Something Real

"Lemme 'splain. No. There is too much. Lemme sum up."

--Inigo Montoya, "The Princess Bride"

I've been trying to offer something real.

However, for the past two hours, all I have are drafts of things I want to say and a blinking cursor.

I guess I'm just stuck.

I keep thinking about this time last year. This time last year, I went home from work because I was on a brink of an emotional and mental breakdown due to the fact that I hadn't slept in three days.

Today, on my day off, I celebrated with my dance of joy because I am still here.

A lot has happened in the past year. I couldn't possibly write (or list!) all the things that have transpired. In the end, I am very blessed and I certainly don't deserve any of it.

I didn't plan on this much grace.

From time to time, I read through my journal entries--why else would I write journal entires if I don't read them to learn how far I've come? This time last year, I was full of shame and disgrace. I was brokenhearted and lost. My world had turned upside down and I couldn't see my way out.

I read that journal entry now and I praise God that I didn't die there. He brought my friend, Lu, to help me and pray for me in one of my darkest hours. He brought friends (new and old) to show me love and faith and hope. He blessed me at work and at church in ways that astound me to this very day.

And if I were to sum up all that happened in the past year, I would offer this: I am here because of God's grace. I am so moved by this grace that my heart can barely contain it.

And yet, I can't seem to share about this grace. A summary doesn't seem to do justice to all that has happened. I am vague for a reason. I make lists because it's easier. I don't want to offer something real if it means that I will be vulnerable. For twenty-odd years, people have shouted me down to keep me from speaking, to stop me from being heard. And in that process, I have lost my voice.

It's been a long while since I've shared my testimony...any testimony. And perhaps maybe now is the time to try.

But as for me, I will always have hope; I will praise you more and more. My mouth will tell of your righteousness, of your salvation all day long, though I know not its measure.

--Psalmist, Psalm 71:14-15 (NIV)

Blocked

Dear Writer's Block,

You annoy me.

Let me write something of worth. Help me get my voice back. I've been silent a little too long.

And tell your friend, Insomnia, that I'm annoyed at him, too.

Thanks,

Me.

Incense Over Coals

I wish I had come up with this phrase, but alas, a better wordsmith than I put that together.

This has been an exhausting week. I had been terrified in many surprising moments this week, but I just pulled through. And I was exhausted. Just to do something different, tonight, I visited the Ballard Campus of Mars Hill with my friend Chifonne. I wasn't expecting anything special to happen...which, sadly, has become the mantra of my life as of late.

I am so thankful that God has better plans for me.

**Sidebar: There were baptisms tonight. It was a moving moment; to watch people to be baptized amid people singing and worshipping God. This is a picture of heaven--of all the saints rejoicing in song and praise as they welcome people to God's family. It was beauty. It was joy. It was why we come together to worship...and I couldn't stop crying. Gloria!

Ok. Back to my story.

There were many things that spoke to me during my visit, but the one I wanted to share in this blog was this:

What have I stopped praying for?

Incense, apparently, was a picture of prayer. When incense rises, it is an illustration of our prayers rising to God. And our prayers are a sweet smell to the Lord God who loves us and sees us.

When did I stop pouring incense over coals?

The story that was shared tonight was of Zechariah and Elizabeth and the announcement of John the Baptizer (Luke 1:5-25). They had prayed for a child for years; but Elizabeth was barren. But...a single moment of tradition was changed when God went beyond expectation and answered a life-long prayer.

There are many things that I've stopped doing--some good, some bad. I've stopped writing. I've stopped blogging. I've stopped taking joy in the small things. I've stopped reading for fun. I've stopped praying for certain things. I've stopped expecting to meet God in the miracles and in the mundane.

It breaks my heart to realize how far I've come from that little girl who never lost hope in the God who loves her and that He will hear her.

Give ear to my words, O LORD, consider my sighing. Listen to my cry for help, my King and my God, for to you I pray. In the morning, O LORD, you hear my voice; in the morning I lay my requests before you and wait in expectation.

--David, Psalm 5:1-3

I will pour incense over coals. I will keep praying. And I will wait in expectation that I will meet God.

Mulders and Good Sams

No...this isn't about the FBI/J. Edgar Hoover Building, X-Files, or David Duchovny.

Since our trip to DC was brief, my sister, her husband, my mother and I decided to concentrate on the places we did not want to miss on our trip in DC.

My sister's pick was the Holocaust Museum.

I'm not sure I have the words to fully describe how I felt about that experience, but needless to say, I was moved. Heartbroken. Inspired.

Continuing my fascination with heroes and those who try, I was deeply affected in the section dedicated to those who helped those who were persecuted during this horrific time in our world's history. There was a white wall with the names of those who took the risk to help. A few of those names had stories attached to them. One was dedicated to Oskar Schindler. Another story was of The Mulder Family.

The Mulder Family was religiously devoted. Many religions in the Mulder's time taught prejudices against the Jews. However, the Mulders also knew that what Hilter and the Nazis were doing was wrong. Upon that conviction, they helped many Jews hide and escape. And when asked if they would do it again, they stated that despite their religious convictions that taught them to hate a specific group of people, they would help those who were being persecuted because it is right.

At chapel at work this week, the focus was on the Good Samaritan story. Jesus's story was incendiary--a Samaritan (a group despised by the Jews in Jesus's time) was not only the hero of the story, but one that Jesus had asked us to "Go and do likewise." The Samaritan in this story helped someone who hated him and his people. And like the Mulder family, he helped the Jew because he knew it was right.

These two stories raised many questions for me. Could I help someone I was taught to hate? Could I help someone that was taught to hate me? Could I accept help from someone who was taught to hate me?

Could I help because I know that it is right?

The Holocaust Museum not only showed what horrible evils humans are capable of, but also highlighted the capacity for humans to do what is good. To do what is brave. To do what is right.

There are courageous heroes and Good Samaritans in this world. And I hope that I can be one of them.

The Trying Mr. Lincoln

This is the first in a series of blogs designated to my time in Washington, DC.

I'm not planning on it being a timetable of what happened while I was in DC, and so some of the revelations will be out of order. However, I will mention that the reason why my family had traveled to DC was for my cousin Christie's wedding (Congratulations, Christie and Steven!). There was a lot of family bonding time, and definitely some sightseeing. However, some of the things I'm sharing in this series have been percolating in my brain long before the trip.

I don't know why I wait so long to take a vacation. I often wait until I'm teetering on the brink. My mind is plagued with not-so-fully-formed-plans of walking away from everything that I have just to try something new; something different; something-not-what-I'm-doing-right-now.

The week before my vacation was no exception. For the most part, I felt invisible, without purpose, and just going through the motions. My heart was breaking for different reasons and at the end of the day, I wanted out. I wanted to be inspired. I wanted to have so much more than this.

I'm sorry, Mr. Lincoln, there was a lot of pressure placed upon you and your memorial.

Luckily enough, my vacation and my visit to the Lincoln memorial did not disappoint. I stood in front of the famous statue in awestruck wonder. It took me awhile to find it, but I realized why I connected so much with President Lincoln; why I sought out to be inspired by him and the enormous statue that bore his image.

I am drawn to those who try.

When people look at me, they immediately know that I'm not a risk-taker by any stretch of the imagination. I suppose that is why I am often drawn to those who try. It doesn't matter if they fail or succeed, the fact remains that they tried. They dared to believe in a better world, and to the best of their ability, they made every effort to make it so.

I spent five days with my family. My thoughts on the sustained time I endured with my family will be reserved in another blog. But it is no secret that I tend to withdraw whenever I spend a long time with my family. I've lost my voice with them. They don't see me. From those family lessons learned in my formative years, I have let myself be silenced by those I believed to be better than me. I still haven't quite found my voice, but I'm confident that I will.

I've got to try.

And that single revelation has brought me more freedom than I had ever anticipated.

Thank you, Mr. Lincoln. Hopefully I won't have to keep flying out to DC to gain some perspective from you. Next time, I'll just remind myself to carve out some down time in my daily life.

That, or take a trip to Maui.

Loving Fall

Apparently, I am still stuck in a school schedule.

I love Fall. Yes, I understand that it is not technically Fall for another couple weeks...but I don't care. I love it.

I love the leaves that turn color, the smell of a cooler air, the excitement of new beginnings. I love wearing sweaters, buying new school supplies (yes, I still buy them) and replacing my flip flops for boots. I love Fall.

Summers are traditionally hard for me. I am out of steam by July, and August is just torture. But when August 31st turns to September 1st, I am energized. I am ready to take on new adventures.

This Fall is no exception. I am excited for the new doors opening for me, and the opportunities that I am exploring. I am not sure what will come out of the life that is laid out before me, but this uncertainty doesn't scare me--just because it's Fall.

I have not set any goals yet this Labor Day weekend, but I hope that during my trip to Washington, DC, I will be inspired to make some goals. And maybe this time I will also have a plan to achieve them.

And that life is laid out before us is filled with the glorious and the challenging.

--Hal Sparks, "Thoughts on Summer."

Then the time came when the risk it took to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.

--Anais Nin