Heartache.

We knew this was going to be difficult. But now the true test has kicked in, and how are we doing? Going long periods of time without seeing each other has made it seem dream-like and surreal. What does that mean? The end so soon?

I freed you, you know. Before we left for college, I freed you from every promise you had ever made me, so that if the time were to come where mutuality would fade, you would be good to go and I would hold nothing against you. And that still holds, that freedom. If you need to go your own way and do your own thing; if you think I'm holding you back or making things difficult; if you no longer feel the same, then baby, you're free. I will not be the cause of distress in your life.

But I won't lie to you, either. I am deeply and desperately in love with you. I think of you and it's like a million tiny knives to my heart, twisting enough to create such an intense pain that it's almost unbearable. I love you honestly and purely and with a longing and passion that I can't describe on paper. You are breaking my heart and you don't even know it. I want to see you and hold you; I want to be your wife. Does the distance have that much power? Does time stretch us so far that the goal is unattainable? I don't know. I will always, always love you. No matter where we are, who we're with, or what we're doing, there will always be a part of my heart that is broken because you are not mine any longer. You will always hold a piece of me, whether you like it or not, and I'm sorry for that, but for you it will be unnoticeable anyways.

Yes, for the present, you are still mine and I am still yours. Nothing about our relationship status has changed, but I am wary. I cannot see the future. I don't know what's going to happen. I trust God when He doesn't answer. I have nothing else so secure as Him.

I want to marry you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Luke, don't you understand? My life does not balance on you and my world does not revolve around you, but I want you to be a part of it all. I want to share life with you, to have a mutual life as well as an individual one. And this stupid, stupid distance does not afford that. I can't tell you what to do. I can't tell you to see me every weekend, to call me every night, to text me five times a day or whatever. If my actions followed my every wish you would be constantly hearing from me or seeing me, but that is not healthy and so I refrain. All I can do is wait. Love you, wait, and pray.

His Will will be done.

I Just Want You to Know

I want to know where I'm suppose to be. Because in all honest honesty, I don't think it's here. That's hard enough to admit to myself, much less everyone else. The implications are imposing to the question this obviously proposes: if not here, where? And when? And more importantly, how? Am I even sure? No, not really. But something is not sitting well, and it's past the point of "settling in." If these are the best years of my life, why am I spending them somewhere where I'm not enjoying myself, not making the best use of my time, not thriving? It's good, yes, no question there— but it's not the best. The difference, though perhaps so small that it could be called miniscule, is creating waves.

I assumed this was right almost from the beginning. To make matters worse, it was broadcasted (no backing out now!). It's easy to get swept up in it and to push your gut instincts under the rug. Plus, it looked good. Why wouldn't I want to go somewhere that would boost my intellectual, egotistical genius and make everyone else think I was a somebody? Yeah, I worked hard all through high school, yeah I made good grades and did well on the SAT, yeah I'm pretty smart. But what does that accomplish? What does that even matter, in the long run? God can't use me if I'm so caught up in my own abilities that I fail to see Him and be humble enough for use in His Kingdom. Maybe God is breaking my pride in a bigger way than I ever imagined. Maybe He has to temper it, and all of my "smarts" will never even be known or come into play in the big scheme of my life. What if I were in South America for a few years— what would it matter, then, how good my test scores were or how many college classes I had taken? What if God made me smart so that He could show me that I didn't need to be smart to be worth something? Does that even make sense? He will use the humble to shame the wise. He will use the humble to shame the wise.

I have a love for the hispanic culture. For the language, for the people, for their past and for their future. What if God were calling me to the mission field? What if? I have always wanted to do missions. I have always wanted to travel. This has never quite made it to the table; it was always, "Um, you're going to college, end of discussion." Okay, so, here I am— in college. But what if all along I was suppose to be training for something so much bigger than just college? You hear people's stories about how they felt called to do things that "normal" people considered crazy; why can't I be one of those people? There has to be something bigger than college out there, and I don't care what people think about me any more. I don't care about the expectations. I want to do the Lord's will. Father, where do You want me, where do You need me the most? Send me, send me.

And yes, there are those of you (my father probably included) who would say well, Kristina, you're already on a mission field at college, or finish your college career and then do whatever you want. Fine, fine, I see your point, I'm not ignorant. Everyone thinks that getting a successful, secure job is what matters the most. News flash— it's not. It's really not. There is something so much bigger, so much more Kingdom-focused than a nine-to-five job! PAUSE— I am definitely not saying that having a good job isn't what God wants for everyone. I'm just saying that I don't know if that's what He wants for me. I feel like there is something more, a call over the waters that I'm somehow missing here. I'm praying for discernment. Feel free to join me.

Little Toy Boats

"It really does feel like a maze. I don't know where I'm going."

'You don't know where you're going? Well, what are you leaving?'

"What?"

'If you're going somewhere, you have to be leaving something behind.'

True story.

Today I walked down to the lake from my house. The air wasn't necessarily chilly, but the wind felt nice across my skin. I pulled on a white sweater over my green tee and crossed my arms, closing my eyes to fully soak up the smell of grass and moisture. The sky was grey and made things look colder than they were. It was funny to walk down Cameron, simply because I hadn't done it in so long. The path to the lake isn't until the end of the road, where it becomes a cul-de-sac. I passed the Codd house, where a bunch of Pete's friends were playing basketball in his driveway. I still got the same anxious feeling when I passed them as I did when I was in middle school, when they used to shout at us for using "their" property to get to the water. Today they didn't pay me any mind; I was of no consequence to their game. I jumped the ditch and pushed past the undergrowth, with long weeds encircling me and waving gently overhead, creating a tunnel of flora and fauna crowned with seasonal marigold flowers. Though my walk had been quiet, the field was alive with the buzzing and croaking of all sorts of amphibians and other small creatures, none of which I saw. The trail branched off to the left, but I followed it straight to the little bank where one could push off a boat, if they wanted. My brother usually goes fishing there with his friends, so there was a blue tarp off to the side and the ground was littered with old Diet Coke and Gatorade bottles underneath it. I paused for a moment under a small tree, already yellow and brown, where my lips had met love in the early months of the year. I continued to the water's edge. It rippled in, barely moving, and was a pearlescent sheen of reflection. Long-dead trees stood stark against the apathetic clouds, and the opposite shore was still green and thick with trees and the occasional dock. Someone was playing music a long ways away. I couldn't help but stand and remember, and think, and let emotion wash sluggishly over me like the water on the pebbles beneath my feet. I stood there a long, long time. The wind tugged at my hair, loose around my shoulders, and it smelt of intangible things that I could no longer touch. I picked up a few rocks and skipped them, hard, until I ran out and couldn't find any more smooth edged ones. Then I turned back, pausing this time by a bump in the way, where I had sat and listened to a very different kind of music, on a very different sort of day, when the sunlight has cascaded through the foliage and danced over the waves and a different sort of scent was filling my senses, warm and inviting, spicy and alive. I was tempted to sit on it again, but decided against it for the sake of time. Real life was still waiting outside of that place and was calling me back, back to the present, back to where I didn't want to be. But I went, not because I wanted to, but because I knew it was right. And that's the kicker— what you want isn't always what's right, and what you don't want usually is. I hoped one day the two would merge; this, I decided, takes hard work and probably a miracle from God. God, with whom I'm grappling. God, who is silent. God, who I am waiting on. God, who is real and who loves me beyond my own comprehension. Yeah. God.

What's it going to take to turn this ship around?

It's been a long while since it started going down,

But a new breeze shakes the sail,

Though the wind brings rain, and sleet, and hail,

And if the fire could intensify

This wood's not proofed, but by-and-by,

Goodbye, this time we're going to try...

What's it going to take to turn this ship around?