notes on the notion of being fastened (in love).

i wrote this morning for the first time in months. i typed this out: "this has been the semester of things not working out." and then breathed a sigh.
that's not completely the truth. obviously there have been some joyful moments of smooth sailing and fun times.
but the majority of the time, it has been the case. papers, sculptures, classes, fun plans, seeing my family, and (most recently) wedding showers have just not been able to happen the way that i had hoped. sometimes that has been a good lesson of patience or submission to God's plan. sometimes it's only resulted crushing disappointment. i feel a little beaten at the close of this semester.

that said, a comforting truth has become quite real to me this week.
in the ever-popular hymn "come thou fount of every blessing," the author wrote these words:

praise the mount, i'm fixed upon it / mount of Thy redeeming love

as i said before, this semester-and really this year-has been a real doozy. it has left me spinning, straying, doubting, and pouting. i can openly acknowledge the fact that i have not been seeking Christ as i should. i have not felt His presence or heard His voice. but i am fixed upon the mount of His redeeming love.
the word "fixed" is defined as follows:

fixedfikst/adjective
1.fastened securely in position.
"a fixed iron ladder down the port side"

synonyms:

fastened

i am so wide-eyed and wild in this season. i am frightened and running any way i think is going to bring me peace. i have longed for my Father and have lost faith in the fact He longs for me.
my heart has stopped conversing with my head and my knowledge of His goodness is overshadowed with my own feeling of being abandoned.
and yet.
i am fixed upon a great mountain of mercy, life, and redeeming love.
i am fastened securely in a position that was specially made for me long ago.
i am His and there is nothing in the world that is going to change that.
although i am not in yet in a season of sweet communion with the Father, i am at a new level of peace.
i know for a fact that He cannot turn His back on me. even when i wander and attempt to leave the God i love, i am all the while fastened tightly to His heart.

april second.

bradford pear blossoms, daffodils, and those bushes with yellow flowers (that i can never remember the name of) hold such nostalgic thoughts within their petals and (in the case of the tree blossoms) musky scents: thoughts of running to my neighbors house, climbing pecan trees in texas, and endless biking trips around the neighborhood.

come april, everyone always writes that uplifting, but slightly trite post about spring. they write about the rebirth of the earth and nature's voice growing stronger. as i sit here, it seems so redundant to write about spring. but then again, there is a reason that there are millions of cliches surrounding that wished/prayed/longed-for season.

this winter, i have found my voice and my ideas waning into whispers and fleeting thoughts. life has been more difficult of a weight to carry and death has appeared like a sweet repose. continually, my eagerness to learn has mutated into a desire to get to graduation. my love for others has been muddied by my gross love of myself. even there, my love for myself has been muddied by lies and has been perverted to a strong dislike. what i'm trying to convey is the bleak darkness that has enveloped me. the snow has been beautiful and the white has appeared clean, but the lingering cold and the absence of sun has caused the happy parts of my life to collect dust.

and then came today. april second. a spring day.

the breeze and the warm sun has done my heart good. hearing nature's voice singing out amongst the trees and with the little birds has done my own voice good, for i want to join her. the vitamin d has done my body good. my thoughts remain quiet and feeble, and writing still is hard. but spring has just begun and little seedlings take so much time to grow.

safety in silence.

i am a buyer of this lie that often crosses my mind:

"there is safety in silence"

it soars to the rafters of my head and wriggles its way down to my heart. this lie that says if i don't speak, write, or express, i will remain unharmed.

so far, this year has been a year of struggling to break the silence. i want so much to write, speak, or express how i felt when i found out my mom was in an emergency room six hours away from me. or how much my heart has been broken over my little sister. or how much i long to hear the still, small Voice. or how all i've been hearing instead are the loud, obnoxious, powerless voices that originate from my heart's deepest fears. this silence has grown like kudzu and wrapped itself around my mind until the words are trapped and lost in the vines.

i feel so ready for those words to "roar" out of me.
to crash onto the page, the paper, the surface, the atmosphere.

there is no safety in silence.
instead, silence is only the over-indulgence of my heart's deceptions and fears.
i know that to be true now.
the real challenge is to know what comes next.
i am so hurt and the prospect of further hurt-the possible coincidence of speaking,writing, expressing what's on my heart-is almost too much for my vulnerable self.

it is a tricky thing to believe silence is best. i feel like i am relearning how to speak.

snow

i have not written in so long. maybe someday soon i'll be able to tell the story of why.

for now, i just want to talk about snow.
i am sitting in my little den and my fellow foxes are in the kitchen making cookies. there are paper snowflakes hanging from the ceiling. there is an incredible whiteness all around the trees and bushes outside. there is a candle burning and music playing. school was cancelled and all is well.

snow is such a friendly word. it is the equivalent to comfort and peace in my mind. i want my heart to really be white as snow. it is pure and unfettered in the way it falls. snowflakes don't know where they are going and no one cares. i think that's what i love best about snow. it is unassuming and simple and well-liked (unless you're driving...but that's not my point). i find i can relate to a snowflake right now. i can count on one hand the things i am sure of in this life: the people i love, the God who loves me, and the beautiful hope that gives me.

how i see my present and my future is much like how a snowflake falls. i am unsure one day to the next where i will be, how i will feel, how rested my eyes will look, if i will be sad, or if i'll remember to lock the door when i leave. it's terribly silly on that scale, and no one really minds. but this morning, while listening to a man with a funny voice lecture about abstract expressionism, i realized it is already almost february. i realized i will be twenty one in a few short weeks. i don't know where i'll be (for sure) this summer. i will be graduating within the year.

and i just don't know what i'm doing with all of those things. i am a little snowflake just drifting and it's kind of comforting.

christmas eve-eve

christmas eve-eve is my favorite day. i think i might even like it more than christmas day.
it's exciting and relaxing and full of anticipation and chaos and something about it is always perfect.

that aside, this christmas break has been a weird one. i have felt like more like a spectator than a participant. it's weird to be absent from my own home for a long enough time that it makes it strange to come back for more than a handful of days. i guess that is a part of growing up and such. but it's still weird. the weirdest thing about this christmas has been the lack of focus on Christ as a baby. as i have read and prayed and listened to prepare myself for the season, i have been drawn to the crucifixion and resurrection of Christ more than His birth. He became a human child to bring hope to all mankind.
and to die for all mankind.

so i rarely have complete thoughts. today it is worse than usual.
so to distract you from the disjointedness of this post, here is a list of things that i've been taught this christmas season:

my life is not my own
i am loved loved loved
family units are difficult but worth it
love takes work
love is a joy
friends are absolutely priceless
sometimes rest is more important than anything
i have a gentle Father tenderly telling me each day to wait for His Son's return
i am prone to wander
breathing is important
focusing on the root of the problem often soothes tension
we are broken broken broken people
christmas lights are beautiful
christmas music is tacky and perfect
good coffee made by my dad everyday is something i've missed
time is precious
"now" is precious
never ever be afraid to tell someone how much they're worth to you
never ever be afraid to tell someone how much they're worth to Jesus


that's about all.

happy christmas eve-eve.

protected

she just looked at the wall while she sat in the hallway. nothing mattered. nothing was happening. the walls were white just like the floor except the floor was not really white anymore because it had been walked on by lots of heavy boots all caked with mud and leaves and snow and dust and problems from the outside world. she still sat and looked. wanting nothing. caring for nothing. time ran by her with little feet and didn’t ever stop, not even to say hello or to slap her face and say “snap out of it!” or to change her hair to gray. he had told her yesterday that a golden age was coming. he whispered it deep into her ear so it could enter there and make its way all the way to her heart. he hoped she would believe it. he hoped it would make her blink, speak, move. 
she had heard it. 
she had felt him kiss her lips as she sat, eyes wide open, in the hallway. 
she had, for the first time, felt alive. just for an instant she felt this way. she felt awake and felt her heart beat and her brain tick. but then someone opened the door and a cold wind blew into the hall where she sat and she felt the numbness of winter creep over her.
 if only he knew that life cannot hurt you when you are this way.he would join herhe would come and sit and face the blank wall, not thinking, breathing, feeling. not really living. but still being alive.

all at once i knew, i was not magnificent

i hate feeling weak.
whether it is a physical or a mental or a spiritual or an emotional shortcoming, it doesn't matter. i still hate it. Thanksgiving was a lovely time with my family and friends and rest, but my weakness became more and more apparent. my inability to rightly deal with disappointments and my own sin mounted until the night before i left to come back to Johnson City.
when i could no longer handle it i laid in my dark, warm bedroom and i cried. that frustrated me further and made me feel even weaker. so (of course) i fought the tears valiantly. but even then i lost. instead of sobbing for a few minutes and being done with it, i laid for four hours with my throat tight, my eyes burning, and a small pool of tears accumulating on my pillow.
on the drive back to school, the sun rose. the moon hung silvery and crescent-shaped. there were stars in the dark blue sky along with the rose-colored signs of dawn.
it was breathtaking.
then all at once i knew, i was not magnificent. i am weak.. i am foolish and irrational and it is so good/painful to be reminded of that. but that is how it is supposed to be. if i was strong and wise and perfect i wouldn't be in desperate need of saving.
so i guess what i am saying is this post-thanksgiving season has gotten me thinking about what i am thankful for. presently, i am so grateful for this:


      But God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise;God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong; God chose what is low and despised in the world, even things that are not, to bring to nothing things that are, so that no human being might boast in the presence of God. And because of Him you are in Christ Jesus, who became to us wisdom from God, righteousness and sanctification and redemption, so that, as it is written, “Let the one who boasts, boast in the Lord.”
- 1st Corintians 1:26-31


God chooses the weak. the foolish. even the despised.
and gifts them with strength. with wisdom. with redemption.

and turns them into something glorious.

that's totally worthy of gratitude.