A letter I may never send

I don't know what to say to you. I don't even know how to start. Maybe with a question. What happened to us? What changed? Where did that sweet, sweet boy go? Why are things so different?

I wonder if you know the power you have over me. If you understand how much I would do for you. There was a time when I would have done anything you asked me to. But that's gone. It has to be gone. I can't do this anymore. I'm sorry. I am so, so sorry.

All I ever wanted to do was make you happy. No matter what it was, as long as it made you happy, it made me happy. And then I realized that doing anything to make you happy wasn't making me happy. And then I realized that it wasn't really making you happy either. I can't make you happy. I can't answer all your questions. No matter how much I want to. And it kills me that I can't.

Any little criticism you make...do you know how much it affects me? How much I think on it and think on it and wonder if maybe you're right. If maybe you'll like me better if I change. And then when you say things that hurt, I don't let myself cry. I won't. I refuse to. Because of that stupid little phrase "the one worth crying over is the one who won't make you cry". I've grown to despise that phrase.

I care about you so much. I feel like you know me better than anyone else. I feel like I know you better than anyone else. We've seen each other at our best and at our worst. I don't want to lose your friendship. I don't want to have to say goodbye to you, ever. But things have to change. I know things are hard for you right now, but...that doesn't give you the right to take advantage of people the way you do.

I would have given you anything. I would have given you everything. But not anymore. Because now I can't. Now I know that it wouldn't be good for either of us.

So this is it. This is me stepping back. Because it's not ok. Because...because you just aren't good for me. It's time for me to forget about any hopes or ideas about us being anything more than what we are. It's time to let go.

Psalm 56

1 O God, have mercy on me,
for people are hounding me.
My foes attack me all day long.
2 I am constantly hounded by those who slander me,
and many are boldly attacking me.
3 But when I am afraid,
I will put my trust in you.
4 I praise God for what he has promised.
I trust in God, so why should I be afraid?
What can mere mortals do to me?

5 They are always twisting what I say;
they spend their days plotting to harm me.
6 They come together to spy on me—
watching my every step, eager to kill me.
7 Don’t let them get away with their wickedness;
in your anger, O God, bring them down.

8 You keep track of all my sorrows.
You have collected all my tears in your bottle.
You have recorded each one in your book.

9 My enemies will retreat when I call to you for help.
This I know: God is on my side!
10 I praise God for what he has promised;
Yes, I praise the Lord for what he has promised.
11 I trust in God, so why should I be afraid?
What can mere mortals do to me?

12 I will fulfill my vows to you, O God,
and will offer a sacrifice of thanks for your help.
13 For you have rescued me from death;
you have kept my feet from slipping.
So now I can walk in your presence, O God,
in your life-giving light.


You have collected all my tears in your bottle.

I cried when I read that.

Who will fill my tires?

I feel like a car with slightly flat tires. The car still runs, but the lack of air in the tires is a drain on both the car and the fuel tank. I'm still functioning, but I'm running on a sad type of energy which is slowly draining me to the point of exhaustion. I need to find a way to fill up my tires.

It's interesting how when I leave, I'm always doing ok, but then the minute I set foot out of the train station and back into Coleraine again, everything crashes. It's like a huge block comes down on top of me and squashes me flat. And then it stays there until the next time I leave again. Over time, I gradually get used to it and can grow to ignore it, but it's still there. Is this part of not being content with where I'm at? Or is it something more?

Waiting

I am the kind of person who can play a song on repeat for days. It drives my sister crazy. I'm sure she is not the only one that it drives crazy. Every so often I will find a new song that I just absolutely fall in love with to the point that I must hear it every possible waking second that I can get away with playing music aloud or jamming earphones into my ears (which increases bacteria in your ears by 700 times for every hour you wear them, so I'm not so sure how much longer I shall be doing that).

My current "repeat song" is a song called "We Wait" by After the Chase, a band I accidentally came across online. But the difference with this song and every other "repeat song" that I've had, is that every time (EVERY time) I listen to it, I have to fight so hard to keep from bursting into tears. Bursting into tears does not mean just merely tearing up. I mean outright sobbing. IN PUBLIC. I'm not sure why. I guess there is just something about it that affects me. Ah, but it is such a great song. There are no lyrics available online, so I tried to write them out from listening to it, but I may have gotten a word or two wrong.


We Wait

God of the broken
God of the suffering
God of the people who cry out for Him
And wait

God of the empty
God of the lonely
God of the hungry who call out to You
And wait, and need

And we wait, and we wait
And we wait to hear Your voice
To feel Your touch
To know Your love
To know You're here with us

God of the dreamless
God of the desperate
God of the worn out we cry out to You
God of the fearful
God of the weary
God of the tortured we cry out to You
And wait, and need

And we wait, and we wait
and we wait to hear your voice
to feel your touch
to know your love
and we wait, and we wait

Where are you
(I don't know)
Where are you
(Where you are)
Where are you
(I need to see)
Where are you
(Your face tonight)

We are broken
(I am so broken)
We are suffering
(Suffering)
We are worn out
(Worn out)
We are weary
(Where are you?)
We are fearful
(I need you)
We are hungry
(I need your touch)
We are desperate
(I need your love)
We are guilty

Where are you?
(Where are you?)
Where are you?
(Where are you?)
Where are you?
(I need you now)
Where are you?

And we wait, and we wait
And we wait to hear your voice
To feel your touch
To know your love
And we wait, and we wait
And we wait to hear your voice
To feel your touch
To know your love
To hear your voice
To feel your touch
To hear your voice
To know your love
To know you're here with us

God of the broken
God of the suffering
God of the people who cry out for Him
And wait.


To listen to the song, click here



I wonder what I'm waiting for.

Realizing that it's now, not later

You know those kids everybody hates? The ones whose parents spoil them rotten. The ones who have everything they could possibly need and more. The ones that seem to get what they want at the snap of their fingers. The ones that have everything most people want, but that so few realize they really don't. Yeah. It's interesting how nobody likes those kids. And yet, everybody wants to be them.

In some ways, I am those kids. I've always had anything I've ever needed. And more. I've never lacked food, shelter, pleasure. Whether my parents struggled to provide it or not, it was still there.

It's funny because even after getting rid of a lot of stuff before moving to the US, and then half of my belongings before moving to Ireland, I still feel like I have too much. I want to dump it, dump it all. Take it to the cancer research shop or oxfam or someplace and get rid of it. All it's doing is sitting. Maybe it could help other people.

In The Irresistable Revolution, Shane Claiborne talks about how in the early church there were christians who gave up everything and went and lived with the poor, served the poor, and taught the poor. Then there were christians who kept everything and served the ones who gave up their belongings by giving them a place to stay and feeding them. This was a mutual friendship and the ones who gave things up didn't look down on the others for being too self-centred and selfish, and the ones who kept their belongings didn't look down on the others for being too radical. It just fit and they worked together to serve God. And see, I guess my problem comes in in that I tend to relate more to the ones who gave up their belongings and just left everything.

I feel tied down by my belongings. I feel tied down by my school. School isn't helping anyone but me. In a way, it feels selfish. Then again, maybe it's preparing me to help others better down the road. Claire says I need to learn how to be content in my circumstances. I never really have been. I'm always looking on to the next, better thing that I could be doing. Maybe I just need to slow down and take a look around me, and instead of focusing on what I COULD be doing if I was in a different place, if I was in a different time, if I was in a different circumstance, and try and see what I can do here, and now, and with the people I'm with at the moment. The future's not til later, and I have no excuse if I don't make the most of what I have now.

My life as an Israelite in the Wilderness

Everyone has stories of when they were little kids and said the weirdest, cutest, or funniest thing ever. Well, I'm going to tell mine. When I was little, we lived in Taiwan. I must have been about 2 or 3 years old at the time. Now, when you're a little kid, it is a well-known fact that you do a craft and have some sort of take-home item in Sunday school. That Sunday, we made finger puppets out of paper. I'm not sure how those finger puppets made it safely home while being carried by me on one of my parents motorbikes, but it's safe to say that they did. Our lesson for the day had been Noah's Ark (Don Miller's Blue Like Jazz has some interesting thoughts on teaching Noah's Ark to children, but I won't go into that here), so of course, my finger puppets were of Noah and his three sons. Being the intense feminist that I am (hahaha...very funny), I was incredibly upset that I did not have a Noah's wife. My dad thought he could solve this problem very quickly, and said "Well, you could be Noah's wife." Giving him (I hope, because that would make it funnier) a very scornful look, I said simply "No, I can't." And when he asked why not, I replied "Because Noah is made of paper, and I'm made of real."

Made of real. No matter how big of a smile this story brings to my face, it still strikes me how deep of a response that really was. I am only recently beginning to learn how true that comment is. I've never felt this emotional in my life. I've never felt this happy. I've never felt this sad. I've never felt this angry. I've never felt this frustrated. I've never felt this much joy. It's as if for years I have been looking at things with only a flashlight with dying batteries, and suddenly someone opened the curtains and turned on lights and everything is so much clearer.

Everything is clear. All the feelings are clear. I have never felt so deeply. I've always fought it off, saying to friends "don't worry about it, you won't hurt me, you can't anger me, you won't irritate me." My friend Sarah kept telling me I was only human and that she would. But still, over and over again I would deny it and say that she couldn't, say that I just didn't let things bother me like that. But maybe it's ok to let things bother you. Maybe it's ok to be angry with your friends sometimes. If they love you, they can take it. And they'll still be there when you calm down. I keep blocking out the feelings. But if you block out the bad, the good goes too. Maybe God is telling me it's time to feel.

God. It's always been up and down with God. Sometimes I'm a "good christian". Other times I'm a "bad christian". But in some ways, that doesn't really matter either, because no matter what, he'll always love me the same. In other ways, it really matters a lot. I'm reminded of the Israelites in the wilderness. They would turn from God, something would go wrong, they cried out to God to deliver them, He would, they'd be all good again, and then the cycle would restart. That's exactly what I'm like. That's exactly what we're all like. But God is always there. God will always take us back.

Being good, going bad, and getting asked your own questions

I felt like crap today for no particular reason. Felt like crying for no particular reason. I feel like my dad when my mom died, he'd just be sitting there, and then suddenly the tears would just start flowing. Except that his tears made sense.

I keep forgetting my mom died. It sort of started at Encounter. We would learn something or I would do something and then my first thought would be "oh man, I can't wait to get back and talk to mommy about this." And then it would take me a moment, but I would eventually realize what I had just thought. Or I would be talking to someone and would say "my parents", referring to my mom and dad. Of course, they would assume I was talking about my dad and Claire. I would catch myself right after, but what can you say then? There's nothing really that could be done after that kind of mistake. I keep getting false memories. Talking to her about some video work I had done at North or driving somewhere in the car. Hanging out in our house in Poulsbo with a couple of my friends. But she didn't meet anyone I knew in Poulsbo. She hasn't known any of my friends since I was 16.

And then sometimes I ask myself "what would have happened if...". If what? If my mom hadn't died? If I hadn't been kicked out of school? If I hadn't been accepted into UUC? If my uncle and aunt hadn't taken me in when I had no where else to go? If I had told my dad no?

Where would I be now?

It's funny how much my mindset has changed. I used to look back on myself as a little kid and think about how amazing I was, how accepting of things, how trusting I was in God. Because I was the perfect Christian missionary kid. I fit every stereotype. I knew everything about the Bible. And yet, somehow...I knew absolutely nothing about it at the same time. There was a world outside of our conservative Christian bubble. A world that was called harmful and evil. A world that was greatly feared by our teachers and principals and possibly some parents. It was a place that would corrupt the children, draw them in with pretty things and then trap them with sex, drugs and alcohol (not rock and roll). But for some reason, it didn't feel right to me. So I went "bad". And when I went "bad", I saw that things were different. I discovered that not all Christians were nice people and that not all nice people were Christians. This discovery absolutely blew my mind. And now, when I look back on myself as a little kid, I don't think about how amazing I was or how much faith I had and wish that I would be able to be that happy, that faithful, and that good of a Christian again. Instead, I look back and feel a bit sad that the Christian world we live in today teaches children to think like that.

The Irresistible Revolution tells of a man who is complaining to his friend about how he wants to ask God why He lets there be so much poverty and starvation and bad stuff in the world. And when his friend asks him why he doesn't, he looks at the ground and half whispers "because I'm afraid He will ask me the same question."

What have we let ourselves become?