Unalone

One of the things I constantly forget is how unalone I really am.

On days I don't work, which is more often than not, I could go the whole day without speaking to another person (other than on the phone). I walk the streets of DC going here and there, Ipod playing, thinking about everything and nothing. I go to and from class, to and from the gym, to and from the store, barely making eye contact with others, avoiding awkward glances when you accidently catch someones eye.

Some days it makes me terribly lonely, others terribly free. It's an up and down roller-coaster, always leading me to wonder how I will wake up feeling the next day. What it always does though, is remind me of how on-my-own I really am. No one is responsible for me besides me. Once again freeing... yet lonely.

I remember when I went and met with my pastor a few months ago. We talked about deciding to get married again, and how scary that was for me. I kept telling him I didn't want to make the same mistake again. I didn't want to decide wrong. I didn't know if I was seeing things right. He told me not to worry, that he, as my pastor, help me. He would be looking out for me too. I cried. I cried for days. I still cry about it.

As I have ventured out and started a new position, dipping my toes into a world I had thought would only be a dream place, just above the glass ceiling, more and more I feel that familiar aching I have come to know so well. A tug of war I feel deep in the pit of my stomach, telling me there is a fear I am ignoring.

I had started this position not caring what happened. It came into my life by God's abrupt gifting, and by experience, you never know what can happen. But, as it would happen, the more I invest, the more I fall in love. It's a culture that seems to fit, one of the few places I have found a piece of home that has brought a small peace of home.

But this life, if I choose to pursue it, will not lead back to were I began this journey. It would most likely keep me here. Three thousand miles away from the family I love, the and future I want in the man I love. I have begun to feel stuck somewhere in Missouri. Half way between DC and San Francisco. Past and future exist in both, but neither feel completely right. Neither feel the complete package.

Feeling grumpy, frustrated, stuck, scared and alone all day, I sat down to Skype with the man that God has given me to be an example of His love everyday. I poured out my heart, haltingly, in between my bad attitude spawned by my struggles. Not knowing what I was hurting and fearing, I just talked. And talked, and talked... and talked... the way only someone who doesn't know where they are going can talk.

I told him my fears, my frustrations, my wants, this budding passion, desires that didn't lead to him geographically. I was scared talking to him, as though my new love for work was a disloyalty to him somehow. I repeated over and over again how I didn't know what to do, and what I wanted. As if I had to choose.

He gently and lovingly reminded me, I didn't. He wanted me. He wanted my best, our best, whatever God said it was. Whatever God gave us. He reminded me that I didn't have to make the decision on my own, but that he would make it with me. It would be a decision for us. I wasn't alone.

Then he said something that broke down my last fear. He said "Pray about it. We will pray about it. It's all we can do. Jesus loves you. He wants you to be happy. He will show you what that is."

Oohh... that's right. He loves me. He wants me to be happy. He WANTS me to be happy. He WANTS ME to be happy. I forgot.

It's not always about having to make the tough decision knowing it will always lead to loss. Sometimes it is a win/win situation. And maybe it won't be. But what is true, is that I won't be alone in it. It's not sole my decision, and if I make the wrong one, lead to my eminent destruction, along with everyone else I love. Just because I want it, doesn't make it automatically wrong. In fact, that just might, make it right.

I may walk the streets alone, go to bed alone, go to dinner alone, go to class alone, but I'm not alone. I am not the only one responsible for me. My Father is responsible for me as well. He has taken responsibility, as a Father, as a Lover, as a Friend, as a Companion, as a Guider. The best I can do is try and step into His flow. If it works, it works.

I am not responsible for everyone around me, nor am I a burden to everyone around me. And if the man I love decides to move his life for me, that's his right. It's his right to love me that much. And maybe I am his prize. Looking out for me, making decisions with me, letting me rely on him... It's a reminder how really unalone I am.

It Shouldn't Be That Hard

Life is interesting. Sometimes you have to dig in, get your hands dirty, not give up and fight to get what you want, or what you need. Whether it be school, or fighting a weight battle, or not throwing a shoe at your mother. Sometimes things are HARD to do.

These things beg the question though, there are some good things that are hard and some other things that seem to be hard when they shouldn't be, so when is it too hard?

Have you ever dated someone and it seemed hard to not break up on a monthly basis? There is always some fight, or some issue that keeps you on the edge of your seat, wondering if this is right. He doesn't call you when he says he will. She expects you to always be around. You have to fight for attention from him, she is just annoying as hell.

The drama keeps you in, wondering if your the problem. It's like fighting an uphill battle to make this thing WORK. It's effort and time and tears and thought and talking it out with everyone you know, or talking the other person down. We constantly think the problems are individuals, but rarely do we stop and think, "He/She not the problem, this situation is."

Similar outcomes when you fight for something you aren't supposed to be doing. God has this interesting way of making what we ARE supposed to do easy (at least in making the decision and moving forward). It's like there is this force propelling you in a direction, but you don't know it's there until you step into it. The opposite happens when you are going in a direction that seems to be against that same force. Like fighting in a wind tunnel.

You can't get that job you want, you can't find a place to live. Every college turns you down but one, or everything you try in one area fails. It's an exercise in futility and you feel it, but you don't want to admit it. To admit it means loss of something. Be it a dream, a desire, a goal a direction, or even in the case of dating, a relationship.

On the flip side, when He gets a chunk of your vision, you step out and get swept away in His direction, all of the sudden it's too easy. You got the job immediately, you found the place of your dreams, the scholarships are awarded, you find someone that seems to speak the language you have always spoken, and no one has ever understood.

That's not to say it always stays easy. School and jobs take work and application, relationships take time and patience. Hearts are broken somehow in what is right no matter what. But the initial creation of that object didn't look like it did before, it actually happened. It wasn't a battle to CREATE something from nothing, but instead to allow God to create the opportunities, and you just take them.

How does this all relate? Well, it goes back to the initial question. When is it too hard?

As I have grown in my relationship with my boyfriend, one of the things I have had the hardest time with has been trust. Release. Letting go. That's not to say the relationship isn't right, actually, it pretty much means it is. I have to fight against the things that would keep me separate not only from him, but from Jesus as well. It's a refining issue. Not the less though, control seems to be my issue.

Protecting myself from the opportunity of loss and hearbreak is my ultimate goal. So here's the issue: as I battle this, submission to the decisions I have asked God to make for me in my life, such as what is best for me, takes on a whole new light.

Hold on, I'm bringing it around. If He makes decisions for me, and I fight against them, for whatever reason, I am back in the wind tunnel. I'm fighting uphill for something I wouldn't want anyways and when I realize that, the control is easy to let go of. "Oh, that isn't something I have to control, that's YOUR doing... oh, I get it."

The hardest part is learning when I am battling against Him verses myself. And here comes the crux: when it's too hard, it's most likely not Him.

I have a knack for fighting for relationships, specifically, that I am not supposed to have. Case in point: a marriage. Being divorced is like a branding that reminds you: "Don't fight too hard for something that you shouldn't have." It shouldn't have been as hard as it was to MAKE him love me. I shouldn't have had to give up pieces of me to adapt to him in hopes of gaining and keeping his love and affection. But love, and specifically youth, are stupid, so well, lessoned learned. I guess...

That of course bleeds into many other relationships and learning when it is right. When my boyfriend began to love me, it was so easy. He was there, consistent, honest, caring. Not because I MADE him be those ways, but because it was natural for him as well. We had a connection, a kismit that I can only attribute to puzzle pieces that fit when they are right. He wanted to be around, I wanted him around. Simple as that.

The same, I am learning, goes for others as well. It isn't about making people love me and validating myself through that. Instead, it may just be about who fits where. Allowing God to shed what isn't supposed to be there, and take away what feels like being a square peg in a round system, feels at times like a loss, but never is.

He is a God of redemption, love and grace. What He does, He does for my best. Submission doesn't look like always bending myself to the breaking point, but instead letting Him make the decisions, then letting go when He does.

It shouldn't be so hard. It shouldn't be so hard to be loved, to be understood, to understand and to love. If He created me, than He created others and somewhere, there are fits. It's not always my fault and I don't always have to fix it. Sometimes, things look broken because they are broken. And that's okay, sometimes He breaks them.

We have already established I don't always make the best decisions when it comes to relationships, so fighting for ones that aren't best for me seems a little less like "being loving" and a lot more like "being stubborn and stupid." Banging my head against a wall gets old.

In light of these recent realizations, my prayer remains simple "Lord, teach me when it shouldn't be that hard."

Dangerous Engagements

I hate surprises. I have always hated surprises. I hate surprise parties, I hate finding out "good news" I hate present. Sad, I know. I start to have anxiety about a week before my birthday. Christmas is torture and opening presents gives me stomach cramps. Needless to say, life as a child was never that fun.

I've been thinking about that a lot lately. My boyfriend and I have been talking about getting married a lot and engagement rings and all of that wonderful stuff. You'd think I would love talking about it. I'm a girl, I should be looking forward to being proposed to, to the suspense of when and where.

Yeah, not so much. I pretty much have been hounding him hoping I will find out details on accident to put it together so I can mentally prepare. Sometimes I wonder why that man loves me...

The thought of not being able to control the outcome, the worries about the "what if's" the preparation of getting all of that ready, of worrying about whether he is ready and I am ready and whether or not it will be a surprise and whether or not it will be when I want it, or when I don't want it... worrying about if I will be so surprised that I won't cry, or that I will, or that it won't go the way he planned and he will be upset. I just freak out worrying about all of it... and I know I shouldn't. I know it shouldn't matter. But it does, and I can't make the thoughts and the worries disappear overnight.

Like presents and surprises, when you don't control them, when you don't have a plan, when you don't know what is going to happen, you run the risk of allowing them to blow up in your face. Or to be disappointed, or to be revealed as a fool. Surprises don't turn out well for me. They never have.

So this beautiful Saturday morning, I woke up to sun and cool temperatures. With everything I have been struggling with lately, I wanted to start the day with praise. A day dedicated to knowing His love for me and resting in it.

One of the first songs that came on was about Him being salvation and the true hope and trust. My favorite part is when the singer asks "let be not ashamed, no one who waits on the Lord, will ever be put to shame.... You are, you are my hope, you are, you are my song, you are, you are my song, you are, you are my light, you are, you are my salvation..." All of my hopes in You.

If I can take all of my hope, all of my trust, all of my strength, my everything... my expectations... everything, if I can put them in Him, He promises to not fail me. Somehow, somehow He promises not to fail me and not to put me to shame.

I know there are times of what looks like shame and hurt, but if I hope in Him, He promises not to disappoint, no matter how long it takes to see the redemption.

I have lived 3,000 miles away from my family for a year and a half; I lived in Paris for two months with not a soul I knew, completely on my own; I started a job I feel completely inadequate for. They say these things take courage. Not really. What takes the most courage? Trusting the Lord not to put me to shame. Not to let the next surprise around the corner, that I couldn't prepare for even if I wanted to, bring me hurt or loss.

It takes more courage to wake up on a beautiful Saturday morning, get on my knees and offer my day to someone I can't control. To offer my life to someone that promises no ease and comfort or even His presence in every minute of everyday. What He promises is His character. His record, His heart. He promises that every move He makes, every thought He has, every hard thing, every good thing... all of them are meant to love me. To bring me closer to Him, to romance me into greater love.

It's easy to trust when you are happy in life. When it seems to be going your way and you love everything about it. Now, now it's about learning to trust Him when it hurts. When I feel ashamed. I have to trust that's not true, but there are season's for everything and this is mine. I have to trust Him that He knows my heart better than I do. Then I have to sing. I have to get off my knees and sing. I need to raise my voice and tell Him I trust Him.

And then, after I have dusted off my knees, raised my voice and sang out... I have to start walking. Walking towards believing Him every time I step out my door. Every time I meet someone new, every time I talk to my boyfriend about getting married, I have to let him have the reins and trust the man God has given me to love me the way God has asked him to.

The more I live my life and the more I encounter the amazing and the hurtful, there is a controlled chaos about them that I have never really been able to understand. And I don't know if I want to kill it now by trying to figure it all out.

Oh sweet Jesus. Please have patience with me. I am weak in my fears and I need You to rescue me from them. You know my heart better than I do, but I don't want to kill everything around me in my need to understand, to not fear. I place all of my hope, my strength, my songs, all my hope, my trust, my salvation, my needs, my expectations, my fears. Take them and bend them to You. Let them resemble You, not a life that has hurt me. Deliver me from my enemy. I trust You.

And I wait...

There are so many things that come in and out of my mind. Thoughts that flit in and out like they were prophecies I had once held dear. I keep staring at my walls, praying, if I look hard enough, if I think hard enough, if I fight hard enough, the peace, the hope, the redemption I felt a year ago will circle back around and will lift me from my morose state of mind.

Instead, I look into the mirror and let the shapes of my face take me into a deep place of morbid frustration.

Loss never seems too far. I seem to be my most unlucky charm, following me where ever I go. I remember sitting at a table a year and a half ago with friends I thought were family knowing deep in my heart, this change would change everything. I knew it would end. I knew the love I was feeling was fleeting. So I held on, I help tight and I spoke love and did everything I could to love the best I could in the moment, communicating everything I could, hoping, praying, fighting to stave off the loss I knew was coming. And it came. It came the way I knew it would... killing the last bit of comfort and hope I knew.

So now, here I sit, more than a year later, with what looks like the world in front of me and all I can wish for is a past that was never as good as it is in dreams. But good luck telling my heart that.

Instead, I feel a loss akin to a piece of myself gone, circling the drain and I wonder, I wonder what I would pay to get it back.

And isn't that the greatest tragedy of all? The knowledge that I would pay my soul for love that is so less than? Love that is half as good as what is in my head. And if it's in my head.... it has to be possible, right?

How many times have I sold my soul for less? I thought it ended with a divorce. I left that part behind. Never again. No fomance (misspelling intentional) would capture me. And it hasn't. Accept in every other aspect. Why do I always think the only avenue of love and loss in romance?

But alas, it came in another form. Friendships. Oohhhh.... ouch. Loss of what I thought was. What I put my heart and soul into, what I paid greatly for and what I still pay greatly for. I still wonder what is wrong with me, that I am so easily cast aside, but still, there are parts of my heart that have been awakened by a soft whisper and hopes of something more that touch on the pain and make me hope for more.

Redemption had always been my word of the day. As if it was a form of graffiti that was my tagline. Redemption. Hope. More. Enough. Change. All of those things that everyday get me out of bed. It can't be like this always.

So I had a husband that preferred made up images rather than me. So I never fulfilled the ideas of what success looked like to people. So my best friend walked away... then I moved and failed somewhere else... and then my other best friend walked away... then I failed financially... then my other best friend walked away...

I have seen redemption. Maybe not in the ways I thought I would, maybe those that have hurt me never ended up recognized it and told me so... and now, now in my hour of need again, I have to believe He doesn't want the loss to last forever.

I can't believe that He would want me too feel so unlovable.

So now... now I wait. Now I enjoy what I do have and I wait. And I learn. And I wait. And I love. And I wait. And I grow. And I wait. And I pray... and, I wait.

But this time, I wait hopefully, knowing He is redemptive. Knowing my heart is more important than my actions and that He isn't going anywhere. I haven't does something to make people not love me, it's just part of the journey and I refuse to let the journey beat me. I want to know what He has, what this Has to do with Him.

So I wait... and I let the thoughts flit in and out and I let the walls talk back to me and the shapes of my face turn into Picasso's version of art. And I wait...

Sucking on Lemons

I’ve started thinking again. Being sick will do that to you. Being sick for three weeks will especially do that to you. Finally you get sick of the TV, you can’t read because your head hurts too much and writing is something you have to save your energy for research papers and political philosophy essays. After a while, you just sit and look at the ceiling, or maybe get enough gumption off the couch to do the dishes that have stacked in your kitchen sick from being to tired to take care of.

As I did all of these things, I kept wondering back to some of the hard things I have encountered and about being 25 and feeling 40 and about wondering if I would ever get better at being a person and what a shame it would be if I didn’t.

My boyfriend has that amazing ability that I have mentioned before, to say the most profound things in the simplest of ways. Sort of the way Proverbs makes a whole lot of sense, but really hard to implement.

I had been talking to him, lamenting over a broken heart. I cried and told him how much I didn’t understand and asked the inevitable why question. As if no one in the world had never felt what I was feeling and I was the first to ever land on a new beach of pain and injustice. I could hear myself sounding ridiculous, but I am never one to stop and bring logic to the table of emotion, so I just talked and cried and told him he would never understand. I laugh now, but it wasn’t funny in the moment.

I asked him how he could be so okay with people that had hurt him. Now that I think about it, I didn’t really ask him, I sort of threw it at him like an accusation. As if he was somehow the defective one and I was normal for being bitter and angry. He said the same thing he always says, “People are people. They are who they are and I have learned to accept them for what they are. You can’t sweat the small stuff.”

I sort of wanted to throw something at him from 3,000 miles away. I am glad sometimes he can’t see the look on my face at times. I am a little afraid he would see a side of me that I don’t even like. I am sure at that moment I had the classic ‘I just sucked on a lemon’ face. My selfish nature could not easily comprehend the simple truth to what he was saying, or see the wisdom in it. Instead, I just stopped crying and changed the subject. Funny how easily the tears can turn off and on at times, especially when you are suddenly realize there is an answer to the question you didn’t want an answer for.

Later, I was washing dishes, thinking over what he had said and what I had said and what I wanted to be different. I kept thinking how unfair it was that I would always try to seek reconciliation, or how I would apologize to people and they never would back. I was feeling fairly self-righteous in my own desire to become a better person, and thus seek out others to make right the times I had failed. Irony and self-defeat dully noted. It’s no good to ask for forgiveness for the purpose of trying to garner a return sentiment.

I circled the airport of self-pity and had just about pulled up to the gate when I was stopped in my tracks. As He usually does, Jesus moved into the small space I had created (even in and around my narcissism of the moment) and asked me if it would be good enough if He asked for forgiveness on the behalf of those that had done me wrong. He repeated what He said on the cross and simply asked for forgiveness on their behalf. They were unaware of the damage they had done and I wasn’t going to be any happier if they came and told me they were sorry and knew what they had done. It wouldn’t make the pain go away, and it wouldn’t make me want to forgive them anymore, but He knew that and asked for them.

Everything fell into place. Humbled to the enth degree, I realized His cross had been for me, for my ex husband, for my ex best friends, for the people that would do me wrong in the future, for the wrong I would do in the future.

No matter how many times I can come to a realization of the wrong I have done and ask for forgiveness, it will never be complete. There will always be more, something I missed, but the amazing thing? Where I can’t complete, where I fail, where I come up short, His purpose is to step in and complete. He can heal what I didn’t know I wounded out of the selfishness that is me.

The same can go for others as well. Incredibly humbling, but I think just as necessarily, He steps up and takes the place of those that have failed to reconcile what needs to be reconciled and asks on their behalf. He can, more heartfelt than anyone in the universe, begin to undo the damage of imperfection. He is aware of the failings I commit and others have committed against me and He is so grieved over both. He brings freedom through bridging the gap, not only between the Father and me, but Him and me and then others and me as well. His heart says “Love freely, love wholly, love completely and when they fail, when it is crushed, when you fail, come back to me and I will make it right. I will heal and send you out to love again and be hurt again and come back again.”

It’s his reminder that people are people. They are who they are and accepting them is accepting Him. Forgiving them, is acknowledging His sacrifice. There is no ignoring, or excusing just accepting.

My relationships with others may never be perfect, but the most important one I have is with Him. It’s the deepest, the most meaningful, the one that changes me, that saves me, that loves me when I look like I sucked on a lemon. It’s foolish to try to love someone to get them to love you back, it only leads to believing you aren’t worth loving when they fail. But if I can learn to love from His love, to love from a place of freedom, to love because loving is what I am meant to do, and when I don’t, it just hurts more, then maybe it will become less about me, and more about Him and them and everyone else. Then maybe I won’t have to worry about lies swirling about who I am and what I mean to people. Maybe I will start being secure in His love for me and stop worrying about how other people love me or if they even do. At least that’s the hope.

That and I will stop sucking on lemons.

Home is Where the Heart is

I was doing laundry the other night, walking back and forth from the basement in pajamas, no makeup, hair undone. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirrors on the elevator walls and was shocked at the look on my own face. It was pained. Strained.

I thought about it as I walked back into my apartment and as I unlocked the door and stepped in, I felt a twinge in my stomach, like I didn't recognize my surroundings. It all came together as I realized I was beginning to no longer feel at home in my own home.

There is an anxiety that exists in the places I have called home. As if I am always waiting to get to the next step, the next place, so I can be at home there. Everything I have built an image of home on, no longer exists anywhere I can rest my head. Community, peace, comfort, stability, the attributes I seek the most have escaped me.

Amidst this, I have found myself in some of the deepest heartache I have ever faced. For weeks I have been swimming in it, refusing to let it pull me down. Today, I could no longer fight. A knife sliced through my heart, breaking it anew. Drowning all day, never have I faced a moment of questing who and what I am so deeply. A divorce could not even shatter me the way I have been broken down in these last few months. I never thought it was possible, but it was.

So as I do when I don't know what to do, I went to the gym. Pain the body to match the soul. On the way back, I turned on worship music. I have been avoiding it lately. It has seemed to be source of failure. All of the work He seemed to have done on my heart in the recent years, and it seems I am no different. What did I do wrong? It's too much to bear burdens and be perfect, so another failure is cast onto the growing mountain.

But still, why not?

So I turned it on, and the first song that came on was titled "Where I belong." It took the full six minutes of the song for it to sink in. I had forgotten everything He had taught me.

It's not about running after Him, it's about turning around. It's not about trying to please Him, it's about assuming He is already happy. At the darkest moment, when I wonder why those I have reached out to have shunned and rejected me, it's about believing that doesn't reflect Him. I have judged God by men and convinced myself if I am unworthy to others, I am unworthy to Him, and my deepest pain has come from that break. I did leave home, I left Him. I trusted Him in the good and He taught me then, but now I have to trust His love is there when loneliness threatens to pull me under. I have to believe that love I encountered is just as real now as when I was on top of the world.

Sometimes the messages are so powerful. They come from a best friend, a husband, a brother... those that you think you are safe with for a moment. The ultimate rejection feels like the ultimate truth and for some reason those messages are so much easier, so much more powerful, so much more frequent than those of the consistent, true, invaluable love of a Savior.

Ironically, the most powerful part of the worship song is when it repeats a phrase from Song of Solomon: "I am my Beloveds and He is mine, so come into Your garden and take delight in me."

Who is saying it to whom? Can I invite Him in to delight in a garden that so many have passed by? Would He delight in me? Will he see beauty when others have seen the overgrowth, the weeds and deemed it ugly and walked away for more fragrant, well-maintained and manicured gardens?

I can only pray that this is part of His path and journey. That this is a time of pain meant for growth. I pray this has a purpose. That I find myself in Him and nothing else, that I learn that I can never earn the love I seek so whole-heartedly. Maybe this is part of the path of letting go of control and value based on action and creating my own outcomes.

Oh sweet Jesus, delight in me. Let me be something You love and cherish just for what I am in this moment, wounded, confused, hurting, jealous, angry, bitter, failing... please find value in me. Find something good, find something worthy in me... and let me see it too. Don't pass my garden on Your way to someone else's. I pray something catches Your eye and You find my hidden treasure I have yet too see. Only You can heal these wounds. I am lost without You. Bring me home....

Value of What?

It's finally about to snow here. The first snow of the year, and maybe the last. The warm nights and days have held on later than usual. Maybe a kind nod to my Californian spoiled roots, or maybe just luck.

The nights come so fast. Before I know it, it's dark. I always laugh a little, turning on my lights at 3:30 in the afternoon. East facing windows, right?

Just like the weather has been avoiding turning cold, I have been avoiding dealing with certain realities that just won't go away. Have you ever been soul tired? The kind of tired that isn't physical, and isn't mental, but its a sort of tired that expresses itself in the form of too much TV and not enough laughter? Its a tired that comes from running around your own mind. A thought pops up you don't want to deal with, so you quick step away, distracting yourself with a shiny object. Then you turn a corner and there's another one, so you retreat somewhere else, finding another distraction, then another, then yet another, until you are spending most of your day avoiding yourself and every thought you can think, forgetting in the first place what you wanted to forget. Quiet is no longer quiet, its judgement, your journal is no longer a friend, tear stained with sympathy, but instead mocks you from the bedside table, reminding you of your failings.

But maybe that's just me.

The end of the year is coming fast, and I can't help but be reflective over this last year. It's been a crazy time for sure. I have been to an airport, either to fly, or pick up every month, except October. That's right. EVERY month. I packed a suitcase 6 times, not include the return trips. I have gained a few friends, and lost some even closer ones. I have lost 20 pounds, struggling with the fat sister image I always had. I have continued to fall more deeply in love and ultimately realized that imperfection in relationship is just a normal as imperfection in self. Dreams have been fulfilled I didn't even know I had. I have smiled and cried more in this year than ever before in my life.

I spent so much time sitting with Jesus, letting Him explain me, to me, then Him to me, then me again, and back around. At the end of it, I sit here, no farther along, no wiser, no more whole than I was before, in fact, at this moment it feels worse than ever.

When God first really took me to a place of reflection, I fell in love. I fell in love with silence, with Him, with coming to grips with who I am and my past, and everything that made me me. I fell in love with peace.

Then the shit hit the fan. It's really easy to love peace when you are surrounded by it, but the minute I left it, and the real world hit, it was just as I thought it would be, cruel, unkind, unforgiving and unrelenting. The hard part is fighting the battle between truth and lies. See, if anything, this has been a year of contradictions.

It started with such promise. I was being given everything I ever wanted on a silver platter and for once, it seemed that silver platter wasn't fake. There were no strings attached and I it wasn't on loan. I reveled in the message from God, being loved for the sake of love. Having Him shower me with love and the attention I had always craved. Value. I had value for once. What I was, for once, was enough. Nothing more, nothing less, there was value in what I was just for what I was. It was a breath of fresh air. The kind of truth you aren't sure you want to believe, because if it isn't true, it's going to crush you. Absolutely crush you.

Enter stage left: everyone else.

With perfect timing, it seems everything fell apart. One of my best friends and had a falling out, shattering a friendship I thought was unbreakable. It was like my ex-husband all over again: you are not worth me having to admit I am wrong. You are less valuable than this object over here.

In the middle of that, another friendship I thought would never be shaken, started hurting. The same message was coming through: your value is replaceable. Then I looked up and realized, I didn't have any friends left.

Weeks without calls from family members, combined with their requirements for love repeat the same message, over and over again.

To those of you that think I am being over dramatic, my boyfriend tried to plan a a surprise party for me on my 25th birthday. Three people showed up, two were my sister and brother. I didn't know who to feel worse for, me for not having any friends, or him for realizing it too.

Then the nail in the coffin. My sister, brother and boyfriend went out on the town after a birthday dinner on Friday. The more we drank, the more my brother lavished love on my sister. He would hug her and tell her how much he loved her and talk with her. I thought I was being sensitive, but when he actually pushed me out of a hug and started to ignore me... well some things are hard to ignore.

I started to cry. I couldn't help it. My sister knew immediately what was happening, as my boyfriend did, and both tried to do something about it, but there was nothing that could be done. I was crushed. Message received.

I don't blame my brother at all. There is such an age difference, and he never lived with me. He has so much more history with my sister, but over the last few years, I have tried so hard to change that. I admire him and look up to him so much, I have always wanted for him to get to know me as a person. I always felt he saw me as the spoiled one and I know how much he respects my sister for the hard things she has gone through, and I secretly, I guess thats why I have always tried to prove myself to him.

I think in reality, I have been trying to prove myself to everyone, in one way or another. Trying to make everyone see that I have value, place, that I may not be the most beautiful, or the most witty, or the smartest, or the wisest, but I do have something to contribute. If I just had the chance to prove it...

The ultimate question, the ultimate truth between the lies comes in the form of one question: is it them, or is it me?

Pure mathematics and statistics would seem to say the problem lies with me. But I just can't figure out what that is. I keep asking myself, what could I have done to push all of these people away? What is so wrong with me?

I think I have always known that love is fragile. I used to tell my friends all the time how important they were to me, how much I loved them, somehow having that sense of foreboding, knowing it wouldn't last forever. It seems to fall apart so easy. One wrong move, and the whole house disappears. What was my misstep? What about me, is so less special, has so little value, that people can walk away without a second thought? What can I do different to make people want to stick around?

Sometimes it feels like the bone tired feeling may be born of trying to please everyone, in an attempt to please myself. My mother says you can't fear rejection, that its inevitable, and I agree with her, but when it hits so close to home and you find yourself at home on a Friday night, experience seems to dictate the script running through my mind. I have battled the enemy of action not dictating love, but it seems to only have gotten bigger, and smarter. Or, I was just wrong from the start.

Answers refuse to come as sit here hoping for a reality that is bigger than this pain, but nothing comes. Instead, I sit, wishing I could drink, but knowing it would not mix well with my antibiotics.

Lord, I know these things aren't Your fault, and I know You can't control me, or others. And I don't want You to. But I ask for Your patience, Your peace, Your wisdom.... mostly, just Your love to surround me now. I need You so much, and I am sorry I avoid You at times. Please forgive me and show me what I need to see. Show me Your truth.