Day 351

It's good to see them smile.

For the first time ever, I Skyped with my parents.

I miss them so much.  It’s incredible.

Dad asked, “So how many days left in your year?”

“Sixteen.”

There was a pause, and then he asked, “…you got anyone in mind?”

Turned my head, and thought.  “No, no one in mind…but, after all this, he’s going to have to be pretty amazing.”

Mom chimed in, “That’s too bad ‘cause I married the last amazing one...Dad's one of a kind.”

#sweetestthingiveheardhersay

Then she said, “Maybe you should start easy.  Don’t worry about commitment.  Just be friends first.  Go younger…”

Dad laughed, “Naomi, she doesn't want a boy who thinks he can, she wants a man who knows he can…”

“Are you quoting Spice Girls?” Mom asked.

Dad just laughed.

I love my parents.

God is amazing.  He has brought us to this amazing point where I don’t think I could love them any more than I already do.  He’s opened doors I thought were long closed, locked.  But here we are.

I’m living my life, my parents are supportive, and can even joke about parts of it.  They’re proud of me, even though I never turned out to be better.  To make more money.  To be smarter.  They’re proud of the me that I am.

I miss them so much, and wonder how much longer of my life will be spent in Memphis…

Day 347

Flee from temptation, right?  Right.

So when Katy Perry’s Teenage Dream would find its way onto my radio, I would change the station.  A girl like me with a past like mine need not hear such words or be led to think such thoughts.

I'm a get your heart racing

In my skin-tight jeans

Be your teenage dream tonight

Let you put your hands on me

In my skin-tight jeans

Be your teenage dream tonight

See?  See?!  Vivid imagination at work!  I do remember what it was like to be a teenager, Katy Perry, but I’m desperately trying not to remember.

For months, I’ve continuously clicked off the song...except for today when God laid on my heart Song of Solomon.

He made me think of context.  It depends on context. You can take those love ballads of Song of Solomon and place them between a man and a wife without being married, and it portrays a very different picture than that of two in covenant with God.

And I think that was why her song was so hard to hear when it initially came out, because of the context I had wrapped it in.  It made me think of my past, my recklessness, what I’ve given away and won’t have to give my future husband—all my hurt, from where it stemmed.

But thinking of Teenage Dream within the context of marriage, suddenly my entire perception of the song has changed.  Instead of imagining irresponsible, adulterous lovers, I see two committed people who have vowed to spend the rest of their lives together.  Try it.  Read it as if it’s a girl who’s dreaming about her husband…

You think I'm pretty

Without any makeup on What girl doesn’t want this?

You think I'm funny

When I tell the punchline wrong I especially need this guy!

I know you get me

So I let my walls come down, down Yup, ready for this guy.

Now every February

You'll be my Valentine, Valentine If I get married, I have a permanent Valentine.  Wow.

My heart stops

When you look at me Ready for this feeling, too.

Now baby I believe

This is real Waiting for the real deal.

We drove to Cali One day he’ll meet the ‘rents.

Got a motel and

Built a fort out of sheets Someone I can be a crazy kid with even when we’re old.

I finally found you

My missing puzzle piece That day when we find each other…

I'm complete Complete in a different way.

Let's go all the way tonight

No regrets, just love

The truest love is the love found in God, from Christ.  And that’s what I crave so desperately.  And I truly believe that if one does not know the love of Christ that he cannot know true love.

People give themselves away for love.  That’s why there are regrets.  People end relationships after having given the most intimate part of themselves to a person who wasn’t supposed to have it.

I know the next time it happens, if there is a next time, that it’s going to be something of beauty, and something out of true love.  Not just a hook-up.  Not just a way of validation.  If our love is Christ-centered, if we’ve kept God at the center of our hearts through our friendship, our courtship, our engagement…I don’t see there being regrets.

...for once, I don’t see there being regrets.  Which will be unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.

I think there’s a little bit of gospel in everything.  Now, this ain’t no Anthony Hamilton, but still, there’s a message in it.  God just sometimes has to focus our peripheral vision to see it.

We can dance, until we die

You and I, will be young forever

Day 325

In my few years of being saved, there is one sermon of which I am continuously reminded.  My dear friend introduced me to Matt Chandler long ago and I immediately fell in love with him fell in love with God’s character through him.

Christians have a tendency to give each other too much grace—a grace that causes more pain than healing, because sanctification is lost.  Love is arguably overshadowed in an over-giving of grace.  (Pastor Bryan Loritts sums up well the matter of loving your neighbor outweighing loving God in his book, A Cross-Shaped Gospel, pg. 33-34.)

I’ve learned much over the last few years, and I’ve learned that as much as it hurts, the people who care enough to say something about my behaviors or actions or words are showing me a love that is incomparable—priceless.  Unlike any other love.

And as we all have the duty to do such—edifying each other—I am always reminded of this part of Chandler’s sermon, appropriately titled Coffee with Granddaddy.  Solomon (btw, Solomon is a pretty gnarly dude!) sits down with us, wise man that he is, and covers us with the wisdom that only Solomon can, and reveals this (zoom 36 minutes into the sermon—it’s hilarious and worth the listen):

There’s a lot of wisdom in this next one.  It’s also one of the most painful to hear.  Verse 6, “For as the crackling of thorns under a pot, so is the laughter of the fools; this also is vanity.”

Solomon, as he sips down the last bit of coffee, looks across the room right at our face and says, “Wise people don’t laugh when they’re on fire, they scream, ‘Oh my God, I’m on fire!!!’”  He says, “You want to know a fool?  A fool will sit there, burning alive going, ‘Ha ha ha, what’s up?’”  “You’re on fire.”  “That’s alright.”  “What’s that smell?” “It’s my flesh.”  Wise people, they don’t giggle when they’re on fire, they scream at the top of their lungs that they’re on fire.

And it’s this one, more than anything else Solomon, our grandfather who has lived so deeply, wants to impart to us today. He’s going, “Listen, quit giggling while your world burns down.” Okay, I think the most destructive force in the universe is pride.  I do.  I know some of you are like, “What about the atomic bomb?” Okay, but if that ever gets used, I can bet you that pride is somewhere in the ranks. Now, I want you to follow me here, because here’s how I want to unpack this crackling pot, giggle thing. Do you know how many marriages could have been saved if early on, somebody would have screamed “fire” instead of giggling? So, what happens is, they grow apart and they grow apart and they grow apart and start smelling smoke. And they grow apart and they grow apart and they grow apart, and all of a sudden, this one’s mind is wandering, this one’s heart’s wandering. There’s coldness, but there’s commitment. There’s coldness, and then it’s another step apart. And now, the flames poof up. And they’re further apart and further apart. And the whole time, they pretend that everything’s alright. The whole time they chuckle like everything’s going well, and the whole thing is going up in smoke, burning right before their eyes.  And no one wants to scream “fire.”  Do you know how many people are constantly stuck in these devastating cycles of secret sin where they’re being owned by their lust or these behavior patterns that they can’t get out of?  And they just hide it and giggle like nothing’s wrong while all the while, their life, their world, their spirits are burning to the ground. And Solomon goes, “The wise scream out, ‘I’m on fire!’  They don’t laugh. They don’t laugh, they don’t giggle, they don’t pretend.”

And listen, the thing that makes this so frustrating for me is that so much of this has crept into the church. Like, do you want to hear something that’s really interesting about the Bible Belt? I keep running into people who love Jesus very much but don’t really like the church at all. Like, we just moved into a new house, and I got to go across the street to meet some of our neighbors. And they just seemed to have a real vibrant spirituality. They had a real vibrant understanding of Jesus and who He was and what He’s done for them, but they hadn’t been to church in like five years. Do you know why? Because everybody’s walking around on fire, pretending like they’re the only ones in the world that have never been burned. Which is crazy because Jesus goes, “No, I’ve come for the burn victims. I didn’t come for the well. I didn’t come for the ones who haven’t been burned. I’ve come for the ones who are currently being incinerated and for those who have had the flames put out and now want to be healers.”

…and Solomon goes, “Wise people, they don’t giggle while they burn down, but the fool does. The fool pretends that all is well despite the fact that the world’s going up in smoke.”

The friends that laugh at you, the friends that laugh with you, the friends that ignore the self-inflicted pain and wounding behavior?  That’s not love.

Love is edifying.  Love is that difficult conversation where you sit down, eye to eye, in love and tell the person what they’re doing is HURTING THEMSELVES.  Sometimes we’re blinded by the heat of our fire.  Sometimes we claim ignorance to not deal with the pain.  But it doesn’t make it go away.  It makes it worse.

First degree burns.  Second.  Third.  Fourth.  When does it stop?

When there’s nothing left but ashes?

No, those who love you try to stop you before there’s nothing left.

Let them love you.

Take the pain and embarrassment of someone noticing there’s something wrong, and look at it through the lens of love.

They love you.

They love you.

They love you.

God loves you as you are, but He loves you too much to leave you that way.

Cliché as it is, it’s truth.

And you can either not deal with it and burn.  Or let yourself be loved.

Day 321

She was a prostitute who had taken sanctuary in a church alongside twelve young girls and an American.

The Flowers of War was, in the least, a difficult movie to watch. 

I turned off the TV, my stomach turning from the images and the truths my eyes had witnessed.  Of everything I hated watching, there was one moment that meant something to me.

The hero and the heroine sat together in the sanctuary.  For the first time, they're honest with each other.  Yu Mo looks at John, the man she had come to love, with sad, but determined eyes, and said this:

"Like them, I was at a convent for six years.  But unlike them, I was raped by my stepfather when I was thirteen years old.  By their age, I was already forced to take my first clients.  I don't want them to go through that."

She knew what would happen to the girls when the Japanese returned to take them away.  And she had made a choice.  What little life she had left, what opportunity she had for love, she was sacrificing.  She was going to give her life for them.

That's what meaningful life is, isn't it?

Sacrifice.  Big, small.  Whatever it is, sacrifice.

To our younger generations, we women have a responsibility to help lead our young women down a different path from our own lives.

And we also have a responsibility to the women who are experiencing or will experience the pains of life we've experienced.  Our greatest mercy is sharing in the pain and walking with women as they walk paths that ride parallel to our own history.  To have a heart mended by God connect to a heart hurting, seeking out love, nurturing, and understanding.  We have a responsibility to provide emotional sanctuary, a guidance, because God gives us these experiences to build in us that heart, a heart that propels us toward His children.

We have a responsibility to walk with each other.  To sacrifice, to love, to protect.

For Americans, we're unhappy with the un-fairytale ending.  We want the woman to have a successful career or the last laugh, living independently on her own.  We want to the couple to fall in love, whether star-crossed or heavenly ordained.  We want to see the hero win the medal and be recognized.

Sometimes the truth is that the hero receives no recognition.  Sometimes the hero isn't remembered by millions of people.  Sometimes the lovers, as much as they love each other, do not end up together.

As much as I hated the movie, I appreciate its honest voyeurism of what sacrifice, of what love, of what a higher purpose can be.

We sacrifice for those needing sacrifice.

Not because we gain, but because as sons and daughters of the Ultimate Sacrificer, we should be encouraged to do likewise.  To show the same love.

Sacrifice.  Responsibility.  Love.

These could be synonyms—should be synonyms.

A life without them is a life wasted.

Day 312

My dad is still in the hospital, but I feel as if the weight has been lifted from our family.

Sure, there’s still the recovery.  The changes that will have to be made at home.

But he’s alive.  Albeit weary and nauseous, but alive.

I called Mom a few minutes ago to check-in.  She had already come home from visiting Dad in the hospital and was now cooking dinner.  Funny, on the other side of the states, her daughter was cooking, too.

I imagined us, the women of the family, standing in our kitchens, pots sizzling, fears calmed, anxieties dissipated, energy dissipated, but hearts flooded with relief.

“Jamie, thank you so much for being there,” she said after catching me up on Dad’s current state.

I laughed lightly.  To me, so far away, I felt like I had done nothing.

“Mom, I only did the best I could from 2,000 miles away.”

“Oh, honey, you did everything…and more, so much more.”

I expected her to stop there, but she continued.

“That Tango call really helped.  Seeing you before he went into surgery, I think that helped a lot.  He was so calm and peaceful…so unlike the first time.  I mean, and how could seeing all those pictures of all those people praying not make him feel at peace?  He was just so different from the first time…”

I leaned my elbow on the counter and covered my eyes with my hand.  I felt the tears.  It was like those words had been delivered straight from God.  Out of my mother.  The unbeliever.

The inner evangelist in me wanted to cry out then, to tell her it wasn’t me, to tell her about God, to tell her about why everyone was praying and Who they were praying to…

…but instead I just said…

“I love you, mom.”

And for right now, for today, for this time, that was enough.

When I hung up, I let the feeling of hope bath me.  The feeling of faithfulness.  Of love.

Thank you all for praying for my family.  For praying for my father, my mother, and me.  Thank you for it all.  I can’t even tell you how much and how amazing this experience has been.  Tragedies, yes, they’re terrible and awful, but in the midst of them, if you focus the scope of humanity, you are blessed with gifts that you otherwise would never experience.

Faithfulness.  Friendship.  Opportunity.  Love.  True, grace-giving, unconditional love.

And that is something always worth acknowledging.

Thank you, thank you, a million times, thank you.

Day 224

My favorite weddings are the ones where the bride and groom are goofy.  The type of couple that just laugh at life—those are the people I love to watch marry.

Because I promise you, my groom and I will be cutting up on our wedding day.  I might trip awkwardly down the aisle, laugh as we say our vows, smash cake in his face, breakdance on the dance floor, and laugh hysterically through it all.

That’s one of the many things I’m searching for as I grow up.  Just someone I can laugh with.  After the romance dies down, I want to know I’m marrying my best friend.  The person who doesn’t take life so seriously.  The person who can laugh at himself.

I know we’ll be different in so many ways, but I ask that God makes us compatible in two:

1.       Let our senses of humor feed off one another.

2.       Let him be the type of person who has “never met a stranger.”

I see so many good things for my life.  I see myself serving and helping and meeting so many new people, and I want him to be right there with me.

Right now I’m watching Friends with Benefits.  Now, I’m not pro-friends-with-benefits, nor have I ever been—but to watch the friendship/relationship that develops between Jamie and Dylan really just reminds me that I want that.

That laughter.  That baring your soul.  That freedom to joke.  The fun.  It’s fun to watch them.  And I pray for that.

I’ve heard from a lot of people that the closer you get to thirty, the more you know yourself.  The more secure you are in you.

And that has definitely been true for me.  I know more about myself now than I ever have.  I’m more confident.  More secure.  I know what I want and what I won’t settle for anymore.

And that reminds me that being single will always be better than settling.  And I’ll keep my heart open for that guy who comes along who can be my best friend, my lover, and my husband.

Though this is Memphis, where barbecue abounds, I know I’m somebody’s rib...and eventually he'll find me :)

He who finds a wife finds a good thing and obtains favor from the LORD (Proverbs 18:22).

Day 219

I don’t know when it happened.

Maybe it was when Ava started crying…
And I realized that I could be a part of a child’s life without having to be a mom.  Holding her and loving on her gave me so much joy.  And if I never have kids, I can still love the children of those around me like I have the heart of a mom.  I can still experience smiles, laughs, heartbreaks, and love.

Maybe it was when we went shopping…
And I realized that even though I don’t have a large group of friends, God gave me a friend who can make me laugh, cares about me, and we can just chill and shop at Target and grab dinner and relate to one another in a very chill, laid back way.  That’s all I ever wanted—a friend who can encourage me and listen, but also shoot the breeze.  We don’t always have to have deep conversation, sometimes we can just enjoy the little things in life.  If I never have a big group—the “family” I imagined, that’s okay.

Maybe it was when I realized time changes everything and nothing…

Sitting across from her on the sofa, I came face to face with all the struggles we had gone through separately, and realized that being apart didn’t matter.  I can still be so close to someone even if it’s been years since I’ve seen them.  Maybe I realize some friendships don’t really dissolve even if it seems like time has taken us away from each other.  That friendship is still there, waiting to shine light and love in future situations in amazing ways.

Maybe it was when she walked into a room of family and friends…

And I realized I was a part of it.  I was loved enough to share in a special moment.  I felt special.  And I felt blessed to stand by as she and her new fiancé told their engagement story.  Again, I realized, quality over quantity.  And if one person loves me right now, then the gape in my heart should be a little less.

Maybe it was when he smiled at me…

And I realized I felt safe.  I felt safe with him, plus all my other guy friends.  I realized I am happy.  I’m happy being single.  I’m happy to have such great men in my life who devote their hearts to Christ.  I’m blessed to watch as these friends begin to date—to watch them pursue women and honor them.  It gives me hope one day that I should find a man who treats me likewise.  And I like having my guy friends—no pressure to be something I’m not, because there are no expectations.  I can appreciate them as a sister does a brother, no threat from either side of unwanted feelings.

And as I watch the world around me, I realize there's some happiness in me.  Though there are everyday annoyances and a heart that one day longs to be loved by one man, I am happy.  I’m happy not dating, I’m happy as a single girl, I’m happy as a friend, I’m happy as an employee.  I don’t have everything I want, but I have everything I need right now.

And now’s the time to soak it up.  Every.  Single.  Moment.  Enjoy the friendships.  Enjoy the rain.  Enjoy the small trips.  Enjoy the time alone.  Enjoy the cup of coffee.  Enjoy being goofy.

And that is exactly what I’m going to do.

Who’s with me?

Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice (Philippians 4:4).

Therefore my heart is glad, and my whole being rejoices; my flesh also dwells secure (Psalm 16:9).

Day 206

She came in alone today.

She hadn’t been alone the last few times we saw her.

Wearily, in a soft tone, as I welcomed her, she said, “You know my husband passed away.”

And I quieted.

“Four months to the day of his diagnosis, he passed away.”

And when she departed, my prayers went with her.

When we first met them, it was almost four months ago.

Initially, because of her father’s recent passing, they were coming in to update files.  Flustered, quick-tempered, a type of anxiety was written on the husband’s face.

At the end of a frustrated hour, he seemed to exhale in a way of saying, Look, I’m going to level with you…

“I’m dying…”

At his openness, we were all silenced.

Diagnosed with cancer—a diagnosis that sealed his soon departure from this world—he had but one care.

“I need to know she’s going to be taken care of when I’m gone.”

And I remember that moment.  He said it with strength, dignity, and pure love for his wife.  He fought the tears, but I sensed his desperation, his need for everything to be done and done right.

This was man who was not fighting cancer.  He wasn’t even fighting the bank.  No, he was fighting for her.

And as she walked away from our office today, I remembered his love for her.  Accepting his diagnosis and trusting God, his priority went from his own health to her wellbeing. 

And how special that was for me to see a man love his beloved so much as to make sure she was cared for in the midst of his own personal struggles.

Can you imagine the strength, the trust in God throughout his last months?  Knowing what was to come, being prayerful, but being proactive and seeking out her welfare.

One flesh.

A shift in my heart came.

The last few months God has been showing me images of true love.  Of sacrificial love.  And whenever He reminds me of a love searching out the good for others, I am reassured in my singleness.

As my standards and expections are raised by examples of His love, I know that either I’ll have a husband that fights to sacrifice…or I won’t.

The next guy I date will be special.  There is no doubt in my mind that He is giving these examples to me for a purpose.

His will or no will.

I prayed for her tonight, praying for peace in her heart at her loss, but mostly praising the beauty in her having experienced His love here on earth through him, and knowing that she’ll one day see the man who sacrificed for her right next to the God who sacrificed for all.

Day 205

I woke up at 5:30 in the morning, painfully cold.

For the third morning in a row, the set-to-freezing air conditioning in the beach house refused to let me sleep.  It was obvious God had bigger plans for me than a few extra hours of rest.  I heeded the call, albeit uncomfortably, and rose.

Before the rest of the house awoke, I showered, and made my way back to the beach for one last visit.

The morning was still.  Peaceful.  I walked down the row of colorful houses, admiring the freshness of the day.  Quietly, I began to sing...

Savior I come, quiet my soul, remember

Redemption's hill, where Your blood was spilled for my ransom

Everything I once held dear, I count it all as lost

I hummed a little as I reached the top of the stairs right before the beach.  I sat and surveyed the ocean in all its morning glory.  The sand.  The blues of the water.  The quiet sky.  It was all much too beautiful and as the lyrics continued to run through my mind, the inevitable happened.

I started crying.  Almost to the point to where I was sobbing.

Everything I once held dear, it’s lost.  In my mind, I recounted where I stood a year ago.  Exactly to the day.  A week from today, last year, something would happen that would strike a fire—an initimate implosion that would change my life forever.  And I was fearful.  I was hurting.  I was in a terrible place.  I was a terrible person making terrible decisions.

Despite everything—everything—He stopped me.

He loved me enough to stop me.

And it’s exactly His love that brought on the outpouring of emotion in front of His beautiful creation this morning.

Redemption.  Much of this trip was an opportunity for redemption.

He gave me the chance to do certain things over.  To act differently.  To speak differently.  To be different.  And maybe most importantly for this time in my life—to see the difference.

I almost can’t believe just how much has changed since May of 2011.

Changes I had always deep down desired but never had reason or strength to pursue…He answered.  And I feel it.  I feel how I’ve changed.  And I feel Him.  I feel it like I can feel the wind on my face, the ocean waves lapping at my toes, the sand beneath my feet.

I know He exists, because who I am now—this complete transformation—has nothing to do with me or who I was.  I had not the strength, the will, nor the desire to change until He came into my life and rescued me.

He could have let me drown in my ocean of sin.  He could have let me die.  But He didn’t.

I am so grateful to God for showing me that I am not who I was 365 days ago.  I am so honored and humbled that He met me where I was and tore me from my worthless pursuits.  I am so thankful that He reminds me from where I came, and pushes me further, encouraging me to drive closer to Him.

And the closer I draw to Him, the farther away I walk from myself.

Today was a reminder of what was, what is, and because of Whose grace and compassion and love and righteousness and mercy that I am saved.

As I stood from my seat, I breathed a silent farewell to the image of majesty set before me, and wept tears of gratitude, humility, and love.  I feel Him now more than ever.  And it’s encouraging, overwhelming, scary, reassuring, and unbelievable all at once.

Day 200

This kind of love it's what I dreamed about

Yeah it fills me up

Baby it leaves no doubt

This kind of love it's why I'm standing here

It's something that we can share

I can't enough of this kind of love

This Kind of Love, Sister Hazel

I loved him.

It may have been one of the shortest love stories of my life, but it was by far the most powerful.  A lot of nights lately I think of him.

I miss him, I think.  And I think.  And I think.

And then I thought, But why do I miss him?

And I started thinking about what I miss about him.

His friendship.

What is friendship?

Friendship is loving someone for all that they are, through all that they are.  I miss that he loved me for all that I was, knowing everything about me.  I miss how we laughed together, and how goofy we were.  I miss how we were friends.  I miss how he respected me.  I miss how I could so freely be myself and that he loved me through it all.

And as I let these thoughts drift through my mind, I do miss him, yes, but it’s more I miss what was because I don’t believe this will ever happen to me again.

To have someone know me—know all of me—and love me still.  To want to be with me.  To be tender with me, to be my best friend, to laugh with me, to enjoy the same things together.

I think this is why Bryan’s prayer on Sunday caused tears to well up.  His words of a loving, but strong husband left me feeling empty.  Who would ever be that to me?

I think myself so odd that I may fare better alone than ever with anyone again.

No, not fare, but be left stranded, for who would die to themselves so much that they would love me?

Even now as friends prime me for dates, as men are beginning to notice me, as I’m beginning to have options, I really don’t see them as options as all.

Someone is laying groundwork.  God, I feel You starting something.  Right now, He’s lining up men I can and will say no to, because I’m developing some standards.  It's like a practice run.  An exercise.

But the flip side is this: when other men ask—men that I feel would be lowering their standards to date me—will I say yes even then?

Or will I make the decision for them?

Suddenly, I leave the realm of me simply saying No, I’m not attracted to you and bump into No, I’m not good enough for you so let me save you the trouble of getting to know me and let you spend your time on another woman who would be such a better wife to you, a woman not so stained and heart so battered.

There is a part of me that believes the lie that it was a fluke that he came into my life.  It was all a fluke; the timing, the love, the circumstance.  It wasn’t a gift from God, because I don’t deserve gifts as beautiful as that one.  And if it’s a fluke, it’s not likely to happen again.

How little do I trust my God with this?  I choose to be led to see differing patterns of either He never gave and it was coicidence, to He gives, but only to take away.  It happened with him, and it happened with my community.

There is so much hurt in my heart still.  Deep, settled, rampant hurt.  And I know I want to trust Him with my heart.  I just don’t know how to get there.

And so I think of what’s past and wonder if I’ll ever feel that way again, or if I’ll keep my heart locked up forever.

Happy 200th day, beloved, I hear Him say.  I know it's only by Him that I have come this far.  So why do I feel so hopeless?

Day 195

"My only regret in life is that I didn't have another son for you to marry," he laughed.

"Aaw, I can still call you 'Dad,' right?"

We all laughed.  I was sitting at a table with my best guy friend and his parents.  A family preparing to celebrate a graduation and an upcoming wedding.  I'm ready to celebrate, too.

I reflected on the last two years with my friend and his beautiful soon-to-be wife being in my life.  What an impact they have had on my life!  I have no doubt God strategically gave them to me, knowing fully I needed them.

I remember meeting them several Novembers ago while I was in a terrible relationship, and thinking, "I wish I had a relationship like that one."

I remember as he became the first guy to really love me as a friend, showing me what a Godly man is, and watching him as he continued to lovingly pursue his girlfriend.

I remember as she, though being so young, led me spiritually in moments where I desperately needed a strong Godly woman in my life.  The nights she spent on my couch while she was in town visiting him, and how comfortable she is with who she is in Christ.

There is a part of me that will miss the pre-marriage version of our friendships.  I'll miss her spending the night or him counseling me through relationship and men stuff.

But, then, as I was driving the other day, I heard God say that it's okay to miss people and things and seasons of life.  We don't miss the bad things...

Oh, I miss him breaking up with me.

Oh, I miss her using me.

Oh, I miss that job that made me feel worthless.

If we miss something, it was special.  That's why we miss it.  And I don't know how I didn't understand that sooner.

There have been so many things I've been missing lately.  I wish I could go back to this time, this friendship, this season...

But then I'm neglecting the space for new things, new people, new experiences...

All the people I've gotten to know lately, all the delicious food I've been able to eat, all the fun first-time-things I've been able to enjoy...

If I held onto the same friendships, in the same seasons, in the same place, life would be routine.

Anticipating this wedding, I am so excited for them, and their new life.  She'll be living in town now.  Both of them right down the street.  She’ll be a wife and he’ll be a husband.  And they’ll still be my friends—friends that I’ll get to watch build a life and a family together.

Change can be good.  Change can be great.  And this is opening my eyes to how very good it can be.

Counting down the days to beignets, New Orleans, and seeing two amazing people tie the knot!

Day 190

Things are going...

...to be okay.

Whether car troubles, work troubles, friend troubles, community troubles, money troubles, body troubles, beauty troubles, health troubles...

...things are going to be okay.

Because child, you are forgiven and loved.  Every day is an opportunity to cry, to heal, to prepare, to fix, to help, to hurt, to rebound, to try again, to work harder, to love more, to save each other, to be saved by Him.

And I'm trying my best to let Him save me instead of working to save myself.

...which we all know is useless anyway.

Thankful for my mother today, and praying that the Lord saves her soul.  I pray that He brings someone into her life that can share the gospel with her in subtle, endearing ways.  Let her not be frightened, and let her feel peace in You, Christ.  Please bring her to You.  Please let her be saved.  She's my mom.  I love her.

This is the 6th Mother's Day I've spent away from her.  Let someone be at work in her life even if it's not me...

Day 154

Alone again.

I pulled into an almost-empty parking lot and wondered if I was in the right place.

You know, God, I’m really tired of doing things alone.  Why am I alone?  I don’t understand, and I’m sick of being by myself.

I parked, fifteen minutes early for the event, and pretended to be getting together stuff in my car while I waited to see if more people would show.

If nobody else shows up, God, I’m leaving.  I’m not going to be one of five people in a six hour event.  You can forget it.

You don’t mean that, I heard Him say.

Yes, I do!

Of course I didn’t, but I felt irritated and upset.  I really didn’t want to have walk into an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar people and be uncomfortable.  Leaving seemed like the better plan.

But, as God would have it, more people pulled in, and as they walked toward the church, I tried to walk far enough behind them to seem like I wasn’t following them.   But who was I kidding?  I was lost and too shy to ask for directions, so I was just pretending like I knew where I was headed.

When we got into the building, I looked around.  It was a nice church.  I followed the people I was pretending not to follow to the table set up for the event.

Alone, I purchased my study guide, and walked into the auditorium where I took a seat in the middle.

As more people filtered in, I felt more and more out of place.  I knew no one and even worse, everyone was boo’ed up.  It was like being on the ark.  Pairs of two everywhere—except for me.  Jamie sat alone.

Why, God?

As everyone talked and mingled, I waited for the event to begin.  When the screen lit up, I was thankful.  I wanted to be lost in God and forget my ungrateful feelings of loneliness.

About 200 of us were there for the Secret Church led by David Platt via Simulcast.  I had never heard a sermon by David before, and only know his name by way of his popular book, Radical.  I had no idea what to expect.

He explained to us that in secret churches across the world, people meet and want to learn as much as they can in as little time as they can.  They move quickly and study intensely.  To taste their world, and to make it completely through a 224 book, he said he’d be talking fast.  And talking fast, he did.  Like an auctioneer on Adderall.

And what unfolded was seven hours of passionate teaching of His Word.  I can’t even begin to describe the emotions—all the emotions—I felt throughout the night.  For seven hours I was able to hear how much He loves us, why we suffer, why He suffered, and how much of the world is desperately in need of the Gospel.

Overwhelmed with information and revelation, every minute almost sent me into tears.  Every revelation came like a blow to my heart.  Amazing, amazing, amazing that I hadn’t seen God like this before.

As we ended the night, we sang All is Well With My Soul, and I continued to fight back tears.  Voices overpowered the quiet audio and I could hear every single voice mixed in to a choir praising God and His sovereignty.

The last leg of this OYC was to work on my heart.  Past the ex-boyfriends, past the parents, and onto me.  And tonight while I sat alone, I realized that part of knowing myself is knowing the God who made me.  Because how can I know where I’m going if I don’t know my Creator and the depth of His love and the purpose of my life?

Tonight was such a gift.  Always complaining, I am so surprised that God doesn’t just smite me.  Tonight was intense.  In retrospect, not going with anyone gave me such freedom.  I got there early.  I got to pick my seat.  I got to focus on my time with God instead of wondering if someone was getting tired or bored.  I didn’t have to leave early.  It was a very intimate, personal time with God.  Almost like a date.  A date where you find out everything about the other person—except this person isn’t a person, but the Creator who formed me!  I found out things I never knew before, and it just inspired a deeper, more intimate love for God.

When I first became a Christian, it was easy to see God as my Abba Father.  But lover of my soul?  That sounded more than a bit awkward.  And I pushed that to the side for a long time.  But tonight, tonight I can honestly say that I’m in love with God.  In love.  Passionately in love for the God who saved me, and saves me daily, and wants me daily, and fights for me daily, and comforts me daily.

How can I stand to not honor Him?

Thank You for tonight, God.  I pray that this message is just repeated in my head and in my heart from this day forward.  I thank You for answered prayers, and I pray that I continue to learn about You.  I pray that one day I can share You and Your love with others and can be used by You to shine Your light to unbelievers.  This was a monumental step in my walk tonight, and I am so thankful that You love me and saved me.  Thank You for giving Your life for us all, God.

“And those whom he predestined he also called, and those whom he called he also justified, and those whom he justified he also glorified.  What then shall we say to these things?” (Romans 8:30-31)

Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,

Let this blest assurance control,

That Christ has regarded my helpless estate,

And hath shed His own blood for my soul.

My sin, oh, the bliss of this glorious thought!

My sin, not in part but the whole,

Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more,

Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!

—Horatio Spafford

Day 143

JustBcuz143.

I remember it like it was yesterday.

I was on AIM, talking to the “other girl” about the man I thought loved me.

It was the day I would learn so much, including what the numbers 1-4-3 meant.

It was ironic.

I. Love. You.

It ran rampant on pagers, on AOL profiles, on AIM away messages.  And I finally had learned what it meant.  That was years ago—more than a decade now—but today, every time I see those numbers in sequence, I see the message, “I love you.”

So today, today being Day 143, I anticipated something...though I didn’t know what.

A week ago, my friend left me a voicemail.  I’m terrible at listening to voicemails (sorry!), and today I finally listened to it:

“You’re worth it.”

Something broke inside me in those words.

I’m worth it.

I’m worth it.

I’m worth it.

Repeat it, Jamie.

Say it till you mean it.

Say it till you feel it.

I’m worth it.

I think of the dear, dear people who have stuck with me throughout my transitional periods.  Of the people who have come and gone in my life.  My family.  The people I touch on a day to day basis.  I think of everyone who has offered a smile.  I think of all the beautiful things I’ve seen within the last few months.

All offerings from God.

You’re worth it.  You’re worth the fight.  You’re worth love.  You’re worth it all.

God, I don’t know how you managed it, but today I feel loved...so loved.  I feel like a little more of the darkness has been erased, and I feel just a little bit more freedom.  Thank You for all the wonderful people you’ve put in my life.  Thank You for the love.  Thank You for the hardships that are growing me, healing me, and changing me to look more like You.  Your love is extravagant, amazing, faithful, and I can’t thank You enough for any of it.

Anyone who does not love does not know God, because God is love (1 John 4:8).

Day 114

God, please.

I never thought I would say this, but I don't want to leave.

Please slow down time.  Please stop time.  Please let me stay in this moment.

Please, please, please, please let me stay.

I loved having breakfast with my dad.  He opened the door for me.  We sat in a booth, eating hashbrowns and eggs, talking about life.  There were awkward moments at first where I didn't know what to say.  I still feel like I'm five years-old when I'm around him, and the toughest part was talking to him as an adult.  But when I did, it was an amazing feeling to sit across from him and share in his wisdom.

He talked of grandpa, his past with mom, my brother's life, my life...we talked about his feelings.  His heartattack, his decisions, his love for his family, his mom and dad, and Grandpa Jack.  I talked about the possibility of me not having children, not being married, and about it being okay to just give him "grand-puppies."  I asked of his sacrifices as a father and a husband.  We paid, and donated to the UC Davis Children's Hospital.  "Jim & Jamie."  And brought home a truffula tree seed for Mom.  And we drove out to his cannery.  Or at least what used to be his cannery.  We talked of Grampa Jim.  His trailer.  Why he decided not to live with Mom and Dad.  How much he loved me.  His choices for his life...and how we all make choices.

And when we came home it was time for Mom.  I took the keys, and ushered her into the car without revealing where we were headed.  When we pulled up to Village Nails, she knew.  She knew and she was tickled...or maybe she was terrified.  I held her hand and we walked into the salon where she didn't kick anyone in the face.  I kept looking at her from my seat...just so happy to see her happy.  From there we drove to Sakura and bought seeweed, and beancakes, and crackers, and Japanese juice drinks.  And then after that we took her to Peet's, because I thought she'd enjoy raspberry flavored coffee.  And then we shopped a little.  That's something we never did when I grew up.  I was too much of a brat.  And I made her try on things she would never try on.  And I tried on things.  And we shopped.  And we enjoyed each other's company.

And on the way home she said, "I will remember this day forever."

Then as a family we ate at Pho Saigon Bay, which ironically Dad wanted to try weeks ago, but Mom said no.  They tasted new food.  And after eating heartily and leaving happily, we walked over to Tutti Frutti where Dad had sugar-free strawberry and...

...and I don't want to leave.

I don't want to leave.

For the first time I want to stay.

I want to be a part of their lives.

I want to be around.

I don't want to not be here.

I don't want them to die without me having put in every effort humanly possible to love them.

I don't want them to die unsaved.

I don't want another moment to pass where I can't see my mom smile, or hear my dad laugh, or listen to another of Steven's jokes.  And my grandma...my grandma who is so sweet and shopped for clothes for me and loves me so much.

How can I leave this?

God, change my life.  Change something.  Please bring me peace about leaving, because I'm about to fall to pieces.  Please....do something with these feelings.  Please, please, please...my heart is breaking, and I can't take it.

Day 98

It was the room I remembered from my early childhood.

The blue paint, the matching nightstands, the bed placed against the wall under the window.  It was my parents’ old master bedroom.

My father was dying, and like a version of Minority Report, we already knew when and by what means it was going to happen.

It was his heart.

He was in so much pain.  His eyes filled with tears.  I sat kneeling next to the bed, holding his hand.  I was panicking.

I have 17 seconds, I thought.

He saw my eyes shift toward the phone.

“Why try?” he gurgled, his voice sputtering from pain.

“Because I have to!”

I had never dialed 911 before, so I listened intently as my finger pressed the last number.  A pause, and then the recorded operator picked up.

A recording?

“You are number 73 in waiting,” her monotone voice buzzed.

I dropped the phone, exasperated, and began weeping.  I held my father, and waited, precious seconds ticking down to the end of his life.

I felt a dark shadow smirk from the bathroom.  Through tears, I couldn’t make out its identity, but I knew it was not of God.  And as it leered, I continued to sob.

Needless to say, this dream terrified me.  Friday morning, my alarm woke me from that plane, and sent my heart into mourning.

Daddy’s little girl.  Sometimes this term houses irony.

Nobody’s words have cut as deeply as his have, and this is spawned by my deep love for him and deep aching to be loved by him.

As a father wanting more for his daughter, his desire for her to be ambitious and self-dependent grew in her a heart broken from unsatisfaction and a supposed inability to attain.

My efforts were never enough.  Congratulations were never just congratulations, but instead just a car on a train tailed by a caboose of, “Now what?”

Now what?

There was always something I could improve upon.  Always just one step closer.

One step closer to what?

As if one day I would reach something where accomplishing would no longer be had.

Never being good enough…

And this is where my heart has turned now instead…

To one father I will never be good enough.

And to The Other I will certainly never be good enough.

But it is by The Other’s unfailing grace, love, and faithfulness, that I can embrace not being good enough.

For if I ever beheld that I was good enough, everything that is good would fall from my life and I would forsake the most precious gift.

And it is by such a gift that when I go back to California, I can love the first father I knew with the love of The Second, who is really second to none, but the Number One Who has stolen my heart and protects it, redeems it, sustains it, believes I can be who He has called me to be.

And so I am his daughter.  The one who was hurt.  The one forgotten, and never encouraged, and never congratulated.  But because I am His, a new love exists and one so powerful that I am willing to fight for my family like I haven’t before.

And so, I begin in baby steps.  I cannot love my father unless I know father.  And as this thought reverberated in my core today, God placed a simple book at the tips of my fingers as I perused the walls of Francesca’s, the most unlikely of places—I assumed—for the Hand of God.

Scrolling through its pages, I imagined some of the answers I could hear.  I pray that this opens doors for my relationship with him, and that whatever hurt abided is flushed away, leaving healing to grow and flourish in its depleted place.

ACTION PLAN PA:            Share an afternoon at IHOP, relive old memories of his day at the cannery.  If the weather and season permit, plant a plant in his garden.  Ask him to write in this compilation, of which of his all his gifts bestowed upon me would be his greatest yet; discuss it.

Day 93

I stood in front of 30 people, my words slurred and eyes swollen.

Two years earlier, my brother was diagnosed with Paranoid Schizophrenia, and it was the day before my public speaking final in college that he had his first violent episode.  Him missing a day’s worth of medication would leave me with a bruised face, a split lip, and a humiliating final exam.

My presentation lasted less than 15 minutes, but my anguish and confusion would take years to heal.

The relationship between the two of us has always been strained, beginning when we were toddlers.  Our grandparents were taken from us by way of Cancer and alcoholism.  Our parents fought endlessly.  We were constantly bullied at school.  Neither of us had an easy childhood, but his was far worse.

He had an abusive sister whose battered spirit was self-medicated by inflicting deeper wounds on a child three years her junior.  Tormenting him, bullying him, and fighting with him and against him.

That’s not what big sisters are supposed to do.

Saturday was his 24th birthday.  And as our mom handed him the phone, I felt so blessed to hear the joy in his voice when he knew who was on the other end.

It is nothing short of a blessing that he loves me.  I look at the trinkets he has sent for birthdays and reread the cards written for holidays, and feel a deep sadness that pools in the pit of my heart.  I can’t imagine how I deserve any of his love.

The last five years I’ve pushed him away, and I’m just now realizing that it’s not because of what he did, but because of what I did to him.  The guilt of how I treated him keeps me from him.  Selfishness keeps me from him.

Viewed as a sweet Christian girl now, my brother is a piece of my past that reflects a very evil heart.  I tore apart the one who needed me the most.  How can I be good?  How can people love me when I’ve done such evil things to someone who I was supposed to love?

My pride keeps me from him, because I’m reminded of who I was.  Unforgiveness keeps me from him, because I can’t forgive myself for the past.

And yet, when I return to California I know that he’ll be the first one to rush to the escalator to hug me.  I know he’s the first to defend me.  I know he’s the first who will love me for everything I am.

My brother has a past filled with monumental hurt, and yet he still loves.  He has forgiven me for my transgressions, so why am I still tethered to them?

God died for our sins.  He died for what’s been done to me.  And He died for what I did to my brother.  And if I’ve been forgiven, then, to honor God, to honor my brother, my flesh, my blood, I must live like I’ve been forgiven.

This time I have an opportunity to love him like I’ve never before been able.  Though the past cannot be remade, it can be redeemed.  

God, please let past pain be used as encouragement for a new relationship.  Let me show my brother true love.  Let me be a sister of love, kindness, humility, patience, and complete self-sacrifice.  Help me fight the urge to run and let me show him Your love.

ACTION PLAN BRO:         Talk to him about our past, fully understand his perspective.  Take him for a drive, because he used to love driving on the interstate.  Stop at Lifeway, because he loves books, and see if anything is sparked within him while we’re there.  Tell him how much I love him, and how God has changed my life with him being in it.