Inexpressible

This love. This joy. This peace.
It's a river flowing through my veins, quenching every vessel.
It's a fire burning in my heart, igniting every beat.
My heart breaks at the inability to tell it all.
My breath comes short to sing of His glory. 
My soul yearns for His presence.
It yearns to see His face, to kiss His lips, to be held in His arms.
My soul longs to rest at His feet, to serve Him humbly, to wash His feet with my tears.

Oh my God, there are no words.

Nothing can explain, nothing can contain, nothing can retain, nothing can detain this
overwhelming,
everlasting,
all consuming, 
never ending,
unrelenting,
beautiful,
graceful,
majestic,
peaceful, 
and satisfying 


love. 



For too long I thought of God as merely a deity, a far-off being that tells me what to do and that helps when I need Him. 
But He's so much more.
He's so much closer.
Closer than any human being could ever be. Closer than even my conscience. 
Closer than my own awareness of myself.
He's a part of me. We are one.
He lives inside of me. 
We are invited to have an intimate relationship with Him. 
He knows everything about us, and loves us anyway.
He is everything we've ever longed for. 
Every desire fulfilled.
He is the man of my dreams.
He is the very beat of my heart.
He is my first and last love. 
His deepest desire is to be the fulfillment of my deepest desires. 
He's a hopeless romantic.
He's mine, and I am His. 
He's the greatest love story of all time. 


And,
when we finally make it home, 
all these words that can't be uttered,
this love that can't be comprehended, 
the knowledge of the goodness of God,
and the unsearchable and unfathomable things of His love 
will all be revealed. 
As soon as we step into the glory of His presence,
understanding will hit us like a tidal wave. 
This fire that couldn't break out of my being before will consume me and I will see Him for who He is.
I will understand the depths of His love. 
I will finally be able to proclaim and express the deep and everlasting love and fullness of Him. 

And my only response will be to worship Him for the rest of eternity. 
And not even eternity will be long enough to sing of His glory. 

Chemistry, and stuff.

There is a hormone called Oxytocin.
There is also a hormone called Vasopressin. 
These hormones are sometimes referred to as the "love hormone"
They are responsible for emotional bonding. Oxytocin in women, and vasopressin in men. 


We humans bond together. Like atoms. Covalent and ionic bonds, and stuff like that. 




We give our bodies, our hearts, our minds, and our very souls to another person and we never get it all back. 
We're stuck like a bug in fly paper. We become one molecule. Once formed, covalent bonds rarely break. It requires effort. 
So we struggle to break it. But it's not easy. 


Because that bond wasn't meant to be broken. 
It was meant to last a lifetime. We weren't made to break up after we've given someone everything. 
We form the bond with the expectation that it's never going to break. It forms when we open ourselves up enough to let someone in, when we trust them to never hurt us in our vulnerable state. 


So, if or when you break up, a lot of things happen emotionally that we can't understand. 
We watch the carrier of our soul living as a half as we walk around as the thing that once made them whole.  
Everything inside is trying to keep that bond together causing jealousy, bitterness, depression, etc. 
We're trying to be whole again. 
We long to be with those pieces that we gave away. 
It's unnatural and it's not supposed to happen. 


These bonds were meant to have a commitment of a lifetime.
We need to know that the person we've given everything to isn't going to abuse it, leave when they get bored, and isn't going to judge us. But is going to cherish our gift and take care of it. 
We need them to love us as they see the pieces of our insides scattered on the table. 
Through the good, the bad, and the ugly. 
Until death causes them to part. 


But, what do we do?
We can't just close ourselves off and never let anyone in. 
But the more we give ourselves away, the harder it is the next time. The harder it gets to open up and trust again. The harder our hearts become. 


And we don't realize these things until we've gone through it. Until we're living our lives wondering why everything inside of us is telling us to repair the damage instead of letting it be broken.


But God can heal all things. 
And through the ashes He reveals His beauty.
The end justifies the pain.
His hand orchestrates every tiny detail as it catches every tear.
And He knows the end of journey, He sees all the reasons and the outcomes and the lessons. 
He can heal the scars left from the broken bond. 
We just have to let Him. 

The innards of my being.

The innocence of a child.
The wisdom in wrinkles of old age.
The joy in the song of the birds. The sorrow in a voice.
Someone's unspoken pain.
The courage and strength in a victory.
Injustice.
The beauty seeping out of a person's heart.
Mistakes made by loved ones.
The passion in my soul.
When I want to help, but I just can't.
Grace.
My undeserved salvation.
And the adventure of this dynamic life
make me cry.
And I love it.

It's no coincidence.

It's no coincidence that the very love we long, thirst, and search for, the love that can't be found anywhere else, is the very love of God.


It's not by chance that the hole inside each of us can only be filled and satisfied by Jesus.


We were created to need our Creator. 
We were created to have a desire for love. 
God created us that way on purpose.
So that we would search and search and find that He is the love we so desperately desire.
So that we would find Jesus is the puzzle piece that fits perfectly inside each of us. 


We were created empty so that we could have the joy of being filled to the fullest by Him. 


And it's no mystery that we have that emptiness,
we have that need for true love. 
There's no question that everything apart from Christ brings only temporary satisfaction. 


It's no coincidence. 

love, love, love

I see what I want to see. 

I hear what I want to hear. 

This is naivety. 

I see people for who they are, but ignore all the bad parts.
Because I don't like how it feels to dislike someone.
I don't like how it feels to want to make them see their flaws as if I don't have any of my own.
I don't like thinking that people can be anything but good and pure in heart and motive. 
I choose to ignore their flaws because it's easier to love them that way.
And I love to love people.


But that's not love at all.


God's love, the ultimate love, was shown in that Christ died for us when we were still sinners (Romans 5:8). 
He knew every disgusting crevice of our wandering hearts and still chose to hang on the cross, with the weight of every person's sin that has ever and will live on his shoulders. 




Love doesn't mean-- "pretend they're perfect". Love is not dependent on perfection. True love has no bounds and true love perseveres through every fault. Love is definitely not ignoring someone's flaws because that makes them easier to love. 


Love wasn't meant to be easy, because nothing that is worthwhile is ever easy. 
Love wasn't meant to be easy, because how else would we know that the kind of love that is so impossibly hard for us, is so amazingly easy for the One and only One that it comes easy for? 
How else would we be able to grasp how small and imperfect our love is in comparison to how wide and long and high and deep the love of our creator is?






Love is knowing someone's not perfect, but sacrificing yourself for them anyway. Love is knowing that people are mean, and selfish, and impure, and deciding to treat them as if they aren't.
Love is seeing someone's many flaws, but knowing your own flaws are just as great or greater in number. 




You can't know someone unless you know all their flaws too. 
You can love anyone. But you can't truly love someone until you know them, flaws and all, and decide to love them anyway. That's all anyone wants: to be completely known and loved anyway. 




It's hard to love someone that isn't perfect. 
It's hard to love someone that doesn't love you.


But love is always the answer. 


  

Morse Code

You know that feeling... 
when your heart rate increases, and you start breathing heavier.


Each beat of your heart feels like it's trying to break out of your chest. 


It hurts because it's longing for something. It's crying for something it can't have, but at the same time it feels content. 
It's craving something, but you don't know what.
  
Like something is tugging at it, urging it to leap out of your body but all you feel is the painful fact that it's stuck there.

Imprisoned, containing only the ability to do human things like pump blood through your veins and deliver oxygen to your organs. 
It's defined by boundaries instead of doing what it wants to do--beat freely. 


It's like you're grasping for air that you can't quite reach. 
Your lungs are collapsing and no matter how deep your breaths, your heart is not satisfied with the shallowness of the flesh that detains it.


It can't beat through electric impulses alone. 
Often it forgets it's true desire and just sustains the life it was given responsibility of. But it needs more. It needs to be fed. It needs to love. 
It needs to somehow tell the body that it wasn't only made for these menial tasks. 


So it beats faster. 
It requires more oxygen. 
It tries to jump out of the rib cage that hides it from the world just to get your attention; to make you listen to the message hidden like Morse Code in the beats that you ignore daily. 






Your heart is telling you something. Listen. 

Wow

Life is beautiful.
Humanity is beautiful.
Struggle is beautiful.


Because God's love, 
                                grace,
                                           passion,
                                                           power,
                                                                       and purpose

radiates fantastically through it all.

Guard your heart above all else, for it is the source of life.

The heart is such a strange organ. 
It beats. It feels. It attaches. It breaks. It heals. It gives life. 
It's so valuable, and we flaunt it with our chest wide open for the world to see. Hearts change. Hearts harden. Hearts are meant to be guarded, they weren't made to be broken. 


I think there comes a time in everyone's life when you decide to stop letting people hurt you. You decide that you don't deserve to be lied to, manipulated, used, and betrayed. You realize that sometimes you have the right to be selfish in relationships.
And you realize that love shouldn't hurt. 


People come and go. People leave marks on your heart, and sometimes just take the whole thing right out of you. People influence people. People hurt people. 


The heart can be a very dangerous weapon, or it can be the most effective tool.  


Our hearts were made to love... if only we knew how. 

I read her like an open book

"You cannot open a book without learning something." -Confucius


People are like books. Or, books are like people.


We all have covers. Some hard, some soft, some transparent, and some non-existent. 


Some easy to open, some hard to open.


Some full of pictures and easy-to-read pages, and some full of complex vocabulary, and not-so-easy-to-read pages.


Some are short, and to the point. Some take longer to read.


Some are used, torn, and neglected. Some are new, innocent, and crisp. 


And we all have a story.




I could go on and on with this analogy, but you get the point.

The point is: people are fascinating! And so amazingly deep and complex! 


Think about it, you will never know someone completely inside and out. They will always surprise you. There will always be something to learn because they are constantly learning. Every. Single. One of us has our own unique story, that molds and shapes us into who we are. The content of our inner pages determines the cover. Some people are incredibly hard to get to know, it takes a while for them to open up and be comfortable. I, being one of those people. Some people are incredibly easy to get to know, with what seems to be a transparent cover or no cover at all. 


A book, from the story being thought up, to the many drafts it goes through, to the publisher, to the printing press, then to the shelves, to the hands of the reader, has a journey. 


We have a journey. A story with conflict, resolution, climax, characters, dialogue. A front cover, a back cover. Highlighted lines. Torn pages. Readers. 


Me, I'm a soft cover book that's hard to open. I'm packaged in that plastic stuff that's secretly made of bullet-proof vest. But once I'm open, I'm open. Definitely an easy read. And my story is far from being finished.




People are beautiful, complex novels. I wish I put more effort and time into reading.

And I saw, without really seeing, that people are beautiful.

I love people watching. 
And I recently noticed that I look at people, but I don't see them.


I love smiling at strangers. 
I'll walk around campus or Walmart, and smile at everyone I walk by because I like the temporary joy I may give them; I like that I make them feel special, like they've been seen, even if it's for just a moment... but I never really see at them. 


Yes, I make eye contact and notice what they're wearing, how they walk, facial features, etc, but am I going to remember them the next time I smile at them on campus? Probably not. 


The other night, all 5 of my roommates and I were sitting around joking and talking. As we were laughing I looked at one of them, seeing her for the first time. I was so surprised that I hadn't before, I mean, I've been living with her for 3 months. But there she was, the same person as every other time I'd looked at her, and I was seeing her for the first time. And I realized there was so much to see. So much that I had been too busy to notice, or too careless to make the effort to take in. 


I love people. And I'm disappointed that this has become a habit for me. 


Mostly, I hate airports because they stress me out, but the people in airports fascinate me. I want to know where they're going and why, where they're coming from and why, and who they're traveling with and why. 
Even driving around town, I see cars and wonder the same thing. Is their reason as simple as mine? Or is it much more interesting?




Everyone has a story. 
Everyone has something weighing on their mind. 
Everyone loves someone, hates someone, loves something, hates something. 
Everyone is so much more than what you look at on the outside. 
But if you really see someone, you'll see that they're just like you.
When you see someone, you see that you're really not alone in this world. 
You see that they're made up of cells and atoms, and wonderfully complex parts just like you. 
You see that they have a beating heart, broken maybe, or maybe perfectly content. 
You see that they have a mind with synapses, memories, emotions, etc, all different from anyone else in the universe. 
You see that they have opinions, beliefs, reasons, and motives. 
You see that they have a countless number of hairs on their body, a pigment that can never be exactly matched or recreated. 
You see that they have wrinkles, on their brow or on their cheek that hold stories of every frown they've ever frowned, and every smile they've ever smiled. 
You see that they're walking, going somewhere, toward a goal, toward a destination. 
You see that they have dreams, and wishes, and hopes, and prayers. 
You see that their feet and hands are calloused from years of hard, or not so hard, work.
You see that they have eyes that observe, scan, blink, cry, perceive, and speculate. Eyes nonidentical to any other. Eyes hard or soft, with stories. Eyes that are the window to their soul, the deepest part of their being. 
You see that they have senses. They look at scenes, they hear sounds, they touch textures, they smell scents, they taste flavors, and their perception of each of those things may be completely different than your own. 
You see that they're breathing. Their body requires oxygen to survive just like yours does.
You see that there are so many things unseen. Their struggles, their pain, their guilt. It's all there beneath the layers of clothing. 


You see that they walk, make eye contact, flash a simple smile, felt or fake, and they don't see you either. 




Wow, I feel small. All this time I foolishly thought without really thinking that I was the only one. But I'm just one in a sea of faces longing to be seen.

I Will Wait For You

I Will Wait For You <----Video

By Jannete Ikz

So, it seemed that it was cool for everyone to be in a relationship but me… So I took matters into my own hands and ended up with him. Him who displayed the characteristics of a cheater, a liar, an abuser, and a thief. So, why was I surprised when he broke into my heart? I called 911, but I was cardiac arrested for aiding and betting, cause it was me who let him in.

Claiming we were, “just friends”

It was already decided for me by the first day that even if he wasn’t, I was going to make him the one. You know, I was tired of being alone and I simply made it up in my mind that it was about that time. So I decided to drag him along for the ride cause I was always the bridesmaid and never the bride.

A virgin in the physical, but mentally just a grown woman on the corner and he was tired of the weight. So, I was gonna make him the one.

He had a form of godliness, but not much.

But, hey, I can change him. So, I’ll take him! I mean, he’s close… enough. 

Ready to sell my aorta for a quarter, not knowing the value of it’s “used to be.” Arteries so clogged with my will, it blocked his will from flowing through me. So, I thank Christ that his blood pressure gave this heart an attack that flat-lined my obscured vision, put me flat on my back. Through my ignorance, he saw. So, through my sternum, he sawed and cracked open my chest to transplant Psalms 51:10. A new heart and a renewed, right spirit within. So, now I fully understand, better yet, thoroughly comprehend how much I need to wait… For you.

See, the bad thing is that I knew he wasn’t you from the beginning. Cause, in the beginning was the word and he didn’t even sound or shine like your son. Out of the abundance of the heart, the mouth speaks. And all he could whisper was sweet, empty nothings. Which meant nothing.

He couldn’t even pray what I needed him to. Asking him to fast would be absurd. Forget about being cleansed and washed with water through the word. But, I know you. You’re already praying for me. Even never having met me, let me assure you, I will wait… for you.

I will no longer date, socialize, or communicate with carbon copies of you to appease my boredom or to quench my thirsty desire for attention of the short-live compliments from ‘sorta, kindas.’

You know, “he’s sorta kinda right, but sorta kinda wrong.” His first name, Luke. His last name, Warm.

I won’t settle for false companionship. I won’t lay in the embrace of his arms, attempting to find some closeness but have feelings so far, far apart cause, “I just want to be held.”

Cause all I gotta say is “No.” No more almost sessions of almost coming close, passing winks and buying drinks, and “Im’ma Im’ma Im’ma flirt.”

Who flirts with the ideology of, “Can you just tell me how much I can get away with and still be saved?” No more. I’ll stay in my bed alone and write poems about how I will wait for you.

He won’t even come close, our fingers won’t even interlock, we won’t even exchange breath cause I have thoughts that I’ve saved to ask, and our Father God only equips you to open.

I will no longer get graded down from ‘so called’ friends and family talks about the concern of my biological clock when I serve the author of time.

Who is not subject to time, but I am subject to Him. He has the ability to stop, fast forward, pause, or rewind at any given time. So, if we could roleplay, you would be Abraham, and I would be Sarah (-__-), or you could be Issac and I could be Rebecca, or servants, aunts, and prayer… I am bone of your bone, flesh of your flesh. Made up of your rib, Adam. And once we meet, like electrons, I will be bound to your nucleus, completely indivisible, Atom.

We even speak the same math- 1+1+1=3, which really equals 1 if you add them.

We were all created in His image, but you have the ability to reflect, project, and even detect the son. If I were to explain what you look like, you would have to look like a star. A son of the sun. I would get energy simply from the light you shine on me. I would need you in order to complete my photosynthesis. I await your revelation, but once again from the Genesis, I will wait for you. And I will know you because when you speak, I will be reminded of Solomon’s wisdom.

The ability to lead will remind me of Moses, your faith will remind me of Abraham, your confidence in God’s word will remind me of Daniel. Your inspiration will remind me of Paul. Your heart for God will remind me of David. Your attention to detail will remind me of Noah. Your integrity will remind me of Joseph, and your ability to abandon your own will will remind me of the disciples. But, your ability to love selflessly and unconditionally will remind me of Christ.

But I won’t need to identify you by and special ‘Matthews’ or ‘Marks’ becauseHis word will be tatted all over your heart. And you will know me, and you will find me where the boldness of Esther meets the warm closeness of Ruth. Where the hospitality of Lydia is aligned with the submission of Mary, which is engulfed by the tears of a praying Hannah. I will be the one drenched in Proverbs 31… waiting for you.

But to my Father, my Father who has known me before and was birthed into this earth, only if you should see it. I desire your will above mine so even if youcall me to a life of single-ness, my heart is content with you, the one who is sent. You are the greatest love story ever told, the greatest love ever known.You are forever my judge and I am forever your witness. And I pray that I’m always found on a mission about my Father’s business.

How I’ll always be yours and how I’ll always wait for you, Lord- more than the watchmen wait for the morning. More than the watchmen wait for the morning, I will wait.”

To learn, to love, to serve

My purpose in life. One, no more important than the other.

Judge not, lest you shall be judged.

What makes us do the things we do?
What makes us say the things we say?
What makes us believe the things we believe?




A person's character is made up of so much more than could possibly meet our shallow eyes. 




I despise judgement.

Intersections and round-a-bouts

It's so interesting to me the way our lives intertwine; the way our paths cross at just the right time in just the right place, so we can meet just the right person to change our life in just the right way.


When I think about it, I picture a HUGE web. A web of experiences and detours. A web of perpendicular and parallel lines of different lives that cross at certain times, some more than others. A web that at these intersections  there is always something to be learned and carried onto the next. Like this:

Multiply this by the number of people in the world. 

Also when I picture it, I picture the spaghetti bowl roads of Vegas.. not really sure why.

I believe our experiences make us who we are, among other things. They shape us and mold us involuntarily, as most of our experiences in life are involuntary. And those experiences are what lead us to these intersections with others' experiences, which lead them to more intersections, and so on.

It's crazy! It makes me dizzy thinking about all the people I've come in contact with in my life, and what led them to where they were at that exact moment in time that we came in contact. All the hurt, scars, joy, success, and failures that caused one foot to be put in front of the other are unique from anyone else. Had one experience been different, the whole course could be changed. 

I wrote a poem in my creative writing class. The shells represent people, for those non-abstract thinkers out there.

This is Your Museum of Shells

This is your museum of shells.

Mollusks, tritons, egg shells, limpets, periwinkles, and snail shells.

They come from ocean floors, rivers, mountains and sidewalks, or even Avilla Beach.

In my hand I hold a pearly white Conch.

A home, a shelter, a disguise.

Abandoned and newly washed up on the shore.

Each shell with a story, a background, a past.

Formed by waterfalls, whirl pools, or years of patience and discovery.

Broken by footsteps, hungry animals, or unruly weather.

Traveling the world against their will,

Taken wherever the waves take them,

Ignored by many, and adored by few.

The warm sand its resting place,

A simple shell with a story,

Shaped by a lifetime of being tossed and being turned.

Also, there's a quote from "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button" that I think sums up my thoughts better than I can. Long, and only makes sense with the movie, but very relevant.

Sometimes we're on a collision course, and we just don't know it. Whether it's by accident or by design, there's not a thing we can do about it. A woman in Paris was on her way to go shopping, but she had forgotten her coat - went back to get it. When she had gotten her coat, the phone had rung, so she'd stopped to answer it; talked for a couple of minutes. While the woman was on the phone, Daisy was rehearsing for a performance at the Paris Opera House. And while she was rehearsing, the woman, off the phone now, had gone outside to get a taxi. Now a taxi driver had dropped off a fare earlier and had stopped to get a cup of coffee. And all the while, Daisy was rehearsing. And this cab driver, who dropped off the earlier fare; who'd stopped to get the cup of coffee, had picked up the lady who was going to shopping, and had missed getting an earlier cab. The taxi had to stop for a man crossing the street, who had left for work five minutes later than he normally did, because he forgot to set off his alarm. While that man, late for work, was crossing the street, Daisy had finished rehearsing, and was taking a shower. And while Daisy was showering, the taxi was waiting outside a boutique for the woman to pick up a package, which hadn't been wrapped yet, because the girl who was supposed to wrap it had broken up with her boyfriend the night before, and forgot.  When the package was wrapped, the woman, who was back in the cab, was blocked by a delivery truck, all the while Daisy was getting dressed. The delivery truck pulled away and the taxi was able to move, while Daisy, the last to be dressed, waited for one of her friends, who had broken a shoelace. While the taxi was stopped, waiting for a traffic light, Daisy and her friend came out the back of the theater. And if only one thing had happened differently: if that shoelace hadn't broken; or that delivery truck had moved moments earlier; or that package had been wrapped and ready, because the girl hadn't broken up with her boyfriend; or that man had set his alarm and got up five minutes earlier; or that taxi driver hadn't stopped for a cup of coffee; or that woman had remembered her coat, and got into an earlier cab, Daisy and her friend would've crossed the street, and the taxi would've driven by. But life being what it is - a series of intersecting lives and incidents, out of anyone's control - that taxi did not go by, and that driver was momentarily distracted, and that taxi hit Daisy, and her leg was crushed. 

 Life: a series of intersecting lives and incidents, out of anyone's control. Defined by choices and experiences, brightened by relationships and simple human connection. 


Ohhh, life. 

What is love?

not
I used to think you could only ever love one person in your life, romantically speaking.
So if you fall out of love, that means you never really loved the person in the first place.
But I've realized being "in love" is such a pop culture invention. For a long time I didn't understand that love is so much more than what Hollywood and magazines make it out to be.
I thought being in love was a feeling, based on how the person made you feel. Butterflies and smiles. But I see now that the love of that feeling can be disguised as love for another person.


Love is not feeling special.
Love is not feeling beautiful.
Love is not feeling loved.
Love is not a feeling.
And love is not a magical spell that once you're under, there's no reversing it. It's not even a temporary spell.


is
Being "in love" and loving someone, I think, are different.
Being "in love" with someone is so much deeper than that feeling. Being in love with someone means loving who they are, even the tiny little details that aren't visible to the naked eye. Being in love means you're committed to loving that person through thick and thin, "I'm in," so to say.


I think that being in love can be a feeling, though. If you pass the test of knowing the person deeply, and really loving their qualities, then feel away. What else are we gonna call that intense, wanna-scream,  can't-eat, can't- sleep, reach-for-the-stars, over-the-fence, world-series, kind of feeling? 


Loving someone is less emotional, more a decision. Sometimes you can't help being in love with someone. You can't help loving their laugh, or the way he/she thinks, or just the way they make you feel. But you can help loving someone. 
Love is a commitment.
Love is an action.
Love is a choice.
And loving someone is not easy, by any means.

1 Corinthians 13 

Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous or boastful or proud or rude. It is not self-seeking. It is not irritable, and it keeps no record of being wronged. It does not rejoice in evil but delights in the truth. Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and always perseveres.

Well, I sure can't recall the last time I was able to treat someone in all those ways.
But, that's what loving someone is.




all in all
Love is capable of being a feeling if and when accompanied by commitment and action.
But love, in and of itself, is not a feeling or a spell. Love is a decision. 


And that's what I've learned about love. Romantic love, that is.
But who knows, really?


I do know
God is love, perfect love. The magnitude of his love is incomprehensible by my finite mind. And that's the love we try to mimic, and that''s the love we try to find everywhere else but the one place it can be found. 






Warren Barfield said it best in his song "Love is Not a Fight"

Love is not a place
To come and go as we please
It's a house we enter in
Then commit to never leave

So lock the door behind you
Throw away the key
We'll work it out together
Let it bring us to our knees

Love is a shelter in a raging storm
Love is peace in the middle of a war
And if we try to leave, may God send angels to guard the door
No, love is not a fight but it's something worth fighting for

To some, love is a word
That they can fall into
But when they're falling out
Keeping that word is hard to do

Love is a shelter in a raging storm
Love is peace in the middle of a war
And if we try to leave, may God send angels to guard the door
No, love is not a fight but it's something worth fighting for

Love will come to save us
If we'll only call
He will ask nothing from us
But demand we give our all

Love is a shelter in a raging storm
Love is peace in the middle of a war
And if we try to leave, may God send angels to guard the door
No, love is not a fight but it's something worth fighting for

I will fight for you
Would you fight for me?
It's worth fighting for

I give up.

In the words of my dear friend Ingrid,
I am giving up on half empty glasses and I am giving up on greener grasses.

I'm giving up on moping.

I'm giving up on pessimism.

I'm giving up on fear.

I'm giving up on worry.

I'm giving up on control.

I'm giving up on selfishness.

I'm giving up on doubt in myself.

I'm giving up on dependency. 

I'm giving up on insecurity.

I'm giving up on needing a boy.

I'm giving up on changing things I can't change.

I'm giving up on getting hurt.

I'm giving up on being defined by someone else.

I'm giving up on following.

I'm giving up on comfort.

I'm giving up on dissatisfaction. 

I'm giving up on infatuation.

I'm giving up on promises. 

I'm giving up on jealousy.

I'm giving up on mood swings.

It's a long list and a long shot, but I'm sick of holding onto these things that ultimately hurt me. I'm sick of hurting and I'm only hurting myself. Even if something is hurting me that's out of my control, I'm hurting myself more by trying to control it. 

Like everyone, I just want to be happy. Happiness is being content. I have to learn to be content with every situation that comes my way. I have to learn to thank God for everything, even the plank in my eye and the gum on my shoe. 

It's not going to happen over night. Life is a process, learning is a process. 

I'm reinventing myself, from the inside out. I am who I am, and I will be who I am, after I figure out who that is. 

Pretty much sums it up.

New outlook. New direction. 

Thoughts of a single lady.

"We must fight mediocrity, destroy complacency, and scoff at the thought of being called lukewarm."

Relationships are weird.

                      Who decided the steps?

You meet. You talk. You flirt. You date. You marry. You have kids. You die.

Who came up with dating? I think betrothal is a much better idea. 

Date: the time in which an event occurs. 

It seems strange to me that we would call a romantic evening, or scouting for a potential mate, the time in which an event occurs. I mean, I guess it makes sense, in a very literal sense, but there has to be a better word for it in the English language.

And dating? The time in which many events occur? Not exactly how I would explain an intimate and/or committed relationship.. But, I can't come up with a better word so I conform to pop culture's lingo.


And marriage?
Who decided it was essential to a happy life?
I would say it just causes more problems.. In fact, Paul agrees with me:

1 Corinthians 7

"Now to the unmarried and the widows I say: It is good for them to stay unmarried, as I do. But if they cannot control themselves, they should marry, for it is better to marry than to burn with passion... But those who marry will face many troubles in this life, and I want to spare you this."

Long story short, Paul and I agree that it is easier to give your undivided attention to the Lord when you don't have a wife nagging you or a husband ignoring you.

Sidenote: I understand not all marriages are this way, I have witnessed many happy and successful, loving marriages, my parents are the best example. And I'm not saying that I don't want to get married, because let's face it, that's basically all I want: to be a wife to the man of my dreams. 

We've been so brainwashed in our "American Dream" culture that the keys to a successful life are a 9-5 job, marriage, and children. 

Subject Change...

Beginning in pre-school, we're constantly asked what we want to be when we grow up. I always said a stay-at-home mom because I thought that's all there was to life, marriage and children. Or a singer. As a preschooler, I was destined to be the next Britney Spears. Funny how our dreams never change..


And through elementary school, we're taught skills in all different categories so we can figure out what we're good at, capitalize on it, and use it to be a functioning member of society. 


And high school... We're forced to learn science, math, english, art, music, etc. We're put in gifted and talented programs, honors classes, and extra-curricular activities. We're judged on a grading system, and our success depends on this grading system and how well we conformed to it so we can be a part of this culture that we've been convinced is the only right way to live. 


Then there's college. Now our intelligence and success is based on a piece of paper. A degree stating we went to all the right classes, paid the right amount of money, and "learned" something, a certain skill, that will ultimately better society. 
Some people know their skills and how to use them without needing to go to college. Some people, like me, follow these rules and go to college hoping to find a skill. 


Don't get me wrong, education is imperative. It's beautiful and life-changing. But the brainwashing, and the conformity is not. 
Children in America dread going to school in the morning. Children in third-world countries long for the kind of education we take for granted daily. 


Our culture has taken beautiful things like love, marriage, reproduction, education, and success, and turned them into a rule and a guideline. Things that were privileges and blessings are now burdens and just "the way of life". 


Well, what if I'm not okay with conforming? What if I'm not satisfied with mediocrity? 
But what if I'm already so stuck that there's no escape? 
Of course I don't have an answer, and I can't do anything to change the way things are. 


But I do know:
I don't want to be okay with living a life laid out for me by someone else. 
I don't want to be another mediocre face in the crowd.