Attempting to catch up ...

I've thought about this blog a lot lately, I think because this was always the place I turned to when I had thoughts I couldn't unburden to anyone in real life.

My last post was one of those thoughts - I had my first real two-sided romance this past winter, and some poor emotional coping mechanisms (on both sides, but admittedly more on his), fears, and doctrinal disagreements came between us, and it was ... messy and ugly. It should never have happened, but I'm also glad it did - I learned about myself, and I learned about what I do and do not want in my future husband. I'll be thinking about it for a long time to come.

But, that relationship is only one of the vignettes in an explosively growth-filled six months. A friend of mine suggested that I might have codependent tendencies - that I need to feel needed by broken people in order to feel good about myself. So I have started going to counseling to learn how to think more healthily about myself - to listen to my own feelings and opinions instead of downplaying them, to learn how to set boundaries and say "no" when I need to, and to see myself as worthy, loved, and important. So many of these new ways of thinking are completely foreign to me - I'm not used to accepting limits to myself. I'm not used to taking time to rest and replenish my emotional strength - it still makes me feel "weak" and self-indulgent at times. But as I recently counseled a young student, "You can't pour from an empty cup"; and I'm learning how to fill my cup with good things in quiet time so I can pour that back into others' hearts when I'm full.

Early this year, I went out on a limb and applied for a science journalism internship with NASA - and lo and behold, I was chosen! So this summer I will be packing a U-Haul and hitting the road for the East Coast, living away from my family for the first time ever. It's only for 10 weeks, so it's the perfect length of time to see what living on my own is like; and I won't be taking any classes or working any other jobs - just writing and taking photos, 40 hours a week for 10 weeks. Four hundred beautiful hours of doing what I love best. I am definitely nervous about living away from my family, but I'm also incredibly excited.

And just like I'm wading into the scary unknown of my unhealthy emotions and flying out to the scary unknown of living with strangers in a metropolis, so I've also been swimming out into the breathtaking unknown of putting all my faith in Christ's finished work on the cross and letting go of trying to earn His favor with my "good Christian" deeds. Through a combination of counseling, sharing the Gospel with my former editor and his wife, and studying Galatians in my Bible study group, I have been shocked and confused to realize that what I thought were just "standards" I held for myself were really yet another attempt to "make God happy with me". This isn't a new struggle; it's as old as this blog - it used to be my long dresses and conservative music; now it was my attempts to be sacrificially present and nurturing to literally everyone in my life. If I could just give more of my time and my energy, then God would be pleased with me. If I could just spend more hours listening to friends vent about bad relationships ... if I could give more effort at work ... if I could set a better example for my siblings ... if I could finally get my driver's license ... if I could just be and do more, then I would finally feel that God was pleased with me.

But God in His mercy directed me to Galatians 3:

Let me ask you this one question: Did you receive the Holy Spirit by obeying the law of Moses? Of course not! You received the Spirit because you believed the message you heard about Christ. 

How foolish can you be? After starting your new lives in the Spirit, why are you now trying to become perfect by your own human effort? Have you experienced so much for nothing? Surely it was not in vain, was it? 

(Galatians 3:2-4, NLT)

Christ is enough. It isn't "believe in Christ AND then do good works". No. Christ is entirely and wholly enough. If I were incapacitated today and could never do another good work for the rest of my life, it wouldn't matter because Christ is my righteousness. Christ is my holiness. He alone is Who and What I need to get into heaven and to secure God's favor.

As one of my dear believing professors put it, this is faith. Checking off the "checklist" of being a "good Christian" is impossible, but it is something concrete and visible that people can hold onto. You can see a long dress, or choice of music, or how you spend your time. That isn't faith. Believing that, even on those crappy days where you lose your temper and want what you shouldn't and just want to hide away from the world, Christ is still enough and God still loves you - that is faith. It's ambiguous. It can't be seen or held, and sometimes can't even be felt. But it is beautiful and it is empowering and it is what sets us free from guilt and shame and fear.

Learning all this simultaneously - clinging to a failing relationship while believing Christ is still enough; applying for a NASA internship while learning how to develop healthy friendships with myself and others - has been a rollercoaster of crying and laughing and staring blankly at this upended world that I now inhabit. But I can't wait to see what my Potter is doing as He squishes me down and reshapes me from the wheel up. Who am I about to become?

***

I do miss this space and all of you, and I leave it up so I can come back here and keep it alive in hopes of returning regularly. I pray that God is working in your lives as amazingly as He is working in mine, and that each of us is being lovingly polished and crafted into vessels that His glory and brightness can shine through.

Be well, friends. I love you.

~ Vicki

Strength to carry a secret

"Oh, hey," he said casually as my classmate and I turned to leave for class, "I'm getting married in the fall, you know."

I froze with my coat half-on as my classmate shrieked in delight, rushing over to demand pictures, ask the woman's name, and hear the story of how they met. Instead of following her, I turned partly away and slowly concentrated on loading my books and computer into my blue backpack, hoping that she didn't summon me to join the conversation. I didn't have the strength today to pretend that I'd never seen these pictures before, and to look him in the eye while I asked for a story I already knew. To his credit, he didn't turn in my direction either. Even though he had given his ring to another woman, there was still something heavy and uncomfortable that sat between us whenever we spoke.

I lifted my backpack to my back and slipped past the chattering crowd. He didn't say goodbye. Neither did I.

***

In three months, the tall young man with the sparkling brown eyes who gave me my first romantic embrace will be walking down the aisle to marry the woman God created for him many years ago. On the day of their wedding, I will be working in a newsroom near Washington, D.C. I will probably steal a moment on my lunch hour to cry; because once that day is over, a short story full of sweetness and pain will be sealed and tucked up on the shelf of my heart, never again to be opened or shared with anyone who knows both of us.

On paper, there isn't much to tell. He is a doctoral student who has a desk on the other side of the aisle in our small, stuffy third-floor grad student office. The day he came to visit our program, I greeted him and his host parents warmly, telling them all about apartments and things to do in our little Midwestern town. We met officially at a poster session in the fall - I explained my research to him and noticed how nice he looked in blue. My professor-mentor noticed that I noticed.

I learned about the tragedy that had stolen his parents from him when he helped me with a class project, and I cried as he told the story. He noticed that I cried. And as the leaves changed to the reds and golds that matched the shirts he often wore, he started stopping by my desk - for a few minutes, for half an hour, for hours at a time. We talked about theology, politics, research, our childhoods, our future plans. In the middle of a rainy October night, he backhandedly messaged to ask if I might consider dating him.

If emotions are our connection to life, then I was drowned in life for the next four weeks. Passionate and sure of himself, he praised my character and faithful lifestyle, he whispered in my ear how beautiful I looked, he cautiously reached out to hold my hand, to touch my arm, to press his knee against mine as we sat together. He called me his queen and dropped comments about taking me back to his country with him, carefully watching my face to see how I would react. He could read me like a book and knew things about me that I couldn't put into words myself. The first time he pulled me into his arms and placed his hand on my waist, my entire being exploded into a firework display of fear and longing that I had never experienced before.

Things unraveled fast. My heart, filled with anxiety and brought up in the era of kissing dating goodbye, tried desperately to keep him at arm's length while I feverishly laid the "perfect husband" template over everything he said and did. Annoyed that he wanted to move the conversation from "maybe dating" to getting married in the space of a few short weeks, I didn't realize that I was doing the same thing, both of us in our first dating relationship and unable to handle the tornadoes of hope and hormones that raged inside us. Over and over, I told him to slow down, back off, go away; and over and over he came back, pleading, pressuring, poking me into anger just to get me to react to him. Finally, hiding behind my parents' firm disapproval, I called the whole thing off, informing him there was no way to bring our strong and opposing personalities into a relationship.

I have never sensed pain in another human being at the level that I sensed it in his heart when I told him my decision. He tried to convince me that it was all a fling, that he never cared for me the way I thought he did, but it wasn't true. I, too, knew things about him that he couldn't put into words himself; and I knew that his last desperate whisper when I reached up to fix his coat collar - "I want you to do that every day for the rest of my life" - was spoken from a place too deep for lies to grow. I wrote to my best friend the next day and cried, "I feel like I just cut his arm off with a chainsaw."

He left for Christmas break. I stayed home in my snowy town, taking long walks in bitter winds to cool the raging confusion and anger that burned in my heart. And I told myself the same lies that he had told me. It was all a fling. I never cared for him the way he thought I did.

***

Just like Jo's rejection in Little Women spurred Laurie to look at Amy with new eyes and see the way things should have been all along, so my friend went to spend his Christmas holidays with a beautiful girl whom he had known since they were children. As he poured out his sorrows to her, things started to rearrange themselves in his heart; and he realized that the girl who had waited for him for so many years was really the one who deserved his love after all. Christmas worked its magic, and before he came back to school, they were engaged.

I told him I was happy for him, and at first, I was. But on the early-spring evening that he waited for everyone else to go home so he could come stand by my desk and show me his fiancee's picture, he finally looked me in the eye and told me that I had been right. It was not all a cruel joke. Everything he said about falling in love with my character, being impressed by my humility, cherishing the way I love and care for others, holding my purity and modesty in high regard - all of that was true. And he confessed that, on that last evening when I had fought with every intuitive and empathic power in me to pry away his careless mask and see the truth he buried deep inside, everything I had confronted him with was true. He was lonely, and he was wounded, and he did love me in some frantic, imperfect way.

After he put his phone back in his pocket and went home, I was left sitting in an empty, sun-soaked office, wondering what I had done - and what I had lost. Why had he finally come to tell me the truth? Was he truly a manipulative Mr. Collins who showed me his heart to triumph in my fresh pain, the way my sister and spiritual mentor insisted he was? Or was he the broken, lonely, imperfect but holy and faithful man I thought he was in the beginning, trying to break the news to me gently in some clumsy concern for my heart? Were we really too strong-headed and dissimilar to have figured things out, the way my parents and mentors insisted we were? Or did I let my anxiety push me into giving up on something beautiful?

***

I will probably never know the answer to these questions; and in a few short months, I will no longer allow myself to ask them. But whatever the thing was that we burned down, some beautiful things have begun to grow in the ashes.

For one thing, I have seen myself in a completely new way and learned things about myself that I couldn't have learned any other way. I learned more about what I really want in my future relationships. My friend wanted me as a wife because I was a fellow Christian grad student whom he thought could help and support him in his doctoral journey - a normal and fine thing to hope, but also lacking the element of partnership and mutual growth that I am seeking in my future marriage. I am a woman full of dreams and ideas and desires for adventure, and I want a husband who will support my growth and development just as much as I support his. My friend never mentioned my growth or betterment once when we were together - only after he was already engaged.

I also learned how important it is to find a boyfriend who values purity as much as I do. Both of us were strongly attracted to each other and desperately wanted to touch and hold each other; but in many ways, even though he couldn't stop himself from emotionally diving headlong into our relationship, my friend had more physical self-control than I did. He knew when to stand at a distance to talk with me, when to reject my requests for a hug, and also when the time was okay to flirt and touch because we were in a public place. I didn't experience the overwhelming level of temptation that I expected to, but I learned that I still need practice to get in tune with when it is and isn't safe to express affection through touch.

And lastly, I learned that it's time to start making my own decisions about my life, and not to keep making my parents make decisions for me, like I'm still a child. I'm turning 30 years old this year, yet I still almost frantically pleaded with them to tell me whether or not I should date my friend. Ultimately, even though my decision was informed by my own anxieties and frustrations, I still used my parents' wishes to shield me - not brave enough to own the decision as my own. It's one thing for me to honor my parents' wishes and seek to make them proud with my actions, but it's another for a grown woman to make her parents choose the direction of her life.

***

I've received a fellowship to work as a science journalism intern in Washington, D.C. this summer. I will be embarking soon on a real adventure - living alone for the first time, living in a metropolitan area, and getting my first real experience in the profession I have chosen. Soon, this brief and painful chapter will be far behind me. My friend will be a married man, and I will be launching out into the dreams that God has given me.

But I wanted to record the story here, because it was both too powerful and too mundanely predictable to seal away in silence forever. None of our classmates can ever know, but someone must. I have been loved; I have been desired and pursued. I have been held, and I have wept in sorrow and anger, and I have seen those same tears reflected in another's eyes. No matter the outcome, I am richer and stronger for this experience, and I pray that he is, too.

Lord, give me the bravery to carry this secret and to plant seeds of grace and love in its ashes, so that I can greet his new wife with grace, embrace their children with sincere love, and nourish their relationship as a sister and a loving friend.

Reinvented

I am alive.

I am so alive ... so full of plans and dreams. It's been such a wonderful year.

I have seen beautiful places.

I have met incredible people who have lit fires inside me.

And I am now learning how to keep those fires burning as they move on to the next part of their journeys.

I have done things I never dreamed I would.

I am asking questions I have never had to ask before - and I am being asked to answer questions that will define who I am for the next decade of my life.

I have met real journalists and real scholars who have encouraged me to keep running down the path of my dreams and to keep using the gifts and strengths that God has given me, and I am so excited to see where that path leads.

I am not the person I was a year ago.

Sometimes, I see things - places, people, journal entries - that remind me of the old bitterness, and it still hurts. But it doesn't hurt as much, and it doesn't hurt in the same way. Now I can see the part that I played in the failures that changed my life's course. I can see that I was unhealthily selfish, demanding, and unrealistic in my relationship with the man I thought I loved. Today, I'm not sure I ever loved him at all - I think I wanted him to be and do something for me that I couldn't do for myself.

I can see that what I thought were personal attacks and backstabbing by mentors I trusted was, in fact, a simple failure in communication - a misunderstanding by each of us of what the other needed to grow. I still get angry at the system that demands so many late nights and tears from its students, but I no longer blame the instructors. They were trying to teach me and guide me in the best way they knew how.

And today, I have teachers who understand me, who point out my (many!) weaknesses and shortcomings constructively, and who help me grow into the woman I should be.

I am a woman now. I am stronger, more ambitious, more curious, and more determined than I have ever been in my life.

I am asking God hard questions. I have had some pretty hard failures and fallen into some pretty serious sin-pits during the last year; but I have tried to look to Him in faith and trust Him to forgive me, to teach me, and above all, to continue loving me more deeply than I could ever imagine.

I ask the Holy Spirit to sustain my desire for His will and His glory above my own. I plead with God to work His will in my life whether I am happy and comfortable or not. I desire Him to shine through me, even when I don't understand what He is doing.

These are desires that will lead me into breathtaking depths where I have never gone before. I am terrified. But I am terribly excited.

***

I have not stopped writing over the last year, nor have I given up on my love of blogging - I've set it aside for a while to concentrate on classes and work, and also taken some of my former blogging time to use for other things, like working out. I've focused a lot this year on getting stronger, physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually, by going to the gym, talking more with mentors online and in person, and boosting my prayer life. Some of my ongoing challenges are making myself start going to church (the perennial struggle, grr), spending more time in the Word, learning how to set boundaries in personal relationships, and taking better care of myself in the areas of food and sleep.

I think I've mentioned it before, but I am an active member of the NerdFitness online community, and I have not only been microblogging there for the last year, but I also post more regular daily updates and goal progress - you are more than welcome to come check me out there and enjoy some pretty good stories, if I may say so.  :-)  My latest installment is just getting started, and there are links to previous chapters in my signature line.

And last month, I created a Wordpress blog that I am working on getting online ... no promises that I will keep it up regularly, but once it's up and I think I will actually keep it up, I will post the link here.  :-) 

***

I miss you guys terribly and I hope to be back in touch soon ... also, if it helps, I have not been one of those evil bloggers who comes back from a year-long absence with a husband and a cross-country move and a new hair color!  ;-)  I'm still the same me, living in the same apartment, going to the same school and still quite single!

I hope to be back in touch with more concrete updates before classes start in a few weeks - I realize that I said essentially nothing in this post, so I will try not to leave you hanging!!

All my love,

Vicki

loss, then discovery

There is a pattern throughout literature that more closely resembles real life than we sometimes realize, and that is the pattern of "loss, then discovery".

Every rags-to-riches story begins this way. The hero or heroine loses something terribly precious - often a family member or other loved one, sometimes a home or a job, sometimes a dream. Whatever it may be, the Lukes and Annes and Jos and Janes are hit with a terrible loss that shakes them to their core ... and then, something beautiful and mighty softly flows into their open, defenseless hands.

A dusty old lightsaber hits a work-worn palm. A new love springs from the ashes of death. A fresh dream is softly planted by a gentle word. The morning of hope, as our Father foretold, follows the darkness of night.

***

A day still does not go by that I don't feel the bitter pain of my messy separation from my clinical graduate program. I don't know why it continues to hurt or when it will go away, but I suspect my fellow INFP friend was right when she said it was because I've never lost anything before. I've never had a close family member die, never been rejected, and certainly never poured so much of myself into something that would end in failure.

But you see ... that day that I hid under the stairwell and wept for two hours? That only felt like the end. Just like my favorite literary characters, I was really just being dragged into the place where my story could finally begin.

***

I spent most of the summer regaining my bearings. My job started as a safe place to land for a while - the old editor was a good friend of mine; the new editor is a peaceful, ambling man who puts no pressure on me; and some of the oldest employees there have known me since I was born. I thought I was protecting myself from the inevitable pain of the past and the future - yes, I had another graduate program as my upcoming destination, but for the summer, I was going to hide behind my big desk and quietly write nice little articles for nice little publications.

Well, that plan started to fall through when my new editor somehow started believing that I was a really, really gifted writer. As in, good enough that he said so to my face, to my older team members, and finally to the department head herself. My little articles gave way to bigger articles, then stories for small magazines, then out-of-town multimedia assignments.

My shattered self-confidence didn't know what to expect from any of this; but to my surprise, I not only handled it easily, but I kept getting better. I have gone from meekly penning informational releases, to crafting feature stories with flair and even humor. Next week, I will be the official media coordinator for my first statewide event.

My editor was my mentor, pushing a lightsaber into my hands and telling me to let the Force flow through me ... and somehow, I did.

***

And would you believe that this is all still just backstory?

The biggest breakthrough of all happened just after John and Heather and I moved. I was in a terrible haze of anxiety and nerves and didn't know up from down; and one day, my mom said, "Have you ever considered transferring to study in the department where you're working?"

I think I mumbled "No, not really".

She said, "Well, why don't you? Consider it, I mean. Meet with the graduate coordinator next week and just talk to him."

"About what?" I asked.

"Writing, you goof," she replied.

So I did. I went and talked to him about writing ... for two hours. Then we talked again, about educational writing. And then we talked again about Star Trek and Irish pubs and nontraditional education (homeschooling!) and theories of communication and how to use words to change people's lives.

"Please apply," he said. "You need to be here. You need to be with us so we can help you and support you. Please, please apply. We want you. I want you."

So I'm applying.

I, the scatterbrained failure, the old child who can't find a place for herself, am going to research better ways to get informational articles and materials to people who need them. I'm going to write. I'm going to take journalism classes. I'm going to keep reading and learning from the great communicators and storytellers around me. I'm going to take this incredible gift - this gift of writing that I've carried nonchalantly around on my hip all these years - and finally, truly learn how to use it, how to become a powerful communicator who can help get knowledge to people who need it.

***

I don't know what the next step will be - I haven't the faintest idea what God has in store. But for now, I'm just content to know that He isn't finished with me yet!

My biggest ongoing challenge is to not be so engrossed in self-discovery that I neglect God's teaching and wisdom. Everything has happened so fast and surprised me so much that I spend a lot of time staring at my published articles or my face on the department website and marveling that I could find myself in such a place; but I need to keep looking forward, not get stuck looking around or inward.

The past continues to be a stumbling block for me, too. I still have a great deal of bitterness festering in my heart that I'm not sure how to get rid of. But I know I have to get it rooted out now, so it doesn't taint the excitement and hard work of the next chapter of my story.

The solution, of course, to stop looking in the wrong places is to look in the right place - toward the Word of God and toward seeking His face. I desperately want His blessing and His working in every second of the upcoming years, but I need to reflect that desire in my prayer life and devotions. I pray that He would increase my desire to know who He wants me to be, and especially Who He is.

***

I pray that the Lord would sharpen me into a vessel of His grace, and that He would write in my life a story of hope that will inspire others to keep trusting Him and not give up on His loving plan!!

What about you? Has God been creating any surprises in your life? Tell me about them so I can rejoice with you!!

~ Vicki

quick thought: non-creepy evangelism?

I knowwww, I can't just say "by the way, my whole life is turned upside down" and then not follow up on it right away ... but I have allotted myself exactly 11 minutes to blog before I have to go do stats homework, so I can only drop a quick thought today.

I just finished eating dinner at a little study table on the top floor of our student union. I didn't choose it for any particular reason; it was open, so I grabbed it. Shortly after I unwrapped my Jimmy John's Vegetarian sandwich, my Internet conked out and refused to reconnect. So, with a shrug, I closed my computer and settled in to enjoy my dinner in peace.

The next part was the providential part: Three young men sat down at the table behind me, and started holding a Bible study.

Two of the youths were very new believers, still stumbling over concepts like "take up your cross" and "count the cost" (although what believer, young or old, doesn't stumble over those concepts sometimes!!). The older young man guided them gently with questions and allowed them to sit a moment after their "ooohh, I get it" moments. I firmly believe that God knocked out my Internet so I could listen to their study.

The theme was boldly speaking about Christ in daily life. My blood immediately ran cold - this is one of the deepest areas of struggle in my life. I try to model Christlike behavior; I will write and write until I'm blue in the face about my journey following Christ; but speaking about Him with my mouth chokes me up and makes me sick to my stomach. It is certainly good old unadorned fear, but it is also partly a reluctance to speak about something so sacred to me - just as I trip and choke over conversations about men whom I love or very close friends. I don't have words eloquent enough to do them justice - even less so my Christ.

But the youths' study gently reminded me that fear is not an option when it comes to witnessing. We won't get a pass for being shy or afraid to speak about Him. He will be ashamed of me if I am ashamed of Him. And too often ... I am.

BUT, but but but, this leads me to my ultimate question: How do you ladies talk about Jesus in your daily lives? 

After I used 20 seconds of courage to stop and thank them for letting me listen in, I came downstairs and saw a young lady sitting by herself on a bench, and my first thought was OHMYGOODNESSIMUSTEVANGELIZEHER. However, the thought of unsolicitedly approaching someone sitting by themselves reminded me too much of the cult missionaries who always ambush me when I'm sitting or walking alone. The apostles did a bit of that, but only when they sensed an opening, like with the Ethiopian eunuch - typically, they were much more likely to either talk about Jesus as part of their normal interpersonal interactions, or else stand on the rooftops and proclaim Him and take questions from the crowds.

So I wonder - what does evangelism look like for you? Are you so in love with Him that you talk about Him easily, freely, beautifully? Or are you more like me, stumbling a bit over self-consciousness and crowd-pleasing tendencies?

(Drat, 11 minutes is up ... more about my crazy life to follow, after statistics ...)

uprooted

Ladies and gentlemen, I would like you to meet my new baby, Legolas.

Legolas is an unidentified species of green plant that I bought the other day, and he has proudly and officially become the guardian of my new home. He is quite the handsome gentleman and performs his job admirably.

And the real news, of course, is that I have moved.  :-)  For a week and a half, I have successfully adulted in my very own apartment and I love, love, love it.

It was very difficult at first - easily the hardest transition I've ever made. I am very thankful that John and Heather moved with me and we're all living together; because for the first few nights, I don't know if I would have eaten or changed clothes or done any self-care at all. I have never felt so foundationless and primally disturbed. It was like my entire self had somehow fallen out of the bottom of one of my boxes and disappeared. I would come home from work and just wander - pick things up and put them back down, go into the kitchen, leave the kitchen, go to clean things up in my room but wander back out again - always burdened by an eerie feeling that I needed to do something, but never quite sure what I needed to do - and certainly not able to finish anything I started.

But ... I'm better now.  :-)

***

Things are much quieter and more relaxed with just the three of us. Much less stuff, currently much less work. Laundry is a problem - the machines in our building are incredibly expensive and ridiculously slow, so last week we got so behind that we had to haul our overstuffed hamper back to Mom and Dad's and use their machines. We have since acquired some drying racks, and I'm going to do a load or two tonight so I don't get so behind again.

My favorite thing about the move so far is very small - I like being able to sit with the patio door open for a few hours every evening while the sun goes down, without upsetting anyone's allergies. I know, so prosaic! But fresh air and sunshine have always been really important to my mental health, and I could never leave the windows open for long at home because my family has such bad allergies. It has done wonders for my spirit to be able to welcome the evening into my home.

***

There is a lot going on in my life right now, so much that I'm not sure how to summarize it ... I'm afraid I've done much too much self-reflection lately and not enough seeking God's face and God's will, so I'm not seeing things in the perspective I ought, either.

Basically, when I uprooted myself from my home, it seems that God was quietly and dramatically uprooting some other things, too - my educational plans, my career plans, and the way I see myself as a person. I'm going to talk about it all in another post soon, but the gist of it is that I'm trying to courageously use the talents God has given me, while avoiding the opposing pitfalls of paralyzing fear and self-obsession. It's a very delicate balance, and the path ahead is incredibly murky; but I know that my Father is holding my hand, and that He knows where He is taking me. And regardless of what my emotions tell me, I know that's all I need to know.

***

What about you? Are you being uprooted in any areas lately? How are you handling the aftermath - can you see yet what's being planted?

(Also, I love you and I've missed you during my absence!!)

~ Vicki

i will wait for love

Over the last week or so, quietly, inexplicably, I have found myself stepping back from my one-sided relationship of the last year, and looking at it.

And silently, I have admitted to myself that it wasn't as pretty of a thing as I thought it was.

I know, they never are; but the real ones, the ones that are going to last, have a strength to them that holds together all the messiness and gives them shape - a solid skeleton under the uneven, shaky, imperfect tissue that knits together the "one flesh".

This one was like a skeleton with osteoporosis. Much too fragile to stand up to the weight and blows of daily life ... because only one of us was building, and I was building haphazardly and without proper materials. It was doomed from the beginning, just like he said it was.

***

He didn't respect me or my judgment. He frequently told me - and others - that I was scatterbrained, unreliable, inconsistent, and confusing. He called me condescending names, questioned my decisions, and said he liked it when I got angry or jealous because it reassured him that I was human.

In turn, I tried to use him as a security blanket when he didn't want to be. I placed selfish demands on him by seeking attention and support when he was already fighting stress and worry; I got peevish and angry when he didn't drop everything to tend to my needs; and I tried to shame him into conforming to the ideal I had built in my head for him.

Yes, I really was that ugly. And so was he.

That's not to say that it wasn't a very special, important relationship while it lasted. God let us find each other so that we would each have someone to lean on during the pain we went through last year - my rejection and failures, his insecurities and fear. When I was able to put aside my own needs and really listen to him, and when he was able to put aside his standoffishness and really listen to me, each of us was the support and understanding that the other needed.

But while that would have been a great start for a lasting relationship, it wasn't enough to sustain it. A relationship that lasts must be built on respect, trust, selfless care, and ultimately, a desire to serve and exalt God together. Because he didn't respect me, and I didn't trust him, and because neither of us could let go of our selfish wishes for the relationship (me to warm it up, him to cool it down), it could not survive.

***

As one of my dear friends said, the good thing to come out of this relationship is that now I know I can love - which I had strongly doubted in the past. I loved him very imperfectly, it's true; but if love is the genuine desire for someone's well-being and the willingness to sacrifice for that well-being, then I did love him. For every time I caved to my pounding heart and shot him a bothersome text, there were three or four times that I pushed the phone away and left him alone. His grades and reputation were huge motivators in how hard I worked on our joint projects. And when I could make him laugh and forget about his troubles for a moment, I felt like the most powerful and successful woman in the world.

I'm not going to try to love him in this way anymore. I've made sure, the last two times I've seen him, to let him know that he can come to me anytime he wants to vent or take a break from school, and I have genuinely meant it - not as a ploy to get him to go out with me. Now he knows it; and with that promise successfully tucked in his pocket, I can leave and freely explore the big world opening up ahead of me.

I hope - I really do hope - that he will call me back every so often. I hope I can stop by his office and sit with him in the afternoon again sometime. I hope, someday, he'll give me that hug that he never quite did. But I'm not going to chase after it anymore. Love that is not freely offered is not love at all.

***

I continue to hope that, somewhere along my journey, I find a tall, brown-eyed Jesus lover who welcomes me into his heart with warmth and understanding - someone who values and cherishes me, who looks at me with pride, not disgust. I pray that there is a man who will grow stronger and bolder when I shyly hand him my heart, who will allow me to add my strengths to his and to gently pour compassion into his weaknesses. I pray that there is a man who will raise up children with me, loving and protecting them as precious gifts from God.

I have caught a tiny glimpse of what love can be, and I see now that it is worth wanting and worth waiting for. And whether I am ever allowed to step fully into its light, I now know that the love of my friends and their husbands is worth supporting, nurturing, and protecting as a friend, not something to be feared or sneered at. Any pain or disappointment I have felt over this past year has been completely worth it, if I have truly learned this lesson.

After all - "for love is from God; and everyone who loves is born of God and knows God (1 John 4:7)". May I always value and protect this most precious gift.

snippets of real life

It's another cool, rainy Independence Day in my part of the Midwest, and I am relaxing in the softest of workout clothes with my cold feet propped up on one of the bins that is packed and ready to move to my new apartment.

Not that I'm ready, of course - quite the opposite. I am one month away from the big day, and realizing with terror that, in addition to calling banks and Internet companies to notify them of my new address, I need to hurry up and get my life's possessions into some semblance of order so I can drag them into my dad's truck and lug them up the stairs of my new home. I need to start mapping out my floor plan so I can see what other furniture I need besides a futon, a bed, and some chairs. And I need to make those all-important budgeting, cleaning, laundry, and cooking plans so I don't wake up one morning and realize that life has gone to seed in my mental absence.

One of my (much, much younger) friends grinned at me all through that litany of worries, and when I asked what was funny, he laughed and said "Now, look at you being all grown up!"

Funny words coming from a virtual child, but he's right.  :-)  I have a lot on my mind lately - besides moving, I want to celebrate my 15-pound weight loss by learning to lift weights and eat more healthfully. I joined the email list of NerdFitness.com this week, and I'm going to call the gym tomorrow and get a consultation with a personal trainer to help me start properly. I look slimmer on the outside, but I'd love to improve my strength and energy levels on the inside, too.

Spiritually, I have two areas that I need to work on right now ... the first is continuing to heal from my anger and bitterness over what happened during the school year. I was feeling low yesterday and started to throw a pity party about it again, but was quickly cut short by a "Vicki? Get over it. It's over, it's done with, no one cares anymore. You need to grow up and suck it up and move on. Get your head in the present." I was shocked and initially hurt; but I realized that she was right. There is a season for healing, but just as with a sprain or scar tissue, it's important to keep exercising and moving while I heal, not just sit and mope and expect to get better. So I'm trying hard to embrace my new direction and only think about last year when I have to, and then dwell on the positive parts, not the negatives.

My other spiritual task is to simply remember how much God loves me, and to remember that I love Him. This sounds simplistic; but after spending time recently with a dear friend who simply radiates and showers the peaceful love of God everywhere she goes, it made me take a hard look at my own shadowy heart and realize that I have been falling back on relating to Him through fear and shame, not love. In time, journeying back to peace must include greater self-discipline in guarding my devotion time and spending more time in prayer; but for now, I'm trying to let go of the guilty weight that says "you're not good enough" and respond with a breath of "you're right, I'm not - but He is, and He loves me and has chosen me".

And lastly, you may have noticed (*ahem* or they may not, you self-absorbed thing) that I removed several of my more personal posts regarding the guy friend. This is part of the moving-on process, too. I miss him and think of him every day; but standing and hanging wistfully over my balcony with baited breath will not bring him back. It's time for me to accept that if he wants to be part of my life, he will make an effort to do so - he knows he is more than welcome. But I can't keep looking back over my shoulder and wondering if he's coming or not. Life is too short to keep going back and reading a closed chapter over and over - I need to focus on writing this one carefully, prayerfully, and with all my heart; and I can't do that if I'm living in the dreams of the past.

***

I have a busy second half of the summer ahead of me, as you can see - and I haven't even mentioned the other everyday things like work, shopping, new babies, weddings, and travel! Lots of things are changing quickly and it's hard to keep up at times, and I'm definitely noticing the effects and aftereffects of stress on my body; but the changes are toward better days and I am excited for what the fall semester will hold.

What's changing in your life these days? Are you riding the waves and catching some sun ... or flailing underneath your overturned surfboard ... or like me, clinging to the board for dear life as the waves smash over my head?  :-)

Hugs and love and lots of summer sunshine and cookouts and fireflies to you, my dears!!

~ Vicki

life is {often} beautiful

{{mom's glorious roses!!}}

Today was my fourth day without feeling anxious or fretful, and it has been glorious.

I woke up on Monday after another fretful night of restless dreams, and my first thought, as always, was of the guy friend and what lies ahead for us - followed shortly afterward with weary thoughts about work and nervous thoughts about the research projects that are coming up quickly. I thought of my friend who had just lost her baby, another whose son just left the NICU, a friend who is very ill and could die. The elections are weird, the news is depressing, life is heavy and exhausting. For weeks, my mind has been closed down with a dark fog of fear, worry, obsessive thinking, and dragging depression - as has, sadly, been quite evident in my blogging.

But Monday afternoon, I picked up a biography of J.R.R. Tolkien, and lost myself in his rich descriptions of war, Christianity, mythology, and the great spiritual battle of the universe; and when I emerged, the fog had cleared and my pounding heart had calmed.

I am a dreamer, a wielder of imagination; and I want to use my power for brightness and holiness, not darkness and fear. I want to be like Tolkien - clear-sighted and realistic, but remembering that ultimate victory is assured and Light will finally win out over darkness; and for that reason, I should always have hope.

***

Work is going beautifully. They think I hung the moon, and I'm not arguing.

The research project may not even happen, if all goes as I hope.

The guy friend and I are still talking occasionally. Audacious, stupid hope still blooms alongside the deep-rooted certainty that all will be well no matter what happens.

The precious baby whom my friend thought she had lost? He LIVES by God's grace and his life-journey is just beginning.

The little guy who just left the NICU is hearty and growing and nursing.

The friend who could die walked from the hospital to his own car this afternoon.

***

Things can and do go badly and our wishes can be crushed, certainly. People and dreams do die. And the fog and weight of anxiety and depression can cloud and pull down the best of us no matter how hopeful we may be inside.

But sometimes it's easy to feel like God's will is this inexorable, iron machine that is going to march forward and crush our wishes and hopes underneath it unless we make sure we're marching in its direction. And that's not a truthful picture of how our God works. His will is ultimately inexorable, but He is no heartless tank driver; He is our loving Father who leads, carries, or lovingly drags us along the path toward being changed into the image of His Son. He knows that we are fragile, frightened, and terribly limited in what we can understand; but He doesn't roll His eyes in frustration and shove us forward along the rocks, He puts His arms underneath us and helps us walk, and soothes our fears with the promise that He will get us home safely.

Father, I'm sorry for helping to dig myself into a pit of fear and not turning my eyes upward to You - thank You for freeing me from the darkness, and thank You that You will do so when I fall in again, and again, and again. Thank you for the sunshine and hope that You have set before each of us, and thank You for winning the victory over darkness and sin!

and forgive us our trespasses

***

To forgive.

Who would know that it would take me until I was almost 30 to learn what it means to forgive?

For more than a month, I have tried to pretend that I didn't need to forgive. I have tried to pretend that I was only hurt, wounded, vulnerable, and sad - not angry. After all, I'm the nice one. The sweet-tempered one who never, ever gets angry.

Well ... I've been angry.

I have felt wronged, betrayed, and abandoned; and I have wanted to hurt them in return. I have cloaked a desire for revenge in a pretentious desire for justice. And I have stored up bitter words and actions that I have desperately longed to spew out in an acid rain shower for all to see.

Yes, certainly I have been hurt and vulnerable. But I have also been angry.

I have been holding onto this anger even past the point when I knew I shouldn't, because I convinced myself I was going to fight for some kind of justice. I told myself I was going to channel my anger to make change, to stand up for the poor defenseless students coming after me who were going to be subjected to the deception, unfairness, and harshness that I endured. Well, I still would like to do that; but - was it really for the students that I wanted to stand up and make a ruckus? Or was it really for myself, to stand up and shout to the world that I had been cheated and wronged?

***

It's time to let go.

"Forgive" is defined by the Webster-Merriam Online Dictionary as "to give up resentment of, or claim to requital for". Easton's Bible Dictionary defines "forgiveness", in reference to God's forgiveness of a sinner, as being absolved from condemnation and removed from guilt and liability.

So forgiving my professors means not being angry anymore, and it means ceasing to believe I should be repaid for the wrong they did me.

I am not going to look back at those painful days and sleepless nights and let my blood boil anymore. I am going to say: I am a fallen sinner just like the people who hurt me, and I need forgiveness just as much as they do, for offenses just as bad against others. I am not better than they are. This was God's will for me, and He never allows me to pass through pain for no reason - He will bring blessings and good fruit out of the dug-up places in my heart, as long as I raise my hands to the rain and say "Behold the handmaid of the Lord; be it unto me according to thy word".

I'm not going to look for ways to "make them pay". I'm not going to keep expecting someone to admit they were wrong and apologize. I am going to "accept the apology that was never offered". And I'm going to allow the Lord to gently close that chapter of my life as He sees fit, and stop dragging my heels and looking back over my shoulder, like Lot's wife.

***

I want to be mighty. 

I want to be strong and active and courageous, full of righteous power. I want to be the Christian equivalent of Luke Skywalker - I want to do hard things, deny myself, and actively fight against darkness and sin in myself and the world.

Luke Skywalker forgave. Luke Skywalker didn't go after Darth Vader to seek revenge for all of the horrible things that he had done to him; he went after Darth Vader to rescue him from the spiral of destruction that had trapped him for so many years.

And I look higher and even more importantly: Jesus forgave. Jesus Christ could have righteously punished the earth and destroyed us with the death we all deserved, but He didn't. He forgave us long before we asked. He loved us when we were completely vile and hideously deformed with sin. And He allowed Himself to be punished as though He were vile and deformed with sin, instead of us.

Who am I to hold a grudge, when I have been forgiven so much? And how do I think I can grow and get stronger if I'm letting anger and bitterness shrivel me up?

***

Well, I'm done shriveling now.

I'm done being angry. All of the professors, all of the administrators: I forgive you. I love you. I truly want the best for you. And I truly believe that God wants the best for you and me and all of us.

I forgive. Therefore, I am free.