So the plan was to go to the University of Iowa, get an English degree from the most amazing schools for English majors in the country, meet my future husband, and live happily ever after. It was a great plan.
The best way to make God laugh is to tell him your plans.
Turns out, there is no reciprocity between Iowa and Nebraska as far as tuition goes, and no mercy for the little college girl with big dreams that her parents can't afford. I was $17,600 short for the year and couldn't get a loan--yes, I was willing to go into that kind of debt for this kind of school! I came to this realization last Friday morning, and as if to confirm the impossibility of life at that moment, my car, my Ford Tauris named Arwen who has served me so faithfully for four and a half years, clicked and grinded and breathed her last that afternoon. And thus, for the first time since Kindergarden, I shall be taking a year off of school. I am devistated. I know, I'm wierd. But I'm okay with that.
But I'll be doing something else for the first time since Kindergarden: moving. With or without school, I'm still moving to Iowa, where I shall be living in an apartment for the first time in my life, out on my own for the first time in my life, and working full time for the first time in my life (eww!). However, without classes, I'll have the time to read and write on a scale that I have never been able to achieve before. (I'm working really hard to focus on the bright side right now!) And hey, after finding a new church (since I'm leaving my old one behind in Nebraska... *sob* does a church fit in the trunk of a Cavelier?), the Future Husband plan isn't totally out of the question, right?
I'm stepping into a whole new world... and no, not just because it's Iowa, but that is a pretty large factor. And I have NO CLUE what I'm doing. It's new and it's scary and it's not what I wanted, but you know what? God know's what He's doing. Even though it sure as heck doesn't look like it now. Sometimes I swear he suddenly got really busy and forgot that he was supposed to get me through college, but I know that that's not the kind of God I serve. He has plans to prosper me and not to harm me, plans to give me hope and a future. Christ came that I may have life, and have it to the fullest. And while that's tough to believe as I face full time employment and no school (since when is 40 hours a week to pay the bills "life to the fullest"?), it's something God promised me. Looking back at where I've been, it's the times that I leaned on nothing but belief in Him that I was best off. Every time I tried to trust something else, it only got me in trouble.
So God, I sure hope You know what You're doing! I trust You. Move in a way that I've never seen before!
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Mixed Messages
The Bible tells us that we are Christ's ambassadors to the world (2 Corinthians 5:20), that we are His witnesses (Acts 1:8). Everything that we do should be for His glory (1 Corinthians 10:31).
If you know me at all, then you've heard me complain about my job. I'm a telephone interviewer, I do follow-up surveys for banks. It's a 3-4 minute survey about how the teller/employee treated you on your recent visit, and no matter how dorky some of the questions sound, a bunch of scientists worked really hard to create that survey and the bank is paying my company millions upon millions of dollars for me to ask them. I'm not selling anything at all, and I don't have access to your personal or account information.
However, I'm a faceless person on the phone, and since time is so precious to so many people, I don't even correct people when they think my name is Tracy or Kailey or even Terry instead of Kaycee, so I'm even a nameless person sometimes. I'm a voice at the other end of the phone, and after a long day of facing this stupid world, I'm a bright red emotional punching bag. I get people's sob stories, frustration, and anger hurled at me all night long at work.
My work-friend who sits behind me struggles with this as much as I do, and one time decided to do a little research of his own. He wrote down the numbers for the answering machines that had greetings like "Praise the Lord" and "God Bless" and such in them to try calling them back later instead of just tossing them back into the system for somebody else to try. You know what he found? When he called back and they answered, they were among the nastiest people he spoke to. He's disillusioned toward Christianity because he very rarely sees/hears Christians treat other people with dignity or respect, let alone love.
We are ambassadors and witnesses for Christ, and if EVERYTHING we do is to be for the glory of God. Why aren't we aware of the responsibility that we have? I may be just a faceless voice, I may be asking some boring and slightly redundant questions without a whole lot of emotion (if I get too excited, I get a call tag for "leading the respondent," I dislike speaking with that flat of a tone just as much if not more than you dislike hearing it), and maybe it has been a long day for you, but what if I'm not a believer? What if God sent your number to my terminal because he wanted to use you in my life? What if you blew that chance because you had a hard day at the office and I just didn't mean that much to you because you aren't looking me in the eye?
The cashier at the grocery store with unbearably long lines, the customer service employee for the company you're mad at, the new teller at the bank that you don't know or who made a mistake, the person who calls in the middle of your dinner (my apologies for not committing to memory the dinner schedules of every household in the country), all of those employees that you come in contact with are people whose souls are at stake. How are you representing Christ to those people? Not that you have to preach a salvation sermon to every single person you come in contact with (if you're called to do that, then more power to ya!), but the way you address people, the tone you use, the manner in which you carry yourself, all of it says something about the God you are representing. When you lash out at a faceless person or someone whose only place in your life is to provide some service because it's their job, you are either telling a lost person that God isn't the answer because a life for Christ is all talk but no love, or you are telling a saved person that they are just as alone as they feel half the time.
We serve a God who sent His Son to suffer death for us so we could be holy and blameless in His sight and be free from sin to openly have a personal relationship with Him. After we are saved, we are left here on this earth to be a statement, to be a testimony to God's immense, immeasurable love for us and for the rest of humanity. Is that the message that you're sending, or are you just another angry consumer?
If you know me at all, then you've heard me complain about my job. I'm a telephone interviewer, I do follow-up surveys for banks. It's a 3-4 minute survey about how the teller/employee treated you on your recent visit, and no matter how dorky some of the questions sound, a bunch of scientists worked really hard to create that survey and the bank is paying my company millions upon millions of dollars for me to ask them. I'm not selling anything at all, and I don't have access to your personal or account information.
However, I'm a faceless person on the phone, and since time is so precious to so many people, I don't even correct people when they think my name is Tracy or Kailey or even Terry instead of Kaycee, so I'm even a nameless person sometimes. I'm a voice at the other end of the phone, and after a long day of facing this stupid world, I'm a bright red emotional punching bag. I get people's sob stories, frustration, and anger hurled at me all night long at work.
My work-friend who sits behind me struggles with this as much as I do, and one time decided to do a little research of his own. He wrote down the numbers for the answering machines that had greetings like "Praise the Lord" and "God Bless" and such in them to try calling them back later instead of just tossing them back into the system for somebody else to try. You know what he found? When he called back and they answered, they were among the nastiest people he spoke to. He's disillusioned toward Christianity because he very rarely sees/hears Christians treat other people with dignity or respect, let alone love.
We are ambassadors and witnesses for Christ, and if EVERYTHING we do is to be for the glory of God. Why aren't we aware of the responsibility that we have? I may be just a faceless voice, I may be asking some boring and slightly redundant questions without a whole lot of emotion (if I get too excited, I get a call tag for "leading the respondent," I dislike speaking with that flat of a tone just as much if not more than you dislike hearing it), and maybe it has been a long day for you, but what if I'm not a believer? What if God sent your number to my terminal because he wanted to use you in my life? What if you blew that chance because you had a hard day at the office and I just didn't mean that much to you because you aren't looking me in the eye?
The cashier at the grocery store with unbearably long lines, the customer service employee for the company you're mad at, the new teller at the bank that you don't know or who made a mistake, the person who calls in the middle of your dinner (my apologies for not committing to memory the dinner schedules of every household in the country), all of those employees that you come in contact with are people whose souls are at stake. How are you representing Christ to those people? Not that you have to preach a salvation sermon to every single person you come in contact with (if you're called to do that, then more power to ya!), but the way you address people, the tone you use, the manner in which you carry yourself, all of it says something about the God you are representing. When you lash out at a faceless person or someone whose only place in your life is to provide some service because it's their job, you are either telling a lost person that God isn't the answer because a life for Christ is all talk but no love, or you are telling a saved person that they are just as alone as they feel half the time.
We serve a God who sent His Son to suffer death for us so we could be holy and blameless in His sight and be free from sin to openly have a personal relationship with Him. After we are saved, we are left here on this earth to be a statement, to be a testimony to God's immense, immeasurable love for us and for the rest of humanity. Is that the message that you're sending, or are you just another angry consumer?
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Jesus Pins at Wal Mart
At least half of my trips to Wal Mart have some component of emotional turmoil. If I'm angry after a long night at work, I go to Wal Mart. If I'm lonely, I go to Wal Mart. If I've tried on five outfits and don't like how I look in any of them, I go to Wal Mart. Any time I'm stressed out, depressed, or overwhelmed, I end up wandering the one place that has clothes, shoes, books, movies, art supplies, and chocolate all at the same time.
After wandering aimlessly for up to two hours (yes, there are easily two hours worth of things to look at in Wal Mart) and about twenty bucks later, it's time to check out. This usually occurs after a substantial amount of stalling. These Wal Mart trips are spent with my eyes down and taking detours that keep to the empty aisles, so the cashier is the only person that I have to face on these escapades.
Some of the cashiers at Wal Mart have lanyards that they use to display various pins. One in particular features a popular image of Christ with the words "Turn On the Light." I still have yet to find a male cashier wearing one of these pins, but the topic of male leadership in the modern church is for another blog post.
I've come to the conclusion that God uses these pins for me the same way a close friend uses hugs, but it's not the pins themselves. The women who wear these pins are almost always beaming with a bright and genuine joy, and they take an obvious interest in every single customer that passes through their lane. Their greeting isn't a muttered "Hi, how are you today?" because that's what they're supposed to say, but rather they really want to know how I am because they are interested in me as a person. They are willing to strike up conversation. They look at me like I'm a person with a life and a soul instead of a customer who needs to fork over x amount of money and get out of the store. Every single time that I walk out of Wal Mart after checking out with one of these women, my head is held higher, my eyes are up, and I can genuinely smile at the greeter on my way out.
I finally commented on the pin a while back while I was grabbing poster board for my Cubbie class. I had entered the store slightly frazzled, trying to make it from work to Cubbies on time while attempting to put aside the distracting thoughts of how alone I was in so many things. This particular cashier's smile got even wider. "I take it you know Him, then?" she asked excitedly. By the time I left, my eyes were up and I was reminded that I wasn't alone.
So this blog post is to the women at Wal Mart who refuse to hide their faith and insist on showing love to even the quiet college student who passes through their aisle. What if we all could show that kind of love to the strangers we encounter?
After wandering aimlessly for up to two hours (yes, there are easily two hours worth of things to look at in Wal Mart) and about twenty bucks later, it's time to check out. This usually occurs after a substantial amount of stalling. These Wal Mart trips are spent with my eyes down and taking detours that keep to the empty aisles, so the cashier is the only person that I have to face on these escapades.
Some of the cashiers at Wal Mart have lanyards that they use to display various pins. One in particular features a popular image of Christ with the words "Turn On the Light." I still have yet to find a male cashier wearing one of these pins, but the topic of male leadership in the modern church is for another blog post.
I've come to the conclusion that God uses these pins for me the same way a close friend uses hugs, but it's not the pins themselves. The women who wear these pins are almost always beaming with a bright and genuine joy, and they take an obvious interest in every single customer that passes through their lane. Their greeting isn't a muttered "Hi, how are you today?" because that's what they're supposed to say, but rather they really want to know how I am because they are interested in me as a person. They are willing to strike up conversation. They look at me like I'm a person with a life and a soul instead of a customer who needs to fork over x amount of money and get out of the store. Every single time that I walk out of Wal Mart after checking out with one of these women, my head is held higher, my eyes are up, and I can genuinely smile at the greeter on my way out.
I finally commented on the pin a while back while I was grabbing poster board for my Cubbie class. I had entered the store slightly frazzled, trying to make it from work to Cubbies on time while attempting to put aside the distracting thoughts of how alone I was in so many things. This particular cashier's smile got even wider. "I take it you know Him, then?" she asked excitedly. By the time I left, my eyes were up and I was reminded that I wasn't alone.
So this blog post is to the women at Wal Mart who refuse to hide their faith and insist on showing love to even the quiet college student who passes through their aisle. What if we all could show that kind of love to the strangers we encounter?
~ * ~
I've been talking a lot about identity in the past couple posts. Just in case some of you missed the memo, I have taken my ramblings on that topic and actually organized them and started up a separate blog. There was just so much to learn and too much to share that I wanted somewhere more focused to put it all. If you're interested, feel free to check it out here!!! You haven't missed much yet, and I'd be excited if you'd like to join me on my journey!
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Learning with my Cubbies
It really amazes me sometimes how much God can use my Cubbie class to teach me. When I first volunteered to teach the group of preschoolers at my church last year, I imagined that it would be more of a structured baby-sitting session with Bible stories in the hopes that the kids would remember something here and there to really learn what it means when they got older. Well, I learned last year that I was horribly mistaken. These kids could remember not only the stories, and not only could they regurgitate the verses back to us at the end of the night, but they remembered those verses. This year, there are six Cubbies in my class, and two of them have accepted Christ into their hearts this year! Praise Jesus!
But that's not all that I was wrong about when I took on this job. I assumed that I'd be chasing kids around and reading Bible stories that I've known since I was their age, and that would be the end of it. Well, when I broke up with my boyfriend and started seeing my counselor again, one of the first things we talked about was how I don't want to marry a bozo, but rather a Boaz. In the book of Ruth in the Bible, it tells the story of a young woman who lost her husband, but left her native land to stay with her mother-in-law to take care of her. In her mother-in-law's land, Ruth quickly became known as a loving woman of strong character. Boaz, a successful man who loved God and was an upstanding man in his community, took note of her. They fell in love and got married, and from that marriage came the line that would later include King David. On Valentines Day this year, I was fighting to keep busy and distract myself from "Singles Awareness Day," as I faced yet another V-Day Invasion alone. I opened up the Cubbie lesson to prepare to teach, and lo and behold, the story I'd be teaching was Ruth and Boaz.
Another thing that several people in my life have been working on (and encouraging me as I work on as well) has been identity. I've been going through all of these things that God thinks of those who follow Him and trying to grasp what all of it means for just me, and this week's Cubbie lesson was about Heaven. So as I tried to wrap my head around who I am in Christ and what God thinks of me, I was coloring a poster about Heaven with my Cubbies. "What do you think will be in Heaven?" Most of them got pretty excited about beautiful flowers and butterflies, green grass, blue sky, mountains, God and Jesus, and all of the things they thought would be in Heaven, chattering about their drawings so that I would know what the sprawls of color all over the paper were. We talked about how the only way to get to Heaven is through Jesus, because everybody sins, but Jesus died to pay for that sin so that we can spend forever in Heaven with God. The Bible verse was John 14:2: I go to prepare a place for you.
Jesus died for my disrespect, for my vandalism of God's temple, for my carelessness in my romantic relationship, for my apathy, for my disbelief, for my idolatry. Jesus gave His life to pay for all of that because He loved me. And right now, He's in Heaven where the grass is green and the sky is blue and there are flowers and butterflies and mountains, and He's preparing a special place in the house of God just for me.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Identity
I've been thinking a lot about identity lately. There's a lot to think about there. Who am I? Who is anyone? What makes me different from anyone? You know the saying, "You are unique, just like everyone else." Which side of that contradictory statement triumphs: you are unique, or you are just like everyone else? I refuse to believe that I'm just like everyone else, so then how am I unique? How do you judge who you are? If who you are is not based upon what you do or how you look, then what is it based off of? What you like? What you achieve? What you believe? How much you confuse people with deep questions in a single blog post?
I have an identity in Christ. I'm the daughter of the King of Kings, who created me, has a plan for my life, and loves me so much that He died for me so that I can spend eternity with Him. That's a huge part of my identity, because it's my existence. It's how I was created, what I was created for. But the part that I struggle with is that identity belongs to every single person who has trusted Christ as their Savior and follows Him. That goes for the "just like everyone else" side.
So I went to a girls' night with a couple of ladies from my church, and it turns out I'm definitely not the only one who has been thinking about identity. I mentioned this conflict that I've been having, and one of them commented that God created me with an artistic talent (personally I think I have more passion than talent, but warm fuzzies are always good!), and I use that to His glory, and that is part of my identity.
What if our identity then is what we focus our lives upon? Then who we are isn't what we do necessarily, it's not completely what we accomplish, and it's only what we look like if that's where our focus is. I focus my life on Christ (or try to at least), so part of my identity is the personal relationship that I have with Him as my Savior, my Lord, my Abba. I focus on my writing, so Kaycee the Writer is part of my identity. I focus on school, so Kaycee the Student (who is fixing to graduate with her Associates in Liberal Arts so that she can move on to the University of Iowa! Can I hear a woot woot?) is part of my identity.
I like this answer the best. Because that way, it's not what I do that is who I am. My identity doesn't change if I slip up against God or if I can't get published or if I get a B on a test. But it's not just the things that apply to everyone, either. The "You are unique" side triumphs with this answer. Trust me, I'm unique. There is definitely nobody else out there like me, which is probably a good thing. I'm not just like everybody else. I have my own identity that makes me special, that makes me different from everybody else. What's your identity?
I have an identity in Christ. I'm the daughter of the King of Kings, who created me, has a plan for my life, and loves me so much that He died for me so that I can spend eternity with Him. That's a huge part of my identity, because it's my existence. It's how I was created, what I was created for. But the part that I struggle with is that identity belongs to every single person who has trusted Christ as their Savior and follows Him. That goes for the "just like everyone else" side.
So I went to a girls' night with a couple of ladies from my church, and it turns out I'm definitely not the only one who has been thinking about identity. I mentioned this conflict that I've been having, and one of them commented that God created me with an artistic talent (personally I think I have more passion than talent, but warm fuzzies are always good!), and I use that to His glory, and that is part of my identity.
What if our identity then is what we focus our lives upon? Then who we are isn't what we do necessarily, it's not completely what we accomplish, and it's only what we look like if that's where our focus is. I focus my life on Christ (or try to at least), so part of my identity is the personal relationship that I have with Him as my Savior, my Lord, my Abba. I focus on my writing, so Kaycee the Writer is part of my identity. I focus on school, so Kaycee the Student (who is fixing to graduate with her Associates in Liberal Arts so that she can move on to the University of Iowa! Can I hear a woot woot?) is part of my identity.
I like this answer the best. Because that way, it's not what I do that is who I am. My identity doesn't change if I slip up against God or if I can't get published or if I get a B on a test. But it's not just the things that apply to everyone, either. The "You are unique" side triumphs with this answer. Trust me, I'm unique. There is definitely nobody else out there like me, which is probably a good thing. I'm not just like everybody else. I have my own identity that makes me special, that makes me different from everybody else. What's your identity?
Thursday, December 30, 2010
2010
Well, it's been an interesting year to say the least. I turned 19, I got half of my credits done towards my Associates in Liberal Arts degree, I've been working at my desk job, went on my first date, had my first kiss, went through my first break up... ultimately, it's been the end of life as I know it.
But it's New Years, my favorite holiday. It's a time for reflection, and a spring board for improvement. While I don't quite so much believe in New Years Resolutions, as no one ever sticks with them for more than two weeks tops, it really is a chance to look at life and see where I'm at and where I'd rather be (which, yes, generally occurs in the form of New Years Resolutions. Funny how that works).
Well, I have twelve hours left for reflection, I don't have to know where I am or where I want to be yet, do I? Thus far, I have reading at least one book a month and writing at least 500 words a day. Any other ideas? We'll have to see how much else I can figure out about where I am and where I want to be.
But it's New Years, my favorite holiday. It's a time for reflection, and a spring board for improvement. While I don't quite so much believe in New Years Resolutions, as no one ever sticks with them for more than two weeks tops, it really is a chance to look at life and see where I'm at and where I'd rather be (which, yes, generally occurs in the form of New Years Resolutions. Funny how that works).
Well, I have twelve hours left for reflection, I don't have to know where I am or where I want to be yet, do I? Thus far, I have reading at least one book a month and writing at least 500 words a day. Any other ideas? We'll have to see how much else I can figure out about where I am and where I want to be.
Saturday, August 14, 2010
A Beautiful Blue Bible
My first Bible was a big, bulky, burgundy one that said "Holy Bible" on the front and was about three inches thick. Then there was this new trend in the Christian community of having your name printed on the lower right corner of the front cover of your Bible. So, my parents bought me a sleeker, thinner burgundy Bible with shinier pages and one of those cool ribbon book marks, and they had my name put on it.
Then it came time for High School. Ever since the fifth grade, I wanted to be home schooled. I hated public school: it didn't challenge me, both my peers and my teachers were dumb half the time, but most of all the rebellion that I saw in my older brother's life I contributed to the negative influences of public school. All through Jr. High, my biggest fear was that I wouldn't be strong enough, that public school would get to me, and I'd fall in my faith like him. But by the time High School came around, it was clear to my parents and I that home school wasn't in God's plan for me. After I finished crying over it, I finally decided that if it was God's plan for me to go to public school, then maybe He wouldn't let me slip like my older brother had. But before school started, I got a new Bible. This one was a small blue one that I got specifically to fit in my purse so that I could have it with me at school.
I can't remember if it was my senior or junior year, but I was at a football game marching the half time show when it started to rain. By the time we made it back up to the stands, it was too late. Everything in my purse, my Bible included, had been soaked. So I got a new Bible, about the same size but this one was brown and green and had cool designs on it.
One of the most commonly overlooked beauties in this world is a well-used Bible-- one with a worn spine, the sparkly edges worn off the pages, and rainbows of underlines, highlights, and notes in the margins on many pages. I was looking for something in my Bible today and was surprised to find that it hadn't been underlined yet. Then I flipped through the rest of my Bible and was a little disappointed that it wasn't nearly as colorful inside as I thought it should be. But I found a few things, a couple of verses that I had underlined that had special meaning to me and a few notes that had stories behind why I had written them there. It got me to thinking, so I ran downstairs and pulled out my old blue Bible. It had been a well-worn Bible before the rain at that football game brought it to an early retirement, and half of the notes and underlinings had bled all over multiple pages, but the scripture was still legible and I could make out the majority of my markings.
When I used that blue Bible, I was in a very special place in my relationship with God. It was incredibly intimate, I trusted Him with more than I do now. He was all I had back then, and I liked it that way. Nothing could come between us. I was on fire, I was passionately in love with my Lord and Savior, and every new thing He told me was worthy of a little new color in my Bible.
Things have changed since then. I've struggled with things I never thought I'd struggle with before. I've found myself wasting so much time groping cluelessly in dark corners when all I really needed to do was turn back around to find the open arms of my Abba Father. I've watched people falter in ways I've never thought possible for them, I've come against brick walls erected by the enemy and fortified by the free will that sometimes I wonder why in the world God gave us. And I've discovered that coming back to the intimacy that I had with God from places of such darkness is much easier said than done.
But I am coming back. It's a slow process, and it isn't a fun process. It's a fight, it's a struggle, it's a journey over rough terrain, and while I'm at least traveling in the right direction now I still keep stumbling, scraping my knees, and having to get up again to press on. But I'll be stronger for it in the end, and through it all I truly have learned things about my Creator that I didn't know before. And some day, I'll get back to the intimacy that I miss so much.
So I'm going to go to church tomorrow, and I think I'll bring that poor little rain-smeared blue Bible with me.
Then it came time for High School. Ever since the fifth grade, I wanted to be home schooled. I hated public school: it didn't challenge me, both my peers and my teachers were dumb half the time, but most of all the rebellion that I saw in my older brother's life I contributed to the negative influences of public school. All through Jr. High, my biggest fear was that I wouldn't be strong enough, that public school would get to me, and I'd fall in my faith like him. But by the time High School came around, it was clear to my parents and I that home school wasn't in God's plan for me. After I finished crying over it, I finally decided that if it was God's plan for me to go to public school, then maybe He wouldn't let me slip like my older brother had. But before school started, I got a new Bible. This one was a small blue one that I got specifically to fit in my purse so that I could have it with me at school.
I can't remember if it was my senior or junior year, but I was at a football game marching the half time show when it started to rain. By the time we made it back up to the stands, it was too late. Everything in my purse, my Bible included, had been soaked. So I got a new Bible, about the same size but this one was brown and green and had cool designs on it.
One of the most commonly overlooked beauties in this world is a well-used Bible-- one with a worn spine, the sparkly edges worn off the pages, and rainbows of underlines, highlights, and notes in the margins on many pages. I was looking for something in my Bible today and was surprised to find that it hadn't been underlined yet. Then I flipped through the rest of my Bible and was a little disappointed that it wasn't nearly as colorful inside as I thought it should be. But I found a few things, a couple of verses that I had underlined that had special meaning to me and a few notes that had stories behind why I had written them there. It got me to thinking, so I ran downstairs and pulled out my old blue Bible. It had been a well-worn Bible before the rain at that football game brought it to an early retirement, and half of the notes and underlinings had bled all over multiple pages, but the scripture was still legible and I could make out the majority of my markings.
When I used that blue Bible, I was in a very special place in my relationship with God. It was incredibly intimate, I trusted Him with more than I do now. He was all I had back then, and I liked it that way. Nothing could come between us. I was on fire, I was passionately in love with my Lord and Savior, and every new thing He told me was worthy of a little new color in my Bible.
Things have changed since then. I've struggled with things I never thought I'd struggle with before. I've found myself wasting so much time groping cluelessly in dark corners when all I really needed to do was turn back around to find the open arms of my Abba Father. I've watched people falter in ways I've never thought possible for them, I've come against brick walls erected by the enemy and fortified by the free will that sometimes I wonder why in the world God gave us. And I've discovered that coming back to the intimacy that I had with God from places of such darkness is much easier said than done.
But I am coming back. It's a slow process, and it isn't a fun process. It's a fight, it's a struggle, it's a journey over rough terrain, and while I'm at least traveling in the right direction now I still keep stumbling, scraping my knees, and having to get up again to press on. But I'll be stronger for it in the end, and through it all I truly have learned things about my Creator that I didn't know before. And some day, I'll get back to the intimacy that I miss so much.
So I'm going to go to church tomorrow, and I think I'll bring that poor little rain-smeared blue Bible with me.
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