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Reasons…

In my world, no one does something without a reason. And if you don’t tell me the reason for doing something, I will make up a suitable reason for you. And even if you do provide a reason for your action (or inaction), I will second guess and evaluate and analyze that reason’s validity.

You see, I want to be really sure your reason is true. You may say it’s one thing and in reality, your reason is another. And you may not intend to lie about your reason, but the end result is the same. Your reason you verbally stated is not actually your reason.

Thus, the precedent is set—I must evaluate any and all reasons, for I, the great Jessica, could very well uncover the true reason for what you have done or not done. I could unravel your life or put it all back together by this one revelation.

It’s important, people. Very very important. So give me your reasons, and I’ll give you my expert opinion on whether or not this is your reason. Or I’ll just make up a reason for you not giving me a reason.

I hope you know…

How much I love you.

How much you’re involved in every thought I have.

The lengths I’d go to make you happy.

The amount of respect and adoration I hold for you.

The way my heart sighs when you look at me like I’m your whole world.

That I fight with everything I have to be better because you’re so great.

That I’d turn the whole world over to look for you if you ever decide to leave.

That I appreciate you and the little things you do more than any words I could string together.

That you make me believe in love and happiness.

I never knew how there could possibly be someone who’d be my soul mate, lover, and best friend all wrapped in one who could match me as perfectly as you do.

I notice everything you say even if you don’t think I do.

I am terrible at making decisions only because I want the very best for you and doubt myself at every turn because you deserve much more than I can ever give.

I am exuberantly grateful that your choice was me.

I often think about my checklist I made to God before ever entertaining the thought of you as mine, simply because my checks outnumber the things on that list…you’re everything I asked for and so very much more.

I love you. Now, and for the rest of my life.

I didn’t tell you…

I didn’t tell you that today my stomach hurt so bad I could barely breathe for about 45 second intervals. Or that I don’t know the cause of it.

I didn’t tell you that my personality is tough to shape into a marriage as it is a head-strong, my-way-or-no-way type. But I’m working everyday to mold it.

I didn’t tell you that sometimes, I sit in the quiet…oh. wait. I hardly every sit. Which brings me to my point.

I didn’t tell you that I am never inspired to write anymore. In fact, everyday, my fingers ache to write something new. Something I found. Something I feel. Something I think. Something I know.

I just didn’t tell you that there’s hardly ever time for me to write right at this moment in life.

I didn’t tell you that I’m cool with that. With bottling it up and then letting it flow like a torrent at times like this. Making my fingers become so tired and weary from typing so quickly that it feels like they will just seize up.

I just didn’t tell you.

What. In. The. World?

The world doesn’t revolve around my schedule? My beautifully laid out in pink sparkly ink schedule?! Hello?! What is the world thinking? Don’t they know my timing is best? Don’t they know I have everything penciled in at the exact time it needs to occur?

Yeah. 99% of the time, when planned events (which, in my life, getting a glass of water is scheduled. Along with how many caffeine-containing beverages I will have. And well, the rest isn’t going to be disclosed here.) don’t go my way, that’s how I act.

For a plan not to go my way seems unfair. I have carefully agonized and plotted and analyzed and that one piece not going the way it was supposed to affects all the rest of the pieces. For my logistical nature, plans not going my way seems like poop.

Oh, sure, I know it usually is a blessing in disguise. Occasionally, it turn, it turns out for the best that my plans weren’t followed. But I still sometimes have the same “ I can’t believe someone/something would dare interrupt my plan” moment. As if I’m God. Which I’m not. And happy to not be because He’s got a tough job. And because He’s God, I constantly have to repent for this.

Slowly, this week has been teaching me this brand-new concept of people not always doing what my schedule/plan/brain says they should do. Slowly, this week has taught me that people will not like me. That not all people want to see me. That I don’t mean everything to everyone. That I don’t please anyone 100% of the time. That living my life to make humans happy with me at all times is impossible. That praying for people who don’t like me isn’t as hard as I imagined.

Chronic

An Emergency Room doctor. My own family doctor. My gastro Dr. All said there was very little to no chance of me having a certain chronic disease from the blood work and medical procedure I’d had done.

To be sent for the first time in my life to the Emergency Room isn’t what I wanted. I don’t need emergency rooms. But I did that day.

To break down on the poor nurse who told me I needed to get to the Emergency Room quick isn’t what I wanted. I don’t cry.  But I did that day.

To be diagnosed after 21 birthdays with a chronic disease isn’t what I wanted. But four days ago,  indeed, I did get diagnosed with one.

After three doctors telling me I wouldn’t have this particular disease.

And when I was diagnosed, I faced the world with a smile knowing I had nothing to worry about  I had a “How can THREE medical professionals be wrong?!” moment. I had a “What does this mean and how much is this going to cost?!” moment. I had a “Please hold my hand and walk through this with me.” moment (While I was talking to God, I also had my fiancé  with me and that thought was on infinite repeat in my head the entire day.)

To say the very least, I was shocked down to my core. My insides were shaking, and I was trying to listen as my fiancé gently spoke encouraging words into my ears and as God whispered gentle reminders that HE holds the helm of my ship.

A couple days later, a friend posted lyrics from this song onto Facebook, and it spoke to that deep place in my soul:

 

God won’t let me go. Despite my questions. And I don’t think I’ve ever held my fiancé's hand as much as I did on that day. Despite my questions. I’m sure both wondered if I’d ever find the calm place where my questions would end.

The questions haven’t. I have a million. But calmness did eventually take over, and I was able to get some rest.

I’m so glad to be surrounded by those who love me and want the best and to be held in the center of God’s palm knowing He already has everything planned.

I’ll write more later. But listen to the song. And let it be a reminder that when we’ve had enough of life, there’s always someone willing to listen…including God.

Perfectly Imperfect

On a less than perfect day, I want to throw in the towel. I want to throw huge hissy fits and let everyone know that the day hasn’t gone my way.

Annnnnnnnnnnnnnd, sometimes, I do some of those things. I throw fits. I let people know things going my way hasn’t been the theme of the day. I get mad (and when I get mad, I do a bang up job of it). Aggravated. Angry.

I don’t want to fight to remain positive on these days.I don’t want to be anyone’s Positive Polly. Being negative  is perfectly fine with me.

But I’m not meant for that. I’m not made to stay angry. I’m meant to forgive (even myself). And forget (I’ll admit…that one’s hard). I’m meant to remain positive even in the most adverse of situations. I’m meant to see God’s hand working in the events in my life. I’m meant to, as our preacher said last night, reflect God’s image.

At the end of the fits, I feel no better. I feel worse many times because right in the middle of the really good  fit, I realize what a big role I played in whatever is making me angry. (Don’t you HATE when that happens?!)

This post has no rhyme. Nor reason. It simply is meant to tell you that I’m human. Imperfect is my middle name. Well, not really. But you get the point.

I am perfectly imperfect. :)