through an April blizzard (um. what.), I just prayed that God would do something new in my heart. So we’re worshipping, and I’m expectant. It’s not that nothing happened, because something did. But it didn’t come in the way that I expected.

God really brought my attention to my relationship (or lack thereof) with my mom. I think I’ve been so focused on my dad because he’s the one who has verbalized the things that they talk about when they bring me up. Because God is my Father, it would make sense that I would see most of my misconceptions and distortions about who He is would coming from the example of my father in my life.

God revealed to me last night that there’s still a lot of hurt from my mom, too. But it’s so deep and so painful that I push it aside and just pretend like I don’t care. Not that I don’t care about them, but that it doesn’t affect me. The thing that scares me about that is this: (and now I have tears rolling down my face. awesome) there’s God as my Father, right? There’s that trust that no matter what my earthly father says or doesn’t say, does or doesn’t do, God is there. He’s my Daddy. 

And I know that God is everything, more than I can even understand. But where is my mom? 

It seems easiest to blame myself, though I know I can’t do that because it won’t get me anywhere. I don’t understand why I can’t just trust them. 

As God has revealed this to me, He’s also just filled my heart to overflowing. Not that it doesn’t hurt, or that realizing that once again, things are deeper than I realize isn’t atleast a little disheartening. I have this insane amount of hope that God will provide, whether that’s changing my heart as He changes my mom’s, or changing my heart as He provides someone else to take that spot, or changing my heart as He remains sufficient in weakness. 

You can love me more in a moment, than other lovers could in a lifetime.

//blessed, blessed, blessed…

1. A random person/group of people went on Amazon and bought me almost everything I still need for the BAS. AND a cat dress.

A cat dress. 

2. Yesterday Jesus got me a free ticket to Jesus Culture tonight.

3. Three people have volunteered to make me skirts. One of which I have never met in my life.

4. New friends. Lots of them, popping up everywhere.

5. I prayed for money for my anchor tattoo, and that same day the people I nanny for on Wednesdays asked if I could on Tuesdays as well. So I’m getting it two weeks from Saturday.

6. I’m leaving for Kosovo a week from today.

7. God has been teaching me SO MANY things, and just filling my heart to overflowing, and I’m in love with Him.

Thanks God!

//redeemed…

Sometimes I lose sight of the fact that this season is temporary. That my identity is not based in where I lay my head at night, or what people say about me. 

This past week has been rough. That’s for sure. I’ve been looking at the waves, at the mountains I have yet to climb here. I was overwhelmed, stressed out - and when that happens, shame starts to creep in. I start to feel like I’m not enough and yet far too much at the same time. Shadows of old thought patterns elbow in, lying to me about my worth, significance, purpose. I start to attempt to operate in my own strength because I feel like I have to earn grace, I have to strive and strive and strive until I’m finally to a place where God can say that I’m enough, loved, acceptable to be His.

But that’s not true.

I’m praying into this, because I NEED to grab hold of it. Not just on days where things go well, and ministry is fruitful, and children are dancing with me. But on days where people die, or words are flung at me that momentarily shatter me and take my breath away. On days where tears are shed in secret, days are long, relationships fake. I AM REDEEMED. Not because of anything I’ve done, not because I’m “good enough” or finally “worth loving”. Whatever! It’s not me! It’s Him! THAT is grace. THAT is freedom. Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom! That’s what the Word says. And the Spirit of the Lord lives IN ME…which means that, whether I feel it or not, I am free. Whether I let it permeate every part of my identity or not, I am free. Whether I willingly bind myself up in chains of shame or not, I am free. No matter what my family says, I am free. No matter what I do or do not do, I am free. I was not made for self-sufficiency and independence. And although I’ve lived that way my whole life, that needs to change. I’m giving it up. Letting it go.

Unconditional love is not conditional. (Duh.) Really though! I don’t know that in my heart yet, and I’m not going to pretend that I do. But I’ve just been hit with it. He loves me. Me.

Me. 

//and then…

and then there are days where you sit in the empty bathtub, pen and paper in hand, fingers scribbling…until your eyes blur the page in front of you. Blink away the tears, but they won’t stop coming.

Jesus.

/Father heart…

: something vital to how I see and interact with God.
: something I know I don’t fully grasp yet.
: yet something I’m called to minister anyway.

Last night I got to share the Father heart of God with some kids at my old youth group. Tears, revelation, visions, peace. Moments of letting go, embracing Jesus, or rather, letting Him embrace them. I also got to see Jesus take pain out of someone’s foot who just had surgery. That was sweet!

At first, I was frustrated though. Why would God use me to minister something to these people that I didn’t even understand myself? And then I got frustrated with myself. How come I could say all of these things, knowing in my head and in my spirit that they were absolutely true, but then not believe them in my core? Am I holding onto my perception of fathers so tightly that I’m not allowing God to sweep it away? Am I scared to let go the safety net of distrust I’ve built around myself? Is that really even there, or am I falling yet again into the cycle of thinking that I have to strive and be constantly changing to earn His love?

So many questions. After that youth group, I drove over to my other church for this event for the young adult population called 20+. It was really awesome. The speaker was from Judah Smith’s church in Seattle, and he spoke about the story in Acts where Peter and John are threatened because they’re talking about Jesus. Their response?

“But Peter and John spoke right back, “Whether it’s right in God’s eyes to listen to you rather than to God, you decide. As for us, there’s no question—we can’t keep quiet about what we’ve seen and heard.”” -Acts 4:19-20

They had seen and heard too much to keep silent. I want my life to be like that. Because I’ve seen and heard way more than I often realize.

Later one of my friends came up and tapped me on the shoulder. God told her to tell me that He was going to provide $20,000 for my BAS. She had no idea how much I need to fundraise. How cool is that?! Come on! Then they played the song “Oceans” by Hillsong, and everyone just sang at the top of their lungs. Favourite.  And it was there that God spoke. He doesn’t call the qualified, He qualifies the called. I don’t have to understand the Father heart of God to minister to people around me, because it’s not ME that’s changing hearts. I’m just the vessel. Peter didn’t understand how he was walking on water, but that doesn’t mean that it wasn’t possible. He didn’t have to understand He just had to trust.

Later, as I was driving home, I realized something else: God had provided me with friends who love the Lord. I had forgotten that I had been praying for that! He surrounded me with people to encourage and do life with me without me even realizing it! I made it through that last season! It’s over!
Hallelujah.

 

//things I love…

This morning I’ve been thinking about the little things. Obviously I love Jesus, and travel, and all sorts of other big-picture things. (Though I could argue that Jesus is both. I’m not putting Him in a box, don’t worry.)

But you know, it’s the little things that make my heart light up. Things like…

Ocean hair. That perfect collision of sunshine with sand and saltwater. Messy, easy, yummy, and yet socially acceptable.

That new-book smell. It’s weird. But I could seriously crack open the spines of new books and smell them for a long time. Probably too long.

Living out of a suitcase. It keeps me simple.

Words. If words were edible, I’m sure they would be delicious. I have this great appreciation for those individuals who have the ability to put them together in a way that makes them just sit right on top of your heart for a little bit. Juicy. Writing that requires digesting and processing. That’s the stuff.

Handwriting. It amazes me that everyone’s is different. Big loops to wavy cursive to tiny little soldier letters. I feel like I know a person that much more when I can read what they’ve written with their own hands. Pen and paper is not dead, folks.

Deep conversations, but more than that, the heartfelt, pregnant, and silent joy of the silence that comes right after. The wow-we-just-exposed-our-guts feeling that coincides with compassion, happy tears, and building deep relationships. Yum.

Espresso. Thick, rich, I’m-about-to-grow-hair-on-my-chest espresso. Preferably paired with some laughter and a good hair day.

Airports. I like to think of them as my friends. Usually people who are traveling have pretty interesting stories. And it amuses me that people from all over the place can be in the same spot for moments at a time and then never cross paths again. Every single one of them different. Are they about to see their family for the first time in years? Do they have children at home waiting for their absent father to influence them? Are they starting new? It’s fascinating to think about.

Sunrises/sets. They never fail to astound me. The fact that God takes the time to paint the sky all sorts of brilliant colors, only to have them fade in a matter of minutes speaks to me. Beauty like that can’t be ignored. I love that pictures don’t ever do them justice.

Pretending I’m a rock star in the shower. It keeps me sane, and also mildly entertained. I usually laugh at myself more than other people do. And I’m okay with that.

You’ll need coffee shops and sunsets and road trips. Airplanes and passports and new songs and old songs, but people more than anything else. You will need other people and you will need to be that other person to someone else, a living breathing screaming invitation to believe better things.
Jamie Tworkowski

//starring me, as myself…

I’ve learned a few things about myself in the past week. These include, but are not limited to:

»I suck at relaxing. This definitely ties in with the mindset I grew up in of nothing ever being enough. I always feel like there’s always something more I could be doing. 

»That also tends to carry into my relationship with God. Trying to earn grace, striving to do more good things, feeling like I have to earn His love. Man, that’s tough. I don’t think I have even still fully realized how deeply embedded that one is in the way I think about myself and about God.

»If I don’t have some sort of alone time, I will go nuts. Example A: this past week. Vacations are awesome, don’t get me wrong. But I literally had ZERO alone time. By the end of the week, I was frustrated. Tan, mind you, but frustrated.

»I crave realness. After being exposed to the epitome of vulnerability and honesty in DTS, it drives me nuts being in the midst of fakeness at home. I need to be more intentional about finding people who will be real with me.

»Jesus doesn’t go on vacation. He’s always a workin’. (story here.)

»Learning about myself and knowing my weaknesses is vital to trusting God to make me more like Him, as well as letting other people “know” me as well. 

//blah…

In that place where I’m fed up with relationships not working, with people not getting me, with time moving slowly. Things start to mess with my head.

There is purpose, there is grace, there is provision…it’s just really difficult to see right now. I’m discouraged.

We need not be ashamed that our hearts ache; that we need, and thirst and hunger for more. All of our hearts ache. All of our hearts are at some level unsatisfied and longing for more. It is our insatiable need for more that drives us to our God.
Captivating