Rain boots & Umbrellas

Today, it is raining.

As a rule, I don't like rainy days. But today, I actually feel like living. And that realization makes me happy to be alive. Today doesn't make me feel guilty or bad about yesterday's post. I write from the places where I live. Yesterday was a hard not-so-good day. I wish I could bring you happy posts about my wonderful life all of the time. But the reality is life is hard. I'm a messy Christian on a good day, and I'll be the first to tell you I don't have it all together.
But days like yesterday make me glad for days like today. Yesterday reminded me of the pain and loss that living in a fallen world can bring. Today? Well today I'm glad that sorrow last for the night but joy comes in the morning.
I don't "do" the nice Christianese. Or at least, I try not to. I'm not bubbling over with happiness today. However, I'm no Puddleglum either. The fine line between the two? That's me. I'm not slinging Bible verses to prove that I know them. I'm just sharing with you. Pretend we are chatting over coffee. Or tea, since it's raining today. I'm glad that this particular promise is in the Bible. And today, I'm claiming it. So I'll pull on my rain boots so I can walk through the puddles, and grab my umbrella so I can walk through the rain.

Because, as one of my friends on Facebook posted today [from Eeyore], the nice thing about rain is that it always stops eventually.

(And like it says in Daniel, even if the rain doesn't stop, God is still God and I won't bow to another. [That was totally a paraphrase, tailored to my situation. Don't tell.])

(P.S. As a total side note, I have another anniversary today! Last year on this day, I received my first phone call from Gettysburg to schedule my interview! And with that in mind, I cling to the promise that He will provide for me this year too...even if I have no idea what that will look like.)

(P.P.S. I wasn't sure how I made it through yesterday. Today, I know how. Apart from the grace of God, I had friends cheering for me. I had people who knew the day was going to be hard, who knew I was suffering. They wanted me to make it through the day. Today when I talked with one of them she told me I looked good, that I looked better. That she was glad today was better. And in that moment I knew that she was one of the reasons I made it.)

One year later...

Today was hard. I knew it would be, but I didn't think it would be this hard. Lewis said grief sometimes felt like an imaginary blanket between him and the world. Like he couldn't understand what others were saying, or maybe, he didn't want to understand. "It is," he said, "so uninteresting."
And that, in a nut shell, was my day. I muddled through, hardly taking notice of others around me. My only purpose today was to stay busy. I didn't realize it until now, but the day, and everything in it, was exactly that--uninteresting. I know it is the way of things, but I couldn't understand how everyone else was going about their life as if everything was normal. For me, things weren't normal. I wonder if they ever will be.
It wasn't until I was walking home today that I realized (or more like remembered): death isn't the end! J. isn't lost--he is more found now then he ever was! I KNOW where he is! Should that not be cause for celebration and not tears? Perhaps so.
It is funny how much goes by in a year. Jobs come and go. Birthdays, workdays, holidays. So many anniversaries, too. I look forward to the coming years when this day doesn't send me images of raw grieving. When I don't see faces and bodies wracked with sobs. When my heart doesn't break. When I can remember the life that was lived, the joy that he brought, and the hope of the redeemed.

J. I can't wait to see you again!

Testing, testing. Is this thing on?

And just like that, when I've come to accept my non-role in my own life, the Lord tests it.
After a long, exhausting day last night I head home to find my house a wreck (no surprise there...) and no will to clean it. I said, "Lord, I'm too tired. I just can't." Early to bed for me.
On my way to bed, my glasses break. Guess that phone call to the eye doctor will be made today rather than some vague time in the future.
After reading my Bible and North & South, I pray for a good nights sleep (i.e. one that does not involve me getting up at 2 and 4 am) and roll over.
And then, my phone rings. And I get some not so happy news. Not the end of the world news, but news that made me feel helpless and anxious. I cried. I prayed. I prayed some more. My mind was now wide awake and not letting me sleep. I again told God that I needed to sleep. Really really needed to sleep.
This morning I woke up and actually felt like getting out of bed! And who says God doesn't listen when we pray? But more than that, I'm am so excited to see God preparing my heart for things I cannot control. I'm not waiting for the other shoe to drop, but I am expecting something big. Not because I deserve something big or have worked for it, but because God is big. And that is something I'm really glad about. Especially today.

Serving, Staying, Moving-- I will follow

I've been listening to God's iPod this weekend. Or at least, I think I was.
It wasn't one of those times where I heard the perfect songs right in a row. This was different.
I heard the same song every time I turned on the radio. Three times in 2 days.
Message received, Lord.
The song was Chris Tomlin's "I will Follow." The chorus goes like this:

Where You go, I'll go
Where You stay, I'll stay
When You move, I'll move
I will follow You
Who You love, I'll love
How You serve I'll serve
If this life I lose, I will follow You
I will follow You.

I was doing a bit of serving this weekend, with much joy in my heart. But when I heard this song, I had to ask, "Lord, am I serving the way you want me to serve? Can you make sure that I am?" And then I caught the line, "Where you stay, I'll stay." Hmm. I'm not looking to run away or get as far away from home as I can, but I would like to look around. Maybe try somewhere new. And then I asked, "Lord, are you asking me to stay? Or am I to follow You to where you are moving?"
I could hit the list- am I loving who Christ calls me to love, am I flexible enough to be of use to Christ- but the one that made me think hard? "If this life I lose, I will follow you." If you've been reading my blog for any length of time, loss had been a big part of my life this past year. I know there is an end eventually. I know I'm going to die. But am I placing that event in Christ's hands? Will I be able to follow him through anything?
And the more I think about it, the more I don't have to think about it. What is my life without Christ? Nothing. Without Christ, I am nothing. And to some, that is depressing. To me? When I cannot be in control of every event in my life? When I can't control situations or the future? To me, knowing that Christ is my every direction, every path, every plan, everything --that is the most reassuring thing in the world. And if I have that, I can say this with certainty: if I loose this life, I still have Christ. And that is everything worth having.

When words are my enemy

I love words. If you have been reading my blog for any amount of time or know me at all, you know I love words. I usually like them best when they are carefully placed, properly punctuated and bound in leather, but I love words in all of their manifestations. Heck, I like reading the dictionary. It is fun and you never know when you are going to come across a new word you can intersperse into every day life. (The mocking can happen later, ok? Thanks.)
However, over the past year there are a few words that have become distasteful to me. I try not to use them at all, but if I must use them, I hesitate and do a lot of thinking before I do so.
The words?

"Suicide" and "dead."

(Actually, any variation on the word dead makes me go cold.)

I've had to use "dead" a lot this past week. I don't like it. I try to sanitize it by saying "lost" or "gone." But in my head, I still feel the emptiness of the word. Dead. Gone. Mostly I don't like it because of the grief it brings to the front of my mind. It has been almost a year, and I don't miss J. any less. The shock of it all still puts a lump in my throat and an empty space in my heart.
And I am reminded that life must go on. Life is, after all, meant for living. And while my heart cries for the life that was lost, I force myself to remember that death has an amazing epilogue. And though it doesn't make the pain go away, it makes it easier to bear.

All the old familiar places

I love travel.

I love adventure.

I love pictures of the places I've visited.

I love imagining myself as an independent free spirit.

I like trying new things. (Everybody notice the shift there? Ok, moving on.)

But right now? Right now I am craving old books that I've read before many times. There are so many new books on my reading list, but all I want is the comfortable, familiar road to Bag End. I want to spend time in my parents old, not so terribly drafty house that is always warm. (Not just physically warm, though that is a perk. There is something about it that just comfortable about it that I miss.) I want to sit for hours at Panera Bread (stuffing my face with the Bacon Turkey Bravo sandwich with Broccoli Cheddar soup, of course), talking about nothing and everything with excellent friends. I want to walk the roads of Islington once again, knowing that I will hit at least 3 mini-marts on my way to St. Giles and, 15 minutes past the church find a bookstore and a shoe store. And also know that across the street from St. Giles there is a kind family with a magical table that fits all of their friends, good food, conversation and games every Sunday afternoon. I want to be able to say to my friends, "See you in 20 minutes" and actually show up, not 2 hours later or only on Saturday's and Sunday's.

I want to know that I didn't waste my life. I want to know that I didn't go to school just to go to school, but because I was meant to go to school. I want to travel more, not just to travel (because Heaven knows traveling these days is almost more stress than it is worth!), but because my future might be somewhere else then where I am now.

And the whole not being able to see into the future? Not knowing where I will end up, what failures I will make, what successes I might have? Not being 100% sure of my path in life?

It makes me long for all the old familiar places.

A Glimpse of Heaven

There are two things on this earth that set my mind and heart longing for Heaven: funerals of the saints and baptisms. I don't take joy in funerals, let me be clear. I've had too many of them in the past year to think they are anything but heartbreaking. But as I reflect on the persons life and where they are now as well as the the pain they are no longer in, I find joy and am filled with an intense longing to join them.

Baptisms, however, are another thing entirely. I can't quite put my finger on it, but there is something about corporately saying, "I recognize you as family now. I see that you belong to Christ,too. And how about we walk this life together?" that just makes my heart sing. I attended a baptism this past Sunday while I was home and I had this moment of intense longing. It was for so many things wrapped up together, but mostly it was a longing for Heaven, for the saints that have gone on before, for the sweetness of resting in a place where I truly belong. Have you ever had that, a longing for something you've never known? 

I was reading "The Hobbit" this week and ran across a section that explains it perfectly: "Then something Tookish woke up inside [Bilbo], and he wished to go and see the great mountains, and hear the pine-trees and the waterfalls, and explore the caves, and wear a sword instead of a walking-stick."

See, Bilbo was perfectly content to stay home in his safe little hobbit hole, away from danger and adventure because that is what hobbits did. It was all he knew. The Tookish part of him, the side of family that had had adventures in the past, was stirred with thoughts of far off places and adventures in the unknown. I think our "Tookish"-ness is the part in us that recognizes how out of place we are in the world. We are content because it is all we know. But every now and then, we get a glimpse of what might be, what will be, what is waiting for us on the other side.

And maybe, this is just for me. Maybe something in me likes to hide under the material nature of this world and my moments of clarity is a bit of truth awakening me to the fact that my focus is off center. And maybe, I just need to be reminded that this world is not the end, that there is hope and a future for me. And it includes a huge family that loves to jam and eat together. And that is something I am looking forward to doing. Even for the rest of eternity.