Give a Little...Take a Lot

Okay...before I vent, random up...my hair looks so good today...it's getting long, and I actually like it sometimes. Soon, I'll get to fix my bangs and ALL BETTER! Or something like that :P

Okay...now to the point. Recent events have brought up some...pain, I guess? I'm definitely guarded and stressed...*sigh* First the give a little part of it. I hold back a lot...keep a lot to myself...sometimes the thing I find most upsetting is all the things I don't say...and don't do...because I'm lame or something...I second guess myself. I don't want to jinx anything or speak to boldly or upset anyone by over-sharing...I figure I am "too much". So, I hold back, and when I'm left thinking about all the things I didn't say...*sigh* What if I don't get another chance to say them? *shake head* At the same time, though...there's some stress in the why I didn't say anything...I keep a lot of my "girlie" thoughts to myself because it seems a lot safer that way. If no one knows how much I care, no one can know how much they've hurt me when they reject me. I can think back to numerous conversations that went

other guy, "Do you think it's wrong that/if we __________?" or "Do you think this is wrong?"

Me (stock answer), "No, but clearly you do."

That usually spells out the beginning of the end. Because that conversation exposes me as a corrupting influence. After that, said friend/boyfriend/whatever then usually expresses that I am a stumbling block...I'm dragging them down, causing them to stumble, leading them to sin...and so I must either change my wicked ways (which always somehow seems to mean that I must suppress some part of who I am) or they will leave. So, I often try to hide who I am...and only show the preferable parts...try not to say too much about how I feel (this goes for any and all relationships) for fear that I am over-invested...that we aren't at the same place...

Right...so, while I'm feeling like "too much" in that way, I also am feeling like "not enough" in another. Cause I just talked to my dad. *sigh* It's not what he says per say...it's how he says it. I'm sure he believes he's just inquiring about my life, but I come away feeling like I'm just not doing enough, even though I'm doing all that I can. For example, my schedule is ridiculous right now. I'm always on the run. I always have somewhere I need to be and a million things to do all while figuring out "what's next". So, I feel fortunate if I get to watch one movie a week sans homework. But somehow, talking with my dad, I feel like an underachiever, like I'm doing too much frilly stuff and not being "productive" and "efficient". It kills me. It literally kills me. I hate those words...because I hate that I believe they are what I should be...I hate how they make me feel like I'm lazy if I'm not multi-tasking or if I sleep...that's why when I have free time...I like to cook and read and watch tv...because...it's not productive...it's relaxing...there isn't a goal...

I'm feeling burdened. Burdened with things left unsaid. Burdened by the fact that I only give a little and hold back a lot of what God has given me to share because I'm afraid. And I'm burdened by a daunting schedule full of deadlines and tasks and that will keep me always on the go, and rarely sleeping or with my friends. Story of my life, right? :(

To Write Love...

This has been a crazy week with a whole new challenge for me...the challenge? I felt loved and cared for. I felt good. Someone asked me how I was and I replied with "Fantastic" and I meant it. It was a little upsetting for me because I was very uncomfortable...VERY UNCOMFORTABLE. I didn't know what to do. I felt so exposed because I didn't have my usual creepily comforting cloud of doubts. I wasn't surrounded by and filled with doubts about Christ's love for me or my friends' love for me. No doubts. Just love. I felt so mushy and girlie and it freaked me out. I wanted to crush it because I felt so vulnerable and exposed and outside my comfort zone...but at the same time, I didn't know how to crush it...I didn't know if I could...I tried to invent doubts for a bit, but they were completely useless...I have been far too assured of God's love in my life to doubt it...weird. It was especially weird as I thought about what's been going on in my life. I have a lot of friends going through some really hard times...REALLY HARD TIMES. I have been praying for them for months. I have cried for them, prayed for them, listened to them...and for the past who knows how many months, as I lay awake unable to sleep, I prayed for them. But...last week, I started to sleep again...I slept for hours upon hours at a time and woke up rested. I worried for a while that it was because I was forgetting them...but I know I haven't. I still pray for them everyday, whenever they come to mind, I lift them up...thus, I was uncomfortable...to not feel connected to their sorrow...but at the same time...I'm so filled with love for them...and hope for them...and faith that they will be healed and God won't leave them. I talked to a friend on the phone on the phone yesterday and he asked how I was doing with (he said he didn't want to say "high" because this is how life is supposed to be and not just something to ride out...that last part was in my words, I think). That was insanely comforting. I'd been expecting to crash any day now. I recall saying the most unnerving thing about knowing that I'm loved is that I figured it couldn't be sustained. I've been trying not to fight the love and instead spread it all over the place.

Thus, the title. "To Write Love..." I talked to a girl recently about her struggles with cutting and suicide. I've felt frustrated over the past few weeks that I'm so separated from her by distance. When horrible things happen, I can't get ahold of her...I message her on facebook, but it'll be weeks by the time she reads it, and I can't call or write or visit. It's frustrating because I just wanted to have a way to tell her how much I love her and how proud I am of her. I don't see her suicide attempt as a sign of hopelessness. Maybe I'm a fool, but I all I see is hope for her healing. Statistically, people are more likely to commit suicide after they've been prescribed anti-depressants. Because in the grips of depression, they may have been able to plan or express a desire for it all to end, but they don't have the energy to do anything. They are at a point of giving up...a point of hopelessness...of hoping to just whither away...but after someone has begun receiving help in the form of counseling and meds, the depression lifts some...and that lift gives them the energy to act...and that energy to act sometimes (often) results in suicide attempt. In the case of this girl, I know she fought to get counseling...she argued with people saying she needed it, that it should happen...plenty of things have gone wrong, and she's felt unsupported, but she continues to fight...she told me a month and a half ago how badly she was fighting to get better...The way I see it, healing is a difficult process. To really heal, to strike at the root of the cause -- the lies that feed this pain -- is a huge struggle (One God fights with us, but a struggle nonetheless). Sometimes, when someone is fighting to heal/to recover, they take a few steps forward only to take one back. Sometimes in the midst of overcoming the lies and finding healing freedom, they fall into old habits -- they stumble...but that doesn't make it hopeless. You can't fall unless you try. When toddlers learn to walk, they fall, but that doesn't mean they're doomed to crawl...So, she attempted suicide. That only tell me that it's an active fight...and a hard one...did she give in to a moment of doubting that progress could be made and try to bail? Yeah. But she's stumbling forward. She wants to work at it, and she's scared and nervous and doesn't know if she can turn to God in all of it...but that's okay...there's still hope. I know God loves her and wants her and will heal her...I lift her up...I lift up her hurt, and I know God hears...I know He cares. I just pray that she knows. I was thinking today about the ministry To Write Love On Her Arms...I was thinking about the story of that ministry about writing words of love and encouragement on the arms of a cutter...so she would see her value in that place of pain. I have often just wanted so badly to be with this girl, holding her in my arms so she could feel that love and she could feel that reality...physical reality is hard to fight...I remember fighting a lot of hugs because I can pretend the words "I love you" mean nothing but when someone holds you despite you fighting them...you can't deny that...I know God's holding her...I just want her to know. I was thinking today about how I'd love to write love on her...I decided "on her arms" wouldn't suffice...I don't think that's where she cuts even...and I know that's not how she tried to end it all...and I want her to see love when she looks at those objects and places of pain...and I want to write love all over her and all over them...but not really write...because in our culture the word "love" has been so watered down. And I don't want her to be able to pretend like she's loved any less than she is. I just want to explode love all over people...like a zit splurting out puss...that sounds gross but it's all I can think of right now...It makes me think of this one saying of Mother Teresa's (I can't find it right now) something about being a tiny pencil in the hand of a writing God who is writing a love letter to the world. That's where my mind and prayers took me tonight. I want to be a tiny pencil like that...I want God to use me to write love all over the world, all over people's lives. I was cruising the internet for more resources relating to all that this girl is going through...other perspectives, words of encouragement...and I found at least 3 ministries that just struck me...I looked at their websites and saw the love that I know...the love of God for those who are hurting, forgotten, lonely, sick, etc. I cried...I cried some of the happiest tears of my life and I pray that God would use those ministries to continue to write love all over the internet and all over people's lives. I pray that He'll use me, even if it's not in a way I had ever imagined...and I pray that all people might know His love...for real...I was reading a novena from the Missionaries of Charity. Day One is about "Knowing the Living Jesus". The first thought of the day is, "Do you really know the living Jesus -- not form books but from being with Him in your heart?" That's what I want. I want it to be in their hearts...I pray that the things I do and the words I write and the words I speak are vehicles of His love...cause words and actions are pointless by themselves. Books are pointless by themselves. But if they can be vehicles to bring Christ's love into someone's heart? Well, that's the point, right? Yes. I say yes.

An Odd Day

I have been very introspective today, and for once, I liked what I was assessing. Like...I was pleased who I am and how I look...for the most part...that's unusual for me. I found that's been happening more and more...enjoying myself...and learning more and more about myself at a crazy rate, lately. I've been discovering more and more about what my passions and interests and strengths and weaknesses. It's weird to me to realize things about myself, and it seems as soon as I might think they could have some truth to them, I start trying to dismiss them as fiction that I made up to make myself feel better. Today, I glanced in the mirror periodically today, and I liked what I saw. I looked cute and yet extremely casual with my boy shorts and oversized tie dye t-shirt. Some days, I do look in the mirror and think that I'm pretty. Today was the first day that I really realized that it wasn't the outfit or the hair really...I mean, they were good and I'd like to think I sometimes wear cute clothes or cute hairstyles, but today I wondered if maybe the reason I thought I was beautiful or attractive or pretty or whatever it was that made me stop and look at myself in the mirror...maybe it was more me than it was the outfit or accessories (especially since I'd put like zero effort into my look this morning)....maybe, just maybe, it's me.

My Life's in the Bass Line

So, I made a lot of observations on my drive back to Brookings. It was good, productive, and not entirely pleasant. I realized that I was anxious and upset...more so than I thought I was. I mean, God and I were chatting, and then I realized I wasn't consciously thinking about anything. But something was clearly on my mind and upsetting me because I discovered myself absent mindedly gnawing my fingernails off. I really wish I didn't do that anymore....but...I do. I tried to brush it aside and regain more conscious, purposeful thought...but was wholly unsuccessful...instead, I found myself feeling especially antsy and flipping through the songs on my ipod. I apparently suddenly became extremely choosy. I only wanted to listen to songs with a hard, driving bass line. I tend to gravitate to those songs. They're what I choose to nap to, stretch to, relax to, etc. Yup, when it's time for me to chill, I like to listen to songs with an almost...pulsating beat. Today, I paid attention to the way I respond to those songs. Partially because I was trying to do a kind of biofeedback...observe my body so I can calm down better. I noticed myself connecting with the bass line, feeling anxious during intros and then relaxing when the bass came in. The most awesome part I realized today was that it was the rhythm and pulsing of the bass that I really enjoyed. The rise and fall of the lines affected me, but not in as beneficial of a way. For instance, the motion of the bass line somehow triggered the release of tears from me 3 times, leading to a total of 6 tears (yes, I counted).

I really relate my love of bass lines to my love of heartbeats. I use them both as external pacemakers of sorts. I like the methodic forward motion that they provide. I mused for a while about whether God would be a bassist...'cause I remember my jazz band director talking about the rhythm section being the heartbeat of the jazz band. I was thinking today about the bass being the heartbeat. Because it pulses and drives the band forward but can go unnoticed by the casual observer. The effects are seen, but not everyone can pick out just what the bass line is. On the other hand, most people can find the drumbeat, which makes me think of it as breathing...it's pretty obvious whether or not its present and the broad characteristics of it. And just like in the human body -- breathing implies a pulse, drums hint at the bass line. I feel God like a bass line in my life sometimes. He gives me consistent forward motion, drives me to move forward, despite whatever craziness is going on around or in me...you know? Like no matter what crazy melodies and harmonies and dissonance and whatnot is going on, the bass keeps moving everything forward. Yup. So, I realized that sometimes I use the bass line in my music as an artificial pacemaker...helping me feel grounded in the methodic, pulsating rhythm...stability with a forward drive...and if the music itself isn't enough to center me (i.e. keep me from crying or freaking out)...sometimes, I crank it so I can actually feel the bass in my chest. Let the bass line be my heart beat as if forcing me to keep going (wow...that's emo, huh?). But true in a lot of ways.

So, yup. I was thinking about all this...the comfort I find in heartbeats and bass lines...I'm going to confess to this. Sometimes when I can't sleep and music just isn't doing it (like the words or something are distracting me somehow)...I imagine a heartbeat or try to lay so I can hear the blood rushing in my ears (the seashell effect if you will) or feel my pulse...to connect myself to the rhythm of life...and remind myself that we are going forward...somehow it makes me feel less alone, too...I suppose partially cause I feel connected to God...and because everyone has a heartbeat...and sometimes I think on that...I know, lame...but...it's what's on my mind...yup. I don't just love bass lines because I love being the bass chick. I actually just connect to it...in an organic, comfortable way. The end.

Trying to Be (Live) Free

I'm in a very weird, very conflicted place right now. I don't even know quite how to describe it. Let me supply you with an example, though. I woke up, listened some tunes, got some stuff done, ate breakfast, went to the gym. Post-gym, I weighed myself, thought about healthy food choices and set out for Hy-Vee. While there I felt compelled to look for an appetite suppressant but was disappointed to not find what I was looking for and briefly considered buying laxatives and then decided against it 'cause that would destroy my GI tract. I then came home and showered and am now figuring out some supper. I don't feel like eating at all. Like a part of me doesn't want to undo the gym by eating food. I decided that was dumb and got online to rock mypyramid.gov for a while to convince myself of the need to eat. I succeeded and then decided to try to promote healthiness in my life by using the meal planner. I discovered I'm real great at planning a daily menu that I believe to be on the heavy end of sufficient and discovering its only like 1000 calories. Now, clearly, I wouldn't be this big if that's how I ate, but I was forced to see that my image of healthy is on the other extreme of unhealthy. As much as the thought of even a salad kind of made me gag, I decided to make some supper, after putting on a kind of cute outfit to promote me feeling okay. I then thought about how I should call my friend tonight instead of waiting to message him in a few days and lead with "I thought about calling you the other day". Then, I opened the fridge and I sneered as my eyes started to well up. I was then horrified...had I really started to crying just looking at what I had planned on eating for supper lying next to the yummy health food I'd bought just hours before? As much as I'd like to say, no...I did. *sigh*

I just am frustrated and torn and feel so upset by it all. It seems that I have a good thought, one that would be healthy and helpful and whatnot...but then immediately after that, the urge to sabotage my own plan/thought/care. It was so frustrating and so irritating because the temptation was so strong. I mean, I was physically repulsed by the thought of eating most of the time but at the same time know the consequences of giving into that...so, I sneer and force myself to do all things I don't want to do while a part of me is scrambling to find ways to counteract it and put me back where I was.

I refuse to let those lies and those temptations run my life, though. They will not keep me from doing the things I want to do...and I suppose they make me more resolved to "get better" and live in the freedom of Christ. That's what I've been thinking about a lot lately: freedom. I have a friend fighting for freedom in a really intense way that I don't even know if I fully understand. I was really praying about it New Year's Eve and lifting her up, and God gave me assurance I hadn't really known before. He will set her free. He will protect her and will carry her out of that and set her free to live in and know His love. He will. He can and He will. At the same time, I was convicted as well about the ways I do not live free...the lies that I am still a slave to, not because I haven't been released but because I have not really stood up and walked out of that and into the freedom I have...or something like that...I can't seem to think of the right image. Point is, I was really convicted of the lies that feed into and surround my anorexia. It plagues me from time to time and there are so many lies mingled into all that. I know I neglect addressing it often, especially when the battles being fought for my girls are so more dramatic...I neglect to think of myself. But I was not shocked to feel called to address that. I want that. I want to drag it out by its roots and know God's truth for me. I want to be rid of those lies. I was thinking about that the other day...wanting holistic health for myself, just like I do everyone else. I was thinking about maybe trying counseling again (though my schedule is soon to be crazy) or really seeking God's guidance in how to seek Him each day and renew my faith and trust and strength in Him everyday...and taking care of myself physically...eating well, working out...essentially, it'd be the Takara Feel Good Plan Take 2. I don't know. Today, though. I mean, I guess that's why that was my greatest temptation today. Like I said, though, I don't want to let today scare me away from continuing to pursue health and pursue God. I was glad that it was a conflict and that I didn't descend into despair as quickly as other times. I'm thankful that I have an urge to not give in...and that I made a few bold moves (by the grace of God) to tell a few friends what was up and to even make a phone call when I felt compelled to do so (though I admittedly prayed for the voicemail the whole time). I'm going to bed feeling teary eyed...kinda scared, kinda sick, kinda hopeful, kinda uncertain, kinda lonely, kinda excited, and extremely tired. Pray for me, please.

Let it Rain, Let it Pour

Today was the a perfect example of why I dislike coming "home". And honestly, it hit me hard. I wasn't in a place to really cope and bounce back quickly, I guess. Every time I start to write this blog, my eyes just well up, and then I feel lame and like I should just shut the heck up, get over myself, and try to sleep it off. And maybe I won't type this all tonight and just see where I'm at in the morning. But while I feel that a lot of the frustration of today was stupid in and of itself, it brings up so much crap that I can't ignore it, especially as a blog topic.

So, it's now days later...and I'm returning to this because it did throw me for a loop. We went shopping as a family, a fairly common occurrence. I was excited...my dad and I had discussed getting some stuff for school and hitting up the post-Christmas sales. I had some things I was hoping to at least look for. But I will say it started off weird. My mom didn't want to go and wouldn't really say it. She just came along, silent and glum and resentful...as if we were forcing her or torturing her by bringing her with, though she wouldn't admit to it or like just stay home like she wanted. *Sigh* That made it weird for my sisters and I because we were enjoying browsing and talking and stuff, but Mom was distant and unapproachable. So, we didn't want to seem too excited for fear of like rubbing it in her face or something. Like we didn't know how to show her things without like making things worse or whatever. Then seemingly suddenly, my dad blew up at all of us. He said that we all made him feel like he was dragging us through the store when he was there for us and now we acted like we didn't. He said we were being ungrateful and cynical and stuff. I had no idea what the Hell he was talking about. In hind sight, it may have been much more of a Mom issue than I'd realized at the time, but that wasn't conveyed. Mom was just distant and silent, Dad yelled at us and stormed away and angrily finished his shopping as if trying to punish us with every movement. If it hadn't been my father, I would have laughed at him for angrily biting a piece of Canadian bacon. But instead, I was praying that I wouldn't cry and be bold enough to not entirely lose my voice. I mean, it's remarkable. When Dad gets like that, I feel myself instantly want to shut down, throw up every wall I have, and just try to survive it...to try to protect myself...I wanted to hide or run or leave 'cause I just...I didn't know...was asking a question going to result in some personal attack? Was I supposed to try to keep up with his ridiculous storming down the aisle? Or was I supposed to hang back with my mom and sisters? He wanted to know that we appreciated the trip and were enjoying ourselves, but was laughing going to demonstrate that or make everything worse? (I assumed the latter) I was so pissed 'cause I didn't what the Hell to do. I couldn't escape, but I couldn't make it better, and I didn't know how to avoid becoming a target. We get in the car and he makes some speech about gas and how we'd better have somewhere we want to go next. My sisters all opt for the "where ever". I knew that was going to result in trouble threw out a, "I had hoped to go to Old Navy." That was satisfactory and we went there and then to the mall. But my sisters and I had to like walk on eggshells...we needed to productively look but not too long...we needed to be aware of our glaring father standing near the door and try not to say anything while he road raged from store to store. I cried briefly in Old Navy while I texted with my sister about how much we hated when he did this...how it's some of our clearest childhood memories of our father...how we wish he knew how much it hurt us...how it drove us to fear conflict -- upsetting friends, boyfriends, etc. It's played a role in making us who we are and has driven at least the oldest two of us to maladaptive behaviors and counseling.

I had a hard time recovering from that day. Partially cause I tried to wall myself off from everything and everyone so it wouldn't hurt so much and so I wouldn't cry. Partially because I don't even know how to describe how I felt. I was hurt, but that word is so insufficient. I felt like a pawn -- unimportant, negligible, invisible in some ways but exposed in others. I felt like a punching bag -- everyone gets to throw a shot when they have a bad day...cause that's what I deserve or something...or cause I'm there...or because I put myself in the positions for that...regardless it's where I end up...it's how it goes...It made want to never try...It made me think about every relationship I have and have had. Am I ever good enough? Can I be a friend? Or am I really selfish? Do I make people angry? Is that why I get yelled at and marginalized and hurt? I was really nervous about New Year's as a result. I didn't know if I could not be lame and questioning everyone's motives...I didn't know if I could not cry. I almost didn't go. I mean, on top of all that were my friends from high school. Some of them I still love dearly and others...it seems like I don't exist to them...even when I'm sitting across the table...All that matters is that now they're happy...who cares what's going on in my life...who cares how they got there...I was a part...now, I'm a forgettable one. One in particular acts like they know me sooo well...I'm never "myself"...I'm always "compromising" "living a lie"...I should be living like them. Fuck 'em. If you know me so well, you would know how much it hurts me to feel invisible and replaceable...I mean, if I show up to a lunch with "everyone" it's an extra like the cheese on the wrapper on a hamburger. You appreciate it, but you didn't necessarily order it or think of it before you saw it. Neat how I can be an extra, so...forgettable...*sigh* It's hard because I didn't feel like I was in the depths of despair like I have in the past when I'm home like that or when these things happen. Instead, I felt my defense mechanisms kick in...and the lies that have been whispering in my ear for a month and a half found their foothold...it was weird, though, because it was so different.

I wanted to isolate myself and protect myself. But I love my friends so much that instead I took chances. Maybe not everyday or maybe not with everyone or maybe not grand ones...but they were definitely bold moves in my book, with my track record. It was weird because instead of becoming despondent and depressed. I was down but fighting? Or something. Like a part of me was keenly aware of all kinds of shit. And a part of me was resolved that shit had no place in my life...

It was hard because it made me realize that I'm not ready to be home for any length of time. It's too hard...I don't live out of the freedom I have in Christ when I'm home. I'm a slave to so much, or at least I am mighty tempted to be. I want to be an older version of who I was...senior me...with more experience. I wish I looked that way, I wish I had those friends still, I wish that I could enjoy those same things...but I can't. I can't live that life anymore. That's not who I am anymore. By the same token, I feel trapped by past transgressions, mistakes that happened on that corner, in that parking lot. I could give you a tour of pain I experienced in that town...that's where I ____...where I realized _____...where he _____...And those things haunt me in away. Those are special lies that want me to think I haven't changed...I haven't learned anything...I don't know any better and that's all I'll ever be...nothing more.

It's hard...'cause I don't know what to say about it all. I mean it was almost surreal to feel those lies come for me, to feel defense mechanisms and old wounds triggered, but to feel more like I was riding them out. Clinging to hope of love and forgiveness and grace and truth...Trusting that in Christ I would keep standing no matter how hard the rain fell, no matter what tried to wash me away. I felt two-faced. One part of me was in so much pain and doing terribly, but there was another part filled with hope and love and awesomeness...maybe that's what joy is...being awesome even though part of you is still awful...Happy with an undercurrent of sad was what I kept telling people...but...maybe...maybe it was more than that? I don't know.

Trapped...and Walled Up

So, I'm back in Pella, which is nice 'cause I don't often see my family, but it's also sucky because I often have tremendously hard times here. And am I having hard times this time around? Yes...but in a kind of new way...yup, I know it's exciting. I just always feel especially antsy when I'm home...it's the tension...not the tension between me and my family, or even the tension between my friends and I...it's inside me. It's hard because I feel trapped by my past when I come into the city limits. I suddenly become aware of just how much different I am now. A part of me always wants to go back, and so I feel embarrassed by how I've changed, how different I am from my friends. I mean, the things I spend my time doing, the things I dream of doing, even the way I dress and lead my life...it's different. I am so tempted to downplay it when I'm home. I kind of wish I were my 16 year old self in a 22 year old body...you know the same old high school me just with bigger boobs and a better vocabulary. But alas and alack, that's not the case. Besides, while a part of me gets all wishy-washy and nostalgic, another part of me feels so condemned. It's weird because while I'm acutely aware of the ways I've grown and changed, at the exact same time I feel tempted to believe that I haven't changed, that I haven't learned, that I am doomed to make the same mistakes and live under the same lies as I did when I was in high school, that I am forever to live under the shame of the mistakes and the less than ideal events of my past. I know it's not true, but man do I have a hard time knowing that when I'm home. I was talking to a friend of mine the other night and found myself explaining it to him in a way I'd never thought of that (I hate when I'm taken aback by my own words). I told him how I didn't plan on moving back to Pella (at least not for a long time) because I just couldn't handle living here right now. I explained that living here would make it really hard for me to move forward. When I'm here, I have a hard time living in the freedom that I have in Christ. I end up trapped somewhere between wishing I were still the bright, musically talented, athlete and feeling doomed to always feel inadequate in appearance and achievement or to always worry about judgements that were made about me along time ago when I was making obviously bad choices. When I'm in Pella, I feel like I have an excuse to make poor choices. I can blame my past, I can blame the people I'm around, I can blame family tension. It's convenient to revisit and relive past transgressions. They're right there staring me in the face. (That's the place where we ____ That was the first time I ____ That's probably the last time I _____ That's where I always ____ That's where I hid ____ Remember the time when we ___ for hours?)
It frustrates me to be "home". I don't feel connected to anything more than my past here, and sometimes I wish I didn't have to be connected to that. I mean, I just feel inadequate, hurt, and lonely...and because of that, I feel stupid.
The upside is that in the face of that tension, knowing that things are different and I don't have to be that person anymore, I often discover more what matters to me and what's next. God and I usually talk, and the things He's been saying usually become more clear in the face of the temptations and hurts of being here. And as a bonus, I get to spend time with my family, my sisters, and some awesome girls (all of whom I never see enough of)
Downside? Well, like I said, I feel hurt and tempted and inadequate and lonely...and like shutting down in a lot of ways and letting myself just coast on auto-pilot or whatever. I mean, I know that I have some great opportunities to spend quality time with my sisters and family, and there are some girls from a Bible study I used to run here that I love meeting with when I'm actually in town, but...I just don't really feel like dealing with people right now. I've noticed myself starting to shut down and put up my walls with everyone, friends from home, school, camp...something set this in motion, and I feel myself starting to withdraw, use stock answers to questions, keep my life to myself...I just don't feel like talking or whatever...I don't know...that sounds so cruel and so dumb and so not how I want to be, but that's where I'm at right now, though I am trying not to be. I feel remarkably walled off...it's a defense mechanism...don't let anyone know who you are or how you are, Takara. Blend in. Then you won't get hurt so much. Just keep to yourself until you get the chance to move on again.
The worst part of all of this is that I feel compelled to write supa lame blogs like this one. Blogs that say nothing and serve no real purpose except to get my thoughts and feelings beyond me...a weak attempt at preventing isolation -- tossing my feelings and thoughts out into cyberspace so I can at least say I kind-of tried to share, rather than continuing to internalizing everything. Plus, I think I just get sick of hearing my own thoughts, and I always hope that by typing them, I can make them go away. I hate my voice. I hate my thought process. I think I always hope that blogging will help me "put a sock in it". Whatever. Enough babbling...time to try to sleep. (For the record, though...I'm having an awesome time with my family and such...The sucky part is that I'm having an awesome time and a hard time all at the same time. So, I feel intensely pleased and happy with a tinge of sadness. Blech!)

I'm missing you.

Perhaps it's a bit morbid, but I wanted to post the obituaries of some of my residents, the most recent ones to pass away. I miss them and love them. Yup.

Nellie Van Roekel

Nellie Alida TerLouw was born on November 23, 1907, near Sully, Iowa. In 1918 she and her family moved southeast of Pella, Iowa where she graduated from the Pleasant View Country School. On March 29, 1933, she was united in marriage with Richard Van Roekel, a son of Gerrit and Minnie Van Heukelom Van Roekel. They were united in marriage at the farm home of her parents, Nickolas and Ida Van Houweling Ter Louw. Following their marriage they began farming her parents‚ farm southeast of Pella. They then purchased their own farm east of Pella in the late 1940‚s where they raised their two children: Ronald Lee and Linda Joy. They farmed for 40 years and in 1970 moved into Pella. Nellie and Richard enjoyed traveling and were privileged to make several significant trips on tours. They served as councilors at the American Missionary Fellowship Youth Camp, also known as the Chariton Bible Camp, for several years and then became active with The Gideons. In March of 2001, Nellie and Richard became residents at the Griffin Nursing Center in Knoxville, Iowa where they were cared for until becoming residents in the Long Term Care Unit at the Pella Regional Center in Pella in January of 2002. Richard passed away there on June 16, 2004, at the age of 96 years. They were privileged to share over 71 years of married life together. Nellie spent the remaining years of her long, active life in the Long Term Care Unit reading, doing word search, and participating in crafts and other activities. She was most insistent on being outdoors in the mornings and evenings, when at all possible. Her long life ended peacefully there on Thursday morning, November 13, 2008, 10 days prior to her 101st birthday. Nellie is survived by her two children, Ronald Van Roekel and his wife, Mary Lou (Van Wyk) of Otley and Linda Witzenburg of Pella, 4 grandchildren and 10 great-grandchildren.

Nellie was the last surviving member of her original family and leaves just one sister-in-law, Esther (Henry) Roorda of Pella. She was preceded in death by her husband, Richard Van Roekel; her parents, Nickolas and Ida TerLouw; her parents-in-law, Gerrit and Minnie Van Roekel; her brother, Gysbert TerLouw and his wife, Winnie; two sisters: Stella and her husband, Harry Boot, Jeanette and her husband, Marion De Bruin; and the following sisters-in-law and brothers-in-law: Louis and Chistine Van Roekel, Stevanna (Van Roekel) and Dave Roorda, Henry A. and Wilma Van Roekel, and Tena (Van Roekel) and Henry C. Roorda. Nellie had been active with the Pella Community Hospital Auxiliary and the Third Reformed Church of Pella and was a charter member of the Heartland Reformed Church at Pella.

For those desiring, memorials may be given for The Gideons Living Memorial Bible Plan .

Margaret Nunnikhoven



Margaret Lois Spence Nunnikhoven was born on December 1, 1913 to Joe and Nellie Grant Spence in Madrid, Iowa. She died on Sunday, November 2, 2008 at the Pella Regional Health Center-Long Term Care reaching the age of ninety-four.

Margaret graduated from Madrid High School and later attended American Institute of Business.

On March 21, 1936 Margaret was united in marriage with Antonie (Tony) A. Nunnikhoven in Polk City, Iowa. To this union six children were born: John, Joe, Marcia, Tom, Nelda, and Steve. She and Tony lived in Burlington, Iowa for sixty years, before moving to Pella in the late 1990’s.

Margaret enjoyed being a volunteer. She was active both at Hospice and as a hospital volunteer. She also enjoyed crocheting, gardening, cooking, tending to her houseplants, and holding babies. She would often be singing in the kitchen with a hymnbook propped on the window sill above the kitchen sink. She loved the Lord and her Bible was well worn. Margaret had confessed the Lord as her Savior at an early age and was in fellowship with those Gathered to the Name of the Lord Jesus Christ in Pella.

Those left to cherish her memory are her children and their spouses: John and Betty Nunnikhoven of Chester, Vermont; Joe and Patricia Nunnikhoven of Ladera Ranch, California; Marcia and Paul Thomas of West Orange, New Jersey; Tom and Kathy Nunnikhoven of Cordova, Tennessee; Nelda and David Pealer of Pella; and Steve and Marika Nunnikhoven of Mediapolis, Iowa; sixteen grandchildren; nineteen great-grandchildren; one sister, Ruth Emmans, of Seattle, Washington.

Preceding her in death: her husband, Antonie Nunnikhoven in 2002; her parents; brothers: John and Henry Spence; and her sister, Merna Kaiser.

Memorials may be given to Bible Truth Publishers, Addison, Illinois or Bethany Christian Services, Pella, Iowa.

Esther Bettger was born on September 8, 1922, in Mound City, SD, a daughter to John & Karolina Aman. In her early years, Esther attended school through grade 8 and worked as a telephone operator until 1946 when she married Victor A. Bettger in Herried, SD. Following their time at the Univ. of South Dakota in Vermilion, the Bettgers relocated to North Dakota in 1951. While living in Stanton for 21 years, Esther was kept busy raising a family, operating family businesses, and serving at her church. Prior to moving to Pella, IA in 2003, Esther lived in Roseau, MN, and St. Louis Park, MN. Victor preceded her in death in 1981. Wherever possible, Esther was available as a counselor and sought situations where she used her abilities to help individuals in many ways.

Esther is survived by her brother Walter Aman, Beaverton, OR, and by her four children and spouses: Tom & Kathy Bettger, Boise, ID; Ken & Pam Bettger, Pella, IA; Dan & R’Shelle Bettger, Rothschild, WI; and Cheryl & Carl Lyons, Fredericksburg, VA. Esther has 12 grandchildren and one great grandson. The longing of Esther’s heart to be with her Lord and loved ones in heaven was granted October 31, 2008, when she moved quietly from this life into the next. Esther was 86 years old at the time of her death.

In lieu of flowers and gifts, the family prefers memorials for First Baptist Church in Pella or Hospice of Pella.

Louesa Vander Zyl

Louesa Baarda was born on September 22, 1913, on a farm near Reasnor, Iowa. She was an only daughter born to John and Sarah (Duinink) Baarda, having two older brothers, Frank and Fred. They moved to another farm near Kellogg, Iowa when she was two years of age. She and her two brothers attended grade school in nearby Taintor, Iowa until 1926 when they moved to Newburg, Iowa. Louesa helped with the family farming until she was united in marriage with Floyd Vander Zyl on January 16, 1935, in Sully, Iowa. Louesa was baptized and had made profession of her faith at the First Reformed Church in Sully. Louesa and Floyd lived in Sully until moving to Pella, Iowa in 1937 where they became life-long members of the First Reformed Church of Pella. It was at this time they had three children: Phyllis Elaine, Eunice Lynn and Eldon Lee, known as Tony. After all their children were in school Louesa worked at the Pella Maid Rite, then the Central Park Café and, until her mid-seventies, in the kitchen at the Pella Community Hospital. She enjoyed work and would have never retired were it not for health problems. Floyd retired as an accountant, tax preparer and real estate agent in 1974 at which time they sold their home and eventually became residents of Fair Haven East. During this time they were involved at the Senior Citizens Center in Pella. Floyd passed away December 17, 1993. Louesa was very active in the First Reformed Church and was a charter member of the Christian Opportunity Center volunteer corps where her daughter, Phyllis, had worked for a time. Louesa was very generous in helping others and was quick to do things for them. She loved to bake and shared her bread, quick breads, Christmas fruit bread and pecan tassies. She won ribbons for her favorite angel food cake made without a mixer. In her later years she was thrilled to be blessed with two grandsons, Mathew and Mark, and was proud to see them grow to be fine young men. Louesa became a resident in the Long Term Care Unit at the Pella Regional Health Center in 2005 where her daughter, Phyllis, had been a resident for 15 years and passed away there on July 20, 2002. Louesa’s friends were very important to her, especially Guitta Graber, and she appreciated their visits in these last few years while residing there. Louesa passed away on Thursday morning, October 16, 2008, at the advanced age of 95 years. She is survived by her daughter, Eunice and her husband, Jim Van Tuyl of Bella Vista, Arkansas, her son, Eldon Vander Zyl and his wife, Cindy of Ames, Iowa and their two sons, Mathew Vander Zyl of Dallas, Texas and Mark Vander Zyl of Iowa City, Iowa. Louesa was preceded in death by her husband, Floyd and her daughter, Phyllis Vander Zyl; her parents, John and Sarah Baarda; her parents-in-law, Menze and Jennie (Vander Hart) Vander Zyl; and her two brothers, Frank and Fred Baarda.Arrangements by Van Dyk- Duven Funeral Home. Online condolences may be made at www.vandykduven.com

For those desiring, memorials may given for the Dialysis Department of the Pella Regional Health Center or the Hospice of Pella Comfort House in Pella

Louise Hallenbeck

Della Louise Straight was a native of Taylor County, Iowa. She was born on June 1, 1919, to the late Truman and Ida Fern Standley Straight at Platteville, Iowa. D. Louise Straight attended the Platteville Country School and graduated from Blockton High School in 1936. Louise then attended Maryville State Teachers College in Maryville, Missouri. This qualified her to teach in rural schools in Missouri and Iowa. To aid in the war effort during World War II, Louise moved to Dayton, Ohio where she gained military clearance to join a secretarial pool at Wright-Patterson Air Force Base. Afterwards she resumed teaching in New Market, Shenandoah, and Bedford, Iowa. It was while teaching in Shenandoah that Louise met Shenandoah High School band director, Vern Robert Hallenbeck. The two were married on July 6, 1954 at Louise’s family home in Platteville. After years of teaching, the Hallenbeck’s lived for a few years in Lebanon, Missouri and Townsend, Montana. In 1968 they moved to Pella, Iowa where Louise became secretary to the then President of Central College, Dr. Kenneth Weller and Vern became assistant librarian at Central College. Louise was a member of the Central College Auxiliary, the Second Reformed Church, the Business and Professional Women of Pella and Chapter BU of the P.E.O. Sisterhood. In 2003 Louise became a resident of Vriendschap Village in Pella and as her health began to fail, the Long Term Care Unit at the Pella Regional Health Center. She passed away there on Monday evening, October 13, 2008, at the age of 89 years. Louise is survived by her nephew, Jon K. Vogel and his wife, Sydney, of Arvada, Colorado, and their children: Julia Potwin of Coronado, California, James Vogel of Denver, Colorado and Sarah Louise Thomas of Arvada. Louise helped raise her nephew, Jon Vogel, when Jon lost his father when he was two years of age. She also spent much time with her cousin, Glen Straight’s children: Pam Browne of Bedford, Iowa, Claire Sawyer of Littlefield, Texas and Mary Louise Everhart of Williamsburg, Iowa. Glen Straight was raised as a brother to Louise. Louise was preceded in death by her husband, Vern R. Hallenbeck, who passed away on December 23, 2003; her parents, Truman and Ida Straight; her sister, Eleanor Vogel Hicks of Stockton, Missouri and her cousin, Glen Straight. Louise loved and depended on her neighbor and close friend, Karen Hudson of Pella and one of her great loves was a Husky named ‘Jackie’. Louise was a natural giver all of her life and will be greatly missed. Arrangements by Van Dyk - Duven Funeral Home. Online condolences may be made at www.vandykduven.com

For those desiring, memorials in her memory may be designated for the Platteville Cemetery at Bedford, Iowa or Central College in Pella

VALENTINE MATHES
Valentine Mathes, 102 of Pella, died Nov. 18. Funeral services will be Sat., Nov. 22, 1:30 p.m. at First Reformed Church in Pella. Fellowship time follows the service. Visitation will begin Friday afternoon at Van Dyk-Duven Funeral Home, with famiy present from noon until service time on Sat. at the church. Memorials may be designated for Words of Hope, a Reformed Church radio ministry broadcast, or the Covenant House, a home for runaway children.

Convicted But Not Condemned

I felt the need to return to discussing the things I am currently finding all too near at hand...the things that are trying to grip me and pull me down...those things that I'm praying to God won't find a foothold in my heart...ugh! So lame!

I don't know where this all came from even, really...I know after one of the recent recharges, I was driving home...and was upset about the pain in my legs and my inability to work out...and then started feeling guilty about how much I've been eating compared to how little physical activity I've participated in. Before I knew it, I was planning and started crying at my temptation to return to anorexia. As if that ever helps me with anything...I cried in the cruiser because I felt so gross and so huge and so guilty but at the same time knew that I wanted nothing to do with that. I was appalled at the thoughts I had. I was thinking about how fortunate it would be if they found hypothyroidism in my blood work because then they would give me thyroid hormone replacement, and if the dosing was too high (accidentally or otherwise) it would cause me to lose weight effortlessly. I wouldn't even have to stop eating. Then I realized that they would probably just adjust the dose or find a way to limit the number of pills I had in my possession at any given time, just like any good health care professional would. I can't lie. I entertained a few other ideas. Like increasing my caffeine intake to artificially increase my metabolism and speed up my GI tract...but then I realized that I already consume a large amount of caffeine and that I might have too much of a tolerance for that solution to be feasible or economical. Then I cried some more because that was craziness...trying to find a round about way to achieve the same self-destructive end? I repented...for real. I told God I was sorry for failing to trust Him like that. For failing to trust Him to heal my legs and for failing to trust Him to take care of my overall health. And for failing to trust in the beauty He'd given me...for accusing Him of screwing up...and since then, I've been mighty tempted to skip a meal here and there...but I know I can't. If I skip one meal, then I want to skip another because I get some twisted pleasure out of feeling empty. Feeling empty is enjoyable for me in a twisted way...I mean, when it's time for me to eat, I know because I feel sick -- nauseated and dizzy...It's neat because when I feel that way, initially I think, "I should go lay down or something. I think I'm getting sick." The correct response is actually to eat something...the opposite of what I want to do...I know...it's twisted. What makes it more twisted is that, as a result, there have been a handful of meals in the past few weeks where I was kind of force feeding myself. I didn't have an appetite (that's the definition of anorexia) but I knew I hadn't had enough calories to not eat that meal...so I made myself eat it...it was so awful and sick. Awful...to make matters worse, we discussed eating disorders in class last week for 3 hours. Neat, right? I don't know if I could even tell you how extremely uncomfortable I was. I felt so embarassed and like such a failure...I know that's not the case. Everyone has their struggles. I tell that to people all the time. But it's so surreal to be learning the things you should do to support and help and treat an anorexic pt and remember being on the other side...to hear lecture and remember people "trying that one"...or knowing how true it was to know that I still don't always know how to identify my emotions/feelings or interpret physical signals such as hunger...to know just how much that pt will fight against attempts to help...to remember planning how you would beat them...cheat the plan...to remember plotting how I would pull off another day without eating while talking to someone about how I was hurting myself...I mean...I mean, it was all good information, and some of the experience I have had have helped me be there for others because I was there and thought those things and had those fears...but...to be learning "the theory" of it...hurt. I felt so...I don't even know...I wanted to run...I can't listen to theory when the reality is so fresh in my mind and when that stupid anorexia is lurking too close for comfort, trying to draw me in again.

Well, surprise surprise, it doesn't end there. *painful laugh* I don't know if it was the struggle or the shame...but some amazing lies about inadequacy jumped into my head...I started hearing lies about how I shouldn't be a nurse...how I can't help anyone anyway...even if I do pass the rest of my classes and graduate in May, where am I supposed to go? Who in the world would benefit from having me around? Seriously...not the best grades...still plenty of painfully exposed wounds.

Transition to my afternoon class where we talked about end of life care. Now, don't get me wrong. I love taking care of people who are in the "end stages of life". I think it's beautiful in a way I can't describe. I'm comfortable with it, and I consider it a tremendous honor to share that experience with them and their family...to show them that they matter and are cared for and loved up to the very end of their life on Earth...sometimes I feel like it's literally carrying them to Jesus...because you wash them up while the last signs of life fade...their heart isn't beating, they aren't breathing anymore, their organs are shutting down...but research suggests that the brain is the last to go...that it's likely they can still hear you...they still know. I love saying those last goodbyes and careful washing their body, though they don't need it anymore...it's still something to be valued. I digress...that lecture was hard for me because it made me think of a lot of people I really love. Yep, you guessed it...my old people...my residents back home in the nursing home. Some of them I took care of the weeks before they died, some of them died while I was home sleeping, some of them died while I was at school...and some of them...I don't know if they have died or if they're waiting and wondering why I never came back like I said I would. I doubt it's a big deal to them, but it is to me. I feel so bad...like I abandoned my friends...I left for camp and haven't been back since. I was going to visit when I got home from camp, but I had poison ivy and didn't go...and I haven't been home long enough to go in since...I don't even know if I can bring myself to go in over Christmas...and that's what makes me feel awful. I'm afraid to find out how many more died while I was gone...how many goodbyes I didn't get to say...how many friends, who I said I would visit, died before I fulfilled my promise...I know I'd love the new residents, too...but the problem is that if I walk in there, I'll find out just how many I will continue to miss...and I don't know if I can deal with all those losses on the same day I meet new residents. It makes me feel like the world's biggest jerk? How could I run from like that? How dumb is it to let my fear keep me away? I hope you now see how that would feed into inadequacy...I can't even love them...not enough...not right...not at all...I failed them...I mean, I knew would...I'm human...I've failed them and failed to love them so many times...but when I'm in the nursing home...I'm so aware of Christ's love in me for them...because I get irritated and impatient...but somehow...I keep loving them and caring about them and for them...even when I'm tired or hurting or grumpy...that's Christ...I feel bad because I feel like I'm failing to carry His love to them...I know that others do as well and the whole world does depend on me to do that...but to know that it's fear that is keeping me from doing it? *shakes head*

So, I listened to a sermon recently that talked about the "things that grip us". One of them that hit me hard was inadequacy. He said something to the effect of, "Inadequacy grips us making us ashamed of our flaws. We begin to believe we are the only ones who don't measure up and make mistakes and soon enough we isolate ourselves to keep others from seeing." That hit so close to home that I literally slapped a hand to my heart (what I forgot was that I was wearing a tank top and I slapped myself just hard enough make a sweet noise and sting a lot). Why you may ask? Because I always do that! Ugh! I don't just get down on myself...I get down on myself, feel ashamed for doing so...and cut myself off from everyone around me, especially those who may help or care or love me. So guess what been doing lately and trying not to do? That's right...avoid people. I've had to like force myself to get out of bed somedays...force myself to leave my room...to go see people...to talk to people...cause I'd rather just lay bed...away from the world. Good thing there are consequences to me missing most things...otherwise I would skip it all, confirmation, school, church, Bible study...everything...if I could. I find myself thinking, "I just don't think I can handle being around people." Now understand...the beauty of my current state is that unlike in the past...it's not a constant...nope, sometimes I'm fine...and other times I want to just curl up and give up on everything.

So, the song that's been convicting me on a lot of this is "Sympathy for the Martyr" by Straylight Run. Pertinent lyrics:
"You just can’t relax and you can’t rely
On anyone for anything (skip ahead)...

So tie the noose
And raise the cross
The martyr’s arrived
A desperate plea
For sympathy, it’s all you need

A laundry list of problems doesn’t make you interesting
And never getting help doesn’t make you brave
Not listening to reason doesn’t mean that you have faith
You’re just cutting off your nose to spite your face"

Guess who never gets help? Me! *crying laugh* A new thing I've been trying is getting help when I need it and letting people be there for me and love me...I'm not real great at it...but I've been giving it a whirl...if but poorly. So, I was thankful to be at camp this weekend...to have people legitimately ask how I was...but parts of the weekend were less than ideal...and that resulted in? More feelings of inadequacy...in the form of? Worthlessness, being entirely replaceable and unimportant. For example, anyone can be camp nurse and pass meds, give out ice, look at dodgeball injuries...I don't have anything of particular importance to offer...nothing particularly special and needed...anyone can do this. Do they? I suppose not...but they could. And other things...took me right back to high school...to being 16, recovering from anorexia (why does that have to be such a theme) and dating a guy that didn't value me for more than a body. And even as a body I wasn't good enough, hence the cheating...I was unimportant (though allegedly cared for), unvalued (though told I was loved), and replaceable...Worthless...

So...this week has been a major struggle...and I want to give up...but at the same time...I'm clinging to the things I know and begging God to let me learn the things I already "know"...so these things can be gone...Because I know they're lies...I can rationalize them and make them sound true, but that doesn't make them truth. They are lies. I know that...but unfortunately, knowing that just frustrates me and leaves me feeling ashamed that they're even an issue...and have been for even this long.

Well, I've decided to close with the song that I've been singing to myself all week "Dear Lie" by TLC:

"Dear lie
You suck
You said you could fix anything
Instead I'm fucked
You made things even worse for me
If I had balls I'd tell you get away from me
Guess I'm not smart
I let you unnerve me
I let you control me
Afraid the truth would hurt me
When it's you that hurts me more

[Chorus:]
Get outta my mouth
Get outta my head
Get outta my mind
Stop puttin' words in my head
Get outta my mouth
You're nothing but trouble
Get outta my life
Get out of me
Out of me (out of me)
Out of me
Out of me lie
Lie lie lie lie

Dear lie
You're dumb
You think you've got the best of me
[ TLC Lyrics are found on www.songlyrics.com ]
You think you won
Misread my vulnerability
I've got your walls
Now get the hell away from me
I've learned your art
Won't let you unnerve me
Won't let you control me
The truth will only free me
And your lies won't hurt no
No more

[Chorus]

Lie lie
I've got
Your walls
Now get the hell away from me
I learned your art
Won't let you unnerve me
Wont' let you control me
The truth will only free me
And your lies won't hurt no
No more

[Chorus]

Lie lie
Dear lie
Lie Lie Lie Lie
Lie Lie
Dear lie"

Beneath the Pile-up

I feel like I'm buried right now. So much...so much has just piling up on top of me. But at the same time, I don't feel hopelessly lost like I have in the past. In some ways this is worse because it adds a particular twinge of fear. Things fly at me, try to pull me down...and while they don't pull me down far, I know what's down there...and I end up afraid. It's a kind of classic conditioning I guess. Not the neutral kind that causes a dog to salivate when he hears a bell...the kind that causes you to flinch when someone raises their hand because you just know they're going to hit you. Thus, I'm seeing things come at me, and I cringe and I cry as they grab at me. I cling to what I know and hope it's enough and cry...because as much as I know that these things are untrue and defeated and in the past...they're here and they're real...Wow, Takara, could you be more vague? Why, yes, I could...but that's what happens when I let my thoughts spill out...they aren't always complete.

So, a few weeks ago, God and I were talking about love. I told Him I wanted to truly know His love in a crazy ridiculous way. I wanted to know His love for me and what it means to be His daughter/lover/etc...to let His love flood over me. I wanted to see it in crazy ways and know more about Him. It was cool and you know, God told me some things and showed me some things that pretty much blew my mind. Things about love and beauty and all that awesome stuff. There was this sweet song by Scott Andrew that really stuck out to me. It's called "Holding Back". It starts off:
"They’re gonna tell you
you’re gonna pay too high a price
and try to convince you
you’ve gotta play it safe this time
they’re gonna work you
they’re gonna try to wear you thin
they want to protect you
and leave you trapped inside your skin

Holding back and pretending not to be
want you want to be, want you want to be
Holding back and pretending not to be
want you want to be"

Like all summer...well, actually longer. I was listening to a sermon recently that talked about longing...longing to join in. It used a swimming analogy about adults wanting to get in the pool but instead sitting on the side. I don't know if that's how I've been living...I would compare it more to a night swim I took this summer. I got down to the lake and two of my friends were already in the water -- swimming and splashing. Another friend and I got ready to get in...she jumped off the dock with a shriek...and I walked down to the shallow end and waded out. I watched them splash around and have fun and longed to join them. But I just wasn't sure if I wanted to get completely wet. I waded out to my stomach. You know, to the point where the water laps at your belly button and your abs seize up to try to stay out of the frigid lake. Yup. And I just hung out. Eventually, I waded out further, and finally, dipped my head back...everything had at least been wet once except my face...and then I slowly and hesitantly swam out to join my friends. Lately, I've been wondering where exactly I'm at in that analogy with my faith...with my understanding of God and His incomprehensible awesomeness (or at least in an area of it). I know I got to the point where I was out to my waist and watching everyone...and when I was talking with God that night. I thought that would be me dipping my head back into the water, allowing me to start a hesitant swim out to my friends. But with the way the past couple weeks have went. I'm not sure anymore. I don't know. I feel more secure and more connected to God than in the past. I don't feel as swayed by all the struggles and temptations and lies...but at the same time...U hate that they're getting to me at all. Maybe I haven't made much progress after all. Blargh!

This brings me to another song I've been loving lately. At one recharge, when I was feeling especially overwhelmed, I was listening to my Pizzle (that's iPod for those who don't know me) and "Relearn Love" by Scott Stapp came on. The lyrics that stood out most to me were:
"The comfort of your arms around me
Your tender hands caress my head
I lay beside you I'm not worthy
This jaded man's not who I am
I touched the flame and I've been burned
All I need's a second chance
Give me eyes of a child
And teach this man to relearn love

Teach me all over, all over
To relearn love
Show me again…"

This really got me thinking about a lot of things. Do I really know what love is? I hear the word and use the word, but do I really understand it? God's love...it's not like the "love" I've known from others...it's not something that comes and goes. Isn't there something in like Hosea that talks about God's love being steadfast...steadfast. It's not like certain people in my past who, at some point, stopped meaning "I love you" though they continued to say it. And it's not like others who say "I love you" only when I do something right or like they wanted. Or like others who "love me" so that I can do _____ for them. God doesn't "love" me because he has to or because he just feels so sorry for me that he thinks it might brighten my day (though it does brighten my day). It's steadfast...unconditional...unchanging...complete...perfect...That's hard to understand but so good to know. Because while it doesn't make sense to me...I'm so thankful to know that while I feel buffeted or tempted or even when I make a poor choice or fail to love Him back...God is right there loving me...whether I realize it or "feel" it or not. That's a big deal...and something I'm only beginning to understand in any type of real way...but something I'm wanting to learn.

Hmmm...with all that hope...I think this train of thought has completed it's journey. Yup.

Never Getting Help Doesn't Make You Brave

I had a plan for that lyric that was a bit more hopefully…but I’m currently sitting in a lecture on eating disorders and to avoid crying, I’m going to blog…that way I don’t have to fully listen. I just am not wanting to hear this. Once upon a time, in class, one of our teachers said that a disease should not define a person. And my past is in the past. I have been set free from that…I’m free in Christ. God and I have talked plenty lately about beauty and love…I’ve noticed that when I look in the mirror, I see beauty (even though I don’t believe it always gets captured by a camera). And I just have felt very challenged lately. God and I have been working through a lot of things (I intend to blog about it later…). That’s how I came across the title of this blog. There’s a song by Straylight Run called “Sympathy for the Martyr”. I was shocked at how thoroughly challenged and convicted I felt by it.

Enough of that, I can’t be profound and describe crap right now. I just…I feel antsy…I feel like running…’cause it’s mighty hard to listen to an explanation of something you went through…something you still battle sometimes. The truth makes me want to cry. Hearing things I know too well is not easy…I just…don’t want to hear…I don’t like having to know the science about it…it’s timely, as I was tempted earlier this week to return to some of those behaviors. I also feel bad because I want it gone…it’s not, yet…I mean I just heard her talking about the inability to recognize visceral and emotional cues…meaning “people with anorexia often can’t adequately describe their feelings and misinterpret physical cues such as hunger”…shoot dang…that’s largely true…I still don’t recognize hunger well. I often interpret hunger as nausea. So, my first instinct is to not eat because I’m “nauseated” but actually I should eat because I’m hungry…so, I eat when I’m nauseated or dizzy…and my teacher just commented on the risk of relapse, which is huge. I know that…but that usually just makes me feel hopeless…like it’s bound to come for me again…but you know what, I do know that there’s hope and freedom in Christ…and I know that I can keep going and keep getting better…I do…and I know that I don’t have to be pinned down by my past…but…it’s hard…especially in this setting…because it feels like my dirty little secret…

I know this is rambling…this is me coping, I guess…trying to remain in the room during this lecture…to not run…to be a nurse and learn…yup…learn…and to not take it personally…to not hear it as a verdict…

Wild!

So, my day was crazy and kind of scary...but at the same time...awesome! Like I felt so much closer to God...I felt so loved and cared for...like I kept hearing that over and over again.

So, let's walk through it.

My day started off with a trip to the doctor. Fun. Apparently I'm going to need to have some tests done -- lab work, blood work, etc. They have to rule out some things. Kind of sucks, but I'm hoping things will be getting better soon.

Then, I rocked it at the Bodies Human display in Watertown. It was so sweet. I've seen dissected bodies before, but these dissections were incredible! They highlighted the beauty of the human body and the intricacies of its functioning. I was blown away. Some of the vascular dissections were incredible! Absolutely incredible! I love seeing the beauty of God's creation. It makes me respect it that much more. I was listening to a podcast this morning that said something about the complexity of the concept of being made "in God's image". I don't remember all of it, but I remember being particularly struck by what the speaker said about the degree of dignity commanded by the thought of something being "made in God's image". Something that reflects God in such a beautiful way is worthy of dignity and respect.

When I got back, it turns out that I had received a bouquet of beautiful flowers from...God? *shrugs* All the card had on it was a Bible verse. I felt so loved...A part of me wanted to shrug it off or try to figure out who was behind this and who was pitying me...but I decided that all I needed to know was that God loves and cares about me. God knows I love flowers. God knows I need to know His love (He and I had an extremely hardcore talk about it this week...I mean...it was extremely serious). I decided to take it as a token of His love...because He loves me overtly and throw the friends He has put in my life...people that love and care about me.

Next segment of my day was my drive home. Or drive almost home. I was between Sioux Falls and Sioux City when I realized I was approaching a truck too fast. I hit the breaks, and my car swerved. I regained control, but not until I was already in the median. Fortunately, I was not hurt, I did not roll (though I rocked back and forth quite a bit), and I did not go into on-coming traffic. I stopped and took a few deep breaths and didn't even know what to do or what to look at on my car. So, I got back on the interstate to attempt to get to the next exit. Turned out my tire was blown and driving was more than a little difficult and then my tire started to smoke. I pulled off on the shoulder, and a guy in a truck pulled off behind me. He got out and said that he'd seen me come out of the ditch and saw my tire was flat and had decided to follow me and help. He changed my tire to the spare while I made a few phone calls. He explained that his daughter had been a nursing major at Mount Marty (I was still wearing my nursing name tag from earlier in the day) and that he remembers a time when she hit a deer and had to call him and then rely on the kindness of a stranger. He followed me to a repair shop and stayed until the guy had confirmed that he'd be able to help me out. Then, he gave me his card to give to my dad and denied a need for payment or compensation or thanks of any kind (I am extremely thankful, though). The guy at the repair shop didn't have quite the right size tire. He put on a used tire that was a half an inch too big. (He said it'd get me home safely but would need to be changed when I got home). I grabbed a candy bar and got back on the road. *sigh* I felt so loved and cared for. Like I felt assured that God loved and cared for me. The water in my vase of flowers got spilled in all of this, but it was okay. Like I just heard God telling me that He cared. He loved me. He protects me and watches out for me and provides for me. I wasn't hurt today...someone was there...astounding...and the song that came on my ipod after all that...well, it said it all (I'm kind of keeping it to myself, though).

So, like I said earlier...I didn't make it home tonight. I was tired. So, I pulled off at a wayside rest and changed into my glasses. Then, when I got to the Harlan exit, I checked into the Motel 6. For a little bit, I was nervous...I mean, all those "what ifs" were in my head. But I realized that was dumb. God's been taking care of me all day and has been showing me His love in incredible ways (not the way I expected, but I guess you have to get through of me somehow...be careful what you ask for, right? :P J/K. I told Him I wanted to know and see...and well, I am knowing and seeing in new ways.) Point is, I knew God would care for me through the night and would care for me and protect me and provide for me. It makes me even more excited to finish my drive tomorrow. I will be with my family. I will spend time with my sisters. I will chill and take Christmas card pictures and then head to Sufu to chill for the night with Bobbie and get ready for clinical and another week of classes. I'm actually remarkably excited.

Yup. But to do all that, I will have to get a good night's sleep. So, goodnight all. God bless you!

What's Going On?

I sometimes really hate being asked how I’m doing. I don’t know most of the time. I’m functional. I’m not hopeless. I’m really great in some ways, mostly functional ways…I’m getting a lot done and doing well in class, etc. But…teetering on the edge of pain…I’ve been crying more and more, agitated more and more, sleeping less and less…But why you may ask? Also a good question…I don’t entirely know. I don’t know where the trigger was. I do know how it spiraled…I started worrying that I was bothering others…so, I isolated myself…and then things got worse. That’s part of the reason why I don’t know what to say when someone asks me how I am…in some ways, I’m struggling a lot…but I’m afraid to tell that to anyone…I wouldn’t want them to be bothered…I don’t want to be a downer—a personal rain cloud. Ugh…I hate that, once again, this is something I’ve been talking with others about. I was just talking with someone who was nervous to tell her mom about a problem she was having. I know that she can’t get the help she needs if she doesn’t tell someone. I know that she can’t get better or heal if she keeps it all to herself. I know that the lies in her head have so much more power if she keeps them to herself…the shame and the pain have power if she hides it…Those lies can’t have power, can’t withstand being in the light and love of Christ. Hard part, as I discussed that with her…as I thought that…I realized that I needed to hear that, too. I needed to not let myself turn in on myself. I couldn’t continue to be isolated…I need others…I need the light and love of Christ. Now, I’m at a point where I wonder why I’m in this place. I mean, didn’t I learn anything over the summer? I thought I had learned some about love and care and had become better at letting others care for me and better at asking for help…not stellar…but better. Last night, I was in bed thinking, “I must not have learned anything. I must not have improved at all. I’m just doomed to go back to where I was.” Guess what. That’s not true. I’m appalled that I even thought it. So, why am I backsliding? Why can’t I get a footing? Can I pull out of this tailspin? Yes, with the help of Christ…Do I have enough in me to ask Him to save me and pull me out of it? I sure hope so. I can’t stay like this. I don’t want to stay like this. *sigh*

What's Going On?

I sometimes really hate being asked how I’m doing. I don’t know most of the time. I’m functional. I’m not hopeless. I’m really great in some ways, mostly functional ways…I’m getting a lot done and doing well in class, etc. But…teetering on the edge of pain…I’ve been crying more and more, agitated more and more, sleeping less and less…But why you may ask? Also a good question…I don’t entirely know.

I don’t know where the trigger was. I do know how it spiraled…I started worrying that I was bothering others…so, I isolated myself…and then things got worse. That’s part of the reason why I don’t know what to say when someone asks me how I am…in some ways, I’m struggling a lot…but I’m afraid to tell that to anyone…I wouldn’t want them to be bothered…I don’t want to be a downer—a personal rain cloud. Ugh…I hate that, once again, this is something I’ve been talking with others about. I was just talking with someone who was nervous to tell her mom about a problem she was having. I know that she can’t get the help she needs if she doesn’t tell someone. I know that she can’t get better or heal if she keeps it all to herself. I know that the lies in her head have so much more power if she keeps them to herself…the shame and the pain have power if she hides it…Those lies can’t have power, can’t withstand being in the light and love of Christ. Hard part, as I discussed that with her…as I thought that…I realized that I needed to hear that, too. I needed to not let myself turn in on myself. I couldn’t continue to be isolated…I need others…I need the light and love of Christ.

Now, I’m at a point where I wonder why I’m in this place. I mean, didn’t I learn anything over the summer? I thought I had learned some about love and care and had become better at letting others care for me and better at asking for help…not stellar…but better. Last night, I was in bed thinking, “I must not have learned anything. I must not have improved at all. I’m just doomed to go back to where I was.” Guess what. That’s not true. I’m appalled that I even thought it. So, why am I backsliding? Why can’t I get a footing? Can I pull out of this tailspin? Yes, with the help of Christ…Do I have enough in me to ask Him to save me and pull me out of it? I sure hope so. I can’t stay like this. I don’t want to stay like this. *sigh*

Who is He? Where is He?

So, thanks to my teachers asking me to plan for next semester and pick a public health clinical and preceptor…I am thinking even more about my future. Also, I updated my resume, so I could like actually apply to places now. I know, it’s pretty neat. Plus, I just had my mental health clinical evaluation, in which I was told I could do well in any area of nursing but should consider mental health as an option. I was also told I would probably enjoy working at a summer camp. (For the record, I loved working at summer camp.)

So, where shall I look for a job? What area of the world? What area of nursing? Where should I do my preceptorship? I just don’t know. I know I’ve blogged about this some before, but this is just where I’m at right now.

I’m just not sure what to do. I know I want to get a chance to care for people that are often forgot or unwanted. Like, I read this thing Mother Teresa wrote (I know…shocker!) in which she was talking about who Jesus is to her. She talked about him being the all those normal things we hear…"the word made flesh, the bread of life, the victim offered for our sins on the cross..." Then she goes a step further into actions that show Jesus, "the Word to be spoken, the Truth to be told, the Way to be walked, the Light to be lit, the Love to be loved, the Joy to be shared, the Sacrifice to be offered, the Peace to be given, the Bread of Life to be eaten."

But it's the next section that made me cry. "Jesus is the hungry to be fed, the thirsty to be satiated, the naked to be clothed, the homeless to be taken in, the sick to be healed, the lonely to be loved, the unwanted to be wanted, the leper to wash his wounds, the beggar to give him a smile, the drunkard to listen to him, the retarded to protect him, the little one to embrace him, the blind to lead him, the dumb to speak for him, the crippled to walk with him, the drug addict to befriend him, the prostitute to remove from danger and befriend, the prisoner to be visited, the old to be served." I cried. I cried because it’s true. And because Jesus loves them, and I want to let them know that. I was struck especially when I got to "the sick" and cried actual tears when I read "the unwanted". I want to be there…with them…When I read that, I immediately looked up Matthew 25: 31 – 46. A lot of people really like to think on verse 40, “The King will reply, 'I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.'

But what stood out most to me was well…the passage as a whole but…let me explain.

In verse 35 and 36, it says, “For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.” I love the examples Jesus gives. I love the implications of caring for them physically and spiritually…so awesome! In verse 37 – 39, “"Then the righteous will answer him, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?” Similarly in 44, those on The King’s left respond with, “Lord, when did we see you…?” I love this response because the people don’t deny their behaviors, actions, etc. I hear in their response that they weren’t caring for people to suck up to Jesus…but because they care about people because they love Jesus…I don’t know if that makes sense…I’m having trouble expressing precisely what I mean. It reminds me of all those fairy tales (such as Beauty and the Beast) where the beautiful fairy queen disguises herself as a poor and ugly beggar and rewards those who care for her and offer her shelter or something and punish the proud prince who sends her away. The people that care for her or send her away, it’s not because they know it’s her and like or hate her. That’s just how they see people, it’s how they treat people. Like the ones who take her in, are shocked when they found out she’s the fairy queen and astonished when she rewards them…they figured it was nbd (no big deal). Those who reject her and are punished instantly repent when she reveals who she truly is. She always says it’s too late. That the proud prince had his chance to show his heart and show that he could care for others, but he failed and must be punished (turned into The Beast). [Sidenote: I just thought of Little Bunny Foo-Foo…you know, hopping through the forest scooping up the field mice and bopping them on the head.]

I want my love to be genuine. I want my love to be His love going to Him...in the form of His people...if that makes sense. I don't want to do it just to please Him, but because I'm grateful for Him and His love...because I'm so full of His love I can't keep it inside. I want it to be natural, not forced...genuine, not out of obligation...It makes me ponder how to do that? I suppose the answer is to love everyone I encounter. To treat them like the child of God that they are. That seems like a lame answer in some way, though. I want to make a commitment to it. I want to go to the "unwanted", "the lonely", etc. For that reason, I keep asking God, where? Who? Do I serve the people in the big cities? Or the small towns? The rural poor? The urban homeless? In the states? Abroad? The sick and dying? The chronically ill? Those with mental problems? Those with physical problems? The young? The old? I know God loves them all...so where do I go? Where will He send me? Who will He send me to? I want to know...I want to know...I guess I have to be patient, though...and listen? And be prepared and willing to follow, whatever that means. Because God's call may not take the shape I want or expect...it may not be where I thought I'd be...but I have to be okay with that...and be willing to hear that.

I L.......like you.

I am so not comfortable with those "three little words, eight little letters." (I love you.) It's ironic, really. Because I love to say them...I love to let my friends know that I love them...'cause I do...but hearing them...I'm not so good about. I'm totally comfortable...well, not totally...pretty comfortable with "I like you". More than that? Not so much. Worst part is, is that's my deal...my problem. But the good thing is, it's something I want to deal with...I want to address...I want to be rid of.

I feel challenged when I read stuff by Mother Teresa. I know I say that a lot...but somehow the things she writes make sense to me. I understand. I was reading some of her memoirs tonight. She wrote about not feeling cared for by God but at the same time knowing that she was a "child of His love". She talked about how she knew the truth because He sustained her...how she couldn't weather these storms without Him and that she couldn't desire Him or desire His love if His love was not in her. In another place, she wrote, "God has created us to love and to be loved, and this is the beginning of prayer -- to know that He loves me, that I have been created for greater things." "God told us, 'love your neighbor as yourself.' So, first I am to love myself rightly, and then to love my neighbor like that. But how can I love myself unless I accept myself as God has made me?"

If you know me much, you can understand the challenge I would feel upon reading that. I understand being created to love...but man, do I ever struggle with the "to be loved" part. I wouldn't even understand it if she didn't go on, I think. To know that God loves me...how badly I want that...and I know she's right. My prayer life would be so changed if I could approach God knowing He loves me...and knowing He wishes to use me to love others...that I was created to love others. That next quote about accepting myself as God has made me so that I can love myself rightly so that I can properly love my neighbor...talk about conviction! That is a huge struggle for me! I'm so often trapped under shame and uncertainty...feelings of inadequacy and rejection...fear of abandonment. I so often believe myself to be a burden on everyone around me, including God. I believe myself to be tolerated at best...or loved out of obligation...or temporarily...Those things are always in the back of my mind, and every so often, they grip me. That's what's been going on lately. I've been gripped by fear and shame and uncertainty...worries of inadequacy and been convinced that I don't matter...that I'm not loved. As a result, I isolate myself...which makes things worse for me, but also keeps me from really loving anyone...because I try to cut myself off...I try hard at it.

When I read what Mother Teresa wrote about knowing she was a child of God's love...somewhere near there she wrote about being uncertain of God's presence and love, except when she was with the poor...she saw Him there, met Him there, knew His love there. I could relate to that. I know God loves other people. When I'm serving as a nurse or hanging out with kids or whatever...I know God loves those people -- my patients or kids or whomever I'm with. The youth I talk to online. I know God loves them. I know He wants great things for them and wants them to know His love and know that they're cared for. The kids in youth group. I know He wants them to be loved and cared for and have opportunities to know that and act on that. I know He loves them SOOO much! I know He cares about my patients. I know He wants healing for everyone and that He loves everyone and wants them to know that. I know that so well...and thus the tears begin to flow. But I have such a hard time knowing it for myself. I can infer that He loves me and wants me to know Him and to know His love and His care. I can infer that He wants me to have opportunities to know Him and show my love for Him. I know it because it's true for everyone else...but I don't REALLY know it. I doubt it so much. Or, in my head, I hear that He loves me "because He has to" or He "tolerates me" or He "loves me in some religious way"...whatever that means. When I hear the words "I love you" from a person or from God. I'm full of doubt and uncertainty...I don't know what it means. Does it mean, "You did something that made me happy"? Does it mean "I need you to do this thing"? Does it mean "You'll do"? Does it mean "I love you because you..."? Is there a limiting statement that's implied? "I love you if...."? "I love you when..."? "I love you, for now...or for this long."? That's how I've always understood it. I am loved when I do something right. I am loved when I provide something of value. I am loved when I meet a need. I am loved when I don't cause too much trouble. I am loved for a time...but this too shall pass. I've not put much stock in "love". And yes, I've generally believed that about love from people and love from God.

But at the same time, I want to know God's love...for real. And that very fact tells me I can "comprehend with all the saints", though it "passes all understanding". Because I must be in His love...He must love me...or else I couldn't love anyone else. I wouldn't be able to work in the nursing home or hang out with kids or provide care to anyone...if I didn't have God's love in my life...But I still don't KNOW...I'm still so broken. I still believe myself to be among the "unwanted" and "the lonely" and "the sick"...I am scared to death that someone might care for me...that someone might love me...and I fight against it...try to reject it before I find out it wasn't real...and so I believe all love isn't real or isn't for me. It's hard because I talk to different people and they talk about feeling unloved, unwanted, uncared for...and I know it's not true. I know that God loves them and cares about them and wants them to be healthy and whole and full of joy...and I know that because of that, I love them and care about them...the hard part is while I want so badly to have them understand the love that God has for them...and that I share that love, I can totally understand where they are...'cause I'm there more often than I care to admit. It's hard to hear words I've uttered come from their lips. Because I know that the words God has for them, He has for me, too.

That's why I found it especially challenging to read Mother Teresa's blurb about knowing God's love for us and loving ourselves rightly so that we can love others. I was watching Flags of Our Fathers (which was awesome, by the way) and the story was told of this one man -- a medic -- who was hit by chrapnel in the leg. He continued to triage and treat soldiers in the field, and so the other medics had a hard time finding him to put him on the stretcher. They said that it was brave of him to serve those men, and he saved a lot of them, but he could have died of blood loss, and he could save so many more if he would let himself be taken care of. I can relate to that. I hear tell that I somehow help people from time to time...by listening or praying or being there or whatever...I don't exactly know. But I also understand that God could use me to do more -- to care for and comfort and love more people -- if I would let Him care for and comfort me. He could use me to heal more people and to love more people if I let Him heal and love me. If I were secure in His love...if I were whole in Him...if I were able to accept comfort and care...if I could be strong in Him and His love...how much more could I do? I definitely wouldn't be so easily beat down, right? *sigh*

I need to know. I need to not limit God's love. I need to not imply disclaimers or limiting statements...I need to find healing...I need to know comfort...I need to be secure enough in love that I can ask for help and for comfort and for care without thinking it will jeapordize the love I know...I want to have that love overflowing, rather than piped on through...And so I seek...seek to know...and seek the boldness to pray and to ask...the assurance and faith to know He will and can...the capacity to truly know and to truly love God.

It was epic and beautfiul

I'm not going to lie. I'm kind of anxious right now and have been biting my nails because I feel exhausted and overwhelmed. So much to do this week! So much to figure out and schedule and such this week! And my weekend...so weird. I was really down about it earlier, and I think I'm just kind of overwhelmed by it. I mean, it was intense...camp nurse, med passes, an injury, a sick kid, and a kid with breathing problems...and homework...and wanting so badly to spend time with friends. I'm exhausted. But it was a good weekend. I "missed" a lot. I wasn't in attendance for all of the chapel skits and shares and what not because I had to go do other things, but I feel blessed. The things I did see and hear were awesome, and I feel like God kind of wove together my weekend experience, if that makes sense. I learned a lot, though I didn't mean to. I learned a lot about love...and now have a new batch of ponderings on the subject. A sampling of what's on my mind: I felt unnecessary this weekend at times, but I was told that I was appreciated...that I made some feel reassured because I was there and had more medical training than others. It was weird to think of...that I could be like valuable to the goings on of the weekend without a real crisis occurring...but at the same time it makes sense. Also, I was thinking about God's love on the way home...and I was thinking about how sometimes we love people because they love us...and how that's not how God works. He doesn't love us because we love Him. He loved us first, and we definitely don't love perfectly. He loves us regardless...regardless of the amount or quality of our own love for Him.

I'm impressed I'm posting such a half-baked blog...but...that's apparently just how I am right now.