Tuesday, December 27, 2011


Perchance there are greater things in this world besides the seemingly important visible things? Why is it that people must see before they believe? Why can we not believe and then see because of that belief?

It's funny, I cry out to the skies with anguish and frustration; with fists clenched, teeth barred, and knees weak, hoping that by some good luck, a strike of brilliance will overwhelm me and melt me from my stiff, mundane worries - hoping that there will be a solution if I seek hard enough. Answers don't pop out of the skies from the Lords throne room as we (or I) would like them to. They come through quiet suffering. They come through crazed and frantic minds. They come through soft whispers and giggles. They come through heads bent over words of wisdom. They come through frustration. They come through hardships. They come through moments of light and dark; relief and infamy.

It sounds cliche to tell someone going through a tragedy that, "Everything happens for a reason", or "This will help you grow". We don't want to hear that to comfort our pain. We want to numb that pain. We want to freeze it. Burn it. Kill it. Anything not to feel what seems like its slowly killing us inside. But if we do not feel, how are we human? How can we even be alive? We must feel, even if it seems to execute our very being. And when we feel, we must feel it all. Don't try to lie and tell yourself that everything is okay when it isn't. Why? Ohh. I know. It's like if someone were to ask you casually, "How are you doing?" and you didn't reply with the normal, "I'm good, how are you?"but with, "Well, I'm just terrible. Cried myself to sleep last night. What about yourself?" Sure. People would be aghast at that transparency.

And that's okay.

You don't have to tell them the complete truth, no; you can be polite with them, being nonchalant with no animosity. Just don't be polite to yourself. It's not like you're going to offend yourself. Why? Because it's okay to hurt. It's okay to feel down. It's okay to be vulnerable. It's okay to be frightened. It's okay to not have it all together. It's okay to be human. The truth we face is that, it's the world. We live in sin and we always will. Why am I saying this? Because I am hurting, deeply. I've been too busy to seem to notice it though. And when I do, it's shamefully pushed aside, as if I'm scared to face the fact that no, life isn't where I want it right now. I had such a huge struggle last year that when this year turned out to be better in the sense of meeting people who liked me, and making friends whom I could trust and relax with, I forgot my fears. They were numbed by me. No, not faced - numbed. Because I thought, they would pass if I just had a good ol' time and left them alone. I was wrong. They were skeletons in the closet, created, made, and formed by my own crafty, deprecating past self. Oh why am I writing this? Because, even though I know that I don't pretend to be Miss Perfect, there is an innate part of me that wants to contradict how I think people might see me. As much as I want so deeply to be smart, beautiful, fun, loving, motivated and everything that is good...I am not. I am covered in this skin that I want to be pulled out of. Rip it off me. I am not who you think I am. My classes have not turned out the way I had hoped, or planned, and that is tearing me apart. I am struggling with myself; this skin that I am in. As much as I want people to see me in a marvelous and good light, I just as much don't want them to see any good in me. I am deplorable and dark. I am wretched, worn, wasted, broken, defiled, and ruined. I have to be honest with myself right now. Whatever part of me thought that I was different to every other teen, is not there any more. Because the truth is, I am not motivated, easily distracted, not wanting to do school, lazy, addicted to the computer, vain, thoughtless, ungrateful and colorblind to the beauty of this world. I wish I appreciated things more. I wish I saw the beauty in everything.
I am ready.

For what?

To accept, with an odd feeling of relief, that I am at odds with myself. I am not who I want to be, and I have to be okay with that. As much as I want to be a strait-A student, there are limits. Perhaps, yes, I could be if I truly wanted to. But the reality? I want to talk with people, I want to take breaks, I want to be laid back, I want to learn on my own accord, I want to enjoy other parts of life - music, nature, non-school books...the things that keep me from being focused. I want to be with people. I want to help people. I am far from who I could be and, perhaps this sounds terrible... but I'm okay with that. I'm okay with not being okay. I'm okay with admitting my faults, my darkness, my damage, my regrets, my vulnerability. I don't want to hide behind a facade of who I am not. I want to be transparent; not colorblind to life.

So where is the happy note in this rant?

The happy note is that I wrote this several weeks ago during exam week, when emotions were high, feelings strung out, and desires burning deep within me. Yet I still agree with this fulminate.

Summary? Life is not perfect here, and it is okay to admit that, because if we don't, then we don't acknowledge feeling. If we don't feel, we don't live. If we don't are we human? There are greater things in this world besides the seemingly important visible things. And we must see, without actually seeing but believing, that there is a happy ending to our stories if we do feel. And we must feel to the hilt. God created us to feel this world, to take it in, the good and the bad. Being human, who He created us to be, brings him great pleasure. True feeling brings about true believing. True believing brings about true seeing. And then? We are not colorblind, but awestruck at a new world before our eyes bursting and budding with life and vibrancy. This is the life He wanted us to see. Don't cover it up with being frightened to admit things are not okay or you will be colorblind.

Monday, December 12, 2011


When I look through my old journals, I wonder, "Where has time gone?" It's bittersweat to realize that I'm not a child anymore. Where did those years go? It seems like so long ago. I feel like I've nearly forgotten that little girl. As I look at my old entries, I smile at my handwriting - sprawled across the page in cramped, untidy letters. I laugh at my stories that once seemed so dramatic and time-consuming. I chortle at my maturity that wasn't so present back then (and is still quite void today). And I weep when I realize that that is time I will never have back. That is a little girl who has grown up and gone away for the rest of my life. Perhaps I can pull her out every once in awhile when I'm with children and I can get away with childish things? It almost seems a pity that you only have one life, and such a short life at that. By the time we become mature enough to realize what life is all about and what we should do with it, we're already too close to the finish line.

Perhaps that is not correct, though. Many people know what they want in life, and what they want to do. But there are also many who don't. I just think it's sad that 2008 is long gone, and oppertunities that I had then, have passed me by. Oh, what fantasies used to run through my little head - they're gone now, too. That's what makes me sad. Things that once were, are now no more. They're lost.

"Nostalgia is like a grammar lesson: You find the present tense and the past perfect."

Somehow it is so true that both the past and future seem like better places to be than the present. Why? Because we're not dealing with them at the moment. We're not living in the past, nor occupying the future; we live in the present, and that can often be hard to accept when the present isn't what we want it to be. Hence we remember only the good things in the past, and wish to high Heavens to be there...or we dream of hyperbolized conceptions of the future and desire destiny now. Maybe I should be switching out those "we's" with "I's". Well anywho.

It's encouraging to think, however, that this isn't the end. This isn't my real life. My real life hasn't even begun yet, and there is no reason or rhyme to regret, or feel remorse about what has been, or be anxious about what will be. Even though the past sometimes seems like a better place, when I think truly about how I felt then, I remember not being able to wait for where I am right now. And then I see how far I've come, and who I am, and I wouldn't change or alter who God has made me at this exact point in life. And I will wait patiently until he molds me into who I will be in the future. Besides, in the end, these trivial anxieties won't really matter.


Pippin: "I didn't think it would end this way."

Gandalf: "End? No, the journey doesn't end here. Death is just another path, one that we all must take. The grey rain-curtain of this world rolls back, and all turns to silver glass, and then you see it.

Pippin: "What? Gandalf? See what?

Gandalf: "White shores. And beyond, a far green country under a swift sunrise.

Pippin: "Well, that isn't so bad."

Gandalf: "No. No, it isn't."

The Lord of the Rings, The Return of the King