I, who am weary and burdened

Riches I heed not nor man's empty praise
Thou mine inheritance now and always
Thou and thou only first in my heart
High King of Heaven, my treasure Thou art

This week has been a blur of sleepy-hungry-overwhelmed. While I enjoyed some of the most beautiful moments with precious friends this week (the kind of necessary moments that remind you that you're alive and happy to be so), the pressures of school, work, and moving are starting to close in. I really have tried recently to be more focused on school so that I finish stronger than I started. One of my grades is not doing so well and I am giving it this last push to try and bring it up (i.e. immediately working on my in-progress project when I got home after six last night and not finishing until midnight). When I get overwhelmed, if I can just sit back for one minute I hear the Lord telling me, "Not much longer. You can do this." It's the sentiment my husband echoes in such gentle, understanding tones as I struggle to balance the demands on my time, attention, and emotions.

This morning was an early one as usual since Joshua and I are sharing the Jeep until further notice. The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was the moon still round and yellow, hanging around to say that the night went by too quickly. My mind is somewhere back in that moment, I think, because it has not yet caught up to me. Work is quiet and empty today so I am doing boring old bookkeeping, which practically drives me insane. And as I think about how I feel so ragged, so worn, so used up, it hits me: there is a difference between taking a break and genuine rest.

"Taking a break" brings to mind half-time in a sweaty, athletic match or the deep breath you take between one task and another. It's the pauses we take to survive. But when I think of "rest", I think of soft moments relaxing in the park, drives with the sunroof back, and reading with my feet kicking the air behind me. Even the memories I have over past months are not "rest." They are like sleep: necessary for existence, but not always rejuvenating. I need rest: continuous moments where my mind and heart are at peace and unity with my Father, just absolute bliss in knowing I am loved, approved of, cared for. There is something in a daughter's heart that needs to be spoken to saying that she is secure and okay and that all the messes, mistakes, confusion, and victories are accounted for and accepted. I crave it so deeply that I was in tears on my drive home yesterday, wordless, just lonely for that communion. I truly cannot live without it. Survive, yes-- but live, thrive, rest? No.

"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest."

Every day strengthens my resolution that I don't want to be

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Let the expectations fall

Recently I have been musing over how expectations deeply affect our lives. To some degree, they are the standard to which we hold ourselves or others. Expectations take us to the height from which we must fall if the plan changes and disappointment sets in.

I simply cannot see any benefit to expectations.

Of course, I must clarify my "definitions" in order to make such a broad statement. Expectations are not Hope. They are not a moral standard. Simply put, they are a belief or mental picture about how something "should" be. It is an excuse for disintegrating relationships when someone does not turn out "as expected." It is the reason that a perfectly normal day seems like a bad one because it did not turn out "as expected." So much damage happens as the cost for failed expectations; we become selfishly disappointed that someone did not do as we expected them to and, sadly, take offense that their decisions do not reflect our expectancy. Life, like Relationship, is ever-changing, always growing, and generally un-Expected.

The counterpart to expectations, if you will, is Hope. Hope anticipates good things, but is not crushed if the scenario changes. Hope is tied closely with love because it will expect good things no matter what. If the entire picture crashes to a thousand pieces, Hope still says that "The best is yet to come." It is not simply optimism; it is a deep assurance that when something does not turn out as expected that all is not lost. The relationship Hoped for can adjust and grow to meet both participants' needs. All of the circumstances that have not played out according to plan are not a loss; they are tools for an unseen win.

Let's stop coloring each other with our own preferences and accept each other's differences, dreams, and (expectations forbid) even mistakes as a part of this fluid, layered picture.

The List of Giant Undertakings

We've got less than five weeks until we drive out and and less than four to be out of the apartment. School and work are going to be coming to a close, so there are loose ends to wrap up there.

-get up the guts to take cats to the shelter (I'd like to pretend I have no affection for them, but it's not entirely true).
-make a meal plan and grocery list that will help get rid of remaining food
-start packing
-clean the house
-search for/find jobs
-search for/find apartment
-somehow resolve or ignore family drama
-finish planning CA trip details (this is way more complicated than it seems)
-work on school projects/papers

The fun part
-find some way to enjoy this incredible weather
-possibly plan a friend's wedding shower
-try to get quality time with everyone before we leave

Of course I think of it now.

"Is there really a way to fix this mess?"

That's how I would have finished the metaphoric ocean post with one question.

Familiar Routine

Familiar routine: laugh and love then for no reason at all, shut down; become a cold, calculating statue of a human. Cause pain and frustration in order to assuage your own.

I don't know how to break this cycle and a recent reading of "Perks of Being a Wallflower" reawakened that little piece in me that held so many infinite moments dear. It is as if this soul curls and dries like a faded rose when there is nothing to live for. I want to be deeply poetic and meaningful as I describe how I feel but I've learned to live without words. Sixteen year old me would find this devastating. Somewhere inside, I think twenty year old me does too, but I don't feel much. A writer without words is merely a ghost of who she should be.

But that's how I've been. A moving, breathing phantom because I have forgotten how to do exactly what I was born to. And I might argue that I have even forgotten what exactly I am to do. Sometimes when my heart hurts and I cry, my soul wakes up a little bit. Feeling gives me words. But by the time I make it to keyboard or paper, it has shriveled and I feel more empty than before.

Also, having a C in an English class really makes me feel worthless. I know I should have more intrinsic value for myself than grades by now, but dry seasons really leave a person looking for meaning in anything.

My life as a metaphoric ocean

Looking over recent feelings, posts, scribblings, and memories, I have really come to believe that the last couple of years have been wave after wave of conflict. Sometimes it rolls in steady and bearable like the ocean ought. But there is rain and there are hurricanes; sometimes these last for weeks and sometimes they pass in hours. All the same, my life has greatly resembled this metaphoric ocean in both storms and showers. Conflict carries a corrosive connotation and for good reason. It chisels down past the good hair days and nothing to wear days right to the dissatisfaction of your soul. Giant rocks of insecurity get broken down into bits of sand. Every so often one of those turns into a jagged stone that catches skin and makes you bleed. But you still bleed red. You still feel pain. While the storm cares not, you know that you still feel and sometimes that really is consolation.

So the salty air blows and the wound burns and heals. It forms soft new skin that is easily pierced again. I could really take this metaphor too far, but someone wise once told me that the best use of metaphors is to drop them sooner than later. It would be a nice little wrap-up right now if I could say that "I only have one question and it is..." but I have half a dozen at least. One day, perhaps, there will be resolution. But for now the storm of confusion and frustration rages on and leaves an awkward mess in its wake.