said it

I can't help but wonder what in the world God is teaching me right now.

I'm up. I'm down. I'm all around.

I feel like a freaking Dr. Suess book...

I think I'm sad, or maybe mad,
but not today, today I'm glad.
Today I'm glad and that is it,
but come tomorrow I'll want to quit.

Geez. I can't help but wonder if Dr. Suess needed some major therapy. I bet rhyming was his coping mechanism.

If so... he made bank on coping.

My mind is cluttered right now. It always seems to be cluttered when I want to write. It's like I can't spit out my thoughts fast enough, or form them into words that make sense, so I just sit and I stare. It may take me hours to write just one entry because I'm just sitting and staring.

I get caught up in stories that form when I look at my clock or stare at my books. Little people hang off of the clock hands and toy soldiers march across the books.

And no... I'm not on drugs. I just think that imagination is really underrated these days.


Today I was imagining while I was driving in my car... and only on rare occasions do I imagine right through the stop lights... but today as I safely made my way down Warrenville road, my imagination was interrupted by the man that lives in my radio. He started talking about his friend John Mayer and how I just had to hear this song he wrote. I told him I had heard it before, but he begged me to listen to it just one more time... "and this time," he said, "imagine what this song would look like for you."

The song goes like this...

Take all of your wasted honor
Every little past frustration
Take all of your so-called problems,
Better put ‘em in quotations

SAY WHAT YOU NEED TO SAY [x8]

Walking like a one man army
Fighting with the shadows in your head
Living out the same old moment
Knowing you’d be better off instead,
If you only could . . .

SAY WHAT YOU NEED TO SAY [x8]

Have no fear for giving in
Have no fear for giving over
You’d better know that in the end
Its better to say too much
Then never say what you need to say again

Even if your hands are shaking
And your faith is broken
Even as the eyes are closing
Do it with a heart wide open

SAY WHAT YOU NEED TO SAY [x24]

24 times!!!!! He repeats himself 24 times at the end of that song!

Why?

I think because he is trying to drill that message into our heads. He knows that just as soon as we work up the courage to say it, we get scared, and back down, maybe afraid of what the recipient will think... so he repeats himself over and over and over again... SAY WHAT YOU NEED TO SAY.

This song, I think, may have caused a lot of drama for a lot of people... for those who have actually said what they needed to say.

A lot of times people don't want to hear what you have to say. And honestly... I wouldn't use a John Mayer song as a therapy session, and by that I mean I wouldn't assume I should take his advice. After all, he's the one who wrote...

"My stupid mouth has got me in trouble again... I'm never speaking up again. It only hurts me. I'd rather be a mystery than she desert me."

I guess we're all a bit bi-polar in one way or another.

So... in my attempt to say what I need to say, using my stupid mouth, knowing it may hurt me (again), I've already been deserted, so this is what I would have said if I had had the courage to say it...







You hurt me.
Unlike I've ever been hurt before, you hurt me.

You asked me to open up,
you asked me to show you who I was,
you asked me to trust you,

and then you hurt me.

I asked for one thing, and one thing only, whether it be based upon my own past hurts, or just something I want and expect from someone who "cares" about me, I asked you to tell me.

"Just tell me," I said, "if you have a change of heart, a change of plans, a busy schedule, or just an out right no desire to continue this... just tell me. Don't just disappear and leave me to figure it out. I know this is my stuff, but this is what I need from you."

"I would never just disappear..."

That's what you said... "that would hurt you."

I remember those words exactly because it was the first time I had ever heard them and really felt like I could believe them.

You were right.

It did hurt me.

Within a week of that conversation, you were gone... and there was no explanation.

There was that one time, but even then you were a bit unclear as to what you wanted...

"I want to know you," you said "I want us to get to know each other," and I believed you. I saw you maybe once after that, thinking everything was OK... slightly awkward, but OK.

And then, you just kind of slowly faded out, like the rest of them... no explanation, no courage, no respect... you just disappeared.

I tried to write to you to maybe just understand what was going on, because at that point you hadn't return my phone call. I wasn't going to call more than once. Once was already one time too many.

Two days later you ended it on facebook.

On facebook?

I hate facebook.

You were my friend, and you asked me to trust you, but you couldn't even look me in the eye and say "I can't do this."

So you hid behind you're computer, and you typed to me that it was over.

I tried to understand, and I acted like it was no big deal, but as time went on I realized it was... it was a big deal... and it hurt.

And so now, here I am, no better than you, hiding behind my computer, typing to you that you hurt me.



And time has passed and seasons have changed, and I'm just now saying what I wanted to say all along... instead of saying what I thought you needed to hear.

I thought you needed to hear it was OK, so I said it was.

I was wrong, and you were right.

It's not OK, and it still hurts.

step stool

I don't even know how to start this one.

My eyes are still soaked in tears. My vision is blurry. My nose is running. My head is pounding.

I can't stop crying.

My heart is breaking. It is breaking.

I'm trying to catch my breath, but with every thought I have of tonight, I lose it. I lose my breath.

Like a Destiny's Child song gone terribly wrong, I lose my breath.


Finally... that made me smile a little. (I know... bad joke, but I needed it.)

As I catch my breath, let me start over...



I watched a movie with a friend tonight... totally normal. I left her house to head back to mine and I had to drive through downtown Naperville to do so. I figured I would stop to see if one of my friends was working who had recently gotten a job at Starbucks.

I parked a ways away and made the walk to her location. When I got there I could hear yelling from around the corner. I quickly glanced over and saw some teenagers, so I figured it was a bunch of kids messing around.

I walked into Starbucks to find out my friend wasn't working. Slightly bummed, I walked out and began to head back to my car.

But before I walked any further, I stopped, turned around, and decided to see what all the yelling was about around the corner.

My heart broke.


I had a feeling when I heard the yelling, but I was hoping I was wrong.

I wasn't.

There was a man on a step stool yelling to the passer-byers or "sinners," as he referred to them, that they needed to turn to Jesus or they were going to burn in hell.

Over and over again he kept yelling Jesus' name... surrounded by tons of people, mostly young, he kept telling them they were going to burn in hell.

"How is this helping?" I thought.

People were crowded around. Some staring, some laughing, some swearing at him.

I watch for a minute and I realize I can't just stand there and watch. But I can't just walk away.

So I walk up to him.

"Excuse me, sir..."

He stops yelling and he looks down at me.

"Can I ask you a question?"

He says yes as he stands tall up there on his step stool.

"Do you mind if I ask what you are are doing... or I mean... why you are yelling... I mean... maybe you could just explain to me..." I stumble over my words, but he gets what I am trying to ask.

"Yes m'am," he says, "I'm preaching the word of God."

Well, I figured that much.

"But where in the Bible does it say to stand on the street corner and yell at people as they walk by to turn or burn?"

He gets testy with me and quotes something from the Old Testament about shouting it from the roof tops.

I won't disagree that that verse is in the Bible somewhere (apparently in the Old Testament), but I respond that Jesus was (is) a very relational man.

"He formed relationships with people."

The step stool preacher gets frustrated with me and says that the Godly way to witness is to stand up and shout it... that all Christians are called to do it, and if I love sinners, I will do it too.

"What about the woman at the well, Zacheus, all these people that Jesus met with one on one... right where they were at?"

He ignores what I have to say and asks if I know the Bible.

I say I do, but I have a feeling I don't know it as well as this guy... something else that makes me sad.

I ask him how standing on a street corner yelling at people and pointing out their sins is at all making God appealing.

He again quotes something from the Old Testament, and just as confident as he can be tells me that the Bible says to do what he is doing.

I look up at him, wishing I had a stool, and ask, "but the Bible also says to take the log out of your own eye before you take the speck out of your neighbours... so who are you to stand up here and tell these people of their sins?"

He says something to the affect of already haven taken the log out of his own eye and now he must show people the speck in theirs.

"This is what Christ did... He showed them their sins," he says.

"Right!" I say, "Right! Christ! Christ did! We are not Christ!"

I already know what his response is going to be...

"No... but we are Christians, and do you know what that means? That means little Christ. Little Christ, m'am."

"Right..." I say, "little Christ... little Christ. We are called to be Christ like... not to be Christ. Christ like."

I ask him how many people have asked him to be saved tonight.

"None."

I tell him I bet if I were to take any one of these people listening to him to go sit down inside, have a cup of coffee with them, and listen to their story, they might be more open to what I have to say than if I were to stand on a street corner and yell at them.

He gets annoyed with me and tells me that I don't know God and I don't know the Bible. He repeatedly tells me I am wrong and that I don't know the Godly way.

I continue to try and ask questions, and give my opinion, but he constantly interrupts me and talks over me, not even really open to what I have to say.

Jesus would have listened to what I have to say. I'm glad this guy's not Jesus.

As people begin to get closer to hear what I am saying, he says he's not going to discuss it with me any more. "God bless you, m'am" and he continues to "preach."

I pause, and I look at him. I realize that this is not a discussion I am going to win, nor do I think this is something that God wants me to win. It's hard for me to not feel the need to prove myself. But I knew I didn't need to. I said what I thought. I left it at that.

I started to walk away and as I did, a young man started yelling "HEY... HEY..." When I turned around I saw him running toward me. When he got up to me he stuck out his hand. "Thank you," he said, and he shook my hand. "Thank you very much."

We both smiled.

I knew he knew my Jesus. He knew I knew his.

As I started to walk away I tried so hard to hold in the tears. I had a ways to go and quite a few windows to pass before reaching my car. I pass Mongolian Bar-B-Q and I just make it past Jimmy's Grill... but as soon as I hit the middle of the cross walk, I lose it.

I knew I had to make it past the Lantern. I tried so hard to suck in my breath and hold it all in just one more time. "Make it past these people," I think to myself, "just make it past these people." It was the first time I didn't like the Illinois smoking law. "Why can't they all just be inside?"

I make it through the smoke and I get to the bridge on Washington Street. The street lights were dim and it felt safe enough to cry.

I cried for that man on the step stool, but mostly I cried for the people listening to him. The people who thought this man represented Jesus' character.

I don't know if I can honestly say that my heart has ever broken for God's people before... for those who don't know Him.

Tonight... my heart broke for them.

I wanted them to know Jesus. I really wanted them to know Jesus. The real Jesus.

I got in my car and I cried.

As I drove off, I prayed...

"Dear Lord, please show that man on his step stool and me who You are because I have a feeling we both have it wrong in some way. Show us both who you are. Show those people who you are. Show us all."

...................


So that was last night.

To be honest, looking back, I am somewhat surprised I was that upset.

I am a selfish person. The fact that my heart was breaking that much for other people and not for something done to me... I'll be honest... it surprised me.

But I'm so grateful. I'm so, so grateful... because I know that wasn't about me and my heart breaking... it was about God and His heart breaking for His people.

I remember at church one night praying "God, break my heart for the things that break yours."

I prayed that prayer unsure of what it looked like.



Last night I saw a little step stool on the corner of Jefferson and Main... and my heart broke.

we are

This is one of those experiments where I start writing and wait to see what happens. I don't know where I'm going with it, I'm just going to start... and not stop... until it all comes out.

I really have no words right now, but I have the itch to write. I don't journal anymore. I wish I did, but I don't. I guess this has become my way of recording my thoughts and feelings... why I feel the need to share it publicly... I don't know.

To be honest, I think it's because I don't care.

I don't mean this in a rude way, so please, take it as it applies to your role in my life and not personally, but to be honest... I don't care what you think of me, nor what you read about me.

I don't care what you may have heard about me, what you think you know about me, or what you really do know about me.

I just... don't care.

I'm sure most of you are calling my bluff right now, because to a degree, we all care about what people think of us. And OK, to a degree I admit that I do care. I totally care what you think, and he thinks, and she thinks. I care what they think, and what they don't think.

But the reason why I really don't care is because it doesn't matter.

People's thoughts of me... don't define me. My own thoughts of me... don't define me.

I'm not even saying this in an angry way, as if someone said something about me so I am passively handling the situation by blogging about it... nope... like I said, I'm just going with what comes out and I guess this topic is on one of my plates.

Good or bad... think what you will. It might even bother me... but it doesn't matter.

And here's food for thought... what I think of you... doesn't matter. My thoughts of you... don't define you. Your own thoughts of you... don't define you.

There's one real truth in life. One ultimate reality. One truth of who we really are.



For a while I used to listen to you, and him, and her, and they, and them, to tell me who I really am... but the hes and shes and theys and thems of this world have no authority to tell me who I am. They can be better than me in their eyes, and I can be better than them in my eyes, but really, neither one of us are better than the other... not according to ultimate truth.

Ultimate truth that says I AM LOVED.

Ultimate truth that says YOU ARE LOVED.

So... to you who hurt me, and to you who I hurt... to you who knows me well, and to you who knows me not at all... to you who I judged, and to you who judged me... to you who is my friend, and to you who is not... to you who doesn't talk to me, and to you who I don't talk to...

WE ARE LOVED.

That's all that matters.

I can't. without you.

I cried today. A lot.

Maybe more than usual. Maybe not.

I didn't mean for that to rhyme... it just kind of came out that way.

I watched a movie at a friend's house, and I cried. I can't tell you how long it's been since a good movie has made me cry... well... at least a week... but before that it was at least a month, and trust me, that's good for a woman.

I went to church tonight, and I cried.

I stopped by Starbucks afterwards to see some friends, and I cried.

I had dinner. I got in my car. I drove home. And I cried.



All of these cries weren't because of the movie... it was good, but it wasn't that good.

No, all of these cries were tears of emotion that I had stored up inside and saved for a rainy day... just like today. Some people save money for rainy days, I save tears. It's actually the perfect setting for a good cry, and you are guaranteed your tears will be well spent.

At the end of the day when the sun was down, but the rain was still out, I pretty much summed up all of my cries in one little prayer...

"Thank you, God" I cried, "thank you that this is my battle."

Life is hard... but it could be worse. A lot worse. I won't go into detail other than to say I know for a fact, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that life could be worse. A lot worse.

Instead of appreciating the struggle, I focus on the struggle... on how hard it is. I mess up, I give in, I call it quits. I go it alone and then I wonder how the hell I got there.

I'm tired of blaming God for how I got there. I'm tired of blaming God for the hurt that other people have caused me. I'm tired of making God pay for other people's mistakes... even if they are His children.

I'm tired.

And so... tonight, instead of crying out in anger, I cried out in gratefulness, yet still in need, "Dear God, I can't do it without You!"

Something I may have already known, but something I always forget...

"Dear God... I can't do it without You!"

And I knew I didn't want to.

lifetime

I did something I never thought I would do today.

Seriously... ever!

All the while I kept asking myself "what am I doing?" But I couldn't stop.

"Other women do this, I don't do this," I thought. But today... I did this. Today I realized why women have this problem that they do, and I realized that it's not their fault. It's an addiction.

Today I took part in this addiction...

Today I watched Lifetime. Not just Lifetime, Lifetime movies. Three in a row.

That's the thing about Lifetime movies, they're like potato chips, you can't have just one.

The most embarrassing part is that I watched them by myself so I had no one to blame for why I was sitting in the room when they were on.

The acting was horrible, the music... even worse... but I got sucked in. I couldn't stop. I knew it was bad when my roommate finally came home and asked what I was doing and I didn't want to tell her. "Why am I hiding this?" I thought to myself. "Because it is so shameful!"

Sure enough, when my roommate found out what I was doing she laughed... loud.

I knew it was even worse when during a commercial we decided to go to the gym, but I caught myself asking "can we go when this one's over?"

WHAT??

At that moment I knew I had hit rock bottom, and it was time for me to get up. I decided I didn't need to know how "A Teacher's Crime" ended... there was more to life than this... plus I pretty much had it figured out that she was set up.

So... I turned the T.V. off, and I got up. One step at a time I walked farther and farther away from the T.V. "No turning back," I said. And I walked out the door.

I remember when I lived with my aunt and uncle, my aunt would watch Lifetime movies all the time, and sometimes I would "sit in the room" while she was wacthing them, but I never sat through a whole one. My uncle used to make fun of them all the time. "You know why they're called Lifetime movies?" He'd ask. "Because they last a LIFETIME!"

I laughed, but I knew he was serious.

"I'm serious," he'd say, "you can start watching a lifetime movie, get up, go take a shower, get dressed, go out to dinner, stay for dessert, come home, and that movie will still be on... and that woman will still be having the same problem!"

I love my uncle. He tells it like it is.

So... after my Lifetime movie marathon I went to the gym, ran away some intense thoughts, and honestly, felt a lot better.

I wasn't going to let the horrible acting get me down. I wasn't going to let that sappy music get stuck in my head. I wasn't going to let all I had seen define my taste in movies!

No sir.

After my shower, I made up for it.

I went back down to my basement (with some friends... never go alone) and I turned on another movie... actually I turned on two more movies (another mini marathon)... but these ones were real movies... with real acting, and real music, and real good one liners... I love those.

After the second movie I cried. I cried a lot because it reminded me of my family. Not so much the family in the movie, because they were really screwed up (well, not that we aren't), but just the whole idea of family, and how no matter how screwed up you are, you are family.

I love that. I love my family. I love that my family loves me.

I love that I have been through treament for an eating disorder, had my heart broken maybe more than twice, messed up imensely with my finances, completely sabotaged my relationship with my mom a few years ago, expressed more anger than I care to admit as a child, yet come out better on this side of recovery, still have slip ups and fall backs, and my family... my family still loves me.

Seriously?

Wow.

Thank you Mom.

Thank you Dad.

Thank you Bonnie.

Thank you Betsy.

Thank you Bobby.

Thank you Mommom.

Wow.

That is all I can say right now.

Wow.

And I love you...

So much so that I would be willing to sit through another Lifetime movie marathon with you if that's want you all want to do (when I come home), because we all know that I don't... but I would be willing to make a sacrfice.

the results

My dermatologist is amazing.

You wouldn't think so if you met him, or if you went to his office, or even if you saw my skin right now, but my dermatologist is amazing.

1st... You can't understand a word he says... he's oriental in some form, but I don't really want to guess what nationality because I'm sure I would end up offending him or someone of that nationality for assuming they all look the same.

In my opinion, they do, but I don't want to offend anybody.

2nd... If you step into his office it's like experiencing a time warp. You're sent directly back to the nineteen seventies... I think, I wasn't alive yet... but there is absolutely no sign of technological advancement anywhere in the near future. They still use a type writer... honest to God.

I even think they have the first spinning desk chair ever invented. It's large and wooden, covered in red "leather" fabric (except for the arms and legs) and it's so bulky that you have to push pretty hard to get it to spin... I saw him attempt to spin a few times... it didn't work. Not to mention the creeks when he leans back in it don't exactly scream "up to date."

3rd... I left my meds at home while in Africa for 5 weeks... and boy, did he let me have it. I practised being tough while I was sitting on the table waiting for him to come in because I knew he was going to be angry, and believe me he is not afraid of showing it... but you can't ever really prepare for an encounter with him.

He has no bed side manner what so ever. In fact, he's actually kind of scary. This man is like 5 feet tall and probably 60 years old... but good Lord is he intimidating. Intimidating... but genius. Which is the only reason I continue to see him.

He does absolutely nothing for my self esteem... he's not afraid of blurting out, "oh.. dat wook horrible."

Yes.. thank you, Dr. Chua, I know that, that's why I'm here.

I was watching him today while he was writing out my prescriptions and I noticed his lab coat even had a big rip in the side. He opened his pea green cabinets to see if he could find me some samples and he attempted to explain in english the directions that lay ahead of me for the next 3 months.

I didn't understand a word he said.

But I nodded.

At the end he always asks if I have any questions, and I've learned to never say yes because he yells at you for asking them... apparently because he has already said what it is you're asking, you just couldn't understand him.

Never say yes. Just say OK and thank Walgreens for giving you directions with your prescriptions. I owe them many a thank you cards.

So... why am I writing about him?

I don't know.

To be honest, most people think him rude and stop seeing him because he doesn't tell them what they want to hear.

I think that's why I do see him. I want the truth. I don't want the sugar coating. Sure, he doesn't exactly make me feel good while I'm sitting in his office, but he gives me hope because he's honest. "Dis is bad, but we fix it. It take time, but we fix it."

I sometimes wonder if that's what God is saying to me when I'm going through a hard time... "Dis is bad, but we fix it. It take time, but we fix it."

I bet He even says it in that accent.

What I like about my dermatologist is that even though he's out of date, he knows his stuff. He's not flashy, he just is. He doesn't spend his time or money on re-doing his office or getting fancy gizmos and exotic art pieces for the wall. He spends his time and money on his patients and what they need.

So even though you may get the vibe that he doesn't care, I think he does.

Sometimes I get the vibe that God doesn't care, especially when things aren't going good and I just want Him to fix them... but I think He does.

It just take time...

to see the results.

the carnival

Talk about culture shock...

I went to "Last Fling" downtown Naperville this past Saturday night. They had all kinds of carnival rides, food booths, beer tents, flashy lights, and you name it, it was there... cotton candy, water guns, and even Gavin DeGraw (he's a singer, mom).

Talk about culture shock!

My friends and I had to walk right through the middle of all the chaos in order to get to where Gavin DeGraw was singing... on the other side of the "carnival."

I didn't even think about it, I just started walking... through a sea full of middle schoolers with cell phones and high schoolers with gaudy jewellery, I started walking. Lights were flashing everywhere, rides were moving rapidly, food was all over the ground, and all around were screams of mini roller coasters and ticket collectors trying to guess your age, height, or weight.

I felt sick.

I made it OK on the way to Gavin DeGraw, but on the way back I couldn't handle it. My friends wanted to stop and watch some of the rides, but I couldn't do it. I told them I would meet them at the corner and I took off down another street that was dark and quiet. It was nice, even though the screams of the rides and the people on them followed me for a while.

I knew I had to get out of that crowd because I felt like I was going to start crying.

I thought about children that I met in Africa and faces that I saw. I saw faces of joy and faces of complete and utter hopelessness.

I thought about this one girl... I can't even remember her name... but I thought about her. She was wearing a pale pink tank top with a long turquoise skirt. Her head was shaved, and of course, she had a beautiful smile. I would say she was some where in the 14-16 year old range (I know, not a big range, but it was one of the three). For half of the day she sat in my arms. She held on to me as if she never wanted me to leave. I didn't want to leave, but I knew the time would come. The time always comes.

Before leaving that day I went onto the bus and I got a hot pink bandanna out of my bag. I had gotten the bandanna at Wal-Mart for 94 cents... literally... 94 cents. I folded it up in my hand and when I went to say goodbye, I opened her palms and I placed the bandanna in her hands.

She held it up, took the biggest gasp of air, grabbed me in her arms, and she shook me, literally shook me, for about 2 minutes straight. Then she'd hold me back so she could get a good look at me, smile huge, close her eyes, and grab me in her arms again only to shake me some more.

She literally held on to me hugging me like this (every now and again leaning back to look me in the eye and smile) for over five minutes.

Who hugs someone for that long?

Five minutes may not sound like a long time, but try hugging someone for 5 minutes straight and see how long it is.

People don't hug like that... at least not for a 94 cent bandanna.

She did.

I will never forget that hug. I remember tearing as she was hugging me, wondering why I deserved such a hug.

Maybe that's just it... I didn't deserve it, but she treated me like I did.

I don't deserve much, but Christ treats me like I do.

A 14-16 something year old African girl showed me Christ.

But I was the missionary... right?

Nah... every one is a missionary... you just have to ask yourself, what's your mission?

To a degree we are all called to the same mission... Love God and love others.

She loved me that day, in a way I didn't deserve to be loved. I didn't do anything special... I gave her something I didn't want any more. It wasn't a selfless act, nor was it heroic in anyway, but none the less, she loved me.

She was grateful... something I haven't been in a long time (probably because I'm so busy focusing on myself). But when I really stop, and look around, and think about all that I have, I have no reason not to be grateful. No reason!

And so... I really do hope those kids had fun that night in downtown Naperville. But I hope that they were grateful they could be there... that they could have fun, that they could go home that night, take a shower if desired, get into a bed, and wake up in the morning to breakfast and a school bus, or a ride from mom or whatever. I'm not saying at all that people should go without these things, I'm not saying Naperville shouldn't have a carnival, or that middle schoolers shouldn't have cell phones (although I do think it slightly ridiculous) or high schoolers, gaudy jewellery... I'm just saying that we all, and I include myself in this, we all should be grateful for what we have.

Even if it is only a 94 cent bandanna from Wal-Mart.