{...that you may obtain}

it was beautiful this morning - the perfect temperature with a touch of sunlight breaking through the clouds - which i gladly welcomed after yesterday's damp drizzly chill. 

and after a hastily scribbled note, 'gone running. be back later. (hopefully 7-ish)', i was out the door by 6 am, only to spend the next hour basking in its resplendent beauty. the glory of the morning soothed and revived me after yesterday's terrible horrible no-good very bad day. 

but as i rounded a corner to turn onto another street, i was accosted by a neighbor. 

and the first words out of her mouth are a question. 

'Are you training for something or just running?'

now, this is not quite so strange to begin a conversation with, when you consider that she is one of the rare neighbors whom we actually have a relationship with, but the question itself stopped me cold. 

she went on to compliment me on my 'excellent form', a common compliment i have begun to receive, which never ceases to amuse me since i have always been the most un-athletic person in my entire family. 

but after chatting with her for a few moments....and answering her question with an ambiguous shrug, since my pipe dream of completing a half-marathon is still just that.. a pipe dream... i continue on my way, running, the wheels in my head spinning. 

her question is one of those rare, universally applicable ones.  

'Are you training for something, or just running?'

are you working towards a goal or just aimlessly wandering in a holding pattern? is there a destination you aim towards? something you are trying to reach? 

this doesn't just apply to running... this doesn't just apply to material accomplishments in life... my mind leapt immediately to the spiritual application of this question 

are you training for something or just running? 

are you hit-or-miss kind? are you only partly patient?

and granted we are human, and we are not perfect, and we will have bad days and make mistakes (take it from a girl coming off of one of the worst days in the history of ever...) but do we have a goal?

Is there an end against which all our decisions and choices here on this earth are weighed? 

is there a reason to be patient? to be kind? to train ourselves to look past the surface and reach out to the lost? do we work past our awkwardness in witnessing? do we love, do we give, without thought of reward? do we pray to be made more like Jesus consistently, day in day out, come rain or shine or hell or high water? are we committed? are we training? is there a goal?

or are we just...running. half-hearted lackadaisical running. only when the weather is perfect and the sun is shining and birds singing? without commitment. without discipline. without training. only nice when it is convenient, only giving when it costs us nothing, only seeing what we want to see in the people we want to see it in? 

because i know what i am training for. i know what my goal is. i know what the ultimate achievement is which i seek, and it is to reach heaven and hear my Father say, 'well done, good and faithful servant. well done. enter in', as opposed to, 'you were running well...who hindered you? depart from me!' 

we are not called to a Christian life of aimlessness.

Paul says it best. 

'Do you not know that in a race, all the runners run, but only one receives the prize? so run that you may obtain it. Every athlete exercises self control in all things. They do it to receive a perishable crown, but we an imperishable. So i do not run aimlessly. I do not box as one beating the air. But i discipline my body...' (1 Cor. 9:24-27)

we are all running this life-race. we are all on foot, fighting the odds, jostling for place; some falling behind while others forge forward. 

not all finish....but we all run. 

the question therefore remains:

'Are you training for something, or just running?'

what is your goal? what is the prize? on what have you fixed your eyes? 

or are you just running? aimlessly? 

i don't know about you, but lately the cry of my heart has been to be faithful to finish the race. to run on till the end, to reach heaven and be welcomed in. to be able to say i have finished the race and i have fought the fight and therefore there is a crown which awaits me. to train towards that end in very practical ways here on earth, but i do not want to be 'just running'. 

i have an end in sight, i know my goal. and although sometimes it is difficult to fix my eyes and keep them fixed... i know what i am training for. 

do you? 

do we? 

do we make discipline our habit? do we train to forgive, to fight, to never give up? do we teach our souls to run to Christ when overwhelmed? do we habitually strive to be kind, to be patient, to be loving, to be joyful, to be faithful, to be honest, to be upright? 

because if we do not have heaven in our sights, if we are not training for eternity, then it is so easy to lose heart. we have been given a standard to set our choices up against, and then to determine whether the decisions we make on this earth will draw us closer or take us further from our ultimate aim. 

so what are we living for? 

even more importantly, are we living for something? 

do we have a goal? is there a prize on which we are willing to wager our all? 

will we risk rejection and misunderstanding and mockery and the scorn of others who will cry, 'crazy!', cry 'obsessed!'? 

and so, dear reader, 

i must ask. 

'are you training for something?

.....or just running'

{rest}

who knew that rest requires discipline?

i don't know about you, but when i think discipline, i think more. not less. i think pushing myself harder and faster and longer.

i do not think relaxation. i never think rest.

a very wise friend once told me that i do not rest. i do not allow myself to rest, whether that rest is letting my soul rest in God....or just physically resting in general.

and at the time i laughed, but i am growing to see the truth in that rebuke.

my body is exhausted Friday morning, sore and nursing a pounding headache. i still run, because running is prayer time, peace time, alone time and i need that.

however, there is no need to run five miles, a relatively new milestone achievement. the first mile is always hell - pure torment. and i loathe running laps. but by the time i was through two miles, God and i determined that it was not laziness to *only* run 5k this morning.

and He whispers that to rest requires just as much, if not more, discipline than running five miles.

thing is, i could spend forever justifying rest, and still not be satisfied. i could spend all day trying to convince myself that i did the right thing. but what good is it if i preach to others on the practical necessity of rest, and yet... in my book, there is no such thing as a rest day.

i am constantly engaged in a war with myself to do more, be more, strive more, push harder... and in some ways that has saved my life. in other ways, it drives me to the point of breaking time after time after time.. i start out enthusiastic, push myself far too hard, break, mend, and then repeat the cycle all over again.

running every morning. rising at 5am to workout before i run. it has been a constant for at least the last three weeks, probably more.

just yesterday i reminded my mother, reminded my boss, that to rest is not wrong; and to push yourself too hard means burnout, means failure, seals surrender. i would rather run slow and steady and long than to sprint short and sweet only to peter out within sight of the finish line.

so i shut down my mind, and run. run for freedom and hope and faith....and run to rest.

see, we live in a world so consumed with activity. everyone is constantly moving, in motion, doing something going somewhere, that we forget to just...be. we forget the necessity of rest.

we spend our lives living at breakneck pace. (where is the peace in all that? where is the allowance for the fact that our bodies are not machines which can run indefinitely... and if you know anything about technology, you'll know that even machines get overwhelmed)

the kids' track Coach says that you do not get stronger while running. you get stronger while resting. when your body is given the chance to recover, recuperate, restore and repair torn muscles and ligaments.

but that takes discipline.

it takes discipline to ignore the voices which call me lazy, call me weak, scream that if i just had enough willpower - if i had enough strength - i would be working instead.

and for this overachiever, it is more difficult to accept that i cannot constantly push myself to breaking point on no food, no sleep, no rest.... i have spent years living like that, and it is easier to exhaust myself than allow myself to do what i have always seen as lazy, unproductive, counterproductive, useless...rest is a foreign, unfamiliar, uncomfortable feeling.

'who needs sleep?' has been my mantra for literal years, and it is a learning curve to let myself rest, to go to bed at a decent hour, to train myself to take rest days.

and yes, there are times and will be times when you have no choice than to push through the unendurable exhaustion, but in the main?

it is harder for me to rest than to run.

which again goes back to that incurable stubbornness ingrained in who i am.. ask my family, ask my friends. they have stories.

rest, to me, equals weakness and lack of willpower, and i am not weak, will not be weak, refuse to be human.

but the verse of the day stops me in my tracks, renders me speechless.

'Take heed to yourself..everyone who competes for the prize is temperate in all things. Now they do it to obtain a perishable crown, but we for an imperishable crown. Therefore, i run thus: not with uncertainty...i discipline my body and bring it into subjection, lest when i have preached to others, i myself should become disqualified....meditate on these things, give yourself entirely to them, that your progress may be evident to all'

it is the same words which He gave me in the morning, that rest is not wrong, rest requires discipline, practice what you preach.

'my soul finds rest in God'.. my body runs a little more than three miles and then rests.

i am learning to take my own advice.

i am learning discipline in what is easily the hardest area for me:

i am learning to rest.

{run strong}

I have always hated the concept of running.

not only did it utterly fail to make sense to me (who would willingly wake up in the predawn hours only to push themselves past exhaustion, collecting sore muscles, callouses, and stinky socks), but... if you've ever seen me run?

*cough* races *cough* soccer *cough* frisbee *cough* dodgeball *cough*

it's not pretty.

and while i've never been the sort of girl to sob over a chipped nail, neither would i style myself the 'athletic' type.. or really athletic at all. my sister is the long-legged lanky one.

however, through a series of events far too detailed to list here.... not the least of which being the fact that my siblings joined the local homeschool track team... i found myself giving running a shot in earnest.

and, perhaps even more surprisingly, absolutely loving it.

loving the strength and the freedom which comes from the feeling of the wind in my hair and my face turned towards the sun. loving running itself, loving discovering new trails and routes and the sense of community which i now feel as i pass by neighbors and we share a mutual greeting. loving letting this become my prayer time.

loving the lessons i have learned, lessons i am learning.

i once thought that ships and war were never at a loss for metaphors about life...well, it would seem that ships, war, and running are never at a loss for metaphors.

and i am starting to realize that running wrong is what has ruined previous decisions to recover, and hopefully working to avoid repeating the same mistakes.

Coach says that the first ten minutes of a run are the hardest. they are warm-up, accustoming muscles and legs to the work which is set before them, finding a rhythm, setting a steadfast pace to complete the distance. the discomfort of the first ten minutes, once endured, morphs into a steady strength.

the hardest thing always will be, and always has been, the first ten minutes. the decision to try. the choice to choose. and then the beginning work of rebuilding.

once the foundation is laid, then to build the walls is manageable. but to lay a foundation on ruined rubble, to clean and brush off the stones to set them back together is the hardest. yet, once mastered, the strength which is created and sustained will stand you in good stead towards finishing the race.

however, to start out too fast will destroy you. to start sprinting, thinking you will maintain that pace for miles without pausing for rest, without petering out, is impossible.

you cannot sprint long distance.

you must run....at a steady maintainable pace.

to start recovery with the illusions that it will be a sprint to the finish line, that it will be accomplished as fast as possible, will be to soon find yourself defeated, falling, gasping for air as lungs burn and feet fail far from the finish.

my brother calls me an overachiever, but he is right when he says that comparison kills. some will run faster, some will run slower, some will finish as others are just beginning. to compare my journey to others, to look to them for indication of whether or not i am successful will ruin my motivation and wreak havoc on my dedication.

don't stop. it is far better to run at a slow and steady pace than to keep stopping and starting. walk, jog...crawl...but always keep moving forward. never stop. in life it is the same principle. recovery doesn't get a day off. i cannot hit the pause button.. otherwise, that is not recovery. that is relapse. keep moving. it doesn't matter how slow, just keep moving closer to the end, closer to the goal...closer to Christ.

but finally, and perhaps most importantly, i am learning to fix my eyes. don't look down. chin up, shoulders back, eyes raised running is what will see me home. as soon as i look down, as soon as my eyes are taken off Christ and focus on the surrounding waves, i stumble, i falter, i fall. only by raising my eyes to Him can i ever find the strength and endurance to carry on.

and 'since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight and the sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race which is set before us. looking unto Jesus....' comes alive with new meaning for me.

run with endurance, run through rain and shine and snow and pain and frustration and fear. run for hope and faith and recovery and peace and....freedom.

freedom long denied, finally coming true.

after all.... 'you can't run in a race when you're down on your hands. get up on your feet, stand tall like a man. put on the shoes of endurance, drink the water of life. keep your mind on the goal, keep your eyes on the prize. run strong'

those words echo in my mind mornings, racing home.

to run with endurance. run with a true heart. run with eyes fixed and feet steady.

run strong.

{idols revisited}

"The answer came to him slowly, with the changing of the seasons.
You shall have no other Gods before me.That couldn't be right.
Michael's anger grew. 'When have I worshiped anyone but You?'
He raged again, 'I've followed you all my life. I've never put anyone before you'. Hands fisted, he wept. 'I love her, but I've never made her my god.'
In the calm that followed his angry torrent of words, Michael heard - and finally understood. 
You became hers."

"She thought she had been saved by his love for her, and in part she had been.
It had cleansed her, never casting blame. But that had been only the beginning...."
- Francine Rivers (Redeeming Love)

I have never paid much attention to the first (and second) commandments.

and not because i didn't think they were important, but because i always mentally dismissed them as 'oh... i don't need to worry about that'

'thou shalt have no other gods before me.. thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image..thou shalt not bow down thyself to them nor worship them, for I the Lord thy God am a jealous God...'

i have had that passage memorized since age four, and it never sunk in further than surface level.

i have sat through the same sermon on idols countless times, on how any inanimate object which we allow to usurp the place of the Lord is an idol... things such as money and power and fame and phones and sports and the first thing which we give our hearts to apart from Him is what we place above him, and i have nodded and still largely dismissed the entire concept as unrelated to me.

....'and let he who thinks he stands take heed....'

see, it hadn't quite occurred to me that good things, even good people, could be idols too. oh, not necessarily in the bow-down-and-worship sort of way (because, with India's history of idolatry, that was all too familiar, all too common to my mind), but that there is a fine line between admiration and idolatry.

there is a thin boundary between carefully taking into consideration what wise ones have to say, and substituting their counsel for God's commands.

what is an idol? an idol is .... a god. to be turned to for constant comfort before anyone else, to be talked (prayed) to. you await their responses with eager anticipation, look to them as the standard of how to live, what to pattern your life after.

the downfall comes in the fact that i had always heard idols portrayed in a negative sense. things like body image, money, boyfriends, job, power - the things we value inordinately, prize above God, search for before we search for Him

sure, i had heard marriage mentioned as an idol, the compulsory pastoral plug for all those single still searching for a spouse.

and i could see how that would be so. i could see how all those would/could easily transform into an idol under any circumstances....we live in a world obsessed with the physical and with body image.... materialism is an easy idol... i have grown up watching workaholics devote their lives to their job and i have worked to avoid becoming one.... as far as the boyfriend goes, i do not have one.... as far as marriage, i can see how the desire to find a spouse can soon become all-consuming.

but it has been a humbling to have God show me the idols in my own life, one by one... and come to the conclusion that even good things, even good people, even the best of people... can become idols.

these are the people who would be horrified if they knew that this was happening, but it is true nonetheless.

see, the definition of God is God. the demonstration of "God-like" is Christ. and no matter how godly another person may be, as soon as i have begun to set them up as the standard to achieve, then my focus shifts from the Creator the creature, my goal becomes the created not Christ, and i have an idol.

the second my perspective shifts from 'better' as defined as 'running as hard and as fast towards Him as i possibly can' to 'better' as defined as 'just like so-and-so', then i'm in trouble.

and it's totally possible to not even realize that you're doing this. i didn't realize it - haven't for months, but turns out my siblings were right after all. no one is the end-all-and-be-all but Christ. no one's vote should trump His voice.

anyone's counsel, sought before God's, is unconscious idolatry. anything or anyone which comes first in my life, anyone i depend on more than i depend on God, any place i run to before the Father's arms... is idolatry.

if Christ will have my all, then He demands nothing less than total surrender. all strongholds. all idols. all laid on his altar.

and if i think that 'better' means just like someone else, then i am missing the heart of God's best for me.

God has called me as me. He created me...me. unique.

but that is easy to forget if you are as i was.

after all, when someone enters your life as living example of the love of God, and that person is generally recognized and accepted as a wise and Godly individual with a fairly balanced perspective on theological aspects which have long confused you, and then, to top it all off, genuinely cares for you, wants you to live in freedom, and is your first indication that there may be more to life than what you know, and then on top of all that, saves your life.... the lines get a bit blurred between what is God and what is that particular person's specific take on things.

this is not isolated to one individual, though. flipping through old journals, i realize that i have this habit of equating 'what Godly looks like' with whatever person in my life seemed 'cleanest'....'purest'

whoever looked the part, and genuinely desired more of God, became the definition in my mind of what a 'Godly' man or woman was. some of these i have only watched from a distance. some i knew personally. some i was extremely close with. but the theme is the same.

David. Jonathan. Rachel (a couple of them). Mary. Lydia. Sarah (several!). Sarah Beth. Abigail. Leah. Amy (a few of these, too). Jill. Melanie.the Botkins. ... Brandt.

the kind of person i thought you had to be if you wanted someone, who was not as damaged as i already was, to love you..to want you.

and while there were those who i admired for their resilience, the kind of woman i would have wanted to be if i was not running so frantically after the fundamentalist homeschool poster child image....Piyali. Cassidy...women who embodied the kind of freedom i wished to live in, confident and secure enough in their walk with the Creator to not care what the world thought...they were so few, so lone.

but i have always lived between these two opposites:

the wounded ones who looked to me for stability and solidity and hope and a reminder to keep fighting. for these i had to be strong. i could never break, never share my own struggles. although comfortable with them, because i knew we could be real, i also felt deeply responsible for their wellbeing...for their pain.

and then the 'pure' ones, those in whose company i could never stay without a deeply ingrained sense of shame, of unworthiness, of unequality.... i have always felt out of place, as though i never belonged with the godly, all too aware of my own shortcomings and scars.

but a 'Proverbs 31 woman' is not pearls and denim and lace and Southern manners. Godly is not defined by how closely another Christ-follower and i agree on tattoos.

God has called me to himself... but He has called me as me.

me the way He created me. with curves and brown skin and an incurable romanticism.... and yes, even my love for tattoos.

what better means is following Him. what better means is seeing myself how He sees me. what better means is running as fast as i can towards His heart. what better means is hungry for more of Jesus, basking in His unfailing love. what better means is true health and wholeness - discarding the shame-chains, and walking in His new life.

what better means is stained glass. what better means is kintsugi.

what better does not mean is.. just like Brandt. or Amy. or Sarah. or Melanie. or anyone else who i know or have admired from a distance as the epitome of perfection..or wondered if, maybe, if i was just like 'her', then those whom i wanted so badly to impress, to prove to them that i was more than the sum of my damaged parts, that i was worth the time invested, would look at me with the same eyes of appreciation.

but we are all human, and all sinful, and thus must all equally fall short of a perfect God's immutable standard, and my standard must be Christ.

my standard for how closely i am walking with the Lord must be His Spirit's leading, must be my conscience's directive, must be His Word, must be the confirmation of other Christians....

but to substitute their counsel for the confirmation of the Spirit, to place a higher emphasis on their opinion than on the approval or disapproval of Christ?

idolatry... no matter how godly of a person, no matter how good of an influence.... is still idolatry.

the definition of Godly, of best...is Christ.

other Christians? their walk is different from mine. their lives are different. God is leading them and growing them (as He is me) in different directions, and following God in practice will sometimes look very different for each of us.. and that's okay. 

to be a Christ-follower - to be a Christian - does not mean that my goal ought to be just like other Christians, but rather that my  goal ought to be Christ. my life ought to reflect Christ. my heart should be after HIM. not after how closely i resemble those who appear to be perfect, to have their life altogether, and to be right where God wants them.

because where God wants them isn't necessarily where He wants me.

and it's been a humbling realization to come to terms with, to be shown so clearly and painfully how i have substituted a certain person's opinion, their take on things, in all things, as the definitive standard on godliness.

*refer above, to this girl thinking she wasn't an idolater..or is it 'idolatress'?*

does this mean that i don't care what others think? or that now i think it is alright to disregard the strong combined counsel of other Christians?

of course not!

but i am also starting to learn to listen to the Lord for what better looks like in His will for me instead of the endless comparison and casting up idols.

and somehow, i strongly suspect that this people-pleaser will probably take a while to get the hang of this... but hey... at least i don't have to do this on my own.

i have His strength to hold onto. and Him to fix my eyes on. and that is far enough for me.

{and hope)

Skillet, in one of my favorite songs of theirs, sings that 'these days, hope is hard to come by...faith is hard to find'.

and it's true.

i know it's true because i've been there. i've lived it. 

if you've followed my blog at all, then you know enough about me and my story to realize that there have been some exceedingly dark times - days when faith was impossible to find, and hope was utterly lost. 

the times i tried to convince myself that there was a life beyond what i saw in the moment quickly faded each time i picked up another blade, compelled by shame and despair, certain that i would never amount to more than the scars which littered my skin. 

day after weary day has dragged by, a hopeless fight against the darkness, fighting in my own strength, futile sword-swinging against an invisible foe.  

depression screams hopelessness as the Devil whispers condemnation, the nights when even music is not enough to keep my demons at bay.

i've been there night after night. week after week. month after month....year after year. 

i have written countless suicide notes - there have been endless failed attempts to end what felt like a futile struggle once and for all. i have slammed my head against my bedroom wall time after time, unable to sleep until the viciousness in my mind is silenced by blades.

i have bandaged midnight cuts and crawled back into bed to cry myself to sleep only to wake up the next morning, lipstick-smear a false smile on my face, and greet the world. 

i have shut the world out - closed my borders and locked my doors to keep out both those who would hurt me and those who prayed relentlessly for my healing. i have carved words into my body, visible tangible reminders of mental pain, which will never go away. 

i know - believe me, i know - just how insurmountable the darkness seems, whispering softly of death's oblivion. i know how it feels to ache for the crimson kiss of a razor blade, to bleed out all the emotions, and swathe your heart in comforting numbness. 

i have borne with shrieking harpies, callously pointing out each and every existent and nonexistent flaw to ever adorn your body. i, too, have woken in darkness, week after endless week, screaming, terrified of the visions in my sleep. i still do, sometimes. 

but there is a God and He is strong, and in His name we are more than conquerors. in His name i have learned to carry on, carried by His strength, borne by those who loved me even when i refused to look past the pain and behaved dreadfully towards them, lashing out in wounded anger and frustration. 

so if you're the guy or gal that's where i was a year ago, desperate for a reason to keep fighting, sinking into hopelessness, lost to despair, positive that even if by some miracle i managed to recover that no one could ever/would ever want me with the baggage i bore, hear me now and hear me forever when i say that there is hope.

there is freedom even in the midst of struggle, and there is joy even through the pain. your scars are someone else's freedom song. the wounding which you have endured is what will give another renewed strength, and give you a platform to speak where others must needs be silent. 

'you will need coffee shops and sunsets and road trips. airplanes and passports and new songs and old songs, but people more than anything else. you will need other people. and you will need to be that person to someone else. a living screaming invitation to believe better things' because there are better things.

i promise you that there are better things, that the pain that you're feeling can't compare to the joy that's coming. and just because all you see now is a world in which humans are all broken to bits and in misery doesn't mean that this is all there is. there is more. so so much more than that to this beautiful life. 

i swear there is a way to destroy what destroys you without destroying yourself, and even if they never completely leave, someday all that will remain are their bleached bones - the ghosts of former terrors.

but you must allow the shadows to die. do not give back life to what kills you. arm yourself with beauty, hope, love, laughter, faith, and light, and watch as the destroyers crawl groveling back into the misery from whence they came. 

it will be long and it will be hard and it will be a moment by moment struggle to decide to choose to live as though you believe the truth....and you may struggle, to some degree, for the rest of your life.

but hope is worth it. life is worth it. freedom is worth it...they will always be worth it. 

and for anyone who needs an extra shot of hope today, a reason to remember to keep fighting despite whatever may be coming your way, i promise you that there is more to life than pain. i promise you that there is an entire universe out there just waiting to hear your voice. you are irreplaceable and incredible and with your hand in His, He will lead you through the valleys and over the mountains to His fountains that never run dry. 

nothing is impossible, every chain is breakable. in Him we are victorious, we are more than conquerors. He will make you brave. He will be your strength. you are strong and brave in the love which He has for you. every giant will fall. 

the future holds a brighter day. the best is yet to come. no matter what you have done, no matter what has been done to you.. there is redemption there is recovery there is restoration and healing and wholeness in the hands of the Master Mender. 

there is strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow. He is our Lighthouse, the peace in troubled seas, shining in the darkness, who keeps us singing on. He is greater - He is stronger than discouragement or despair or disappointment or failure or shame or guilt or grief or anything adverse against us. 

and even though it is hard to come by, even though sometimes (most times?) it seems hidden.... there is hope.

'so lift up your eyes, cause we're not forgotten. those who were broken are becoming the chosen. pray for the dawn, and we reach for the morning, and hope will lead us on.' 

don't you ever give up. 

because i promise it'll all be worth it in the end. 

i promise you there is hope. 

there is always hope. 

MassHOPE musings

So, now that we are safely home once more, i am free to share with you all that we spent the past weekend in Massachusetts, attending the annual MassHOPE homeschool convention. 

if you're familiar at all with my blog, you'll realize why that's significant, but, be that as it may, it was our first time attending as a family (which was an experience unto itself!), and i thoroughly enjoyed the weekend! 

wednesday evening packing brought waves of nostalgia, as i buried a teary face in my hands, overcome with emotions. The contrast between the anticipation with which i welcomed this year's conference, versus two years ago dreading it - dragged furious along for the ride, spending the preceding days frantically making bracelets to cover open wounded wrists - quite literally brought me to tears at the goodness of God. 

this year things are different, and i exult in the freedom, packing peanut butter and jelly sandwiches (as per usual...they're my favorite, and i would rather not take chances on iffy - read:nasty - travel food), and come up with instant oatmeal for me and PK. 

thursday long car drives, the wind in our hair and Rich Mullins on top volume, arriving that evening to collapse in exhaustion on hotel beds, and i laugh in astonishment, because of how different it all is.

this year i pack razors without worrying about deconstructing one. this year i pack long sleeves because the weather is unpredictable, and not because i care about scars to hide. this year i even pack a swimsuit.

this year i walk into a convention center filled with 'pure' people, realizing that my persistent conviction of never being a 'good enough homeschool girl' is, to a large degree, gone. the sense of shame, the sense of impurity it is covered by His blood. this year i like my skin color, no longer wishing for white skin. 

friday morning predawn silence. i had forgotten how much i love working out before the rest of the world awakes. oatmeal eaten with plastic forks from mason jars (so classy), and we set out for day 1.

....i have had a single line running through my mind since waking up. it is this, that: 

"some of them remembered their long sleeves".. because it is what i was told last year, upon having a meltdown in reaction to my perception of everyone else's perfection.

and this year i run into a friend from last year, and her friend ( i will call her Emily ), and because of who i am and what i have come from, i notice things - like the To Write Love On Her Arms bracelet, and sharpie-drawn heart with semicolon, which adorn Emily's wrist - and my heart is full. I know. 

this year i refrain from re-purchasing the spiritual guilt trip emotional manipulation patriarchal books (which i do not believe anyways, and just use as punishment against myself). i have gotten rid of all the ones which i owned, and i take a deep breath for courage and refuse to buy them back.

this year i am able to say that i understand wounds. i am able to reach out, to remind one that God is always good, that He will use all things for His glory, because the pain and brokenness which i have been through gives me the ability to speak where others must be silent, and I begin to glimpse His redemption and it awes me. 

this year i attend the sessions which spark my interest, laugh over a seminar entitled "Homeschool Hints from Calvin and Hobbes" (Calvin and Hobbes, the boy and his stuffed tiger, not to be confused with Calvin and Hobbes, the theologians!)....

this year i meet Will Estrada, decide to get over my fear of looking foolish, and take pictures and ask for pictures - something previously impossible with my levels of anxiety and social awkwardness. but i have decided to live this life, and..well..'pictures or it didn't happen', and 'a life lived in fear is a life half lived', and Will quoted the full Winston Churchill 'never give up' quote, and i can't help but smile at God. 

this year Friday evening finds me on the treadmill, running instead of lashing out when frustrated, praying, giving thanks for my day and those i have met...to my shame, forgetting some names, resulting in several 'God bless what's-his-name!'s'

....versus last year Friday night crying, angry, watching Enchanted (even though Disney movies were a whole lot of precious nonsense)... last year him pleading, "I just want to go to bed friends. Can we do that?" and angry Asha retort, "Your project is shutting off her phone!"... i was so cruel, so hurt, so sure i would never recover, i would never be pure, he would never see me as equal. i was so hopeless. 

saturday sleepy slow morning, walking across to the hospital for breakfast. shopping with my little siblings one by one. the hilarity in all the ladies who were convinced that i was a young mother just starting homeschool, therefore spending hours listening to tips and talks on how my husband is such a lucky man (...numerous questions about how many children i have, their grades and ages, which i deflect with exclamations that 'i am only 18!')

this year i buy a necklace with a quote from a favorite song, a reminder from God, the last of its kind. 'you will make me brave. you call me out beyond the shore into the waves'. i quote back at a vendor Philippians 3:13-14 as we share a laugh. the passage is merely further confirmation of all that He has been teaching me over the past month. 

this year i find an author who is donating proceeds to mental illness. we converse, i buy two of her books and after reading two thirds of her first novel i am back to purchase the other. i do not remember the last time i bought all of an author's books in one day. 

by the time we leave, i have bought what i wanted, i have bought gifts for others, and i am afraid Ben and I had far too much fun with the fact that everyone automatically assumed we were mother and son. i have spent time laughing and running and perusing books and tending children and listening to seminars and i realize that i really do love homeschooling (and having been homeschooled) after all. 

...i am realizing that i truly do love this life which i have been gifted. 

this change is nothing short of astonishing...and i never even saw it coming, saw it happening. 

i read somewhere that 'isn't it funny how day by day nothing changes, but when you look back everything is different?'.

it is so true. somehow over the past year i have become a woman, i am seeing His hand in and on my life, i am learning and growing and changing and desire nothing less than to be a woman after His own heart. 

and it is freeing beyond words.