when written words speak // no. 23

“I quit.”

The words practically screamed at me. They sat scribbled on a piece of paper, taped to my boss’ office door. They belonged to someone I trust, who I knew to be loyal, and fair and good.

No looking back, no goodbye, no warning. They just left them there and left us.

My stomach did somersaults and a brick laid itself on my chest. I felt tears welling up but pushed them away. I didn’t need those right now.

I can’t tell you why it affected me so deeply. Maybe it was because I felt like I didn’t do enough to get to know the person, to be a genuine friend and not just someone who jokes around. I think maybe I hoped it wasn’t real.

My stomach welcomed swarms of butterflies, making it difficult to do anything.

The more I read them, the louder they spoke. I could hear them roll off the tongue of their author, every tone of their voice and their mood clear as day. Words have strange powers like that.

They also have the ability to change the way a person looks. The more I replay the note in my head, the more the author of the note seems to shrink. Maybe that comes from the tone in which they were left. Maybe its because I know that the author is more than those two words. They are whole dictionary of phrases and words, letters placed together to form a story.

This was just a chapter closing. The book will start again.

Maybe I’m sad because I’m not sure when I’ll get to pick up the story again. For now, I just want them to keep writing. Keep creating. Keep pushing boundaries to go beyond what people think you are capable of.

There is always more.

when the stresses mounted // no. 82

It has been a minute. It has felt like an eternity.

But I am here.

I am breathing.

Just when you think that all of the things were going to continue smoothly, a hiccup comes. A bump in the road. A struggle with the normalcy of life in the wake of something you cannot control. I have plans to travel, and they have not changed. Some of the requirements of the trip have changed, but not so drastically that I cannot go. And I know this, but still, I stress. I wonder.

And so now, I pray.

This used to be my last instinct. Now, it is becoming my first.

I can do nothing without God. Absolutely nothing. He is my lifeboat, my rock, my only steady hand in the face of current uncertainties. He is the only thing stable for any of us, and I wish I could reiterate that to any and everyone who is in trouble now. His love for me and you are great. His love for the world is cosmic and he breathed stars into being.

I need not worry about who holds my tomorrow, for even if it does not go as I have planned, He is not worried. He has not forgotten me. He has not wondered where my faith has gone, or my courage. He is bold as a lion and fearless. He strikes down nations with a word and brings to life things that were dead with his very breath. He is Alpha. He is Omega. His glory is irrefutable. And if I am the only one to declare this in the middle of this chaos…

So be it.

Thank you, God, for being the shelter we need. You reign fully and mightly, and I love you.

feeling regret & thanks // no. 78

I think that it is important to note my feelings in written words. It was a lovely weekend. The day was beautiful, but I may have been a little rushed in my approach to things.

SO, here’s what I regret:

I regret not talking more to the best man, and not making him dance with me since we practiced our routine for the reception that we never got to do. And that I side-hugged him goodbye and didn’t give him a real hug.

I regret being snappy at the bride during photos about the denim jacket because, in my opinion, I thought she looked prettier without it.

I regret being so concerned with myself that I couldn’t focus fully on all the people around me.

I regret not preparing a better Maid of Honor Speech.

I regret feeling like I had some sort of control over the people at the event when I had none.

I regret that I couldn’t keep my shit together enough to not leave things behind at the church.

And as much as there is to regret, there is much to be thankful for.

I am thankful that the bride and groom shared tender moments with each other and their families at the reception.

I am thankful that the sky was clear even though it was cold.

I am thankful that there was decent music to dance to and that my parents left early so I could shake my hips a little more.

I am thankful that so many friends came to celebrate the marriage of two wonderful people.

I am thankful that there were nachos for dinner.

I am thankful that I had a chance to have my hair done and made really pretty.

I am thankful for the new friends I made and the chance I had to give them a gift to experience more of our little town.

It was an all-around good weekend, and I will choose to leave my regrets in the past, look forward to the future, and be thankful for the present good things I experienced.

no. 74 // answering the call

I struggle. It’s not just in the things that one might think it’s normal to struggle in, but also the things that are mundane. Every day. Simple.

I’m distracted when I should be focused. I’m lazy when I should be working hard. I can’t settle my brain. The slowness has me numbed and sedentary when I want to be productive. I want to be ready for work each day and not sluggish. I want to accomplish school in a timely manner that’s productive and well thought out. I want to be focused and I want to be whole.

I don’t know how to be whole.

Am I whole?

I want to be whole.

Something has struck me in my never ending search for fullness. I cannot provide it for myself. I cannot be the ending I want for my life, because I fall short of the goal. I don’t need more self-help. I’m tired of helping myself. I WANT THE HELP FROM SOMEONE ELSE. I need it. I crave the help. My heart is weak and broken and in pieces that only one person can pick up.

I think he’s been calling me. I am always so unsure, but I think he has. I think he has been with me even in my numbness, and followed me through to this valley of shadow. I think he has heard my prayers. My unspoken ones, the cries of my heart when self-medication did nothing. When I was less fulfilled by what they said would be fulfilling than I was when I did none of the things they said would work. I think he heard me.

I think he’s calling.

Are you calling?

Will I answer?