The most effective teacher.

Pain gives us strength of character; it gives us a soul. Digging deep into who we are, it shapes us. It brings us down to a place where all seems worthless; but if we know where to look, God builds us up on Himself. He is the only strong foundation. The pain is a tool, a cleansing, a new beginning. It is a state of being that deepens our souls and gives us wisdom if we allow it to. We can become its students, always seeking what lessons can be retained in its teaching. And if we trust, it will pass.
"Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God so that at the proper time he may exalt you, casting all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you."- 1Peter 5:6-7. Whether we humble ourselves or are humbled by our circumstances, as long as we accept our humility, God will lift us up. He cares for us and will take our anxieties if we let him. If, in the end, we are closer to God as a result of our pain, it will be worth it. So let's learn from it.

If God brings you to it...

I can't explain how much chemistry doesn't make sense to me. I started this semester in college level chem even though I didn't take it in high school. Dropping to intermediate is a decision I don't think I will ever regret, because even that is a struggle for me and I would probably not have passed college level. I am one semester into school and I'm doubting why I made the decision to major in a science, but I remind myself daily. This is what God has called me to do.
It isn't for me to know why; it's my place to trust. God has a plan that I've known a small piece of since I was sixteen. I am supposed to be a veterinarian and I am on the way to that end. It wasn't my idea, because I know I can't do it on my own. I'm not scientifically minded, and I believe that one reason God wants me to go through with this is for his glory. I believe that if I can get through this, it will not be by my own strength or intelligence, because I don't have that much. He will have pulled me through. God has promised that all things work together for good for those who love him, for those who are called according to his purpose. I have been called and my part is to follow. Whether I finish this or not, I've started; the rest is up to him.

"Just for today: I will make plans, but I will not plan the result & I will trust in my Higher Power's loving care."- Basic Text p.88

Your love is a melody.

Your Love Is A Song.

How is it that music can change emotions in a moment? It comforts, it reminds, it saves lives. It can bring a sense of nostalgia, sadness, happiness, love, peace, and so many other things; maybe all of those things combined at times. Music heals and hurts. The notes can open an old scar, the lyrics set a broken heart so that it can really heal. Pain and healing and joy are all tied up in the language of music, the language that emotions naturally understand.
Sometimes I wonder if I would be fulfilled if my mind could speak that language as well as it understands it. Sometimes I get jealous of people like Stephen Christian, Jon Foreman, and Elton John, who write some of the most deeply touching music I've heard. What would it be like to express what I feel in such a thorough, understandable way? I can only imagine, but listening to the things others have written still makes me feel understood because it resonates with me.
I can't write music, so I write words. Trying to explain a balance of fulfillment and emptiness in this way makes me feel ineffective and clumsy, but it's better than nothing. Language is a gift as well as music, because without it there would be no lyrics. Words are sometimes a part of this language, and words are something I know how to use.
God knows everyone needs to be honest. He tells us to walk in the light. He tells us that the truth will set us free. The truth is that sometimes I feel like I'm locked inside my own head even in a crowd of people. My thoughts are constantly churning with no outlet because I don't have enough words. I will never have enough words. I crave to be understood, so I go to meetings and I listen to music. These are the things that keep me going. These are the things God provides, and his Spirit guides me to the promises he's made.

Hebrews 4:15-16 (ESV) "For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin. Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need."

1 Peter 5:6-7 (ESV) "Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God so that at the proper time he may exalt you, casting all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you."

Isaiah 26:3 (ESV) "You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you, because he trusts in you."

Keep Coming Back

"Keep coming back. It works if you work it."
I didn't realize how much I had missed those words until they were spoken this past Monday night. My best friend took me to a recovery meeting. It was the first one I had been to since I was home for Thanksgiving break, and that was the only one I've been to since school started in August.
"Keep coming back..."
I don't want to live without a support group. As wonderful as my friends are, as wonderful as my school is, there's nothing that compares. It hit me that I love my family so much now because of our mutual understanding of our past. I have a friend who struggles with depression; we share a common knowledge of that one area. Another friend has been in my life since I was born; she knows me almost as well as anyone does. They are wonderful, but we don't fully understand each other. I can't relate to them because I've never been through anything similar to their lives, and they can't relate to my life, either.
"It works if you work it."
Daily recovery readings are not enough. People need each other. People need other souls who understand them on a deeper level. There is no one who understands addiction and codependency like someone who is and/or has lived with an addict. A friend can try to understand, but it will never quite get through to them. Good friends might be enough until someone really understands you, but the support group is a healthy addiction that replaces unhealthy ones. It's a way to learn to rely on a Higher Power, to live one day at a time and take responsibility for ourselves. There is no way I can express how much I need that in my life and how grateful I am.

God, grant me the serenity
To accept the things I cannot change,
Courage to change the things I can,
And wisdom to know the difference;
Living one day at a time,
Enjoying one moment at a time,
Accepting hardship as a pathway to peace.
Taking, as Jesus did, this sinful world
As it is, not as I would have it,
Trusting that You will make all things right
If I surrender to Your will
So that I may be reasonably happy in this life
And supremely happy with You
Forever in the next.
Amen.
- Reinhold Niebuhr

You know what they say.. and I'm pretty cliche.

Time really is on my side. My whole life I've been waiting for things; I wait for Christmas because it's my favorite time of year. I wait for spring because I get tired of winter. I wait out panic attacks and depression, riding out the storm because I know that it will always pass. I wait for life on this earth to end, and I wait for the next when everything that's worth waiting for will finally be here. Sometimes I just have to remind myself what really is important. Love is important, because it's the only thing that lasts. God and people will be forever, but earthly problems will not. Career problems, school problems, sickness, and heartbreak will go away. The things I idolize will burn and the only things that are truly worth having will be left. I have to remind myself that the good and the bad in this life are temporary. I have to remind myself that this, too, shall pass.

Moving On. (Getting all this off my chest)

Surprisingly, it doesn’t hurt; the text that says “Who is this?” takes me by surprise and I don’t know what to think.

I guess it’s time to let go. It took me two years to break though and get close to him, not knowing that he was trying to do the same with me all along. Two long years, two untrusting people trying to win each other over, yet not really knowing that person they thought they wanted so much.  We became best friends; he’d talk me through my late-night panic attacks, I’d listen to him vent about his parents. We supported each other. We talked about everything that came into our minds and never got bored with each other.
The spring semester of my senior year came around, and with it came a fear of taking my time for granted. I wanted to appreciate everything in my life as I knew it, all the best things I would miss. He was at the top of the list and I resolved that I would never leave him behind, no matter what or who else would lay forgotten in my past. When I realized how much I cared and needed him, I finally stopped telling myself I didn’t want him as more than a best friend. I knew him so well, trusted him so much, and desperately hoped he felt the same. But in some ways he was still a mystery.
I’ve never been one to pursue a relationship with anyone, but I tried to subtly let him know how I felt. I wanted him to know even if he didn’t think of me the same way. I wanted to give it a try, because I knew that I would rather risk losing his friendship than remain just friends.
Our conversations took on new warmth, full of inside jokes and double entendres. He told me what “double entendre” means. He would say things that I didn’t know how to take because I knew how much I wanted him to mean them as more. I wanted it so badly that I was overly cautious. I didn’t let myself read into his words. Everything he said made my heart race.
One night in April, he started to tell me a story. It began with his childhood, the bad experiences of his early schooling. He told me about the steps that led his family to join my co-op, even though they lived two hours away from where we met. He told me about becoming friends with my cousin and best friend who were on his basketball team. He told me about his impression seeing me for the first time, the time after that, and the time after that. He told me that he knew, from the time we got to know each other as friends, that he intended to make us more if he could.
We were so happy. I couldn’t sleep that night. The way I felt about him was unlike anything I had felt in years.
The next month, I graduated from high school. I went to Kentucky to meet an online friend in person for the first time. I got my nose pierced. I missed him. I got back home and he took me on a date. I was nervous. We talked the way we always did, joked around, and made fun of the restaurant’s radio station. I couldn’t wait to see him again. June went by and we became open books to one another rather than mysteries. He said he fell in love with me, and I was afraid because I was beginning to realize he would get hurt.
I went to MAP in July. I spent a week in Kentucky, a week in Little rock, and two weeks in Louisiana. His mom found out about us and grounded him for three weeks. I had panic attacks because I was so dependent on him. It had probably been a year since I had gone even one week without talking to him. His mom talked to me like I was a child and asked me more questions than I would have been willing to put up with for anyone but him. Even so, being so far away and going so long without him made me want to distract myself. I was around other people and got other attention. My feelings started to fade.
We talked for one more week after he was grounded, then I realized it was time to let him know. I had thought everything would be the same after that, but I didn’t want them to be. I didn’t want to belong to him. I didn’t want to be tied down, to have a boyfriend two hours away when I went to college. Commitment was something I knew I couldn’t handle, even though I still felt strongly for him. He cried on the phone and asked if we could ever be more than friends again. I told him I couldn’t make any promises and not to plan on it. If it was supposed to happen later, it would, but I couldn’t commit.
During my first three weeks of college, I called him almost every day, telling him everything. I talked to him more than I talked to my family. He was still my best friend.
Somewhere along the line, we stopped talking and I didn’t notice. I somehow forgot he existed for a while. I visited home and spent time with a guy who I had liked three years before and began to like again. Thanksgiving break came around and I sent him a text to wish him a happy Thanksgiving and got no response. Suddenly I woke up to the fact that we hadn’t talked in weeks and that I didn’t even care. I didn’t miss him, I didn’t want him, and I felt guilty for that because I thought we had cared so much about each other.
I still feel guilty. Last night I sent him another text, and the response I got was “Who is this?” He has removed me from his life. My cousin knows more about his decisions than I do and I never thought we would be where we are. I can’t explain the remorse I feel because I know I hurt him. I know him too well; I know how he felt about me. He let me in after I took two years to earn his trust, only to be crushed because I apparently can’t be trusted. I meant everything I ever said to him. I believed every word. I never intended to leave him behind, and I apologized for that. I’ve done what I can do, and trying to mend our friendship would only cause more pain. My amends will be to let him go. I hope he can forgive me.
It’s time to let him go.

Perspective

"It's funny how things don't work out." "It's funny how they do."- Sweet Home Alabama

I love being around positive people. Looking on the negative side of things is a trait that runs in my family, so optimism doesn't come naturally for me. Perspective is so important in the way we live our lives, and the difference it can make is incredible. When I do look on the bright side- I mean when I'm really, whole-heartedly there- it's so very rewarding. The rewarding part is a little ironic, though, because I can't control my negative thinking any more than an addict can control their addiction. Getting rid of negativity isn't something I do on my own. It's been part of who I am for most of my life and it's hard to let go, but when I do, God takes care of it and replaces it with optimism. He plants a gratitude that grows to crowd out the sense of entitlement that I'm all too prone to hold onto.

"Letting go of something painful can be as difficult as letting go of something pleasant. But let's face it - holding on is a lot of work. When we really think about what we're holding onto, the effort just isn't worthwhile. It's time to let go of our character defects and ask God to remove them."
Basic Text pg. 34

Back to Normal.

"Country roads, take me home to the place I belong. West Virginia, Mountain Mama, take me home, country roads...The radio reminds me of my home far away, and driving down the road I get the feeling that I should have been home yesterday, yesterday."-John Denver
Those are the words I would hear on the radio as my dad and I drove through the hills of Arkansas. I'd get a little nervous as the truck pointed upwards to set up our surveying equipment on the top of a mountain with a breathtaking view. We would return to that job site several times because of the rough territory and enormity of the piece of land. It was a two-hour drive away from home, so we would leave early in the morning, work all day, and pack up for home when it started getting dark. Walking for miles all over wooded mountains in the summertime isn't my fondest memory, but it was good for me. It was hot, exhausting, and by the end of each day I was worn out and dirty, but it was rewarding. Daddy and I have always made a good team, and today I remembered just how well we work together. I'm finally home for Thanksgiving week and get to do all the things that feel normal again, like getting a load of firewood in the truck. We had it loaded, unloaded, and the truck cleaned out in no time, listening to our music when it was convenient. Sometimes I really do wonder what life would be like if I dropped out of school to survey for the rest of my life, but I have dreams to keep in mind and they won't be given up so easily. I know what I want to do and I fully intend to follow through, even though I might miss what I have to leave behind. It will be worth it, but I'm thankful I get to spend this week back home. After almost a full semester at school, I'm thankful that it doesn't feel strange to be back like my friends are saying it is for them. I'm thankful that I get to savor my normal for a little while longer.

To be a friend.

It will change you. It’s that moment when you realize you care. When they look you in the eye and you want nothing but to wrap them up and take their pain away. When you don’t understand what happened to make you love so much, but you wouldn’t change it for anything. It’s that moment when you forget yourself in listening to them because there’s no one else who will and only a few others that they trust. It’s such an honor to be trusted. It’s such an honor to love, but such a difficult thing when they’re afraid to let you and you can’t begin to understand the depth of their pain. You don’t cry for your own sadness, but you fight back tears for theirs. Selfishness is broken in that moment, if only for a moment. Even though you don’t understand any of this, it’s the best thing that could happen.
This doesn’t just happen. The scars from your own past pain begin to ache, the change in your heart causing pressure like a change in the weather. They remind you why it’s been so long since you empathized with any other pain. You’ve spent so much time protecting yourself and not letting anyone in, but suddenly you realize something amazing. You would rather feel all of their pain with them just to understand than to shut them out.
And they’re so afraid, they shut you out.

We hate each other so much.

Ruben is mean. He has a left eyebrow. He writes me poetry but we've only hung out twice. It's whatever. :)

"Dearest Claire,

The time has come for me to say

A little short something on this day

It might be sweet; it might be bad

But never ever never sad

I want your blood on the walls

On the ceiling, through the halls

Don’t think me crazy, okay, I am

You won’t survive. Nope.

From my loving black heart,

Ruben"

With friends like these...

“I think I caught a glimpse of a life without friends; bitter, empty, hollow, dark, and lonely…Oh, we need each other through all the highs and lows, and no one’s meant to be alone.”- Sanctus Real

Independence has always been a strong trait of mine, or so I thought until I got to college. However, even though I’m only 1 hour and 40 minutes away from my family, I’m learning just how much I need other people close to me. I truly can’t make it on my own, and I’m finding that’s okay.
Once upon a time, I was twelve years old. That summer I got involved in a missions training program called the Missionaries for America Program, not knowing that it would be what got me through my difficult early teenage years. I existed from MAP event to MAP event. I think the reason I’ve always loved it so much is because there’s a sense of welcome and belonging I get when I’m with those people.  There’s an amazing power in community, in bonds between souls, and it’s a healing experience to worship God with people who love you. I was truly happy living with my closest friends for 3 weeks in the summer, singing hymns in our free time and opening up to each other in ways I had never known before. Going home was something I dreaded.
I remember going home to my dysfunctional family time after time, feeling an overwhelming sense of isolation and loneliness. It nearly always developed into a stage of depression during which my mother would criticize me for what she called my bad attitude, but I never questioned whether it was worth it. It was more than worth it every time, if only to get away for a while.
You know, it’s amazing how things change. Ever since my oldest sister started college when I was 8 years old, I’ve looked forward to going away to college because I hated life at home. For a while, I wanted to go to a private university in California, and even that didn’t seem far enough away from Arkansas and my parents. These days, though, I can’t imagine a place I’d rather be than home. I love my parents as much as I love anyone, and I’m thankful that we’ve healed together. I’m glad we learned to get along before I left home, before it was too late to make good memories of living with them, before I finished growing up in their home. My last year of high school was so different from the rest, and I can’t express how much those memories mean to me. Looking back on even my most recent bout with depression isn’t entirely unpleasant. I’m thankful for it, because for the first time I can remember, my parents responded to it with concern and love rather than disapproval and criticism. They lit the way to walk me out of my dark valley and I love them for that.
College has not been an easy transition after such a recent realization of love for my home, but I’m learning to appreciate things here, too. Instead of pining for home, for my family and books and warm fireplace, I’ve been trying to love the people around me, and they make it pretty easy. It isn’t difficult to be happy while sitting in a coffee shop, blogging, and listening to music with two of my closest friends. Tonight has been a respite from the familiar feeling of emptiness I’ve been fighting these past few weeks, but I know I’m not alone no matter where I go. I have friends here who love me, who support me in whatever I do because they care enough to know who I am. It isn’t every day you find friends like mine, and I’m so thankful I get to spend the next 4 years with them.