monday

misunderstood.

set my alarm for pm instead of am.

slept in my contacts... my eye is infected.

forgot how to fly.

my phone rang. thought it was you.

it wasn't.

doctor on wednesday.

therapist on thursday.

medication on every day.

bit my nails too low.

bought the wrong paint.

walked instead of ran.

stood instead of walked.

sat instead of stood.



because i sat...

stayed instead of left.



i would like a water pistol.

and a night cap.



today is over.

tomorrow is here.

i guess this is goodnight.

for now.

belly

Well, let me start off by saying...

"Thank you, facebook, for your advertisement columns that are just so darn catchy and pleasing to the eye. Because of the fantastic job you do in reading my cookies, you are quite aware of what it is that I am interested in, and therefore do quite an exceptional job making me well aware of all the things that I don't have that, according to you, I 'neeeeeeeeed.'"

Now... on with the story...

I was on facebook yesterday, which is probably where it all began because I should have been doing my homework and not sending hate mail to my ex-boyfriends (joke), but none the less, it was facebook, not my hermeneutics homework, that captured my attention (kids, don't try that at home).

While on this book of face, I noticed a colorful ad on the side of my homepage with a pretty purple laptop on it and the word "FREE" in really big letters. Upon looking closer I also noticed an apple on the front of this beautiful purple contraption... "Yum," I thought, "an apple!" There was already a bite taken out of the apple, but it was still just so beautiful... it was as if the apple was saying to me... "bite me!"

So... low and behold, I clicked on the magical link that was going to deliver a talking, purple apple right to my doorstep and before I knew it I was giving out all of my contact information without even bothering to ask "is this legit?"

Sure enough, I get to the "you're almost finished" page and right under the big shiny "CONGRATULATIONS, JJ. We've reserved a Macbook Air just for you" is the final step (in fine print):

Confirm delivery by completing two reward offers from each of the Top, Prime and Premium reward offer page options. Various types of reward offers are available. Completion of reward offers most often requires a purchase or filing a credit application and being accepted for a financial product such as a credit card or consumer loan.

In other words, I had to chose two '30 day money back guarantee' offers that I would "sample" and either purchase upon my liking of them, or be charged the amount of the products if I didn't return them.

"DANG IT! I KNEW IT!" (even though I really thought I was going to be typing this story on a purple Macbook Air laptop... riiiiiiight, JJ, right!) I signed off, closed my dinosaur of a laptop, shrugged it off and took a nap.

When I woke up 20 minutes later (yea right), I had 3 missed calls (something that doesn't often occur) but no voicemail. I checked my call list... one was unavailable, and the other two were only four digit numbers. "OHHHHKAY," I thought and went on with my life.

(What I didn't know at the time is that when I filled out all my info to recieve my talking, purple apple, they kept my info and distributed it to consumer report agencies that were looking for people to offer their "free" products to.)

Fast forward to today. After work I got a phone call from one of those weird numbers and against my better judgment, I answered it. What happened next is pure gold...

"Hello?"

An overly entusiastic voice beams through the other end of the phone
"Hello, may I speak with Ms. Barrows, please!"

"This is her..."

"Hi Ms. Barrows, my name is (insert made up name here) and I'm calling to tell you about a new, breakthrough product out on the market called Acai Berry Select. This new and amazing product has been featured on the Rachael Ray show, maybe you've heard of it..."

I sit silent

"Have you seen this product featured on the Rachael Ray show, Ms. Barrows?"

"No, I haven't"

"OH WOW, well let me tell you about it. Acai Berry Select is a RAPID FAST acting weight loss pill that helps you lose weight super fast and detoxify your body! With Acai Berry Select you get the combined antioxidant power of acai berries with the health promoting benefits of green tea and other nutrients in a one time-saving, easy to take capsule..."

As I sit and listen to her explain every ingredient in the Acai Berry Select weight loss pill, I start to smirk and laugh to myself while thinking, "if only she knew who she was talking to."

At this point she is just so excited that I haven't hung up on her yet that her voice starts to get even higher, with even more enthusiasm (if that was possible). I let her continue...

"Ms. Barrows, with our product you can shed pounds easier and faster than you ever imagined! Infact, people just like you are losing 10 pounds, 20 pounds, 50 pounds and more using this amazing product!"

As she keeps talking I start to realize that there is absolutely no way that I can just leave this alone and simply say no. After all, recovery should be fun, right? I interrupt her as she's on her roll...

"Um, I don't think I should get it."

It was as if she was ready for me to say no...

"Oh, come on Ms. Barrows, there's no reason not to get it because I'm going to send you a free sample with a 30 day trial period. If you don't like it you can send it back within the 30 days and you don't have to pay a thing. And I mean, come on, if Rachael Ray says it's good, you know it's good... am I right?"

I entertain her for a second...

"Yea, Rachael Ray knows her stuff"

She gets excited...

"RIGHT? I mean, come on! AND if we ship it to you today I will even send you a free packet of our green tea weight loss gum. You burn calories while you chew..."

(Don't we do that anyways?)

"So, Ms. Barrows, are you ready to lose weight faster than ever before and feel great about your body?"

Now I get excited...

"Well, honestly... No, I'm not," I take a deep breath... "you see, the reason that I don't think I should get it is because I'm in treatment for an eating disorder."

SILENCE!

"OOOOHHHHHH... Oh my, OK, well, Oh my, I'm sorry, well... well, you know maybe... maybe it could help... (Ok, she thinks I'm over weight) I mean it is all natural and there's no chemicals and it could help with your metabolism."

I love the awkwardness and sit in it for a second before responding, "No, actually I'm trying to gain weight."

SILENCE!

"OOOOHHHHH... that kind... Oh my, OK, well, Oh my, I am so sorry! OK, well... well... well you know what, Ms. Barrows? I am so sorry to call... you just go put on a pretty pair of shoes, work on that body image and when you're done you go buy yourself a cheeseburger!"

She said it so confidently as if she had just given me the secret to recovery. I laughed to myself, but I also felt kind of bad for her, so I played along...

"OK, thanks! Yea, I'll do that!"

I can hear her smiling and her enthusiasm comes back as if she were still promoting the product...

"Alright, well you have a great night, Ms. Barrows... and good luck with that eating disorder!!!!"

I thanked my telemarketer therapist and said goodbye. I hung up the phone and I think it went something like this...

"BAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHHAHAHA!!!!!
OHHHHHH MAN, BAHA... HAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!
AAAAHHHHHHHHH HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!
HOLY AHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!"
BAAAAHAAAAAAAAA HAAAAAAAA!!!!
WOAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!! AHHHHHAHAHAHAA!!!"

etc... etc... etc... followed by, "THAT was AMAZING!"

I thought about what happened on her end of the phone when she hung up. I pictured her taking a deep breath and then turning to the other telemarketers... "OH MY GOD, GUESS WHAT JUST HAPPENED?"

I smiled, called everyone I knew, except you, and told them the whole story.

Actually, no, I just smiled.

And laughed.

A lot.





All joking aside, the truth is that recovery is hard. Believe me, I know! It's definitely something to be taken seriously and I'm not at all making light of that...

but...

Sometimes, I think that when you are given an opportunity to laugh, especially at yourself... you should take it. Even if it's about something you struggle with, you might be surprised... sometimes the most healing medication is just a "deep from within" belly laugh that you didn't even know was there.


Recovery is hard, and sometimes I still struggle...

but...

I'm still laughing...

and, man, does it feel good!!!

enough said.

keeping track

9:35pm
I'm just going to stare at the computer screen until I can think of what it is that I so badly want to write about.

9:41
Why do I feel so sad? Not just sad, but so sad. Maybe I should have gone out with my roommates. I didn't feel like being social. I live in downtown Chicago and I'm just sitting in my room, staring at a computer screen.

9:52
I think maybe I'll lie down for a bit.

10:05
That didn't help. Now I'm crying.

an apostrophe

hard day.
feeling tired.

i wanted to write,
but all i could think about was this picture.


i wonder if you see it.

if not,
it's ok.

but now i'm curious...
if you don't see it, do you see anything?



hmmm...
i think maybe i just made an assumption instead of asking a real question.
i'm sorry.
can i start over?






hard day.
feeling tired.

i wanted to write,
but all i could think about was this picture

and how much i would really like to know...




what do you see?

eight

I'm trying to untie the laces of my worried shoes.
They're so pretty, but I don't want to wear them anymore.
I feel like I've walked for miles and miles and miles.

It's been a long time since I've looked,
but I found my brown sneakers today.
They're old and worn out, but they fit perfectly.

I put my worried shoes on a shelf in my closet,
and I shut the door.

I put on my brown sneakers,
and though I didn't feel as pretty,
I felt better without the weight of the worry.

I wear a size eight if anyone is looking to borrow a pair of shoes...
though honestly,
I don't recommend them.

Worried shoes are never as comfortable as they look.

father and son

Father:
Its not time to make a change,
Just relax, take it easy.
Youre still young, thats your fault,
Theres so much you have to know.
Find a girl, settle down,
If you want you can marry.
Look at me, I am old, but Im happy.

I was once like you are now, and I know that its not easy,
To be calm when youve found something going on.
But take your time, think a lot,
Why, think of everything youve got.
For you will still be here tomorrow, but your dreams may not.

Son:
How can I try to explain, when I do he turns away again.
Its always been the same, same old story.
From the moment I could talk I was ordered to listen.
Now theres a way and I know that I have to go away.
I know I have to go.

Father:
Its not time to make a change,
Just sit down, take it slowly.
Youre still young, thats your fault,
Theres so much you have to go through.
Find a girl, settle down,
If you want you can marry.
Look at me, I am old, but Im happy.
(son-- away away away, I know I have to
Make this decision alone - no)

Son:
All the times that I cried, keeping all the things I knew inside,
Its hard, but its harder to ignore it.
If they were right, Id agree, but its them you know not me.
Now theres a way and I know that I have to go away.
I know I have to go.
(father-- stay stay stay, why must you go and
Make this decision alone? )








I guess this song made me wonder...

are any of us listening?

Never...

After growing up a preacher's kid and graduating from college, there are 2 things I said I would never do...



I said I would never go back to school.

And I would never never go into ministry.


I start classes next Week at Moody Bible Institute for the graduate program in Intercultural Studies.


Hah!


God has a sense of humor... and has recently reminded me of a childhood friend I should have learned a lesson from...


"NEVER SAY NEVER!"




Thank you, Fievel. I can't wait to see what happens when we go West!

sort of full of

I went running today.

Let me rephrase that...

I went for a walk today, and on my walk I decided to run a little.

Toward the end of my walk/run it started to rain, and it was beautiful.

I was close to home, but instead of turning back toward the house I kept walking straight, further away from having a roof over my head. I just had the desire to keep moving, and I didn't want the rain to stop me. Quite the opposite, infact, I invited the rain... it felt amazing!

At first I just started moving my arms, waving them back and forth, but before I knew it I was all out dancing.

I walked/skipped to an empty park, and huge trees were at my disposal to hide under, but I kept finding myself out in the open, dancing in the rain...

and for the first time in a long time, I felt like I was living abundantly.

Simple as that.

It didn't require an extravagant vacation, or a famous charity to donate lots of money to. It didn't require performing for hundreds of people, or publishing a book. I didn't have to go to Africa to feel alive, a thought I struggle with often.

Nope.

I realized that by just hoping to live an abundant life, I've been missing out on the opportunity to actually live it.

Maybe one day I'll be able to travel the world, or play my music in front of lots of people... a life I hope to live. But in the mean time, I have a life to live... everyday... in the ordinary, in the small things.

As I started to walk/jog a little back home, I noticed the people driving by. I could tell by the expressions on their faces that they felt sorry for me. When they saw me soaking wet on the side of the road I could almost hear them blurt out, "sucks for you!"

It's funny, because that was my exact thought when I saw them sitting there all nice and dry in their big fancy cars. They had no idea what it felt like in that moment to feel the rain, and I genuinely felt sorry for them.

I walked and stood under a tree for a bit to catch my breath, and I just smiled. I smiled and I said to myself, "so this is what it is... to live... to really live."

Most people know I've struggled with depression for a long time (something I openly talk about in the past tense). What they don't know is that depression remains a current struggle in my life that I feel somewhat embarrassed to talk about. Even now I'm debating as to whether or not I should erase this paragraph, knowing there is a stigma associated with depression that I don't want to be associated with. But then I think about my time today, and I realize I don't care.

I don't care what people think when they see me dancing in the rain. Nor do I care what people think when they see me take my medication. I experience lows, yes, absolutely. But I've started to realize that it's in those lows that I experience my God holding me, and telling me how much He loves me. It's in those lows that I've actually stopped long enough to listen to His voice, which really makes it not a low at all.

So what purpose has depression served in my life... to be a blessing or a curse? To be honest, I don't know. Sometimes I think a little of both. But instead of trying to figure it out, I'm just going to live my life... one day at a time.

Today I lived my life out in the rain instead of hiding under my covers.

Thank you, Lord, for such a time as this.

dinner's ready

Today a plane took off aimed in the direction of London, England, and on that plane were (and still are) about 10-12 people whose ultimate destination is Uganda, Africa.

I am not one of those people. 

And I can't tell you how hard it is to sit here and type that.

I could be on my way, back to Africa, but instead I sit comfortably in the house of which I live and wait for dinner to be fixed.

I will sit down at the dinner table. Someone will pray over the food, I'm sure. I will laugh through dinner. I will disconnect from this sadness that I feel inside me and try to be as present as possible among those I love. But when dinner is over, I will go to my room, I will sit on my bed, and I will sit in silence.

I can't predict what will happen, but I will sit, and be still, and think of how I wish I could be among those that I love... those in Africa. I may try not to cry, but odds are that might be how this picture ends up.

Even as I type this, I hold back tears, knowing that I don't want to head to the dinner table all teary eyed.

I can't help but ask God...

"What am I doing here? Why am I not on that plane?"

But there is nothing... 

just silence.

So I try again...

"God, why am I not on that plane?"

And I hear something...

"JJ... dinner's ready!"

I glance up at Him and I laugh, knowing that later He will be holding me when I cry, but until then I do my best to obey Him...

Dinner's ready, so I must go.

Until next time...

no more

I talked to my dad on the phone tonight.

I sat in the driveway, swatted mosquitoes off my feet, and cried while I listened to his voice. 

I love his voice. It calms me yet causes me to cry all at the same time.

I missed him so much that I got in my car and drove to my uncle's house, his brother, who fortunately lives only 5 minutes away, and who happens to look just like him, and I sat at his feet and I felt like I was home.

I stayed over for a while and just laid on the floor. We watched a dateline show about Michael Jackson's death, ate fruit popsicles, then walked the dogs one last time before bed (and not just any dogs, mind you, great danes... flippin' huge!).

And now I find myself here... speechless, yet wanting so desperately to write.

And I got nothing. I pray that soon my words will return to me... for even this little bit was hard for me to get out.

I knew I had to start somewhere, so I started with my dad.

Upon hearing his voice, I wanted to start writing again... even if I had nothing to say, I just had to say something... 

I've been silent long enough.

jerry's kids

i'm still on hiatus. in the mean time...





https://www.joinmda.org/catch3509/jjoyb2001



(copy & paste if link doesn't work)

pieces

I'm in the process of packing up my room and transitioning into a new living situation, which I am totally excited about (fill you in later).

In the process I came across some stuff I worked on while in treatment two years ago. One of which was a brochure they had us make about ourselves, full of our interests, activities, or really just whatever we wanted people to know about us. The catch was that it had to be truthful, not just what we would want people to think about us, but who we really were, what went on in our heads, what we really cared about in life.

It was interesting for me to look back on my brochure that I shared with the group that day. I titled my brochure "Just Jennie (w/ an ie)" and sub titled it "pieces of me" with a big puzzle piece on the front (I'm sure Ashley Simpson appreciates my originality).

I wanted to share my findings with you. So... here are some of the pieces of JJ... Just Jennie (with an ie)... from two years ago. Some of the pieces remain, some have been lost along the way, and as always, they're are definitely some more to be found.



-------------------------------------------
Cover:

Jennie Joy Barrows

Also known as "JJ" to the fam!

Inside:

Interests:
Traveling, Spanish, art, music, learning, God, nutrition, health, history, the Bible, the piano.

I try to read, I usually don't get to far. I try to journal, that's tough too. I like all kinds of music, all kinds of movies- my favorite of which would be Walk the Line.

I love gum and am going through withdrawal (not allowed in treatment).
I love writing letters.


Activities:
Running, working out, painting, drawing, playing guitar, singing, surfing, traveling, baking, playing with my pup, I love sports!

I love... sunsets, sunrise, going to the beach, laying out, riding my bike, outdoor activities, the snow in the winter, the flowers in the spring, taking pictures, I love Christmas.

I love... working with high school girls at home and taking them places, sometimes I like shopping, sometimes I hate it (I hate trying clothes on). I love Starbucks as well as chocolate but have pretended to hate it the last few years.

I love peanut butter and Dean Martin.


Info:
I have potential to be funny and outgoing, but I usually hide who I am. I have potential to lie to you and tell you I'm fine when I'm not.

I am unhealthily obsessed with food and issues of weight, and could use any support in this area.

I am a middle child of 4 (literally, the younger 2 are twins), which may explain the way that I am.

I love my family and love family vacations, family dinners, and family holidays.

If I were a food, I would be tofu.

On Back:
I've lived in Pawleys Island, SC since I was born (23 years). I've only ever worked in retail or babysitting. I graduated from college in May, but don't have a full time job like most of my friends. If I wasn't in treatment right now I would (literally) be in Lake Tahoe, CA probably snowboarding and enjoying hot chocolate with a double shot of baileys.

---------------------------------------

I can't help but laugh at the last statement... sort of. Before entering treatment of 07' I was supposed to go on a ski trip with a family (with 4 kids) as their babysitter, which I had also done with them the year before. My eating disorder plagued me that first year I went, but they had no idea. I tried to be as fun as I could, and I loved those kids (and still do), but every night I went into my bathroom to throw up, crawled in bed, cried myself to sleep, and dreaded waking up in the morning.

Truth be told, when it came time to put the kids to bed, I didn't want to. A few times I fell asleep in the girls room because I felt safe. I was the baby sitter, yet I was the one who felt safe when they asked me to lay down with them until they fell asleep. They had no idea how much I wanted to lay down with them until I fell asleep.

I called the mom of the family a week before entering treatment (2 weeks before the trip) to tell her I couldn't make the ski trip this year. I was terrified. I knew I would be letting them all down (especially seeing as they had already bought my plane ticket), and I wanted so badly to fake it and go with them anyway, but I also knew there was no way I could keep it together this time. I had to make that call.

I prayed, and I cried, and I called.

I told her the truth. I told her everything.

She listened. And then she told me the truth. She told me everything.

She told me about her own struggle with an eating disorder in high school and college. She told me she had been where I had been and she had walked in my shoes. She told me that she loved me and supported me and wanted more than anything for me to get better. She told me to call her when I needed help and to write her when I felt alone.

When I got off the phone with her I just cried. I cried and I cried and I cried. Mind you, this was the beginning of my whole journey, and the first time I was being honest with people about my problems, so I had no idea how they were going to respond.

Of all the people I told about going to treatment, it was her response that stuck with me the most; that encouraged me the most; that i least expected and was most grateful for.

People had told me they loved me and supported me, but she was the first person to tell me she had been in my shoes, and it shocked me. It shocked me! It overwhelmed me! And it gave me hope!

The very weekend that I made that brochure about myself was the very weekend I was supposed to be in Lake Tahoe with her family. I was so angry I couldn't be there with them, but I knew I was exactly where I was supposed to be. And I knew she felt the same way.

So, here's to my friend, a mother of four, a hard working woman, and an inspiration to me...

Thank you!

I say all this because I don't think you know. I don't think you know the impact you had on me.

The weekend you skied, I sat in treatment and I made this brochure... all the while thinking of you, and your family.

I'm not the same girl I was that weekend in Feburary, two years ago, but I still think about you.

I still love Dean Martin and sunsets. I usually miss the sunrise, but I know it's beautiful. The beach is still my favorite place, though I don't have one to go to up here. The snow is beautiful, but I have to be honest, I'm glad it's melting. I can't wait for the flowers, the bike rides, and the outdoor activities of spring. I very openly love chocolate, and I now work at Starbucks (God has a sense of humor). Most importantly, I can chew gum whenever I want.

I am in the process of applying to grad school and you were right... God has a plan for me.

I am still hanging in there!

And I still love you!

the big 2!

I can't write much, I'm at work, but I just wanted to take a time out to say...

GO ME!

2 years ago today I entered treatment. 2 years ago today my recovery journey began.

Today I have 2 years.

GO ME!

except for one minor detail... I missed my therapy appointment today.

oops!

but I still got 2 years!!!!

back to the city

1/11/09

I went to the city today.

I was excited to go... until I got there... and I realized I didn't want to be there.

You know what I mean? You think you know what you want, or who you want, then you get what you want (or who you want), and you realize you don't want what you thought you wanted (or who you thought you wanted).

It's a pretty hot mess.

God has taught me that a few times... that I don't really know what I want. And every dag-gum time He is right... I don't.

Time and time again He has shown me that He knows me... better than I know myself.

So back to the city.

I thought I wanted to go... until I got there... and I realized I was tired, and I didn't feel like talking to people... and I just wanted to go home. I wanted to crawl in my bed and curl up under my covers. I wanted to sleep. And dream. And be happy. At least for a few hours.

I've never been much of a power napper. I wish I was... I would probably get a lot more done, only sleeping for 20 minutes and then getting on with my day.

No, I'm more of an hour napper than a power napper. And when I say "an hour," I really mean 2... at least. Yea, a good nap is at least two hours for me. Anything under that and I get cranky.

Don't get me wrong, if I could actually get up after 20 minutes I would probably (like most people say) be more energized and stuff... but I just can't do it. It's so... un-fulfilling.

So back to the city.

I sat on the stairs inside of Union Station and I listened to a new friend tell me and a few others about where his travels in the military had taken him... and I just sat there... and as selfish as it sounds... all I could think was "I don't want to be here."

As I have stated in the past, there is a group of us who go into the city every Sunday to hang out with people who have become our friends, and very much a part of our lives, who are in fact homeless, some of them alcoholics, and even drug addicts. Sometimes they are sober when we see them. Sometimes they aren't. Either way we love them, and we love to see them.

As I'm sure many of you know, from your own situations or circumstances, it is hard to see someone you love outwardly express their inner hurts by escaping the present moment, which in the long run doesn't help them at all, but only prolongs the pain and creates a cycle...

a seemingly impossible cycle to break free from...

the cycle of addiction.



But back to the city...

I started to wonder why I had even come. I started to analyze my every thought and wonder what in the world I was even thinking.

"What are my motives? Why am I here? Do I actually care about these people? Why do I feel like I don't care? Why do I not care? Why do I not want to talk to anybody today? What time is it? Can we say we need to leave early?"

Even while wondering these things, I know that deep down (somewhere very deep today) I love do them. I do care about them. I don't care about them today, but I do love them.

You know how you have those days? Days when you just don't care? You don't care about other people because you're trying hard not to care about the fact that you can't afford to pay your rent... or your phone bill. Or you totalled your car and can't afford to get a new one so you have to figure out how to get to work without your closest friends thinking you are using them. Or your hours got cut from a job that is not even all that satisfying to begin with, but none the less, you need the money to pay the rent that you can't afford.

Do you know what I am talking about? When your mind is just cluttered? Plum full of everything but the very people around you.

It's a pretty hot mess.



So back to the city.

That's where I was today... well, yes, I was in the city, but while in the city, I was in my head... not caring about the people around me, because I was trying to figure out how to pay my rent... and my phone bill. And how I was going to get to work tomorrow without burdening someone else. And how long I would have to continue bumming rides before I could afford a car. And how I could maybe work more doubles so I could get more hours, even though I feel slightly dead the longer I work there.

So back to the city.

I had no energy and was feeling discouraged.

And then something happened.

But in order to tell you what happened, I need to tell you a story...




Back in November we had a Thanksgiving dinner in the back room of Giordanno's (downtown Chicago) for and with our "homeless" friends that we get to see every Sunday.

I won't make any disclaimers about myself, or maybe that was one, but I will say that I have been known to not necessarily think through my actions sometimes. If someone says "I dare you," I say "how much?"

So at this Thanksgiving dinner, of which we sat with friends who were homeless and didn't often get to eat, a friend dared me to chew up this big hot pepper for at least 20 seconds (which in my mind, means spit it out when you are done) and she said she'd pay me.

Now... this is a no brainer for me... I mean, come on... chew a pepper... pleeease... that's child's play... but I wasn't going to say that. I asked how much she'd give me if I'd do it.

I was hoping she'd say five dollars... but she said twenty dollars!


HOLY CRAP! JACKPOT!

Seriously... I thought that in capital letters... but I wasn't going to say that.

Before beginning (as any good daree knows) I asked to see the twenty dollars.

Mind you, we are sitting around homeless people while talking about chewing up food and spitting it out... for money.

Unfortunately this thought did not occur to me as I had already started to chew when my friend began counting... one (one thousand), two (one thousand)... and so on and so on... and as soon as she hit twenty (one thousand), I grabbed a plate and spit out the pepper, along with some saliva that had accumulated with the pepper juice.

My friends clapped, but still looked slightly disappointed...

"Ah man, I should have said you had to eat the whole thing," said the darer.

Feeling slightly threatened and the need to entertain, I got on it right away...

"what? You want me to eat it? I'll eat it, I don't care..."

and with that I licked the pepper back up that I had just spit out on the plate... along with my saliva that had accumulated with the pepper juice.

They cheered and my ego was content. She handed me the twenty dollars and I proudly held it up and waved it in the air... "I just won twenty dollars!"

It took me about two seconds after yelling that out to the whole room to realize what I had just said.



I just yelled out that I won a twenty dollar bill and waved it in the air at a party for homeless people.

This is where Bill Engvall of Blue Collar Comedy says, "here's your sign!"


I mean, seriously, that was just... stupid! And when I say stupid, I mean ignorant. And when I say ignorant, I mean just flat out rude.

I crouched back down in my seat, looked around and hoped for the first time that not too many people were listening to me. My friends were laughing hysterically at my embarrassment, but I was scoping out the rest of the room to make sure none of the "homeless people" were watching, so as not to offend them.

Luckily I took on this dare during dinner, so most people were busy eating and didn't witness my ignorant cash money exposure.

Other than that, the rest of the evening was amazing... we sat around and told stories and cheesy jokes. We played the guitar while some the harmonica, we danced, we clapped. We just did life... together... there in that little back room of Giordanno's Pizza. It was just a sweet sweet time that I don't think I will ever forget.



Now we fast forward to the week after our Thanksgiving pizza dinner...

a usual group of us are walking around union station looking for some of our friends, and I happen to see the girl who heads up our group talking to a man sitting on one of the big, long brown benches. I had just seen someone I knew she wanted to see, so as I walked past I motioned to her that someone she would want to see was on the other side of the station.

I noticed that as I walked past her, the man she was talking to was angry. Not just angry... he was pissed. He was yelling, and I maybe would have gone over there if she was by herself, but she had someone with her, so I just kept walking. She kind of even gave me a look like "just keep walking."

"I wonder what his problem is," I thought to myself...

and went about the rest of my day enjoying the company of those I met with.


You see, the Lord has quite the sense of humor, because as I found out from those who had talked to the man with "the problem"...

I was his problem.


"Me?" I thought, "what the crap did I do?"

My friend brings up Thanksgiving and my heart drops. I know exactly what she is talking about. She said that he was so offended by what I did, he got up and left without saying goodbye to anybody.

I had no idea. I had no idea he saw. I had no idea I offended him. I had no idea he left.

I thought I got off scotch free... but as it turns out, someone's always watching... and he was.


The man's name is Darryl, and he sits in the same spot in Union Station almost every day.

That day that I walked past him ranting and raving to my friend about something... he was ranting and raving about how I had offended him. Talk about humbling.

I say humbling because you can be the class clown, or the dare devil, or the circus performer, and wow people or make them laugh, and that's great... but one thing you need to know is... you can't please em' all. Someone is going to be offended. Someone is going to think you're not funny. Someone is just simply not going to be wowed by you. You can't win em' all. And you know what? That's OK.

There were people there who thought what I did was funny, or crazy, or just plain stupid, which even that I am OK with, but Darryl was none of the above. He was simply unimpressed and highly offended.

Now, yes, on the one hand I felt really embarrassed. But on the other, I had to show myself some grace, because I knew my heart and I knew my intentions, and I knew I did not mean to offend anybody.

None the less, I offended Darryl and I was afraid to talk to him after that. In fact I didn't even go near him (for weeks)...


until today...


which is the something that happened.



So back to the city.

In an attempt to break out of my funk, I thought maybe I would try to talk to Darryl. For some reason, though I didn't feel like making an effort with anyone else, I felt like making an effort with Darryl.

Darryl sat in his usual spot and my heart pounded as I walked toward him. I had been wanting to apologize to him for a while, but there is something slightly intimidating about approaching a rather large African American man, who you managed to offend just a little over a month ago. (And no, color does not matter... I'm just painting the picture, so bear with me... for those of you who wonder why I have to bring up his color... I don't... I just like detail.)

I walk towards him and he has the grumpiest look on his face. I can feel him staring me down, but I just keep walking. My fists are clinched, and I let God know that I really need his help... and strength.

"Lord, come with me, I'm really nervous. Please keep walking towards him, because I can't. I'd rather hide and not worry about it. Lord, please help me."

As I get closer, I let him know I am going to approach him by waving in a sort of "I come in peace" kind of way.

He looks angry. I keep walking.

He notices me wave and looks behind him, as if he is wondering why I would be waving at him. I come up and sit down next to him...

"are you Darryl?"

He hits pause on his disc man and says yes but looks straight ahead instead of looking at me.

"Hi, I'm JJ, and I don't know if you remember me, but..."

He interrupts, "yea I remember you! I remember you from that party!"

"Oh good, cause actually that was what I wanted to talk to you about... my behavior that day... at the party. I know that you were offended by what I did, and I just wanted to let you know that I was sorry..."

He seems surprised, yet is still sarcastic (as if he's trying not to appreciate the fact that I am apologizing)... "that's alright, at least you got some money out of it... and some poor taste!"

I look down and kind of smile, but not in a proud way, in a way that says I know I have to not just say I am sorry, I have to let him know that I really mean it.

"You're right," I say, "what I did that day was stupid! I didn't even think about it, I just did it... and not that it's an excuse, but that's just how I am. I do stupid stuff... and I don't even know why. If someone dares me to do something, I'll do it, just like that! But I just want you to know that I didn't mean to offend you and that I really am sorry. I hope you're not mad at me."

He looks at me and hesitates, then kind of smiles, "nah, I'm mad at you. It's OK. I can't hate you forever. I was mad that day, but now that you've come talk to me, I'm not mad at you. And what you did wasn't stupid..."

I start to feel better, till he keeps talking, "it was immature!"

My face turns red, but I laugh a little bit, "OK, OK, I get it, I know, but I'm telling you... that's how I am!"


At this point Darryl is curious and tells me about shows he used to watch when he was younger about people who would pay contestants to do crazy things like eat bugs or drink goldfish. He looks at me and smiles, "so what else have you done? Tell me some of your stories!"

And thus begins our conversation that lasted most of the day.

The man who was offended by the dare I accepted now wants to hear all about other dares I have accepted that have offended other people. He tells me he used to love those dare shows and he even encourages me to make money that way since I'm willing to eat bugs and stuff, because apparently not too many people are (he's obviously not an avid watcher of Fear Factor or Survivor).

He asks me "what's the most amount you've ever made on a dare?" And I tell him.... twenty dollars... the very dare that is the reason we are sitting there talking...

which makes me think about how I can make it up to him for missing out on the rest of Thanksgiving dinner.

I tell him I want to make it up to him by giving him the money I won from that dare. I shouldn't have accepted it anyway. And I shouldn't have been so proud to show it.

Normally, we never give out money when we go to the city, it's actually kind of an unwritten rule... but I always seem to "accidentally" find a way to break the rules. I pull a $20 bill out of my pocket and put it in his hands. I told him I hope it didn't offend him, but he smiles... I mean... what homeless man is going to be offended when you hand him twenty dollars?

Darryl is a good guy. Do I know him well enough to know what he will do with twenty dollars? No. I don't. But I know he loves cheeseburgers and pizza, he doesn't like guys who drink, and he's been sober every time I've seen him. He listens to music a lot, so I think I will make him a CD, and he loves to take pictures. He actually has a really old Kodak camera that you still put the film in and wind, so we sat there while he showed me some of his pictures.

Before I left to go meet up with everyone else, I gave him a hug and I told him I would like to see him next week. He smiles and says "OK, yea, next week, I'll be here!"

After that I felt released from whatever funk I was in. I felt free, and I felt interested... interested in the people we were talking to and the lives we were investing in.

---------------------------------------

1/28/09


I love finding blogs that I never finished... it makes me wonder where my thought process was going to go next. I still don't know where my thought process is going to go, so I'll probably never figure out where that one went.

I do remember, however, that the rest of that day was amazing. After leaving Darryl, I went and met back up with everyone else up on the stairs. The rest of the time we laughed, sang, and even danced, a little. We caused quite a commotion but we were loving every minute of it.

In re-telling this story to another friend, she actually made me feel a little bit better about what happened at Thanksgiving dinner...

"I understand how you feel JJ, and I understand that he was offended, but on the other hand, I think it's kind of good... you were just being yourself... (chewing up, spitting out, then chewing up again a pepper for money) is something you would do without homeless people around and not feel bad about it. They got to see a side of you that you probably wouldn't have shown them in fear of offending them. They got to see the real you, not the you who has it all together and comes to the city once a week to visit... but the you who is goofy, and playful, and sometimes stupid! Sure, you offended Darryl, but it's OK, and he's OK. And now the two of you have a story to laugh at... all because you were being yourself!"



OK, she didn't say all of that, but she said some of it (I made up the rest cause I thought it sounded good... big fish)!



I haven't seen Darryl since then. To be honest, I don't think I have been back to the city since then. Life seems to always throw something my way which makes it easy to at stay home on a Sunday afternoon. And it's not that I want to be hard on myself for not having been back to the city, I can't do everything and be everywhere (and that is OK), but I do want to be aware of the feelings and emotions involved when I start investing in another person(s), and how it might affect them if I were to just disappear.

And so, I hope to go back soon... and for the sake of this blog I wish I could proudly type that I will be there on Sunday, but to be honest, I don't know.

I just don't know... and not even entirely because of my schedule.




I just don't know because...

sometimes when I invest in people, I realize it doesn't just affect them... it affects me... and that scares me.

It scares me to care so much. It scares me to commit. And as much as I boast about LOVE, LOVE, LOVE... it scares me to love... because love hurts. And with love, there are no guarantees!




And sitting here re-reading everything I just wrote, I realize... I don't want to live my life based on guarantees (though I'm prone to do so)... that's really no fun at all... or even a life for that matter.


And though I was hoping to have ended this before now, I guess this realization can really only mean one thing...

so...





back to the city!

uh... help?

I am out of ideas and am pretty sure my lifelines have all been used up...

so this is me asking for help, behind the safety of a computer (it makes rejection so much easier), and hoping maybe this will get me somewhere... literally... somewhere... preferably work, but even if you can get me half way there, it'd be much appreciated.

Walking is an option, yes, but not when it's 12 degrees outside! Not even the kids in Africa who walk miles to get to school have to do that, nor would they even know how to do it.

So, that said...

as the 3 of you may know (or whoever else may read this), I smashed my car up nice and good before going home for Christmas, which has made it quite convenient for getting places. I have yet to hear if it's fixed, and day after day I have to work up the nerve to ask someone to go out of their way to help me out.

Yes, it is quite inconvenient not just for those who I'm asking, but for myself. It bothers me to know I can't get there on my own, but it more so bothers me to think that I am getting on people's nerves because I am continuously asking for rides. But... such is life, and this has been quite the humbling experience.

Most of my friends have shown me tremendous grace, knowing that through this season I'm probably more so calling for a ride to work than I am to hang out. And for that, I thank them! Hopefully soon things can go back to normal.

All that said....

here is my work schedule. If ANYONE... literally ANYONE can help me out at all in the next two weeks, I would be beyond grateful. I don't have much to give you in return (other than good conversation), which makes it even harder to ask, but none the less, I am asking.


(deep breath) Here we go...


Tue. 1/27 10a-2pm
Wed. 1/28 1pm- ? (I actually need to go to court... for the reason I don't have a car! This could make for a fun ride cause we could talk about how much I appreciate the idea of cops, but how much I really don't like who most of them are!... but I'm trying to... I know... love, love, love!)

Thur. 1/29 10a-5pm
Fri. 1/30 8a-4:30pm

Mon. 2/2 8a-4pm
Wed. 2/4 10:30a- 6pm
Fri. 2/6 8a-4:30pm
Sat. 2/7 10:30a-6pm

Mon. 2/9 8a-3:30pm
Wed. 2/11 10:30a-6pm
Thur. 2/12 11a-5pm


And that's it (for now). As my manager says, the schedule is subject to change (except the court date), so "nevermind(s)" or "oh actually(s)" may come up, for which I apologize in advance.

I also apologize for using my blog as a means of soliciting transportation, but then again, I don't make you read this, so I'm kinda really not that sorry.

Honestly... hopefully I can take you to coffee one day, regardless of if you can give me a ride or not, because I really do hope to just sit and talk with the people who actually read my thoughts.

And then (in all sincerity) I'd like to hear yours.




One day.

Hopefully.

Definitely.

Maybe.




Either way, in the words of the Golden Girls, "Thank you for being a friend!"

two birds

I think I'm starting to get sick.

I woke up with that scratchy throat feeling... the one the prefaces the sore throat and all the snot that jumps out from the different locations of your face... yea, that one... I woke up with that one.

My first thought was "oh crap!"

My second... "where the heck did all my blankets go?"

I'm a mover... even in my sleep... therefore I never wake up with my covers actually on me. You would think that by now I would be used to waking up with my covers on the floor while I lay freezing on my bed curled in the fetal position, but no... every morning I wake up and am just as shocked as the day before to find that someone seems to have taken my covers... again.

After re-adjusting under my many layers of blankets, I went back to my first thought... "oh crap!"

"Man, I don't wanna get sick!

Of course, who actually wants to?

Well, Phoebe did in that one episode of Friends... she thought it made her voice sound sexy when she sang.

Huh... there's a thought... but no... I don't want to get sick!"

I got up and looked for some Orange Juice, hoping to pump my immune system full of vitamin C, but found nothing even remotely close to that of Orange Juice (I don't know why I feel the need to capitalize Orange Juice, but for some weird reason, I do... so I will).

Instead of finding any juice at all in the fridge, I found 3 and a half gallons of milk... not all of which are mine, but good Lord, could a fridge possibly house any more milk at any one given time?

There are three girls (in the house) at the moment, so even if we each had our own gallon, which I'm assuming is the case, whose the half gallon for?

Anyway, neither here nor there... just a side track.

Since I had no juice, I opted for fruit... but I had no fruit. So I opted for the next best thing... fruit roll ups! I figured this would be a good way to get my vitamins in and kill a second bird with the same stone by benefiting the snot factor more so than the milk.

Mission accomplished.



And then I sat down to write. Not even necessarily about fruit roll ups and snot, but that was the first thing that came to the tips of my fingers, so I let it flow.

And now I'm done... completely distracted from what I thought I was going to write about, unable to even remember what that is, and I feel content.

My stories of fruit roll ups and snot may not change the world, or even spark the mind of the person(s) who does, but in this moment of just sitting back and enjoying life for what it is, I am OK with that.

I can't always be a superhero. I can't always be a Jerry Lewis. I can't always be a Beth Moore, or a Rob Bell. In fact, I can't always be the JJ that people expect me to be. Sometimes I'm just Jennie... and I am OK with that.

And so... this morning I am taking the world off of my shoulders and just taking it easy. I am going to sit back, and let God be God.

I am going to rest in the peacefulness of today, knowing that in God's time, He will use me,

after which... the world may never be the same!





So rest up friends, and be willing to be used!

But once willing...
be prepared! Cause He will use you,

and after which... the world may never be the same!

without shoes

One thing I put off talking about for a long time is the election.

Enough was going on without me throwing my two cents in, and everyone made out just fine.

I've waited. And things are calm (though it is the day before the inauguration), so maybe people can read this objectively, and without bias.

(Here's hoping...)

If you don't like the way it starts, maybe you should keep reading. If you like the way it starts, maybe you too should keep reading, with an open mind to hear what I have to say.

Who am I to say something?

In all honesty... no one. Just a girl with an opinion. Who cares, right?

But this isn't so much about my opinion as it is about what God is doing in my life and in my heart, and I guess I just wanted to share it.

He is teaching me to understand what it means to love...

not just from my own shoes, but from the shoes of others, and if He wears em', His shoes.


So with that said, I invite you to take off your shoes and step outside of yourself...

here are my two cents...







I was one of those.

One of those who were convinced that the world was coming to an end if Barack Obama was elected as the next President of the United States. Some people proudly admit that, others think it quietly to themselves.

I'll be the first to admit that I was a quiet believer in this thought around my "democratic," "homeless," or "African-American" friends.

I put quotations around their titles because that's not who they are. It may be part of who they are, but that title does not define them as a person, no more than "Caucasian," "middle-class," or "free spirited conservative" defines me as a person... as a child of God created in His very image.


Regardless of your political and/or spiritual views, continue to bear with me.


Though I say their titles do not define them, and that seems all good and "Christian" of me, I am guilty as defining them by their titles. For a period of time, when the future of our country was uncertain, and the race was on for history in the making, I separated myself from "them."

"Them," being Obama supporters.


I couldn't understand why people were making such a big deal out of Obama. It's like he had become this idol that people worshipped... literally, worshipped. His face was plastered across t-shirts, people cried at the sight of him, I think Oprah even fainted when he was elected.

To me, it just all seemed so... I'll be honest... sad.

To think that people would put that much hope in one man... a man... it was sad to me. To think that this one man was going to change the world, and save people from the situations and lifestyles in which they lived in, it was sad. And I'll be honest... scary.

Hope, faith, trust... in a man?

I couldn't understand why people were so blind... which is exactly what I called "them..." blind.



As time has gone by, and as I have dug deeper, whether it be into my own faith, or U.S. history in general, I have started to wonder if maybe it is I who have been blind.

Here me out republicans or evangelicals... not blinded in thinking that a man could ever be my salvation... I know where my hope lies... it lies in that of Jesus Christ... not Barack Obama, or John McCain. But maybe I (and you) have been blinded by equating the hope for an equal America with the hope for an abundant life.

The two are different, and I have realized that I want both. My hope lies in Christ... absolutely... and in that I hope, I hope we all get to experience abundant life, not just in this life, but in the next.

And abundant life (in this life) looks like this...

LOVE.

Taking off your own shoes, and seeing life from someone elses.

LOVE.

Walking barefoot, next to those whose feet are of another color.

LOVE.

Stepping outside of yourself, and loving others... who aren't like you, near you, nice to you, or even deserving of your love.

LOVE.

Giving your shoes to someone that has none, and not so that they may see life the way you do, but so that they may see that even someone from a different walk of life cares for them and sees them as worthy of love.

Just LOVE.

Only in loving others can we truly hope to experience abundant life.

Only in loving others can we truly hope for an equal America.

So this has made me wonder... over the past 232 years, have the people of our country loved each other? Have we treated others as we have wanted to be treated? Have we loved the way Christ loved?

In all honesty, no. We haven't. And I'm not even saying that all of a sudden when Obama becomes president we'll all start loving each other, I don't think it's that simple.

But I am saying that given the history of this country, and all it's people have been through, people of any and every color have every right to cry (without judgement) at the sight of an African American man becoming the 44th president of the United States of America.


And to take it deeper, not just an African American who can trace his roots back to someone in his blood line being from Africa, but an African American who was born of a Kenyan father.

And I'm not saying this makes him more African American (again, we're thinking equality here) than others, but for the purposes of helping you understand the depth of what is about to happen tomorrow, think about it...

born of a Kenyan father.

Some 70 years ago a little boy in Kenya, Africa was running around, probably with a stick and the rim of a bicycle wheel, who would one day have a son who would grow up to be the President of the United States.

WHAT?

Can you imagine?

Could he have?



I went to Africa this past summer and I listened to all of the children we were with tell us their dreams of becoming doctors, lawyers, pastors, and pilots. They had HUGE dreams. Bigger dreams than most American children could even begin to imagine while they are busy playing their play stations or game boys or whatever it is that's popular this year.

In between pushing the rim of a bicycle wheel with a stick, the Ugandan children would laugh and run up to us and tell us how they longed to see America, but more so how they longed to help their people.

Kids... this is kids saying this!

If one of those boys were to run up to me and tell me that he hoped to spark the mind of the next President of the United States... I honestly don't know if I could say I bet he could, or would.

I may smile. Hold him and hug him, laugh with him and love him. But then I would probably tuck his silly little dream, of this seemingly God forsaken continent ever being remotely close to that of mine, far away.

I have been blinded in seeing that nothing is impossible with God (Mark 9:23; Luke 17:6), and that all things work together for the good of those that love Him and are called according to His purpose (Romans 8:28).

God does not makes mistakes...

we do... but God works through them.




The voice of a little African boy who once longed to see poverty end, peace restored, and injustice come to an end in his own country, and even his whole continent, has sparked the mind of a man who will be the next President of the world's most powerful country... the United States of America.

WOW!



I once judged those that cried at the sight of Obama or the thought of him winning. I thought they had their priorities mixed up and had misplaced what and who they believed in. Until I realized... maybe they don't have their priorities mixed up at all, maybe I just don't understand.

I don't understand what it's like to be a minority. I don't know what it's like to be treated unfair because of the color of my skin. I don't understand what it's like to be asked to move to the back of the bus, nor do I know what it is like to be attacked or beaten simply for having a voice to stand up for and believe in something that is bigger than all of us... a love for all people, no matter what color, shape, size, or belief.

I do not know what it is like to walk in the shoes of those who have been mistreated because of their color... so how dare I say I don't understand why they are crying when history has been made and a dream that was spoken on August 28, 1963 has seeped through time and become a form of reality...

"I say to you today, my friends, so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal."

I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.

I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.

I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day, down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of interposition and nullification; one day right there in Alabama, little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together.

This is our hope. This is the faith that I go back to the South with. With this faith we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.

This will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with a new meaning, "My country, 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. Land where my fathers died, land of the pilgrim's pride, from every mountainside, let freedom ring."

And if America is to be a great nation this must become true. So let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire. Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York. Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania!

Let freedom ring from the snowcapped Rockies of Colorado!

Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California!

But not only that; let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia!

Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee!

Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi. From every mountainside, let freedom ring.

And when this happens, when we allow freedom to ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, "Free at last! free at last! thank God Almighty, we are free at last!"

There is much I believe in and much I don't understand, and I admit my ignorance. But I refuse to sit in... to sit in my ignorance and assume that I know what it is like to cry out for physical freedom and hope for equality when equality as a white woman in this day and age is all I have ever known.


And so... politics aside, even as a McCain supporter this whole election, I have taken off my shoes for the purposes of loving you and loving others, and I welcome you, Mr. Barack Obama, to your new position as the President of the United States of America.

You and I may not see eye to eye on certain issues (maybe one day you can try on my shoes), but it's OK... I am proud to call you my president.

You have given people hope, including myself, for which I want to thank you.

And I pray that our hope in you and in a greater America will spark an even greater hope in the One who was, and is, and is to come!

Cause like it or not, He's coming...

and then and only then will we all be free at last! free at Last! thank God Almighty we will be free at last!

letters from a grateful woman

Tired.

Hurt.

Alone.

Sad.

These words describe me. These words have become me.

The very me of who I am.

Does that even make sense?

I don't know.

Nor do I even care.

I was told today that a thorn may be left in my side for the purposes of keeping me from certain sin. For the purposes of keeping me from pride. For the purposes of thinking that I am everything without anything from God.

At first I was sad.

I don't want a thorn in my side nor more than Paul did (read the bible, I'm not in the mood to explain, unless you ask).

I don't want a thorn in my side no more than a parent wants to be told their child was born with a birth defect. No more than a wife wants to find out her husband was unfaithful. No more than a child wants to hear that one of his parents is leaving.

I don't want to hear it, and I don't want to acknowledge it.

I don't want it to be true. I don't want it to be real.



I want everything to be perfect... just perfect.

I don't want pain. Or sorrow. Or loneliness. Or fear.

I don't want death. I don't want heart break.



I don't want to sit one more night in my bed crying because it hurts so bad that I can barely move.

I don't want one more unfaithful lover.

I don't want one more guy to think he can proceed when I say no.

I don't want one more friend to disappear when I expose a little piece of who I am.


I don't want it... any of it!




But such is life...



and I have chosen life.



Even still... I choose life!



So this letter is to you. To more than one of you, who have stood in my past, and without even knowing, maybe even without the best of intentions, have contributed to shaping me into the woman I am today.









You have made me feel tainted.

You have made me feel not good enough.

Not worthy.

Not loved.

Not wanted.


Maybe because I can't meet your spiritual standards. Or maybe because I can't meet your worldly needs.

Either way, you have made me feel less than what God has intended me to be. And for this, I want to hate you.

I don't know what you want, when you want it, where you want it, or why... but I can't meet it. I can't give it to you, please you, make you proud, or make you someone you're not. I can't make you love me, nor will I ever be the woman you want me to be, because I serve someone bigger than you will ever be!

I may have been used, abused, walked on, and walked over... but I am NOT abandoned.

I am NO less than she who has lived by every rule. I am NO less than he who has broken no vows. I am NO less than he or she who knows purity in it's purest form. I am NO less.

And likewise...

You are no better, nor are you any less, than me.

Our paths may be different.

I know our lives are different.

We are different.

Be we are no more, nor are we any less, than the other.



Outwardly, you may appear to have it all together, and people love you for it. They love you. I love that they love you. I do.

But hear me say, I see the you that nobody sees... the you that struggles. The you that is scared. The you that knows that even though you seem good enough, you know you aren't.

I see the you that's not worthy, and the you that's just plain stupid. I see the you that wants to be seen, but is too afraid to expose who that is.

I see you.

And hear me say,

I love you.

I love you!

I love you, because He loves me.

And you may have hurt me. You may have used me, abused me, walked on me, or over me...

but hear me say,

I forgive you.

And I love you.

I love you!



And all I ask is for the chance to just let me love you...

the way He has loved me.


He has asked me to hear Him say that He has seen the me that nobody sees... the me that struggles. The me that is scared. And the me that knows that even though I seem good enough, I know I'm not.

The me that's not worthy, and the me that's just plain stupid. He sees the me that wants to be seen, but is too afraid to expose who that is.

He sees me.

And He loves me.


And though I have hurt Him...

though I have used Him, abused Him, walked on Him, and over Him...



He has forgiven me!

And He loves me.

He loves me!



And all He has asked is for the chance to let Him love me...



even if it's only so that I might love you...



I will.

And I do.

O.M.G.

I can't eat.

I can't breathe.

I can't think.

I can't stand up straight.



When God reveals a bit of his plan for your life, it is so all consuming that you literally do not know what to do with yourself. At least that's how I feel.

I've been feeling God nudge me for a while, saying it's time to move on, which I am OK with, I just didn't know what to move on to.

I still sort of don't know... but I got a glimpse of what it looks like.

Just a glimpse, and I can barely breathe.

Barely breathe because I know it's not my will... it's His.

It's like this combination of being terrified and excited, and wanting so badly to follow Him, yet be sad to leave what is behind, and the whole idea of the unknown, yet the comfort in knowing that He knows...

it is... intense... to say the least.

Don't worry... I'm going to eat. I'm going to breathe. I may sit down, but I'm going to think this through.

I'm going to pray, and I'm going to ask you to pray with me, pray for me.

I'm terrified. Terrified because I realize I want to drop everything and follow Him... terrified because that may not look the way I want it to. Terrified because it's so unknown...

I'm terrified... and I love it! I love every bit of it... because I feel alive! I feel so alive!


BLAH!!!!!!!!

How to even end this, I don't even know. I just had to mark this date... the day that God has begun the process.



Someone once told me that God has something really big planned for me, and it changed my life... and my perspective on God as an active pursuer and not just an avid watcher.

And while I still may not know what exactly God has for me, I know that the process has begun!

And DAMN... it is exciting!


OH, My God is amazing!

spoken word. by amena brown