PROGRESS.

I have noticed that the most successful parents are those who adjust.   A lot of parents tend to see their children as static.  Perhaps this is not true when they are changing grades every year.  After all, there is a huge difference between a first grader and a second grader.  The change is outward and apparent.  Even the change in height makes the inward changes more noticeable.  But when kids get out of high school and start moving on in life, it's almost like there is a drop- off, a time when parents forget that their children are still changing, still learning, still failing, still insecure, still vulnerable.

They don't adjust.  

I have been lucky enough to have parents who see not as a child or a completely self-sufficient adult.  They see me as I am: a post- graduate adult who still needs a whole lot of help in life and grace during times where I'm weak, inexperienced or uncertain.

In a way, I don't blame those parents who are clueless in this way, because I myself feel similarly sometimes.  Though I am not a parent, I experience this feeling in my sickness.  When it comes down to it, the core issue is a lack of perspective.  Just as parents aren't able to separate from their children enough to see where they are at NOW, so I cannot separate from my view of myself in sickness.  Okay, that might not make a lot of sense...Let me try to explain: 

When you first get sick, you view yourself as a "healthy person" who is experiencing sickness.  When sickness lingers, you go through all the stages of grief (denial, anger, bargaining, depression & finally, acceptance.)   When then terrible cycle is through, you land a place where you can see yourself as a "sick person" without grief or self-pity.  It is just a way of thinking.  It is a way to filter life through a grid that helps it make sense.  Instead of struggling all the time and feeling angry and that you can't feel like "normal people," you make the change to assume that you can't do anything.  That way, if by some miracle you are able to go, it is a celebration!  And that is where I've been at for well over a year now.  (The whole grief process was about 6-8 months.)  

The problem is, with Lyme anyway, the symptoms are not always predictable.  The "growth" so to speak is unpredictable, which means that there are seasons, weeks, days and sometimes even hours when  the sickness seems to leave your body...  There are days when I'm functioning almost as though I were normal...And it is in those moments, when I find myself in crisis.  Who am I? How do I function in the world?  Am I sick person who is having a well moment or am I changing gears?  Am I going to heal now?  It is giant and exhausting mind game that anyone who is sick goes through regularly.  It is that tension that exhausts even those who have been through many horrors and tragedies.  Even the strongest of people feel this and knows it's pain...

Am I an adult or a kid?

Am I a sick person or well person?

Am I normal?

Should I 'do' or rest?

How do other people view me in all this? 

CRASH.

crash    [krash] –verb 
1.to break or fall to pieces with noise.

2.to experience unpleasant sensations, as sudden exhaustion or depression

The worst thing about crashing is that you don't expect it.  The worst thing about crashing when you have Lyme Disease is that you do.  Discernment is the key when you are living with a chronic illness...To do or not to do? that is the question...the never- ending question.

I think of the quote by Mark Twain where he says "Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did so. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover."

Good advice Mr. Twain.  But I wonder if Mark Twain ever had Lyme Disease?  Probably not.  What would his motto had been if did?  Instead of "Explore. Dream. Discover" maybe he would have said: Rest. Sleep. Dream?"  Okay, that is depressing.

There is a time to push through when you are sick and there is also a time to sleep and I just can figure what time is what...  It is one of my greatest challenges.  Lately, I've been pushing through HARD CORE.  Amazingly, my body has been somewhat cooperating with me.  But the last few days I've been CRASHED hardcore.  And when I say crashed, I mean I am shut down: mentally, emotionally, spiritually and physically.  It's like I pressed 'hibernate' mode on myself.  It's the only way to reset after an incredibly busy couple of weeks....

And yet, life demands so much more of me than I have to give it...What to do?

LIFELESS.

So I've basically gotten out of the house three times this week: one quick trip to Blockbuster, one visit to my sis, and one date with Steve and another couple.  That's it.  The rest of the week, I have literally spent in my bed.  Usually, even at my worst, I at least migrate to the couch downstairs.  Not this week.  This week is an 'in-bed' week for a couple of reasons.  One is that, on top of my usual Lyme symptoms, I got some kind of a cold...Just the usual sore throat, achey feeling type of thing.  Plus, I've had stomach problems on top of it all, which just makes for a lovely week. 

Today when I woke up, I felt worse than ever.  My body feels so heavy that I have found myself scooting instead of walking at some points, because I'm too tired to make normal movements.  When people are around me, I find myself almost opening my mouth to speak and then refraining, simply because I need to save my strength.  I'm too tired to talk.

Usually when I write on my blog, it is for the purpose of sharing an insight or a meaningful experience.  But today, I think I just want to be heard.  When I'm sick, typing is easier than speaking and writing is easier than reading.  I guess I just wanted to get my thoughts out there without summing it up into a neat package.  Today is a hard day and I wanted someone to know it. 

PINNACLE.

It was one of those moments, where suddenly life comes into focus. Water was trickling from the showerhead and down my face; fog was steaming up the small rectangular window above me. And suddenly, it hit me: I was living out my own worst case-scenario.

All of us have them in our minds. We might not talk about them, but that does not mean they are not there. Maybe it’s the fear of losing your identity or your job. Perhaps it is the thought of being single forever. Maybe it’s the thought of losing possessions, status or opportunity. Maybe it’s the fear of never being able to rise above your pain and your depression. Maybe it’s the fear of death or loss or grief. Whatever it is, your own worst- case scenario is whatever tickles and pokes at the base of your brain at night and keeps your eyes from closing…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When I first got sick, I was only thirteen years old. I wasn’t thinking about how this sickness would affect my future, my college education, my marriage, my children or my career. I was just trying to run a lap in P.E. without having to go to the nurse. I was trying to figure out how I could still stay at friend’s houses and convince my parents that it wouldn’t make me relapse.

But then a couple months turned into a year; a year turned into two; two years turned to three. When my sickness didn’t go away, my fears and thoughts deepened…. Pretty soon, I was wondering if I would ever have a life again. I was wondering if I would ever go a day without taking handfuls of pills. I was wondering if I would ever look normal. I wondered if I would ever be able to escape this illness without looking over my shoulder and wondering when it would catch up.

Just before my senior year of high school, I melted down. I felt like I had a stack of books on my head at all time; the weight of my illness was too much to bear. I remember pressing my face on the carpet, which was wet with tears. My friend Luke was there beside me, waiting for me to breathe, to stop.


When I finally was still, Luke reminded me of the path of anyone who follows Christ must take: surrender. He reminded me that following God required a deep and complete letting go of my self: my hopes, my fears, my vision of what life was to be.

And when I gave it to Him, he handed it right back.

Senior year. Friends. Prom. Graduation. College. Freshman. Adventure. Moving. Dorm life. Learning. Passion. Sophomore. Freedom. Love. Home. Growth. Expansion. Health. Energy. Life. Teaching. Junior. London. Travel. Italy. Senior. Cooking. Friendships. Graduation. Student Teaching. Moving. Substitute Teaching. Experience. Vitality. First Job. Steve. Completion. Celebration. Italy...

SICKNESS.

Where had it come from? For years, I was sailing along in a life that was full of healing, joy and reward. I believed it was gone. It did not control me. I had left it behind. Even the tests proved it. But then, on October 1st, 2008, out of the blue sky, a wind crept in and with it blew in a storm…
On its way out, my sickness handed me a jar. In it were words written on slips of paper…
Surrender. Peace. Trust. Perseverance. Goodness. Faithfulness. Joy. Gentleness. Goodness.

I had come out the other side stronger.

But when I got sick again, my jar filled new words:

Despair. Denial. Depression. Anxiety. Lethargic. Fuzzy. Disbelief. Discouraged.

When I first relapsed in 2008, even something as small as a shower could wipe me out for many hours. I couldn’t stand long enough to put on my make-up in the morning. I had to sit on a stool, which was carried into my bathroom for me. Walking downstairs was a concerted effort, making my bed was too much and laundry was impossible. And yet, each day, I had to wake up and do it all again.


Day after day, I lay on that couch…Month after month I waited. I expected. And yet, there was no answer. No reason. No cure. No hope of going to back to my job. I had to let it go. I had to let another take my place- my students, my classroom (which my friends and I had spent many long nights preparing for the school year), my salary, my position. In its place, I was handed sickness- not a fair trade.

And that one morning, when the water trickled down my face and the steam crowded the window, I realized that I was truly living out my deepest fear- the return of my sickness and the loss of my job. Since I was in High School, I began to root these ‘what if’ fears in the deepest, most hidden places. I remember worrying about all the things I wouldn’t be able to do…And there I was, standing in my worst fear- the loss of everything I had worked for and everything I had hoped for…

Yet, I have to tell you- there was something curiously comforting about the sensation. I promise I am not a masochist. It’s just that, in that moment, I faced my fear. I’m telling you; there’s something to this. It gave me a strange sensation of confidence to look fear in the eye and realize that I didn’t have a lot more to lose.

I think it also made me realize that there was something within me during those years of healing that made me believe that I couldn’t do it again. Deep within, I believed that if God called me back to sickness- I wouldn’t be able to handle it. I had been there- done that- and now I was taking those lessons and moving on with my life. But for some reason, God allowed me to be brought back into this place of loss and grief. And knowing that I can be here- in the depths with Him again, makes me feel like I can get through anything- even my worst-case scenario. It’s when you’re at the top that you have everything to lose.

STARTLED.

I live near a major city, where the lights are always shining and the traffic never ceases.  I live where you can drive 70 on the freeway and still get dirty looks from the cars passing you on either side.  And yet, in my own little world, within the walls of my sickness, life feels quite slow.  This makes for a difficult transition between my 'sick' world and the 'real' world.  Sometimes, when you are limping, it is easy to forget that other people can run. When cars are whizzing past you, it is hard to slow down.

It is difficult to describe this transitional feeling; it is quite distinct and nothing I have said quite does it justice. Have you even had those dreams where you are trying to walk, but your feet won't move? Everyone is saying to you 'Hurry up, you are going to be late!' but you feel as though you are running in jello?
Ok, maybe I'm the only one who has had that dream...Here's another analogy that may or may not be useful...

I want you to imagine your body is frozen, stiff as a board, with your hands at your side. Despite your attempts to move, you are stuck. Your toes are six inches away from a long splintered railroad ties. There is nothing around you but empty space. On the top of your head, sunlight piercing your scalp. Between you and the horizon, there is only dirt, tracks, broken bottles and spiky Joshua trees. The air is still; your heart is beating fast. Sweat rolls down your cheek and stings in the cracks on your lips, but you can't reach it to wipe it away. Without warning, a train zooms by and and nearly knicks your toes. You begin to lean in but the air pushes you back like invisible hands, knocking you to the ground. When you open your eyes, passengers are boarding with their tickets in hand. You had not noticed them before? Had you ever been alone or was that a mirage? And how on earth are you going to make it to the platform before the train leaves?
Okay, it's possible that description only makes sense in my head, but in short- this is what I am saying: it sucks to be sick in a 'well' world, where you stand alone in a crowd.

ISSUES.

I would just like say though blogger.com is a good friend of mine, I am not too fond of it today!  It keeps messing up, changing and erasing what I have written and I am just not sure why!  I am going to re-post my next blog for the 20th time and see how it goes.  Wish me luck!

SACRIFICE.

A couple of years ago, I was assigned a project for one of my college classes.  We were to follow a media project in the news for a few months and then reflect on the issue in a creative way to present to our class.  I chose to follow the release of the movie The Passion of the Christ, which was just coming out at that time.  I wrote this poem to reflect on my research and interaction with the film.  I've made a few small changes to it, but to be honest, I want to rewrite the whole thing.  I have learned a lot about the 'show, don't tell' principle in writing since then.  However, I think it still communicates the story of Christ's sacrifice.  Maybe next Easter, I will rewrite it in a more effective way.  But for now, here it is...


                                                           The Passion of Christ
                                                  
                                    The story begins in a garden, late at night,
                                    When darkness reigned,
                                    Before the morning light.

                                     A fear unimaginable lay ahead
                                     Jesus kneels in the garden-
                                     With both purpose and dread.

                                     "Not my will, but yours be done,"
                                     he earnestly prays;
                                     Drops of sweat drip like blood,
                                     Baptizing his face.

                                     Betrayed by his own, with a bitter kiss-
                                     Am I leading a rebellion, that I should resist?

                                      Questioned by Caiaphas, he gave no reply-
                                      'Tell us if you are the Christ.
                                       If it is as you say, prophesy!'

                                      Mocking, they beat him, again and again-
                                      His blood stains the floor,
                                      Spiky whips tear his skin.

                                      His disciples scatter, what else could they do?
                                      Peter's words burn in their ears,
                                      'I will never disown you.'

                                     Questioned by Pilate, but again no reply.
                                     The crowds condemn him;
                                      They yell, 'Crucify!'

                                     Pronouncing his own innocence,
                                     Pilate washes his hands
                                    
                                     He concedes to the crowd;
                                     their cries for murder out of hand.

                                    Stripped of his clothing, crowned by their hate,
                                    Spit on, insulted- his dignity raped.

                                    Led to Golgotha, he bears his cross,
                                    followed my mourners,
                                   All humanity lost.

                                   Weep not for me, but for yourselves,
                                   came his reply,
                                   'For if men do these things
                                   When the tree is green,
                                   What will happen when it is dry?'

                                   Crucified with criminals, a storm is brewing
                                   In pain he cries,
                                  'Father, forgive them:
                                  they do not know what they are doing.'

                                   His pain so excruciating, he can barely breathe
                                   He cries aloud,
                                   'My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?'

                                   Heaven and Hell break loose
                                   After one last breath,
                                   An atoning sacrifice complete,
                                   But not ending in death.

                                  But in his death, came life
                                  The Son's life, laid down-
                                       a perfect sacrifice.
                                 
                                  For with the fulfillment of his death complete,
                                  Death's power was lost in this life's defeat.               
                             
                                  But as we accept this life,
                                  we must first mourn his death.
                                  Let us not grow numb; let us not forget.
                                  We must also not hate
                                  Those who cursed, spit and nailed
                                  Without realizing our own hands
                                  Are blood-stained as well.

                                 We must daily see this gift through new eyes
                                 Our bodies- a living sacrifice
                                  For which he paid the price.

                                 Let us wake up each day with passion renewed
                                 For the cross of Christ, must affect all that we do.

                            

INEPT.

I am considering buying a new computer.  Until about a month ago, I hadn't even considered the possibility, because my Macbook has been a trusty friend for these past few years.  However, it is becoming a bit elderly.  I can't add anymore programs because the memory is full and I can't open up more than one application at a time without it freaking out and slowing down.  It has become quite a thorn in my side.

This might sound weird, but the other day, I felt like God prompted me to think about possibly investing in a new computer.  It is not something I would ever think to buy, especially in a time when my resources are extremely limited, due to my illness. However, my main outlets/ ways of coping with my illness right now are photography and writing, both of which are done on my computer.  So for right now, I am researching my options, saving up and trying to decide what computer I would like to buy when the time comes.

After spending a good deal of time on the Apple website, I have decided I am a computer idiot.  I don't know the difference between a GB and MB (is that even the right letters?)  And what's the difference between the memory and the RAM or are they the same thing?  And what do I REALLY need to increase my ability to edit my photos and what is just overpriced?  And what is a GHz?  (I actually did google all these things so I won't look like an idiot the next time I make it to the Apple store...)

To make matters worse, I made my way over to the Adobe website to check out photoshop programs and there are so many different versions ranging from $100-$2,000! Which one do I need?  And would I even be able to figure out Adobe Photoshop if I end up investing in a program someday?  My confidence is waning....

I have to say though, as I am writing I am realizing something profound.  While these type of experiences are both humbling and frustrating, I also find a certain kind of excitement in them.  Sometimes I grow tired of the monotany of my comfort zone.  I tend to do the things I feel good at and leave the rest alone.  This is an opportunity to learn something that I am not good at.  Just think of how good it would feel if I grew confident in my knowledge of computers and photoshop: two things that scare me to death!  It would be an accomplishment indeed.

Here are my goals:  First,I want to learn some basic terms so I can make an informed decision on which computer to buy.  Second, assuming I can save enough to buy photoshop someday, I would like to go to lessons at the apple store, so I don't spend a lot of money on a program that I don't know how to use.  Third, I would like learn how to organize my files better. I feel like such a computer slob.

More than anything, I want to learn how to have fun with my photos and my writing and use my computer as a tool for refining these skills...Wish me luck!  (I'm going to need it...)

ATTEMPTS.

I love taking pictures, but I feel extremely inept at anything technical. Ask anyone who knows me. The actual camera irritates me to no end; it's the art I crave. But since one is necessary for the other, I have given in and have been trying to get better at the technical end. Sort of.

When my friend Sheri asked me to take pictures for her and her fiancee, I responded with a very abrupt 'no.' When I take pictures, it is at my own pace and with no expectation of what will come out. That way, if I get nothing on a photoshoot, I get nothing. No big deal. No one is relying on me to take awesome pictures. Plus, with being sick, there is no way I can calculate how long I will be able to stand up, focus or create. My health is as unpredictable as the weather.

About a week after she asked me originally, my friend Sheri asked me again. She assured me that it was just a casual thing and that it didn't matter how they turned out. They just needed me to snap some shots... I promptly folded and said 'yes.'

We originally planned to take pictures this last Saturday, but it was pouring rain. So, the next day, we went out for a shoot and honestly, we had such a fun time. I felt the creative juices flowing. Though I was definitely a bit stiff, the couple I was taking pictures of were loose and jovial. I realized they were just out there to have fun and I needed to take my pictures in that spirit.

To add to the goodness of the day, the sky was blue, the clouds were puffy and I had more energy than I've had in a long time. I believe it was supernatural. There is no way I could have stood or walked for that long without God holding up my legs. Pretty cool.

While I have so much to learn and have nowhere to go but up with my photography, this was an awesome experience. I edited the pictures last night and I can't wait to show the couple the results.

Below, (labeled under the 'glimpses' post) are a couple of the pictures I took! (I asked Sheri if it would be all right to post them and said yes!)

One more thing, if you live around this area, make sure you don't miss the green hills and beautiful days right now. We all know that it doesn't last long around here and, as my friend Jodi always says, it's a spectacular show.

GLIMPSES.

SCRAPS.

As a general rule, I do not sew.  To me, sewing is frustrating, difficult, time consuming and, contrary to what a lot of people believe, expensive.  Plus, when you are all done with whatever you are making, there is always a pile of awkwardly shaped scraps left and it's hard to know what do with them.  Will I use them again?  Should I throw them away? Should I store them in the garage for 5-10 years  so I can use them when I do another sewing project?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One of my friends often reminds me that God doesn't waste any experience in our lives: our joys, our trials, our boredom, our sin.  He uses everything we go through in life for his purposes.  To be honest, though this is true, it doesn't always FEEL true.  So often, when I spend an entire day or week sick on the couch, I feel like one of those little scraps...like a leftover piece cut from something that was once useful or meaningful.  However, this week, this idea of God not wasting anything in my life has started to make a little more sense to me.

As I have mentioned many times before, I love to write.  It is truly a passion of mine.  However, sometimes, I can sit down for hours and come out with something that I hope nobody ever reads. These past couple weeks, I have been thinking about some old stories that I wrote, but never finished.  I remember almost throwing them away, because I thought they were so terribly written.  But now that a little time has passed, I can see both their flaws and their merit.  It is making me want to turn those scraps of writing into something new, something useful.  If my health holds up enough, I think I will give it a try.  If they are not turning out, I might just tuck them away for another day... Either way, I am learning to appreciate the jagged and unfinished things in my life as projects to be used in the future-even if it takes 5 or 10 years to finish.

FOGGY.

For my 3-5 readers out there, I would like to apologize for not writing more last month.  As I mentioned in my last blog, I love to write and when I don't I feel like my thoughts are trapped. However, with the exception of this past week, I have what Lyme doctors call "brain fog."  Brain fog is pretty much what it sounds like: fuzziness in your brain.  It's difficult to focus, difficult to process and difficult to make quick decisions (which is why I rarely drive).  I have DEFINITELY had incredible progress in this area of my sickness over the past 3 months, which makes a world of difference in my day-to day life.  However, I still struggle some days with reading and always have a hard time driving.  Luckily, writing seems to be the easiest mental activity with brain fog, which is pretty much amazing!

This past week I have had the clearest mind I have had for months, which means I have been working as much as possible on my children's writing, which I absolutely love.  However, I have not been able to get to my blog too much.  For this, I apologize.  My brain fog is not something I foresee going away anytime soon, so my blog will probably be off-and-on.  However, please don't stop checking periodically for new entries.  Also, I really love feedback, thoughts, quotes, etc.  They encourage me to keep processing and writing all the things that God is teaching me and challenging me with in a difficult space in my life.    

ISOLATE.

(Photo by: N. Johnson)

Both sickness and writing create the same problem in my life: Isolation.  For a poor extrovert like myself,  this is a mild form of torture.  (Okay, perhaps I'm being a bit dramatic, but it has been a very long day and I am utterly exhausted.)


The problem is that I don't have a choice whether to be sick, so I can't really change that.  On my worst days of sickness, I honestly don't even like to talk very much.  (For those of you who know me- you know this is very strange indeed).  But writing is definitely my choice.  I mostly write children's stories, but also like to write poems and hope to write a novel someday. 

I recently went through all my old stuff in in my closet and found a ridiculous amount of journals- about 4 per year since I was in Junior High until now.  I can't help but let my thoughts out on paper.  I think my head would have exploded if I had all those thoughts inside of me from Junior High until now.


It is so strange to me that I often feel like writing as soon as I start feeling better.  You would think that an extrovert like myself would just want to get out and see people and talk (and believe me, on my good days, I do).  However, there is a part of my that is shut down or cut off when I am sick.  It is that part of me that cannot sleep until I write down my thoughts.  It is that part of me that like to analyze and make something new that has never been made before.  It is like my Lyme Disease traps that inside of me and it is just dying to get a breath of air.


Breathe.  Just breathe.

RESOLUTION.

There is no other time in the year when I think about the stupidity of mankind more than in the month of January.  It is almost too cliché to even write about how the gyms fill up in the New Year and the diet books sell like crazy…for one month any way.  I am tempted to use stronger language to express my frustration at this weakness, this shortsightedness…but I will refrain, since I myself fall into this craze.  I wonder if there is even one person on earth who has ever kept a New Year’s resolution for an entire year?  If you have ever done this, props to you.

The thing is that consistency and resolution are not exactly human virtues.  In fact, they go against the very grain of our sin nature.  And yet, there is something within that wants it and so we, in our feebleness and brokenness, reach and try to at least look as though we are intending to do a good thing. 

One thing I have been trying to incorporate into my life right now is a tiny bit of reading.  I know I am not an avid reader and probably never will be, but I do know that reading is a beneficial practice in life.  I have been reading two little books by Andrew Murray for the past week or two.  He is one of my favorite authors and I thought that perhaps he would inspire me to go deeper in my times of prayer and relationship with God, which, to be honest have been extremely stale these past month or so… One theme that I enjoy in Andrew Murray’s writing is the theme of sitting in God’s presence. 

About two weeks ago, I felt like God gave me an idea: to challenge my small group at church via email to sit in God’s presence for 20 minutes every day.  I told my friend about it and she nodded her head in agreement that this was a good idea.  But did I ever email my group?  No, I did not.  I tried to motivate myself to but to be honest, I didn’t know if I would be able to commit to it and the last thing that I wanted to do was to email my group and then not do it wholeheartedly myself.  So instead I decided to do it on my own and see how it went before involving others. 

I think sitting in God’s presence is probably one of the hardest things to do as Americans.  We are the most distractible of all people.   We don’t know how to sit.  The only reason we sit is in order to do something: to type, to write, to read, to play games on our phones, to talk on the phone, to text, to eat or even to do all of these things at one time…We have lost the art of sitting and we need to find it again.

I have found that when I sit to listen to God, it usually takes about 5 minutes of what feels like torture to quiet my mind.  It is the most unnatural thing to sit and not do.  I just don’t like it.  But there are few things that bond my heart to God better than when I let him infiltrate the synapses of my brain, the beat of my heart, the thoughts- evil and otherwise- of my mind… He can only break me into this space of closeness with him through extreme discipline.  To be honest, I do not do this enough.  I don’t think any of us do. But when he breaks through to my thoughts and comes near, there is nothing more worthwhile, nothing more satisfying… That is how it has been for me this week.  God has been breaking through my worries, my stress, my lack of stillness and meeting me in a wonderful way.  It’s the most amazing thing.  I know that I cannot reach God in this way on my own.  He must come near.  But I also think that if I hadn’t taken the time this week to sit, I don’t think I would have experienced God’s nearness in the same way.

Can you imagine how different our character, our words, our relationships would look if we all did this for a chunk of time each day?  I wish I could say this is my New Year’s resolution, but I know that if it was, I would only break it.   And so, my prayer is that God will continue to prompt my heart towards stillness in this new year, so that I can soak up his goodness, his words, his deep and brilliant purity. 

I am just as guilty of inconsistency and lack of discipline as anyone, but I think to give up is not an option.  I will keep trying and making time with God a priority.  But as my father so often says, “A priority without a plan is just a good intention…”

SAFETY.

Does it ever strike you how odd human patterns are?  For instance, for our entire elementary career, we are assigned seats where we must sit every day.  We are given a nametag and a pencil cup to place on our little desks to make it feel like our space...It’s quite nice.  But if you ask any little kid what they want, it will be a seat on the opposite side of the room.  No one- not even little kids want to be told where to sit or what to do.

When we reach college, we are given total freedom to sit wherever you want.  You can even choose a new chair every time you come in to class.  But inevitably, what do people choose?  They choose to sit in “their” chair (and get pretty annoyed when others try to steal it.) 

What is it within the human soul that craves freedom, yet wants the safety of what is known?

In this time of sickness in my life, I do not know which to desire- the safety or the freedom.  More than anything, I want the freedom. I want to be able to drive as far as I want without tiring.  I want to be able to move anywhere in the world. I desire to run without stopping. I dream of going back to Italy and teaching English.  These are my desires, but they do not line up with reality.

My reality right now is that I’m lucky if I can drive 20 minutes total in a week.  I have no options for where I can move or work because I am not physically able to work.  And so there is a restlessness that tells me that I am not living life to it’s fullest.  There is a voice in my head that says “you are settling and you can do nothing about it.”

And so I am left with a choice- be unsatisfied with my lack of freedom or embrace the safety of the life I have been given.  My parents have offered their home to me as long as I need to live here.  I have a nice little room where I display my photography.  I have enough income through my Social Security to pay my basic needs and medical expenses, for the most part.  I have one of my best friends in the world living in the room next to me.  And I have a man in my life whom I am very much in love with…  Not bad at all…

And so I live in the safety and blessings which I have been given in this time of hardship and physical suffering.  I take comfort in my nametag and my pencil cup….But there is always, always a nagging in my soul to go to the desk on the other side of the room.  Whether my body heals or not, I suspect that nagging will not leave me alone on this side of heaven.