It Would Be A Lie To Run Away...

I am awake. It is late. I can't sleep. I have to get up in five hours, so I can bike to church and get there by 7:15. That is not a complaint. I love biking. I love church. I love getting up early. Though, sleep would be appreciated right about three hours ago. This terrible curse of no sleep is probably due to the fact that I took an Excedrin at around 6 this evening, and those two wonderful and terrible, white pills happen to have loads of caffeine packed into them. Though, I have no pain in my head! Woot.

It's so funny to me how this culture tries to cure every little painful thing in life. I had a migraine today because I didn't drink enough water, biked all over town, and didn't eat lunch. I was stupid and didn't treat my body very well, yet I cover it up with a painkiller to hold me over until tomorrow. Maybe my body was trying to tell me something? Like, hey Emily, maybe next time you could actually eat some protein and drink some water. This way, I'm nourished and you won't get a headache--win-win situation! Yet, I cover up that wonderful message my body is trying to send me, and I learn nothing. Why is pain so avoided? When, really, it's through pain that we learn and become better.

Like pruning a rose bush. For two weeks after pruning, there's just gross, ugly stubs of green sticking out of the ground. But then, after two weeks, there are double the blossoms...

Or, like working out. "No pain, no gain"--a saying that echoes in my memory from my couch yelling at our cross country team in high school...

Or, even better, the cross. Without that pain, I'd be dead. Or, I would be alive, yet would not have much hope of ever being justified as a person, as an anything. Compared to His pain, my little problems throughout the days, weeks, months, years, are nothing. Like Jon Foreman, yet again, so honestly puts it: "Oh my Lord, to suffer like you do, it would be a lie to run away."

--------------------------

You still haven't found what you thought you were looking for,

and I am still waiting, 

patiently,

at the door.

You still run away from what you didn't want,

only to find 

it's just that

that you need.

Save Me From Myself

I am currently sitting in my new house. Last week, I moved out of my parents' house and into a house in Multnomah Village with five other girls, one dog, and one cat. It's a bungalow-type house, with a creatively foliaged back yard and a front yard lined with multi-colored rose bushes. The floor in the kitchen looks like a huge checker board, and the house overall has a Portlandy charm to it. I'm sitting in the front entryway/living room and have just completed cleaning most of the downstairs. I've been rather frustrated this week because on Sunday, I got a minor concussion wake-boarding and was ordered by my doctor to stay idle. My plan was to spend this week looking for a job, but have instead been confined to staying inside and going on small, slow walks. So this morning, I was going crazy and had to do something productive. The five other girls are all working, so I determined myself to clean the house. And so I have. 

Now, like I said, I am sitting in the sun-lit entryway/living room, listening to the hum of the washer downstairs (the basement) and the soothing snore of Rimky, the pug, and have just finished browsing over a friend's blog. His blog is one that I greatly enjoy reading, and he said something interesting that got me thinking a lot about my life:

"Maturity can't mean tolerating feelings you don't want."

Hmm. It seems that I've been tolerating a lot lately--a lot of unwanted feelings and emotions and unneeded worries and insecurities. I seem to convince myself regularly that my inability to change for the better is some kind of maturity, that instead of admitting to self-pity and pride, I pompously brush them aside and instead forget about them for a while. Like my friend said in his blog, "Maybe maturity looks very differently than what we're perceiving it to be. Maybe what we've interpreted as 'maturity' actually is nothing more than incarceration; resignation...retirement." Maybe my inability to care about ridding myself of these bad qualities is not the maturity I keep convincing myself that I have, but instead, a weakness in myself that I'm afraid to face.

Habits are a strange thing, and being rid of them alone can be quite hard. But why do I think I'm alone in all this? Why do I tell myself that there is no hope, when in reality, I have the living God who is ever presently by my side? Why do I stay in this place of desolation and hurt when I have the promise of salvation, now and in eternity, being spoken over me? I don't know why, and I'm tired of it. I'm tired of thinking that I can somehow beat this fickle thing called sin all by myself. I'm tired of believing that I have the strength to fight through it...because I have only found myself with the option to fall on my knees and say out loud that He is the only one who can change my own heart. I think I know myself, but He knows me better. I think I know what I need, but He created me. I think I can do it all alone, but His fatherly character is waiting with open arms as I stumble and fall.

As Jon Foreman so honestly puts it, "Oh Lord, save me from myself."

Solitude is good for a short while. Then it becomes destructive after that "short while" period passes. And I don't feel like writing anything more on that.

You may figure it out, but you don't live in my heart, so you probably won't know it in its entirety...

It's no use trying to shove them inside.

They'll just resurface months down the road

and reveal secrets about you 

that you didn't want to know.

It's no use trying to run away or hide.

They'll eventually seek you out and find you

at the worst, most terrible time.

I, myself, swept them under the carpet.

I locked them in the darkest, deepest closet.

I put them in the safe of my heart

and thought no one would ever know.

I dug a hole and dropped them in,

shoveled the dirt of denial and covered them.

I believed with much conviction

that I'd never see them again.

But now it's months later,

and I'm faced with this sin.

This gross, decaying, disgusting sin,

and it dares to pop its head out

with a leer and a grin.

It dares to push through

my barriers built strong.

It dares to accuse me 

of being wrong.

Well, I am

wrong

in the strongest sense.

I just don't want to hear it.

I'm not ready for that yet.

I am

wrong

for not dealing directly

with the issues of my life

that are so infecting.

And now I have a choice,

I have a decision to make,

and I'm ready to be rid of it.

I'm ready to break.

I'm ready to face

the consequences of my actions,

and I'm ready to feel healing

as He disciplines and chastens.

It's a funny thing

how we hold on so tight

to the things which destroy us,

in a blink of an eye.

For me, it was three months,

three months of denial.

But I'm ready to be led now

by Him for a while.

And I pray that the while

will turn into forever.

I pray that I never lose sight of Him.

Ever.

To...or not to...

To find a job or not to find a job--that is the question. Well, there's really no question there. The answer is obviously yes. But it would be nice to not have to wonder if one will, in fact, come upon me.

To move to NYC for a year and live with Aunt Re or not to move to NYC for a year--that is a good question.

To take a job in Montana for two months of my summer or not to take a job in Montana for two months--that is another good question.

New addresses.

Ah, I didn't realize how a website address change could feel so freeing. Finally, room to breathe.

It's the end of the quarter, and I am currently in the process of moving out of my parents' house. Since moving back from Seattle, it's been quite a little rollercoaster ride living at home. My parents are wonderful, probably more wonderful than yours. Yet, I feel that there is a crucial part of life which allows those little birds with unused wings to take the plunge out of the nest and learn to live, think, and find food on their own. And it is that part of my life that I am not going through right now purely because I live at home, under the protection and food supply of my parents. I know that it would be a lot easier to stay home, but I feel that I am being enabled to not get a job and stay a little girl, where my thoughts and feelings about life are all based on my parents' opinions. There are many other factors that play into this and many other things I could say, but I am now going to refrain from writing more concerning this scary, yet wonderful, subject because I am in a Portland State computer lab and feel the eyes of those behind me piercing the back of my head and lasering onto the computer screen in which I write this, and it makes me juuuuuust a little uncomfortable. Get out of my business, you freakos. No, just kidding. I'm sure you're not freakos. I would do the same thing if someone in front of me was blogging. I would stick my big nose right into their lives, if for just a few minutes. So go ahead, my fellow Portland State computer lab folk. Go right ahead.

Bonjur.

The wind has carried with it much--

Not only I, but some failures

and luck.

I ponder now

who I will trust,

and a decision is to be made soon.

It is a must.

To follow the love

that so wove its way deep,

Or to follow the path that

I pledged I would keep;

To run with full force

into a vast unknown,

Or to shield from the worst,

staying safe, but alone.

Now comes the time quickly

for the tide to be determined,

and I am eager for it,

ready, though a bit uncertain.

It Would Take You A While to Figure This One Out!

Hmm.
I finally got him.
Finally,
Thoroughly,
Exquisitely,
I got him.
And he didn't even know what hit him.
He didn't even know he gave in.
He didn't know that I was now on the offensive,
and he was now defensive,
and he didn't even know it.

Finally, finally,
I won the battle.
I beat him at his own game.
I put that boy to shame.
Though no one really knows
except me and my own heart.
And I'll celebrate well,
though we are now apart.

No one will notice
that I am no longer tied
to that which was was my fancy
and with that, I sigh.
No one will know
why I'll smile and smirk
when he passes by,
but I will know why.

And great satisfaction
now comes upon me.
For I used to be preoccupied,
thinking quite incredulously.
But now, a new season,
with new reason, arises.
And I am quite ready
for new and welcome surprises.

He will go his way,
and I will, yes!, go mine.
And he may look back over here
with introspection and time.
But I will be far off
on the waves of a distant sea.
And though he may try to return,
he'll never regain me.

But for now, I bask
in what I've done.
I sit and think on who I've become.
I take joy and jest in my life ahead
while he is still idle,
though he knows it not.

Oh life,
you are a silly thing!