Day 47

Venting, real life versus real-time, the taste of Christmas, the season of giving mixed in with some j-o-y, all rolled up into some bullets.

I is the ninth letter of the alphabet.  And sometimes the most disappointing thing to hear out of someone's mouth.  I did this, I said this, I think this.  One thing that hurts my feelings in conversations is when I can tell the other person is waiting on me to finish my sentence so they can say something—and sometimes not even waiting, but interrupting.  Care more about knowing someone than being known.  Listen more than you speak.  It makes the person opposite you feel valued.  Speak more and listen less, well, that value will decrease and you won’t have to wonder why they never ask you to hang out anymore.  I have to pursue this in every conversation.  I try to practice pausing my need to share—which, anyway, is usually met later on in the conversation when the other person feels comfortable enough to ask me something.  I have to die to myself on a regular basis.

App’d at the hip.  If we sit down together and you cannot put your iPhone down, you are sending me a very clear signal that you have better things to do.  I’m not talking about an occasional text to check in on your child or an appointment tomorrow, but if you’re sitting there playing Angry Birds or Words with Friends while I’m trying to open up to you, I’m not going to waste my breath.  Either spend time with me or don’t.  I could be elsewhere with someone else, not staring at the top of your head while you're busy interacting with someone—something—else.

Cinnamon-stuck.  I am stuck on cinnamon this season.  I mean, I love it year round, but it definitely feels more like Christmas with a candle, a cookie, or coffee to taste, smell, and enjoy.  I love cinnamon.

Gratitude to latitude.  I’ve been praying to God to be able to bless someone this season.  I was blessed a few days ago when I received $100, a very special gift from someone.  I prayed about what to do with it.  Pay off bills, buy groceries, buy gas, buy clothes…all of that seemed like…things I could do any time.  And so today I made a couple deposits into a couple different accounts of people who have spent the last year watching over me, protecting me, and making sure I had something to eat when it appeared that I didn’t.  They may not ask from where the gifts came, but I know they’ll appreciate it.  It means more knowing that they have something than me doing something less with that money.

Self-fulfilling prophecy.  I ain’t going to lie.  The last few days have been rough.  The next few weeks will be rough, too.  So rough that I’ve started giving up on love.  I’ve resigned to the idea that I’ll be 50, maybe 60 or 70, and never married.  That seems to be my scorecard so far.  And when talking with Sara about this tonight, she told me about the danger behind a self-fulfilling prophecy.  I wonder though if as a relationship-addict that I’m meant to feel this way for a time—to remove the primary desire for a husband, to take full advantage of being single.  And by full advantage I mean becoming someone who has their life centered around Christ—so much so that He is the only road to joy.  Right now if I were to date I know without a shadow of a doubt that I would fall back into being dependent on a guy for happiness, and happiness happens, but joy abides.  Need to rework some things before I can love to the best of my ability.

Tres away.  Day 47 into my challenge.  It's been difficult—so difficult.  But I'm growing.  Every day I get a little closer to who God wants me to be.  One day I'll be ready to love and be loved by someone.  Three days until my 50th day anniversary, and three days until Christmas.  On the path to being saved in more ways than one.  I get to celebrate my small victory, and I get to celebrate His larger-than-life victory.  And this will be my second Christmas at Fellowship—so much has happened in a year.  And I am so different from even a year ago.  I can't wait to see who I am in another year.

Assumption.  You read my blog and assume you know me, wrong.  Ask me, then you'll know exactly who I am and where my heart is.  Assuming does not breed life, but good conversation does.