Doncha?

You want me to say sorry, doncha?

You think I did you wrong, doncha?

You think you’re perfect stuck in a stinky life, doncha?

You think if you don’t get your way immediately, you an throw a huge fit and pretend everyone is horrible scum except for you, doncha?

But you know that truly you’re not the golden one, doncha?

You know I’m not saying sorry for the umpteenth time, doncha?

You know I don’t deserve to be treated the way you’re treating me, doncha?

You know I’m not standing for another single second of it, doncha?

I’m moving on. I refuse to let myself be treated like dirt. YOU chose your life. I’m choosing mine.

You know this is goodbye, doncha?

Tight…

Hank and I…we were tight. REALLY. We were. When he took his last breath recently, I was fairly annoyed. Doesn’t he know how many papers, lesson plans, and websites we had left to write and research?

Yes, my dear Blog Readers, my dear Hank LapTop died. And now I have a new one. I’m thankful for the new one (who remains nameless for now…no offence, new laptop).

But I miss the comfort of the old and familiar Hank. Hank who had all my passwords, edited pictures, and favorite websites saved.

Maybe I shouldn’t mention the fact that Hank wasn’t named until today. Or maybe last night. I can’t remember. But we were tight. Nameless-until-yesterday-Hank and I went through so many rough times together. And yes, maybe it is materialistic.  Nevertheless, I miss him. And I wish he’d revive himself. And that  he would teach this new laptop all his tricks—he had some of the best tricks.

Well I guess that’s it for now. Time to put this new laptop to sleep as she is still a baby and needs her rest. Or maybe I need the sleep.

I wonder if I should send announcements for the new arrival…

:)

J

Mirror-Image

I feel comfortable when I'm comfortable.

The second I feel pushed, I freak.

My prayers become something like, "Um. Lord, I know I'm not supposed to question you, but I was FINE being comfortable! I was FINE being in a place where I knew everything. Where I didn't feel inadequate. Can we just skip this part and go back to that comfortable place?!"

I hate the feeling of not knowing where my foot is going to land next. I'm a "I've-already-planned-twenty-years-ahead-so-you-don't-need-to-mess-with-me" kind of gal.

Come out of the box?! Um, no, thank you. I like my box. I even have my walls decorated. LEAVE ME ALONE!

But no. The pushing and trials comes. And I, scraping at the walls of my comfy (and totally chic) box in an all-out effort to stay in, am forced to come out and play in a world that I don't know.

Nothing seems familiar. No one looks or acts the same as they did when I looked out of my box's peephole. They're not at all who I thought they were.

Here in this world, I see their motives outweigh their conscience. I see their selfishness outweigh their kindness. I see their fears outweigh their trust. I see their hurt outweigh their joy.

And here in this world outside my comfy (and yes, totally chic) box, with these people who aren't at all who I thought they were, I am staring into a full-length mirror.

I never knew I could feel what I've felt in the last few days. I never knew I could see someone I didn't even know so completely and thoroughly.

The mirror has replaced the box, and I'm not entirely sure I ever wanted to know myself this well.

E.N.O.U.G.H.

Not good enough. Not smart enough. Not loved enough. Not healthy enough. Not worthy enough. Not here enough. Not there enough. Not quiet enough. Not caring enough. Not letting go enough. Not forgiving enough.

Just not enough.

And then, I realize, the devil is whispering these things in my vulnerable and oh-so-sensitive ears. And I listen. Ohhh-ho boy, how quickly I listen, and my heart and self-confidence drops about two inches.

You see, these not enough's cover up what God is steadily telling me. And I am oh-so-inclined to listen to the devil before I listen to God and what HE is trying to say to me through these whispers.

The truth is, I am not enough. On my own, I'll never be enough. NO, not even if I am good, smart, loved, healthy, worthy, here, there, quiet, caring, letting go, or forgiving enough, I will still not be ENOUGH. But I have and serve a Savior who makes up for my weakness and is made stronger through my weak times.

Right now, I am so very weak, so He is oh so very strong! So now, I'll rest in His arms knowing I am loved and treasured more than I'll ever know. And His arms are big enough to hold you if you'd let Him...

Tell Me

"How are you?" I ask a passerby in the hallway.

"Fine, thanks." (Her eyes say: But really, I am not fine, because my boyfriend just broke up with me and my mom is a million miles away in a jail because she is hooked on drugs and I don't even know if there is a God listening to me because for so many years, I thought I had the perfect life. The perfect dream life. And like that, it's gone. And now, I'm stuck here. Plugging away at what little future I have left. But I'll spare you all those details because I know you don't want that truth, and just say, "I'm fine.".)

MY heart says: Though I don't know you, I WANT the details. Not because I'd like to spread rumors, degrade you, or any other mean thing. But because I love you. I love your essence. Because there IS a God who listens and loves you to the end of the earth and beyond. Because you're an amazing person with an amazing future if you will just begin being honest with yourself and with me. I am not one of those fake, "How are you" ers. I MEAN How. Are. You? Please, please, please, tell me.

Tell me, so I can pray for you.

Tell me, so I can love on you and be a shoulder for you to lean on.

Tell me, because I know the King of Kings who was willing to lay down His life so that you could live eternally.

Tell me, because I'd be more than happy to introduce Him to you.

Tell me, because you, dear one, are not "fine."

But "Fine, thanks," is all I get, and we walk on. I, never knowing her full story. She, never knowing how much I wanted to listen. To show her SOMEONE cares. In fact, two someones care-God and myself.

Doesn't everybody?

Lately, I've been dealing with having been put on a pedastal for everyone else to look at and judge.

That sounds so silly, but it's true. Because of who my parents are (both in leader positions in people-populated jobs), my every step is monitored. And every step is reported back to my parents. Not that I've tried that last part out. Or that my parents ask for my life to be reported back to them. But it is. Reported back. Not even my buying a Reese goes unnoticed. Ok. Well, maybe there was that one Reese in the bookstore at college that...well, who cares about that?!

My parents trust me. (Good thing.) They know my personal code of morals is high. (Also a good thing.)

But. Everything I do, put on Facebook, say to anyone gets turned into this circus freak show that EVERYONE has to tell EVERYONE else about. Why? Because it's me. Because I am doing it, putting it on Facebook, and telling it. Because I should be perfect.

NEWSFLASH: I'm not. I'm just an ordinary girl with an extraordinary God who forgives, unlike some who decide my every move must be labeled and categorized and reported.

I have moments where I melt down. So what? Doesn't everybody?! Don't YOU?! I have a heart. I have feelings. I cry. I laugh. I scream. I'm scared. I'm fearless. I wish. I fail. I dream. I pray. Just. Like. You.

But I'm going to keep giving my life my everything. And you can keep judging me. Doesn't everybody?

One day...

Well, the man of my dreams hasn't been in my dreams lately. In light of nearly all of my friends being married, engaged, or dating, my heart sighs and remembers I am fearfully and wonderfully made by the Creator. One day, a certain guy will steal my breath and make me giggle (take THAT, Mr. Man In My Dreams...you did NOT make me giggle!).

One day, I won't view couples kissing as vomit-inducing. {I HATE pda!}

One day, I won't roll my eyes in the movies when the award-winning kiss is shown {Seriously, who gives awards for THAT?!}.

One day, I won't shudder when I see a girl giggling at a guy doing some stupid something or other. {And I won't view the something or other as stupid either...I'll be all "That's so cute...giggle!"} I think I just threw up a little in my mouth. Shudder.

One day, I'll understand why it is women feel the need to spend mass amounts of money on a stupid wedding day {The day won't be stupid to me either...but you probably guessed that.}

When the above happens, feel free to remind me of this post. :)