stripped

Growing Pains

"Know you what it is to be a child? It is to be something very different from the man of today. It is to have a spirit yet streaming from the waters of baptism; it is to believe in love, to believe in loveliness, to believe in belief; it is to be so little that the elves can reach to whisper in your ear; it is to turn pumpkins into coaches, and mice into horses, lowness into loftiness, and nothing into everything, for each child has its fairy godmother in its own soul." - Francis Thompson


I find this little quote to be utterly and undeniably beautiful and so flooded with truth that it is heart wrenching.

Over the last week, I have been experiencing an odd and peculiar type of growing pains. I can remember when I was young and how I would feel the ache in my legs as I had a growth spurt. It never lasted long, but it always signaled my being one step closer to being a grown up.

But, now I am a grown up. I am far past the period of my life when I had to worry about my height and have dived headfirst into the period that prefers to be much more concerned about my width, for all hope of height alteration is long gone.

No, my growing pains are not my suddenly gaining an extra inch of height . . . it is mourning the loss of the past. I can recall my parents and family members and random adults always remarking as a child that I should treasure and value the time I have to be a kid, because one day I would miss it. Like most kids, I laughed it off and resumed my sulking about not being able to do grown up things.

Today, especially, I have been having nostalgia. I can recall such vivid memories from when I was kid, from family baseball fun in the front yard, to lake trips, to kindergarten show and tell . . . and I miss it. I explained to Shane tonight that while I do look forward to many of the things in the future, I will always miss the things I realize I took for granted. I will miss not being concerned or worried about health, or even fearing death. I miss the innocence of imagination, where a few toys alone in a room become a land and people. While working with some of the kids, I have watched them enter the place of imagination, and it was like looking at it from another world. It seemed foreign. Did I use to talk for dolls and make up stories that, for me, were real and valid, whereas now I never would think of it or would feel silly? I miss the life that has such little worry and so much faith. Faith in everyone around me, and such trust. Now, in this adult life, I know of ulterior motifs, of lies designed to hurt and deceive, and of manipulation. I know of anxiety over money, concerns about jobs. I know of politics, or religious debate, of controversy, and of division.

I miss the moments where I truly believe a fairy tale existed, that princes hid under the cover of frogs, that there were dragons stored in secret mountain tops yet to be discovered . . . it is such sadness that imagination and daydreams often suffer the consequence of maturity and adulthood.

But what I think I miss most . . . I miss the assurance of friendship. I think back to elementary school and my friends from there . . . we never worried that one day we would be separated and never see one another again. We just knew that if one did not come to school that day they were either sick or played hookey. In high school, I never thought of the possibility of losing my best friend. It simply did not exist as an option. I knew I would see everyone 5 days a week, and then those I was closest to up to 7 days a week. But now, and especially in light of the current wedding and baby craze, I am hit with good ol' reality . . . we grow up, and normally, we all move away. I am hit with the knowledge that my good friends (Bree, Liz, Lyn, Alisha, Beth, Craig, Jad, and so on) will likely one day be gone. That this is all temporary. My best friend of 9 years and I could live countries apart. And, it is heart breaking to think about. Already, I have seen the transition from seeing one another 5 days a week, to over other week, to once a month, and eventually it got to month-long separations. At times it has felt like I have lost friendships, that I was isolated. Late nights IMing and texting disappeared due to early morning work schedules and class times. It is odd to picture life without these amazing people. Perhaps I will just channel that childhood optimism and faith that we might all stay close.

But for now, all I know is that I truly miss my friends and getting to see them often. I miss getting to talk to them daily, and I horribly wish I could now with them.

I know adulthood has many wonderful things and perks and such, but just at the moment, I want to give it back and re-live just a mere handful of years ago when life was just more innocent and carefree.

My Own Little World

This week has been a trying week for me. Something in my heart has been off, and it felt like a piece of me was broken.

I think I realized what it was.

It was the realization that my passion for Africa had been stifled by what I had always feared . . . normalcy. It is incredible and crazy at how quickly life can knock on the door of reality and transform a person's mind and priorities. I have been juggling relationships, friends, and finding a job (and training) for the past two months. Prior to that, I was just focused on graduating. All of these priorities and expectations littered my life so that I had to wade through the debris just to find a place to sit and breathe for a moment.

But over the last two weeks, a comment has been haunting me. I was told, "I talk more about Africa than you do now."

As I type, I just want to cry. Because . . . my passion for it has not died down. It is burning brighter than ever, but perhaps my hope and belief that it will become anything more than a passion has faded. I've never needed to go to this place that has my whole heart, that God has placed such a yearning and NEED for, more than I do now. My biggest fear is that I will become the American Christian content with a medium sized church, a medium sized house, 3 kids, a stable income, 2 dogs, a cat, and contentment.

I fear it, because in gaily talking of the future with my significant other . . . that is the picture we paint. And I want to tear it apart and scream, "NO!" That is not what I want, not really. Sure, it is nice, and pretty . . . and safe. Very safe. That is why it is so alluring. It is so utterly safe. It is a foolproof plan that leaves little room for much else.

I don't want any of that. I would rather spend the rest of my life single and without children than accept that life. I want an extraordinary life, a radical life. One that lives in passion and extremity on the front lines of ministry. I want to serve in the darkest of corners, to the areas of the world no one else is offering to go. My hearts begs and pleads, "Send me, I want to be there." Yet it also looks at myself with disappointment, because I have heard the command to go since the 4th grade, and I have found excuse after excuse to not go. Normally, it was because I chose a summer with a boyfriend over a summer serving overseas. I look back on these years and just want to redo them all. I wasted so much time.

I realized over the past two months I have been more agitated than normal. More distant. I am more easily angered and much more critical of people around me. I even got into my first fight with a dear best friend. I've been trying to figure out what is wrong with me. Now, I know. I'm angry with myself, with squandering so many opportunities and settling. I'm angry that I feel like I cannot achieve what I feel like I am suppose to. And my heart is broken over it. I'm stuck trying to discover what it is that I should do.

I want to be the hands that hold the dying Aids victim. I want to be the arms that hold a young prostitute. I want to be the feet that walks among the worst of sinners, and I want to be the heart that loves them all like Jesus. I just don't want to be the girl who hears the call so clearly, but stays. I think I would surely break apart if I just accepted the American dream and played it logically and safe instead of just throwing up my hands truly, TRULY letting God take control.

I was not born to live comfortably in this world. I was born to go out into it without becoming a part of it, to reach the broken and the lost. My heart breaks over and over for this world. Some days, I swear I can actually feel the hurt of people I don't even know. I am tired of not doing anything for that. I stopped talking about Africa so it would not hurt or be saddening to not be there, but for now, I obviously cannot.

I can do good here, starting with being more active in my church and volunteering. And then . . . I will be able to do good in working with my kiddos when training finishes. But eventually . . . I will be in Africa.

"Break my heart for what breaks Yours. Give me open hands and open doors. Close my eyes and let me see, that my own little world is not about me."

Resurrection Day

It has been quite a long time since I have actually sat down to write. Despite mentally writing a million entries and saying countless monologues during car rides throughout the last year, none have ever made it onto a computer or piece of paper.

I cannot say exactly what has caused me to stop writing, or what can cause a person to write nearly daily to suddenly disappear, but I can hypothesize that it was due to the transition in my life. A year ago, my life was torn between heartache and a sense of free abandon and carelessness. A sense of wanting to break out and seek adventure. It was a wild heart and desire.

Neither ended up being the path life beckoned me to follow. Instead, it took a surprising turn. My life is not how I envisioned it being a year ago, but I also cannot envision it being anything else. A year took me from college freedom to adulthood responsibilities. But . . . it has brought changes, and I am not quite sure how I feel about these new alterations.

I've found that passions have conflicted with reality, and that spiritual freshness is not always easy to maintain.

I cannot say for sure what caused me to be so quiet, but I know for certain what has returned me to this old blog space . . . my heart just yearns to write, and in the process of writing, I hope to regain some of that passions and all of that fresh vitality that has seemed to be placed on the back-burner in light of the stresses and hustle of a new stage in life. Maybe it is all about re-finding myself in this new period of life, combining bits of the old with the new. Whatever this little piece of "mine" ends up becoming, I do have to say that it feels absolutely fantastic to simply write again.

Until tomorrow,

Walk in Love