Monday, June 29, 2009

6 Minutes with Jesus.

Oh!- Glory, glory to the Father, King of kings and Holiest of holies. God, what can I say to you? You are amazing and uncontainable, the first and last, the one who was and is and is to come. You are beauty and fire and life and judgement and love. Love, God, such a God of love.

"What do I know of you
Who spoke me into motion?
Where have I even stood
But the shore along your ocean?
Are you fire are you fury,
Are you sacred, are you beautiful?
So what do I know—
What do I know of holy?" --Addison Road, "What Do I Know of Holy?"

Father, Father, Father. I am in love with You. Desperately, uncontrollably, and joyfully in love with You. You fill me. You make me. You are everything, God... Everything. The only important thing in life, the only thing that really matters, is You. You are so BIG, God, and vast! So mighty and incredible! Who am I, who am I, to praise you, to pray to you, to know you? Lord! You are so good. I can't even describe with human words your goodness, Father. I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you!

Tonight, I reaped the consequences of what I sowed and I am so glad. Tonight, I was six minutes late. For the next six times I go out, my curfew is 10:00. But I am glad. Because the six minutes of prayer that made me miss curfew by six minutes was so pure, and so good, and so heartfelt, that I could not wish it any other way. I am joyful that it was so! I would not trade those six minutes of prayer to make curfew for anything in the world. Father, I cannot contain this love for you that is bubbling inside me right now. I stand in AWE of you, Lord, incredulous awe, because I cannot fathom you or your goodness. I. Love. You.

And Father! The way you revealed yourself as we prayed, as a group and as a pair... God! You are themostamazingthingihaveeverseenoforheardofinmylife. The way you move, the way you work, the way the Holy Spirit is poured out, is unbelievable! So much, God, you bless us so much. How undeserving we are! I trust you. I trust you with everything I have and everything I am, my very life I would cast aside to love you and be close to you, following your will. Wow.

Lord. Keep this love and build it. Between me and You. Between me and my family. Between me and my friends. Between me and my church. Between me and Luke. Build it, grow it, shape it, mold it, keep it pure, keep it fresh, keep it active. Keep it sincere.

Praise and Glory to you, Jesus.

Friday, June 26, 2009

Grassroots.

I've finally come to the conclusion that I don't trust God to love me when I make mistakes. I don't believe He will want to listen to me when I need to talk to Him. It's a sad, sad place to be, and it's not only ruining my relationship with Him, but my relationships with everyone else.

As you probably know, I love people. One of the things I like the most is hearing what they have to say— I love to listen. Because really, people need it, and no one does it enough any more. I need to watch it or I'll get on my little soapbox, but honestly, it's hard to find anyone who is willing to listen to another person talk for more than a few minutes. We are so self-consumed! Anyway, you can always tell when whomever you're talking to becomes disinterested in your conversation, because their body language gives them away. I've learned the classic signs over the years, so I can take the cue and shut up. You see, people who are bored with listening don't look you in the eye. They typically fidget or play with something, but think it's unobtrusive. But the tell-tale sign is that they usually end up cutting into whatever it is you're saying; whether it's to simple break your train of thought or direct things back to themselves depends on the person. That's when you know you're not free to talk anymore past surface level concepts.

Monday, June 22, 2009

Firefly.

Dear God,

I don’t know what to say. I should be praying for the people in Africa right now who have AIDS. I should be praying for the Christians in Iran and Sudan who are being persecuted. I should be praying for the homeless, the starving, the abused, the lost, the mistreated… but I’m not. Instead, I’m focusing on my own self and my own “issues” as if they were the most important things. But the truth is, they’re not. In reality, what is going on with me in my life isn’t all that significant. It’s certainly not what you want to hear about…is it? I guess I’m confused on who you are. Oswald Chambers is yelling about how we shouldn’t be praying to you about ourselves because we should know you intimately enough to not have to. How do I achieve this? It seems impossible! Not only that, but we’ve been preached at repetitively that we are free to tell you all of our fears, our troubles, our joys, our weaknesses, and so on. But here is this other theory that, in our selfishness, we should drop such things in our prayer life (if we are really “sanctified”) and pray only for others and concern ourselves solely in prayer for the saints elsewhere. Which I’m not saying I disagree with; I completely agree! However, I’ve come to the point where I don’t even want to share personal things with you or talk to you about them because I feel guilty for bringing them up. I don’t want them to consume my prayer life, obviously, but are they even worth talking about at all? Will you roll your eyes at me and wish I were praying for the Scandinavians who are killing your priests or the alcoholic neighbor down the street? Father, I long to be intimate with you but it is so hard. You say yourself that the road is narrow and few ever find it; God, I need your help. Am I even free to ask for such help, or is it only serving to set me back in my Christian walk and prove my immaturity? This tear within me on how to pray irks me and makes me want to not pray for anything, because everything I pray always feels wrong! I don’t even want to continue writing out this prayer because I feel guilty for complaining. I feel bad for even writing anything already. Father, who ARE you? My view of you seems so jaded; it’s like I can’t see you as a merciful friend and daddy and a holy, jealous God all at the same time. If I pray to you like my best friend, I feel like I’m not giving you enough glory or remembering your holiness. If I pray to you like a king, I’m stiff and my words feel fake and afraid. I cannot find middle ground and it’s making my relationship with you suffer immensely. I am reading my Bible but I am not praying because, honestly, reading what you have to say is much easier than trying to talk to you. Isn’t that horrible? I know it is. I just don’t know how to change it because I don’t know your character enough to feel comfortable around you. And then, oh, the sick word— comfort. “Be comfortable around God, He loves you!” “Don’t ever get too comfortable; this signifies stagnation!” “Do whatever makes you comfortable!” I hate that word. It’s so mushy and ill-defined and ugh.

For a while I was doing really well. In my times of adversity it’s like I knew you like the back of my hand. But once the trial ends, once the pressure backs off, I get antsy. I know it’s downright foolish to wish for hardships, but Lord, if it will get me back to you and knowing you, please, bring on the suffering! I will go through any storm, any temptation, any struggle, if only it would bring me back to the right relationship with you. Yes, Father, whatever it takes. Cut away in me the hindrances that push you away. Put salve to my eyes, please, and help me to see. What must I do? What work must I accomplish? Or do I simply need to “be still” and know that you are God? I don’t even know anymore. It scares me to death because here I am, going into college, feeling like I’m walking through the desert.

I still haven’t prayed for a single person other than myself. I am selfish. God, teach me to pray. Teach me to not have to pray about myself, if that’s what You desire. Father, just… I don’t even know. Help.


Over-Thinking--- Relient K

i was thinking
over thinking
cause there's just too many scenarios
to analayze
look in my eyes
cause you're my dream please come true

i was thinking
over thinking
about exactly how i'm not exactly him
i'll break my heart in two
more times than you could ever do
cause you're my dream please come true

cause i think way too much
on a one track mind
and you're so out of touch
cause i'm so far behind

i can't deny this anymore, the facts ignored all done before
and if there's one in this world,
you let me know you're not that girl

i was sinking
lower, sinking
cause i lost the things i held on to
they let me think a thought
a thought that i would know was not
of seeing my dream come true

i was thinking
over thinking
about how far i had let this go
one more guy/girl cliché
i know now you're just in the way
of me and my dream come true

cause i think way too much
on a one track mind
and you're so out of touch
cause i'm so far behind
i'm trying to make sense
out of all of this
while your fading scent
just slips through my grip

i can't deny this anymore, the facts ignored all done before
and if there's one in this world,
you let me know you're not that girl

don't touch the positive with the negative end
don't touch the positive with the negative end
cause after all of the sparks you're still alone in the dark
cause after all of the sparks you're left alone in the dark

and while i'm able, i think i'll label
experience with you as a mistake
and while i'm at it, i'll say i've had it
experience with you is a mistake

cause i think way too much
on a one track mind
and you're so out of touch
cause i'm so far behind
i'm trying to make sense
out of all of this
while your fading scent
just slips through my grip

i was thinking
over thinking
cause there's just too many scenarios
to think about
to figure out
if you're my dream please come true

Saturday, June 20, 2009

A Post Written Because of my Boredom.

I've started the long process of writing my graduation thank-you cards. I'm pretty much done with my family's cards, and now I'm going to list out all of the friends so I can begin theirs! As much as I love to write, cards are tedious things. Necessary and heart-felt, but tedious.

My favorite track on the RK album is "Curl Up and Die". And yes, it sounds morbid, but it's really not; it's quite a beautiful song. Three more days until the concert!

I'm reading Jeremiah. I feel like I connect with him on so many different levels. Half of the time when he's speaking it's like, wow, he's taking these words out of my mouth. And other times, when the Lord is replying to him, I feel like He's speaking directly to me, telling me what he wants of me and how to best deal with it. My sword is pretty sharp, but I do not know how to use it. I cut people to pieces without thinking about whether or not the time is right, you know? I guess it's double edged— when I use it poorly and hurt others, I end up hurting myself. And shaming the Father. Yikes. When I go to college, I hope I know how to use it properly. Actually, I'm more afraid of it becoming dulled and useless. There's nothing more worthless than a dulled knife.

The end.

wooooooooooo.

End?

Nah.

Bored much? Ha, yeah.

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

That New Paper Smell

My brother and I went to Barnes and Noble today. I got a new journal! I'm so, so excited— you have to understand, for me to buy a [nice] new journal is like an artist getting a new easel, or a track star getting a sweet new pair of running shoes, or a musician getting a new kazoo. I have a book called "How to Kazoo", by the way. I know how to make a loon and donkey call in case they ever come in handy. But anyways, the journal is fantastic. It's made of nubuck leather, hand-crafted in Tuscany, Italy, and it's coloring will naturally change over time, so it will look older because, well, it IS! I love journals. I love the way they smeeellllll. So papery and feathery and leathery, just waiting to be written in, recorded in, and then read, generations later. So much better than typing away on a blog!! But, dear readers, don't fret— I understand the importance of saving on the computer as well and will not be stopping blogging any time soon. It's just that writing on genuine paper with a good pen and sturdy leather binding is so much more romantic and inspiring! It's been done for years and years and here I am, continuing the tradition, putting endless thoughts down to be found or forever hidden away. Yay!

More good news— I finally bought the Relient K cd "The Birds and the Bee Sides"! Of course, upon purchasing it and carefully and enjoyably listening to each track, I am forcefully reminded of why I've always loved RK. They have AH-mazing lyrics and they mix it up so much; how could you not love them? I could take this album alone and make my life story out of their songs. If I could use all of their albums [OH MAN] I would never have to verbally explain myself to anyone ever again. I'd just smile and hand them a CD and say, "Here, listen to these tracks and you'll know me perfectly, along with every mistake I've ever made!" Bahaha.

Final good news— I love being busy! This week is busy on purpose though; I'm trying to forget that two of my favorite people are very, very far away and I can't contact either of them! So if I'm busy I don't think about it. This busyness entails work, orthodontist appointments, Bible studies, hanging out with Dell, helping Amanda with her yard sale, going to the mall with the bro, and anything else that will hopefully come up before now and Sunday. I don't like having free time. It drives me crazy.

Three more days!

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

My relatives have started to arrive for graduation.

It's been years (literally) since I've last seen them. Yesterday a huge RV came down the street and stopped in front of our house and blocked anyone from passing for a good ten minutes as it backed into our driveway. It belonged, of course, to my great aunt and uncle, Billy and Brenda, and my second cousin Robin. They're from Mississippi. Then twenty minutes later my Nana came with my dad from the airport! It makes me sad that I'm a northerner sometimes. Don't get me wrong, I love having a Minnesotan heritage and the funny accent that it comes with and whatnot. But when they got out of the RV and started talking I realized just how much I wanted to fit into the whole "southern culture" sort of thing; I felt like my mom and my brother and I were... well, out of place, three inhospitable yankees trying to make up for our lack of southern everyone-knows-and-loves-everyone-come-on-in-and-take-your-shoes-off aura. Maybe it's just me, but I want that sort of easy-going nature. I love how it turns into big meals and big families and story telling and just relaxing and coffee and sweet tea.

I'm excited for today. The girls (including me!) are going shopping and Nana is putting color in my hair (YAY!) and we're having honest-to-goodness, true southern chicken and dumplin's for dinner! And my aunt Suzie and uncle Scottie and their four kids are coming, and my grandpa Jim, and my uncle Jason and his girlfriend Katie! It's going to be fun. And Luke gets to meet my family! Huh, hope that one turns out well.... ;)

On a side note, I had another end-of-the-world dream last night. That makes dream number 3! It's always flooded. Weird.

AAAAHHHH!!!!!

LUKE GOT US TICKETS TO SEE RELIENT K!! IN TWO WEEKS!!!!

I LOVE RELIENT K!!!!!

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!

Thursday, June 4, 2009

... and all of the people.

I would like to say that I am very fondly reminiscent of my high school career. I would like to say that I was overwhelmed with sentimental values and waves of nostalgia when I pulled out of the parking lot one last time. I would even like to believe that my high school experience changed my life. But really, when I sit back and think over the past four years, I can't truthfully say any of the above statements with conviction. I'm not saying that on the day of graduation, when I finally take my diploma in hand and say goodbye to people I've known for years, that I won't cry, because I certainly will. However, I am saying that I'm not sure what sort of tears they'll be— sad? Relieved? Maybe a mix.

I did drastically change over the course of high school. I remember my defining moments, but none of them can be molded to fit into a two-semester school year. I cannot say I was like such-and-such in 9th grade, had a major epiphany in 10th grade, and so on. I cannot say any of my teachers changed my outlook on life. The way my change from childhood to almost-adulthood can be categorized is by the people I knew and my relationships with them, along with my relationship with God. And those relationships, those experiences, were not broken by class periods or grade levels. They expand over the course of time, into the summer months, and even past this physical reality of time to the point where I couldn't pinpoint specific moments. This is probably why I am not sentimental— the people that impacted my life were not solely at West Johnston High School, and the majority of them were adults, already long out of school.

If I had to map it out, it would go a little something like this... :

Freshman year— I meet Erin Lineberger in creative writing and got my first "real friend." She was a true kindred spirit to me, and we wrote letters back and forth like crazy, pouring out our 14-year-old hearts in pink and blue ink, her with her neat typewriter print and me with scrawling cursive. She was the Christian friend I had prayed for. It was Erin who pushed me to become a better student and to care about my grades, to be organized and definite, because Erin was smart (f.y.i.: she's now our class valedictorian with the Parks scholarship under her belt!). After meeting Erin I realized I wanted to be successful and "the best", so to speak, both in school and in my relationship with the Lord. I really became ambitious and I realized that close friends, like her, were hard to find. I also became friends with Heather Stevens... haha, oh Heather. We would sit in Dobyns class and share my peanut butter and jelly sandwiches until he smelt the peanut butter and scolded us for eating in his room. She taught me how to laugh and be silly and kept me in childhood a little bit longer. I discovered that I had a sense of humor (imagine that) and that if I worked it around a little, I could make people laugh. At this point it was always at my own expense, but that was okay with me. I wanted people to like me, and as my looks were no attraction I made up for it with brains and self-degradation for others to enjoy.

That summer was long. I met Nathan Kuhn and had my first little "wow-I-think-you're-amazing-and-attractive" crush that awakened me to what it was to really like someone and get your heart broken in the end. That summer I realized I wanted to be mature. I wanted people to think that I was above the average level of 14-almost-15 year old maturity... heck, I wanted to act like I was already 16, because that's how old he was! If I could only be older, I thought, maybe I would "find myself", whatever that meant, and someone would notice me. Maybe if I grew up a little faster, my relationship with God would grow because He would find me responsible, and maybe the kids at youth group would accept me and He would reveal things to me because I'd be ready.

When I was 15, in 10th grade, things get a little fuzzy scholastically. I didn't have a close group of friends that year at school, and I didn't have class with either Erin or Heather. When I don't have people to associate memories with, I can't remember what happened. I stayed under the radar at school and worked at being smart; people probably thought I went around with my nose in the air, and I probably, unfortunately, did. However, church was beginning to really reel me in and I was meeting people left and right. I met Chris and thought I was cool to have a boyfriend, but really all that was happening is that I was still trying to be older. I wanted to be affectionate towards someone, and for a little while I was, but when it [quickly] died I realized I never wanted to have a boyfriend in high school. I was drowning with classes and Bible studies and a job and I did not need some boy to walk over me and not care. That's when I got my first taste of independence, and the feeling of "no one can do it better than me." I was going to be strong and I didn't need anyone but myself— no boy and apparently no friend. Enter pride [who unfortunately never really exits].

But then I met Mrs Phyllis, who gave me a job working at her store, Dress To Impress. I carpooled with her every Saturday, a two hour drive to Greenville, and worked 12 hours. But those car rides changed my life. They changed my perspectives and taught me lessons and kindled my curiosity to burn like it does today. I have never talked and examined and questioned and cried so much with someone talking about cats or husbands or travel or the other girls I worked with or about life, really. About God, mostly. That is when I truly learned compassion. Mrs Phyllis was my friend. She may have been thirty years older than me, but she was my friend. Again, I tried to be older, more mature. After you've separated yourself from high school friendships, you don't want them. That probably sounds bad and proud, but in all honesty, you begin to look down on them. I didn't want just anyone for a friend and I chose who I became close to carefully.

Until Summer of '07... for which there are no words. In youth, I was inseparable from Joe and Ashlin and Amanda Boyle and Britt and Lorren and Rachel Partridge. That summer I had friends. People I shared my life with and burned to know and understand, people I loved as close as my family, people I wanted as friends for, well, forever. That summer I couldn't call myself Kristina Weeks. I called myself K Weeks, Special K, or "yo, Kristina!" That summer childhood clashed with adulthood and it hurt. It hurt terribly and I fought with it and didn't understand it and I wanted to be older so bad that I forgot who I was so that these people would trust me and rely on me. That summer I began "fixing"... trying to. What did I know? I was still childish and this is proven in my yearning for age and its wisdom. That summer I had inside jokes galore and things to do and people to do them with... at church, I was known. And I don't say that in a haughty way, but everyone knew me and the people I was with. I was so egotistical and yet, underneath it all, who I thought I was was crumbling away. I was trying to conform to what was around me and trying to answer questions that I had no answers to and I was helpless; yet at the same time I was so happy with what I had. This was the climax of my adolescent identity crisis.

Junior Year, finally 16. Joe Roy and I were best friends. Suddenly I was funny and sarcastic and maybe, perhaps, a little shallow [I am NOT saying Joe was shallow, please don't take that the wrong way!]; I was tight-knit with my church family. I was comfortable. Everyone liked me and I was still proud, still trying to be older than I was, still trying to find meaning, still searching for answers. I met Raquel and we clashed. She understood life better than I did and boy, did I get offended. Deep down I knew she was right, about a LOT of things; but hey, I was K Weeks, don't mess with me!... geez. What a little jerk I was, pushing through 3 AP classes in one semester like I was hot stuff, surrounded with a group of close friends and thinking I knew who God was, but so dissatisfied with myself. Things were shallow and I knew it. Underneath my comfort I was so incredibly discontent. That spring it really surfaced.

My family left C3. I don't need to go into all of the details, but my world crashed and my relationships... gone. For a good while, anyways. I was lost, lost, lost... who was I? Where was I? Oh yes, I had good grades, I passed my tests, I was "successful"... but I didn't know what I was doing and my identity in the people around me had been snapped in half so completely that I had to start over from scratch. That summer... I met God. Really, truly met Him, because He didn't leave. And in that, I began to know myself. We spent time together because I had no one else to spend it with. I can't even explain how that summer forced me to do the growing up I had wanted all along... only now I didn't really want it so much. It sucked. But then... oh, God is faithful. I met [for real, this time] Thomas and Dell and Pastor and Ashton Lynn Coats. These people understood. They cared. And Raq and I... we reconciled and it was like the light turned on and God told the angels to start singing, and quick. They kept me accountable and answered my questions and encouraged and I continued to grow, with them and under them and around them. I only wish I could describe how these people helped [God-inspired] to make me who I am today.

I turned 17. Senior year. It was a new Kristina, but I wasn't quite finished yet. I was quieter. I didn't feel the need to go out of my way to make people laugh, or even to make people like me. I stopped caring so much about who thought what about me. I was sensitive to certain things. I became close to Ashton, Amanda B. and Amanda T., and Raquel. At the beginning of the school year I wanted to focus on God more than anything. Saturate happened. After that, I must be careful for the respect of others, but I will say as much and little as I can. People continued to shape me, break me, uplift me, support me, challenge me, push me, hurt me, and love me. This senior year has proven to be the most defining and crushing road I have walked. Things fell apart and things came together. I met Luke and found mutuality. And Raq-- she inspired me. She loved me and understood me, even though we sometimes speak two different languages. We bonded and became unworthy in our worthiness. And Ashton and Amanda, who encouraged me in Christ and kept me accountable and are still teaching me discernment in when to open my mouth and when to shut up (haha). People who still continue to affect me and shape me and love me.

How can I look back sentimentally on high school when high school had nothing to do with it? These relationships still continue, who I am and who I was still continues, and who I will be waits for me. It all revolves at lightening speed, but oh, when it lights up the future for that fraction of a second, I see something beautiful. I hold tight to people... not high school.

God, it's You and me,
And all of the people...