In Every Season.

I cracked my knuckles before I began this blog. And if you know anything about anything, you will understand and appreciate the significance of that statement. 

Everyone has moments, days, and years that stand monumentally in their past, that stretch their shadows far, far forward, even onto the future that hasn't arrived yet. Times that define us, mold us, and break us; times that fit together another piece of the puzzle and times that blow over our whole house of cards in one breath. They are beautiful things, they are tragedies, they are choice-driven, they are ordained; and my oh my, they deserve reflection. 

New Year's, 2008: I was enjoying Winterfest at Liberty University, Virginia. The music was so loud it hurt my ears, we were screaming and hugging, and my shoulders hurt so bad from head-banging improperly that I couldn't rotate my neck more that ten degrees to the right or left. If you would have taken a snapshot you would have seen me, surrounded with church friends like Ashlin and Amanda and Mitch, probably with our mouths wide open holding paper noisemakers, as bright confetti swirled  everywhere and lights flashing with a dizzying intensity. And I had no idea. 

February-March: Mental nightmare to the extreme. Between three AP classes, and church along with its activities and connect groups, working at least four days a week, and striving for a social life, I was drowning in my own desperate race. Throughout high school, these two months have always imposed precarious and similar predicaments, but this was the worst yet. I wasn't being fed and had no strength to run off of. 

April: Exams and stress. Mucho. 

May: I left and was almost destroyed. It is something I have struggled with, fought over, cried through, hated, and missed desperately, all in one— a package deal. I cannot describe with words the agony and simultaneous relief that flooded me from here on out, through the summer and lingering slightly even now. And "we"... you and I, my good friend... we ceased. I believe that hurt even worse than everything else, and it plagued me. It gave me nightmares for months. 

June: Little by little, I took a deep breath and let You do Your work. I opened my hands and simply learned what it was to exist, and do it with You. On the other hand, I isolated myself. I brutally hacked off each vine that connected me until they lay shriveled up, and I couldn't get hurt any more. This month was hard, but I found opportunity and a tendril was extended to me, with understanding, wisdom, and acceptance. It was not a saving grace, by any means, but I believe it was a foundational brick in my new relationship with You. 

July: I got into the Word. Hallelujah. This was the summer that I asked questions and got my answers and I thank God for every minute of it. I heard You and I ran in Your direction because I had nothing left to lose— everything I thought I had know had fallen away; I believe it was just in time for You to start building. This is when I began to grown noticeably, and it was a joyful time amidst my lingering loneliness. 

August: I turned seventeen and began my senior year, apprehensive but different. I say, not out of pride but out of hope, that I was cautious because of new-found humility. 

September-October: I struggled to get into the routine rhythm of school, but continued to dig spiritually. And I found in my angry, sinful little heart a resentment towards you, my friend, that had been momentarily calmed over July and August but sprang up again once I faced you every day. I couldn't look at you. It shames me to say it now, oh— shame. I constantly had to take you to God, over and over, and ask for forgiveness and peace, and eventually, love and healing. On the positive side, I discovered Rachel. Yay, my friend who is actually Spanish at heart. You are amazing and you helped when you didn't even know you were doing it. Thank you. 

November: Saturate. Oh. My. Word. Glory to God in the highest. This was my first true mountain-top experience, with the Holy Spirit showing up in a powerful way. I think it was here that I began to learn and know my Father intimately. Everything— the fall, the tear-down, the rebuild, the questions, the answers, the struggle— seemed to be pivotal on my preparedness for this. It was huge. In this month, God gave me a glimpse of just how deep a relationship with Him could go. Praise God. 

December: The struggle continues to put Him first daily, to continue growing, reading, sharing, fellowshipping. I have so much farther to go and so much more to learn. It's exciting and discouraging all at the same time, haha. This month, I shared with the youth and gave a small message. I struggled with relationships and dried out my tear ducts. I also laughed abundantly and gave reckless hugs and talked into the wee hours of the morning and had a beautiful Christmas with my family. Mmmm. 

And in all of this (which doesn't even cover a particle of everything that really happened), I think I have found that I can call this year, so far, the most challenging, emotional, and fertile year in my life. I have met people this year that I have come to love so much that it's almost scary, who's advice is timely and honest, who stick with me when I'm a "bum-jerk", who have shaped me and rubbed me smoother. I've got a long ways to go, oh yes, but they were a God-send. And I keep those who I am not so fortunate to see and talk to as often very close to my heart, despite everything— I keep a hope in the future. 

Thank you Jesus!— it is almost 2009. 

"Your Face!"

A smile is a fickle little thing. Because, you see, it's so very hard to get a good, honest smile; but once it appears it's impossible to mistake it for anything but what it is— genuine, joyful, sincere. People can be very fake about them; they prefer to grin. But a grin can be sarcastic or mocking, unlike a smile, which is always kind. Smiles, it seems, always bring a sense of relief. When someone smiles a true smile, it's like their whole body relaxes. It makes people around them relax, and gives others the feeling that it's going to be ok. It seems like that's what we work for sometimes— that sense of comfort, relief, and assurance. I'm so glad that God gave us facial expressions, because they are so useful and interesting and, well, expressive. 

But apart from that. 

I got the book "The Shack" for Christmas— finally. I read it in a few hours and it was certainly an entertaining read. And it seems to have some very good truths, and provide comfort, and possibly some answers to tough questions. But it's nagging me. It nagged me while I was reading it and as I pondered it afterwards. The whole things is bothersome because I can't put a finger on what's wrong with it. I guess the best way I can put it (and it comes out rather offensively) is that the way the Trinity is describe comes off a little... fake? Weird? Misconstrued? I'm cautious to voice too many questions or criticisms because I think I've become paranoid about the whole "watchmen" thing. I'm afraid I've become overly analytical; perhaps I have been ruined! Ha, just kidding, inside joke. I'm going to read it again (and definitely take my time) and see what I think about it this go round. I know many people have read it and absolutely loved it, which is why I was so excited about it when I opened it on Christmas morning, and I will definitely be posting more questions in the future, for the heck of it. 

I feel like my view of God is changing every day. Every day I don't see Him the same as the day before, and as a result it's like my relationship with Father is shifting and moving and setting up new boundaries. Is that good? Or does it make me indecisive? Whenever I read "My Utmost for His Highest" on the rbc website it smacks me in the face. I'm struggling through "Unto Full Stature"... either I haven't gotten to the good parts yet or I'm a moron. 

My Favorite Christmas Song.

O Come, O Come Emmanuel

And ransom captive Israel

That mourns in lonely exile here

Until the Son of God appears

Rejoice, Rejoice! Emmanuel

Shall come to thee O Israel.  

O come, thou rod of Jesse, free

Thine own from Satan's tyranny,

From depths of hell thy people save

And give them victory o'er the grave

Rejoice, Rejoice! Emmanuel

Shall come to thee O Israel. 

O come, Thou Day-Spring, come and cheer

Our spirits by thy advent here

Disperse the gloomy clouds of night

And death's dark shadows put to flight

Rejoice, Rejoice! Emmanuel

Shall come to thee O Israel. 

O come, thy Key of David, come

And open wide our heavenly home;

Make safe the way that leads on high

And close the path to misery

Rejoice, Rejoice! Emmanuel

Shall come to thee O Israel. 

O Come, O Come, thy Lord of might,

Who to Thy tribes, on Sinai's height,

In ancient times did'st give the law

In cloud and majesty and awe

Rejoice, Rejoice! Emmanuel

Shall come to thee O Israel!

Family

I am writing this because I need to write it. I am writing this because I know that it will never be read by who I want it to be read by, but in my heart of hearts I hope they stumble across it, and they have understanding. 

Family is a funny thing to me. And I suppose, if I want to be good about this, I need to start at the beginning if I want to have the intended ending. When I was little, my mom's mom (grandma) was my babysitter. I was always around family and adults, because I was the first grandchild and had the luxury of their undivided attention. I think this is what started it, this constant blanket of protection and soft laughter and voices and kind, older faces that fed me buttered noodles and "crumpets." I loved it. Not just the attention, but the fact that there was always someone around, and we were always going somewhere to do something with people who loved us. This was my mother's side of the family. She has a sister and two brothers, who both have families, and who all used to get together for big Christmas's at my grandma's house. It literally was "over the river and through the woods", with mounds of white snow and a real fireplace, old oak trees and a busy side street that bustled into town, and a neighborhood full of little children and twinkling colored lights. 

My dad's side was different. He has three brothers (one whole, two halves). They scared me and fascinated me all at the same time, because they were young and good-natured and sarcastic, and they loved my little brother to pieces. Being seventeen now and looking back, I'm sure they loved me just as well, but my childish mind at the time was timid and convinced that they didn't really like me. I almost dreaded seeing them because I couldn't bring myself to believe they were interested in me at all. We went to see dad's family first during the holidays, and always the day before the actual event. For example, we went to Nana's house on Thanksgiving and Christmas Eve, and grandma's house on Thanksgiving and Christmas Day. Nana's house was sophisticated, because my dad's parents aren't together and she lived in a neat little townhouse and she never looked any older than 45 and smelled like Red by Giorgio. And two of my uncles, Jason and Stephen, were always there. I would want to be so impressive and act so grown up, only to seem more childish and snotty. 

After we moved, family became estranged and lost a great deal of the  importance I once attached to it in my childhood. My support system had dissolved, so I found different things to stand on. A church family, good grades, books, piano, and a few close friends filled in the gaps, and they still do a decent job. But lately, I long to have grown up here. To still have that support system that will never leave, like some of the friends I have who don't seem to understand how blessed they are. But that is not the point of this blog (which is turning out to be much longer than I anticipated). 

The real point is my uncle. My dad's only full brother, who never seems to be around; for some reason, I always strove for his approval more than anyone else's, and he never knew. I think we are a lot alike, in some ways. But the only things that make up who I expect him to be are the things that my dad or my Nana have told me about him. I watched him from a distance as a child, and now, as an almost-adult, I still do. It's so funny that he requested to be my friend on Facebook, of all places, and now these memories and realizations come flooding in like the tide. My uncle is someone I remember as being quiet. I remember him as laughing over some joke that went way over my head, exchanging awkward gifts with other family members during the holidays, and as being melancholy. I believe that childhood gives you a sort of sensitivity that leaves you as you get older- I always sensed a detached air around him, as though he never really wanted to be there. I do not believe that family was ever so important to him as, well, everyone and everything else. I still feel that way, years and miles later, and it makes me wonder. I can't say that I was ever close to him, but I wanted to be close, and still do. I love my uncle, and more than anything else I want to be able to sit down with him, talk to him, ask him about life. I wrote him an email once. It was one of the most forward emails I have ever written, and bluntly honest. I wasn't surprised, and not a little hurt, to receive no response. I don't know what he's doing now, really. I called him on Thanksgiving (awkward.) I ask my dad why he doesn't call and check up on him. I only ask about him, not really anyone else. Everyone else, it seems, can take care of themselves, but I feel as though Jason can't. I am probably very wrong. What do I know? I don't know him. But I can't shake it, and this deep care about him has been in my heart for years and years... this mysterious man who I will never really know. I foolishly say that it is only my faith that keeps me from being his mirror image. 

The only thing I really want from him is a phone call. Heck, I'd be happy with a letter, anemail, even a stupid Facebook message. That would make my Christmas, even if I never saw him again. I want to tell him that I love him as his niece, that I hope he finds whatever sort of happiness he's looking for, that God still has a plan for his life, that I want to name my first boy-child after him. Jason. 

Oh, family. 

This is who I am:

"In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I've been turning over in my mind ever since. 

'Whenever you feel like criticizing anyone,' he told me, 'just remember that all the people in this world haven't had the advantages that you've had.'

He didn't say any more, but we've always been unusually communicative in a reserved way, and I understood that he meant a great deal more than that. In consequence, I'm inclined to reserve all judgments, a habit that has opened up many curious natures to me and also made me the victim of not a few veteran bores. The abnormal mind is quick to detect and attach itself to this quality when it appears in a normal person, and so it came about that in college I was unjustly accused of being a politician, because I was privy to the secret griefs of wild, unknown men. Most of the confidences were unsought - frequently I have feigned sleep, preoccupation or a hostile levity when I realized by some unmistakable sign that an intimate revelation was quivering on the horizon; for the intimate revelations of young men, or at least the terms in which they express them, are usually plagiaristic and marred by obvious suppressions. Reserving judgments is a matter of infinite hope. I am still a little afraid of missing something if I forget that, as my father snobbishly suggested, and I snobbishly  repeat, a sense of the fundamental decencies is parcelled out unequally at birth. 

And, after boasting this way of my tolerance, I come to the admission that it has a limit. Conduct may be founded on the hard rock or the wet marshes, but after a certain point I don't care what it's founded on. When I came back from the East last autumn I felt that I wanted the world to be in uniform and at a sort of moral attention for ever; I wanted no more riotous excursions with privileged glimpses into the human heart..."

--The Great Gatsby 

...Random Español

Este domingo, tengo una oportunidad muy emocionante. Pero, estoy un poco asustado porque.... no sé por qué. 

Spanish... it's great. 

Get me out of high school. I don't want to complain on my blog but I need a little vent-time, too. Every day when Raquel and I go to the cafeteria we fantasize that we are on a college campus. Yes, it's premature and maybe even childish, but our daydreams are so wonderful. She's at State, I'm at UNC. We sit outside and it's sunny and we're chatting with friends or just enjoying the weather, eating our lunch. Or maybe we're out at some quaint little coffee shop grabbing a bite. Or with our girlfriends in someone's dorm, cooking together and laughing. I am tired of high school! But enough. 

Sly and I exchanged letters today. They are really long or I would copy them word-for-word, so in short they said: "Dear Sly, I have to tell you about Jesus...[proceed two pages of 'the great commission']" He replies: "I respect what you believe. Right now I don't know what I believe but your faith is admirable and I am learning..." I took heart in the seed-planting aspect. I don't mind so much that I probably won't see the sprout. I think I am growing in this. Hopefully. I wonder what it would be like in college, trying to tell someone about Jesus. Will it be harder? Um.... yeah, definitely, haha. 

Ese es por qué estoy nervioso sobre domingo. 

The boy I sit next to in English... I am worried about him. Immensely. He trips [not a reference to clumsiness], and I'm afraid I'm going to watch the news and find out that he o.d.'d and is dead. Tonight he said he was taking double what he normally trips. What if he...? What if...? And most of all, why? I fear for him. He thinks it's funny. 

El mundo necesita el Padre. Él te necesita, pero no te conoce. 

A Spoon Full of Sugar

I feel like you have been prepping me for what is to come. I feel like this is part of the prep work. Or maybe there is no prep and we are just thrown in. We all start at the beginning- how can there be any preparatory beginning? There is only beginning, and then an end. 

I hate these "espresso shots of Jesus" that I've been getting lately. They only last for a couple hours, and then comes the crash. I say to myself, why am I struggling? Then I realize I am only giving God coffee-shop potential in my life; essentially, my spiritual life has consisted of espresso shots of prayer and Bible time. You can't live off of coffee, and boy do I need to sit down to a good meal and eat my fill at Your table, taking as long as I possible can, savoring every bite... 

Two words have been occupying my thought life lately: magnetized and consistent. They seem to sum up everything in a way that my brain can comprehend. Those two words convict me, challenge me, strengthen me... not by themselves, of course, but the Holy Spirit has definitely been prompting them on. 

Can we get real? I mean, seriously. I've been so irritated lately at myself and, most hypocritically, everyone else. This world is so life-sucking and we as a human race can be so fake and material and it's a breath of fresh air whenever someone (especially myself) GETS it and takes time to be real. 

Something that's been on my mind: my heart. It's vulnerable, hopefully, inconsistent, immature, shy, loving, BIG, soft, critical, afraid... and I need it to be protected. I mean, half of the time it's hanging off of my sleeve, ready to drop onto the floor at any moment, and I'm constantly cradling it like a ticking time bomb. God that song "I Don't Regret" hits home so much it's scary. I want you to keep my heart and lock it away until I can be trusted with it. And I mean that in so many ways I can't even describe them all. Keep it for the friends You ordain to enjoy it. Keep it for my future husband, who will one day capture it. Keep it for my future children, who will one day make it full. But most of all, keep it for Yourself, because You already love it. 

So random. 

"I Don't Regret" Barlow Girl

They're telling me, 

They're concerned for the way I am living,

That I'll miss it all,

Why should I think that God is that trusting,

I can't explain

All the words He has spoken to my heart

Why I want Him more...

And I don't regret choosing You,

And I'm not ashamed

That it's you who holds my heart. 

Why do we think,

If we trust God too much He will fail us

Nothing has come

When I chose that it's in me I trust,

Separate me, 

You have called out to follow you blindly

I won't fear, you're leading me...

And I don't regret choosing You,

And I'm not ashamed

That it's you who holds my heart. 

You have show my ever wandering heart

What love is

What on earth is more important than to have

All of you? 

Oh I don't regret choosing You

And I'm not ashamed

That it's you who holds my heart. 

A Quick Break...

So I'm working on my senior project and had to take a small breather. I'm on my couch, next to our front window, and I feel compelled to describe to you, my friend, the breathtaking view I'm beholden to. 

Across the street, which is dusky and black, the neighbors have turned on a few Christmas lights; the multi-colored glow of plastic trees looks cheerful and warm, and dimly illuminates the cold evening air with an unusual radiance. As your gaze wanders idly up into the sky, the tree line serenades you with a few straggling fingertips, waving in a chilling breeze, dipping gently back and forth. Beyond them, the sun has finally slipped beneath it's blanketed horizon, and washed the sky with a color so beautiful it makes my eyes tear up. The delicate, precise pinks and oranges resemble a flaming temple, dying slowly into a glowing bed of embers that warm the edge of the world until it's crispy and toasted, blushing as it tells the world goodnight. Finally, the periwinkle sheets come up, oh so softly up and over, until the faint afterglow is merely a wisp beneath the skyline. The modest azure deepens as the comforter is laid out, deep blue and dazzling, and you tilt your head back a little farther and see the first good winter star, winking at you far, far beneath. You imagine the coldness stinging your nose and filling your lungs with sharp, sweet air, underlined with crushed pine straw and rotting leaves, peppermint and someone grilling ribs. The wind whips your hair and brings redness to your cheeks, and you laugh like you've never laughed before because the world is just so wonderful that you have to be a part of it; you must be a part of the wonder because you are so filled with it. Unadulterated joy cascades, unbidden, all around you and sweeps you up into the black, black sky, pinpricked with so many constellations that you imagine God stringing His Christmas lights out just for you to see, sparkling and celebratory... 

And then mom says "Close the blinds, Kristina! The sun is gone."