A blues kind of night

Mmm I love the blues. There's a certain honesty that comes across this music. I took a college class on the origin of blues and it's affect on music culture.

Honesty, questioning, mourning, and celebrating. It is emotional and heartfelt and the best kind is when the music matches the lyrics. It has soul and heart. Thinking about love, him, tonight...

Haiti

Overwhelming. Amazing. Beautiful. Terrible. Love. Devastation. Hope.

We are so incredibly blessed in America. We have so much, too much. We are spoiled. We overindulge in everything. We never completely find contentment because of the "American dream," the idea that we can make things happen, make our lives the way we want, succeed when we want. The problem with that is its never enough. There's always a newer version of the latest technology or new fashions or entertainment. It seduces. It blinds.. It prevents us from looking at reality, truth, life as it is. We use these things to cover our insecurities and fears. We use them to create a purpose, an ideal to strive for. The problem with Americans, especially American Christians is the fact that we don't look that much different from the world. We strive for fortune and fame and love just like the rest of them. Because we choose blindness over opening our eyes to the brokenness of the world, we are useless and let others die, physically and spiritually. We choose the things that make us comfortable over the things that will change the world. We choose to ignore the problems and live inside the box we've created. If only....

What I see here. In Haiti. Simplicity. Appreciation. Love. Desperate need. Brokenness. Heartache. An open door. A craving for more, whether its education or spiritual. What I've seen and experienced are people who aren't blind, not in the least. They have been forced to see and they've seen everything. From murder to rape, natural disaster to death. Their blinders have been removed. They are here, they are alive and they see, better than anyone. Considering going home in two days saddens me. Not because of the Christian Americans that frustrate me but the chance that I will become blind again, perhaps not a full blindness but as I sleep in my comfortable bed, drive my escape to work and collect a steady middle class check every other week, I will slowly become blind again. Not completely but it happens. Blind comfort. It's like the frog that doesn't realize the waters boiling until he's dead because that's how slow the water heated; that's how slow it happens.

Well I choose no. At this point, i have to and pray that it remains. I choose to not become blind again to the brokenness of the world, the hurt all around us. I choose to love and live freely, seeing. Seeing as God enables
me. Because only the God of the universe can prevent the water from killing the frog. Because its natural. Why get out of something if it doesn't hurt, if you don't realize it's killing you? Well that's where I'm at. The water, the social norms and lifestyle of Americans, is weakening me because I know in my spirit it's wrong. And every day I choose to ignore the increasing heat, the closer I come to giving in completely.

Oh God let this not be. I am open. I am ready. Prepare me for your work, whether it's in America or overseas. Use me as you will, for your kingdom and your glory. To you be all praise and honor for ever. Amen.

Love, again

God is love. My God is love. The God I commune with daily IS love.

When I consider my own lacking love, I'm embarrassed, saddened even. I will never be able to love like God. Not even close and yet He commands it, shows us how to do it, knowing we'll never completely reach Jesus' example.

Perfect love casts out fear. Jesus was the perfect love in the flesh. Therefore in Him I have nothing to fear.

Then there's the other definitions of love in the bible: Jesus' relationship with the Father, his relationship with the disciples, with us, love between a man and wife. Husbands are commanded to love their wives like Christ does the church. To love like that, like Christ is amazing, mind-blowing, incomprehensible. We cannot fathom that love completely. I have an idea of how much God loves me but I can't come even close to the reality.

And then WE are commanded to love. That's the greatest commandment! Love God and love others. How do I love though? Love is feeling and action, most importantly action. 1 Corinthians, overly quoted, and yet dead on. To love like this is..it's perfect. And this is the love I must strive for. Love is a choice. It's not a feeling I have when I talk to him. It's choosing to see him as he is, and love him in spite of his faults.
Love hopes, believes, endures. It doesnt fail. It doesn't keep track of sins and weaknesses. It supports, encourages, remains in spite of failure, disappointment and hurt. It pushes through hurt and gives completely, selflessly. It delights in truth and patiently waits. It is not self involved, self consumed or self focused. It waits with hope and faith. It isn't jealous or hurtful.

Love like this can do anything. It can change anything and be anything. It inspires. It's creative. It's spontaneous. It continues even when everything else fails. It doesn't leave. It's there. It's always there. It's dependable and trustworthy. It's caring and kind.

This love. This type of love. This overwhelming love, it completes.

The problem with falling in love

Falling: 1) Move downward, typically rapidly and freely without control, from a higher to a lower level.
2) Become detached accidentally and drop to the ground: "my glasses fell off and broke."

I've only ever been in love once. And it was beautiful. Highly emotional, freeing, slightly psychotic but amazing. Everything in my life was about him, my love, the one I was planning my wedding with. Looking back at that time, those few brief months I understand now how blind love can be. I didn't see his faults. I just saw his beauty. I would have done anything for him. That's what love does. It changes everything...which is why when it ended, something in me died. First I went through denial, believing it couldn't possibly be over, then came continuing to love him, hoping for a change, then finally acceptance. It would be easy to look back and call it infatuation but it was love, an imperfect form, but love nonetheless. It shocks me now, thinking about the sacrifices I would have made for him, the ones I did make...well it's done now. I fell.. I was hurt. But that is always the risk taken.

And then there came him..hmm I've never met anyone like him before. He stretches me, my thinking, my ideas on faith and God and love. I love him. Completely. He is honest and open and hopeful. If I fell, like really fell for him, and he me it could be mmm wonderful. The problem, though, is the falling itself. You have to be ready for it, ready to let go. The rapidness, the freedom, but also the lack of control.

I've always been a risk taker, a romantic and a believer in love. Two nights ago I could feel the falling, the raw emotion, the endless giving of myself begin. Last night I told him. I already knew his answers to my questions but I needed to hear them in his voice to make it real. I shared my feelings, he was surprised, flattered even, admitted his feelings for me but then...the but. The one I knew was always there, just didn't want to recognize. His heart. His hardened heart is not open to love. Not anymore. Not right now. I knew. I had hoped though. I always hope because that's what love does, it believes, hopes, perseveres. It never fails.

I was ready to jump off that cliff into the free fall of love. Feet hanging off the edge, arms outstretched, chin up, eyes closed....

But the possibility cannot be my probability even though I hoped it would be.

Everything in me wants to make that phone call. I know he'll answer, we'll laugh and talk about the craziness of the day. But after hanging up, nothing will have changed. He still won't be ready and I will be closer than ever to the edge, teetering. So I won't make the call. I choose to step back from the edge. I choose to step back to safety. Maybe one day he'll be ready but maybe not. That's ok. It has to be.

Love.
The problem.
The answer.
The Anguish.

Depression?

I open my eyes and see. See clearly for the first time in years. It's gone. Completely gone.

The depression that has taunted and suffocated me since I was a child no longer exists.
It's a miracle. A God-given, undeserved gift.

I have been fighting for so long. Fighting the depression that would come after trauma, after death, or a relationship loss. Depression plagued me since I was a child. It's taken different forms over the years, it's personalities vary depending on the situation.

As a child, depression settled in my stomach. I'd stay home from school telling my mom I was sick even though I really wasn't, not in the conventional way at least. Depression came as a result of attempting perfection. Even from a young age, I wanted to be perfect. I thought my mom, dad and God would only really love me if I was perfect.

I strove to be the perfect student, daughter, and athlete. And guess what? I did it. For a while.

The depression followed me to high school. It would corner me in the bathroom telling me I wasn't pretty or thin enough. It would stare at me, from the other side of the mirror scoffing. Coupled with the depression was anxiety. Choking anxiety. The anxiety would well up in my throat, cutting off my air supply, causing me to eat less and lose weight. In the high school bathroom I would look at myself and say, "You’ve got this. You can handle this. Suck it up. You are strong enough to do this. Put on your pretty face, the one that wins friends and awards. Go be the person they believe you to be." Wiping away a few stray tears, I'd walk back out, anxiety settling at the back of my throat and depression ever-present, yet slightly removed, covered up, like a bandaid over a gash.

Family tragedy hit. Divorce. Death. Mental illness. Suicide. Mental breakdowns. Hospitalizations. Car accidents. Drugs. Affairs. Addictions. Gambling. Pornography.

Dirty. Sin. Death

It became too much sometime in college. The girl who'd give herself pep talks in the high school bathroom couldn't do it anymore. She lost it. She lost her mind. She fell, deeply, into the depression that had followed her her entire life. She gave in completely, losing herself in that, using alcohol and superficial relationships as bandaids.

Through the haze came counselors, friends, anti-depressents. And they would help, for a little while. But every time I tried to taper off the meds, I'd fall again and the last time was the worst. I couldn't leave my room. Fear plagued me. Death hovered above me. I lived in a controlling home at the time. I had moved into that place with hope, hope that I could learn to be me in a healthy atmosphere. I was wrong. I began to exercise, eat healthy, and lose weight obsessively. Where I had filled my void with alcohol before, now I filled with "good" things. But they weren't good. Not really. Not for where I was at, and the way I viewed those things. My relapse lasted longer this time and it didn't matter what I tried, it didn't leave. I was stuck.

God started to do something in those deeply dark moments. I couldn't feel Him like I always had but I knew He was there, in moments, brief moments I could feel Him somewhere. I knew He wanted me to fight, and fight the only way I knew how, the only way left. With Him, His Words of life. Scripture, the Bible. The only truth that truly exists. I began to write verses on sticky notes and put them on my mirror. I began to fight. Ephesians instructs us to put on the whole armor of God so that we can fight the enemy of our souls. I began to fight the battle in my mind, the battle that I almost lost to suicide. God kept my hands on the wheel when I tried to run my car off the road. He wouldn't let me kill myself. He knew I would fight. He knew there was more for me to do than die and run into His arms. He knew. He has always known. He has always been there, holding and cradling me.

After years of fighting and believing that one day it would be over, that day has come. A little over two months ago, God quietly spoke to my spirit and said, "You're healed." I threw away my anti-depressants that day. He told me I would experience some physical withdrawals and that was it, nothing more. And I did, heavy legs, a little dizziness and heavy eyes. But nothing else. It's gone. I have won that battle. God has defeated that enemy. Praise God it's done....

And now, now I feel so completely and deeply. I love like I never have before. I feel the good and the bad and it's wonderful because the bad doesn't stick. I fight it and it leaves. I run to my God and surrender and cry and He cleanses me. He revives me. He has restored me.

I love now. Love so much. He has given these people as gifts. Every good and perfect gift is truly from Him.
Friends, relationships, family. I love. I love so much and it's Him. It always has been and will always be. Our capacity to love depends on God. On reaching to Him and letting Him show us love and love through us.

He is love. He is life.

I am living.

I am free.

A beginning

Falling in love. Believing in love. Being destroyed by "love".

This is who I am, where I've been and where I'm going.

This is my journey, through hell and back.

This is my journey of faith, hope and love.

Forgiveness, loving, believing again.

Remembering, learning, and letting go.

This is my story.