Home

I realized recently that I am so very not ready to go off to college.
All throughout high school I was looking forward to the day I would pile all of my stuff in my car and drive off to whatever college campus and leave everything in this place behind.
And then I got my class schedule, and that freaked me out.
Then I got my housing assignment, and that freaked me out.

Then we had Sunday School in the college class, and that's when things really started to change.
Because there were no couches.
Kim and Casey didn't teach.
There were people sitting to the right of me that looked totally unfamiliar and we didn't even do a "How's your week?"
It was different and uncomfortable and a little scary.

And it occured to me that college is going to be that way. My bed will be different and my roommate might snore and my professors might not like me. And it's going to be uncomfortable and scary and different.
And I'm not really the kind of person who deals very well with change, you know.

But somewhere in this mess of class schedules and roommates and the dreaded "college class," I went to Africa.
And it was scary, and uncomfortable, and different.
And amazing.

Because my bed was different, and the showers were cold, and going to bed meant earning a few mosquito bites.
But there were also little girls who fought for my piggy back rides, and high school boys who thought that listening to the story of the Three Trees was more important than whatever their friends were saying, and babies who fell asleep in my arms.
And there was girl talk in the girls' rooms and stupid jokes and singing songs. There was Teri, and Chris and Lindy.

And there was John, who on the last day said, "Don't cry. You will come back. Do you know why? Because part of your heart will always be left here in Kenya."

I remember the last flight almost seemed to feel like the longest, because as soon as the wheels hit the runway my first thought was, "We're finally home."
I've heard a lot of people talk about how they heard God's voice, or God spoke to them, or whatever, but none of that had ever happened to me until then, when I heard Him say, "Your home is where I am."

And that is what I am taking with me to college.

"If home is where the heart is, then my home is where you are."

Africa

My heart beats a little louder with each second that passes. One more second closer to being there.

Pray for us. Please.

Captivating

"Sometime between the dreams of your youth and yesterday, something precious has been lost. And that treasure is your heart, your priceless feminine heart. God has set within you a femininity that is powerful and tender, fierce and alluring. No doubt it has been misunderstood. Surely it has been assulted. But it is there, your true heart, and it is worth recovering. You are captivating."

- Stasi Eldredge, Captivating (introduction, p. x)

This is your time to weep

Today was one of those days where I just woke up in a good mood. I was meeting Ryan and David at Elizabeth's, then going to help out at the thrift store. I was excited, and things were good.

Then I got to Elizabeth's. Ryan was there, but no David. Things were still good. Ryan ate pizza and I ate cheese and we made fun of TV commercials while we waited for David.

And then David showed up. We ate pizza, made fun of TV commercials, and things were good. Still.

Then we went to the thrift store; folded clothes, sorted things, etc. etc. And things were still good. And then all of sudden, it felt like someone completely and utterly punched me in the gut.
I couldn't explain it. I still can't. But out of nowhere it felt like my heart broke all over again. And suddenly being there in that thrift store folding clothes became the hardest thing in the world.

I realized that when I have free time, I think about it. That's why I've been killing myself to hang out with Shai and T.J. and Kurt. Not that I don't love them, because I do. But when I am alone with nothing to do, it comes to mind. And those are the times when it's the hardest to forgive, to get through it, to trust God.

And I'm lucky to have friends like mine who somehow recognize it the instant the feeling hits and are willing to do anything to make it go away, whether it's distracting me by driving me around Thomasville for two hours, or picking me up and spinning me around until I can't see straight.

There is a very good chance that right now I am just trying anything to avoid facing this head on. Or maybe I just don't want to run the risk of having idle hands. Either way, there is still a very, very long way to go in this healing process. But every shouting match I have with God, every person we confide in, every bible verse I am reminded of, every stupid game of "Would You Rather?" and every single church parking lot conversation is a small step towards the slow healing of a broken heart. Even through all the times I neglect God, all the times I yell at Him and swear up and down that I hate Him, He still holds me in His hands. So for now, small steps will just have to be good enough, because I know that eventually they will bring me to where I need to be.

This is your times to mourn
Not yet a time to build up
Just a time to tear down old walls
Old walls

Move Along

I feel like shit.

The entire ride home from church, I tried to think of a way to rephrase this in order to avoid profanity. So, I made a list of adjectives that could substitute for "shit" in this sentence.

• miserable
• angry
• hurt
• betrayed
• cheated
• stupid
• etc.

And then I realized that when someone who doesn't usually cuss does, it evokes certain emotions in the person who hears or, in this case, reads it. People automatically know that, for some reason, this person is incredibly upset. And I realized that in this particular situation, "shit" is the only appropriate adjective, because it's the only one that explains how angry, hurt, miserable, betratyed, cheated, stupid, used, rejected, and completely and utterly destroyed that I feel.

There is nothing quite like having your heart broken. To anyone who hasn't experienced it, it is impossible to describe. And the worst part is that my eyes are constantly stinging with the knowledge that I have lost not only my boyfriend, but my best friend.

There's a very particular feeling that rises in your chest when you cry. It's like every emotion you could possibly be feeling culminates in your chest, lumps up in your throat and spills out through your eyes. And for lack of a better word, it feels like shit.

There is a part of me that really wants to walk away from all of this, to just say "fuck this" and move on. Because what's the point in loving someone who doesn't know if they'll ever be ready to love you back?

Then there is another part of me that wants to hold on, because my heart is overflowing with the feeling that we are supposed to be together. Because why would God bring us together, let us get so completely attached, just to rip us apart and never put us back together? I mean, seriously, that's not really how He works, right? But then, what's the point in trusting a heart than can be deceived?

And then there is a part of me that wants nothing more than to find a happy medium, to get on with my own life without dating anyone else, to keep on loving him, to wait. But waiting has never been my strong suit. And again, why wait for someone who doesn't know if they'll ever want to be with you?

It occurred to me that this is one of those times where I have absolutely no choice but to rely on God. Because if I try and get through this by my strength alone, I will fail. I will crash and burn like I am so prone to do. But trusting God is so hard, because it means that I might not get the outcome I want or expect. No matter how strongly I am convinced that we are meant to be together, I might be wrong. It is not my will that is going to be done, but God's. And that means that I don't know what's going to happen, and I might not like it. And knowing that this is completely and utterly out of my control is absolutely terrifying. To keep up with my favorite adjective this post, it scares me shitless.

Yet at the same time there's a certain peace that comes with knowing that I am being carried, that there is Someone out there who knew every intricate detail of my life before I was a thought in my parents' minds. He knew that this would happen. He knew I would get my heart broken again and again. And I know that He will always be there to put it back together. When I think on this, I wonder why it's so hard to trust God the way I know I should. Why am I so hesitant?

But I pray that I'll overcome this ridiculous insecurity and trust God to get me through this. Because I know that I can't do it on my own.