When I think of almost, I think of the song Almost There from Princess and the Frog (don’t judge me)
And I’m almost there, I’m almost there
People down here think I’m crazy, but I don’t care
Trials and tribulations, I’ve had my share
There ain’t nothing gonna stop me now ‘cause I’m almost there
There’s a line from the song that I just love:
I remember Daddy told me: “Fairytales can come true
You gotta make ’em happen, it all depends on you”
Fairytales can happen. Dreams can come true. But you have to work for them.
They aren’t just magically going to happen, right? God gives us the dreams. But it’s up to us to actually put in the work to make the dreams come true.
I forget this sometimes. I have a mentality of “if it’s supposed to happen, God will just make it happen.” Without any work on my part. You know, like if I pray I get an A on the test I didn’t study for. Yeah, nope. God is a miracle worker, sure. But he’s not a Genie. We can’t just wish for things to happen and they magically fall into our laps.
We can dream. We can have hope in the plans we believe God has for us. But we have to make them happen ourselves.
And we need a mentality like Tiana in Princess and the Frog: we’re almost there. We’ve got this. If He put this dream in us, and gave us this plan, then He’ll see us through to the end of it.
If we put the work, the effort, and the drive into the dreams God gives us, we’ll be almost there, too.
Anika Noni Rose’s voice slays me.
—
yes, this is a whole post about a Disney movie. Don’t hate. It’s been a long month!
With that being said, I’m not “almost” done… I AM DONE!! Yippeeeee!! I wrote every day for 31 days in a row! *pats self on back* I will write about what I learned through this later… like after taking a few days off. *breathes*
this is (almost) it, y’all. As much as I’ve learned doing this whole 31 days things, I think I’m ready for a blog sabbatical. haha!
Today’s prompt is: sea.
I really don’t know where to go with this one, mainly cause I’ve already hit on the beach with my waves post earlier this month. So, this is what I’ve got:
In their distress, they called out to the Eternal, and He saved them from their misery. 29 He commanded the storm to calm down, and it became still. A hush came over the waves of the sea,
(Psalm 107, The Voice)
When I’m in my over my head, may I remember that he calms the seas. I just have to call out to Him.
Tonight’s a FMF, and it’s the most-voted upon topic for the 31 days of writing prompts. The winner is…
BACON.
yes, bacon. we are an odd people at #fmfparty. I guess after a couple of days of superseriousposts, it’s kinda fun to do something light-hearted!
GO.
Growing up, Sunday Breakfast was my church.
Instead of getting up and dressed for church (one grandparent was Catholic, other was Church of Christ- you can do the math there), i instead got up to the sound of bacon and sausage frying and the smell of coffee. I’d clamor out of bed to go help pat out the biscuit dough, if my nana needed me.
It was the only church I needed at the time- my family, spending a small part of a the week, simply laughing and loving each other. I didn’t see that very often, but I always did on Sundays.
The church building was the kitchen table– the dining room if we had too many guests.
patrons were family- sometimes just the three of us (me, nana, and papa) sometimes my dad; othertimes my aunt, uncle, and cousins. No matter how many, breakfast was always served on Sunday mornings.
Communion was my nana’s famous biscuits– my favorite biscuits to this day– and jelly- red plum was mine and my papa’s favorite, grape for everyone else.
The Word was the Sunday paper. My papa would sit, coffee in hand, pencil in the other, as he’d do the crossword, occasionally asking me for a word or phrase to help him.
The sermon was the conversation– my papa making his random jokes and silly comments, me and my cousins giggling, or me asking my papa questions about history,news, and books–our shared loves. I close my eyes and remember my papa’s gravely voice and deep laugh, the way his eyes sparkled when he made his grandgirls laugh.
The offering was my nana cooking in the background, making sure everyone had their full, and me setting and clearing the table after every meal, occasionally sneaking another biscuit (if there were any left).
It was one of the few times I ever remember our family sitting together– these sunday breakfasts.
It was one of the few moments where everyone just hushed up their problems and drama, and sat around the table with each other, eating and laughing.
And there was always sausage and bacon, passed from person to person, with a smile and a laugh.
Those are the memories of my family I try to remember the most, instead of the ugly ones.
*took a little longer than 5 minutes, if only because my laptop mouse/clicker is giving me drama. Ah, technology!
The finish line is in sight! Just 3 more days of posts, y’all!
Today’s FMF prompt is hope. I mentioned yesterday that I had a topic in mind that wasn’t the prompt, but when I looked at the prompt for today, I decided to hold off and use this for today.
If you’ve read my blog a time or two, you know I’m a fan of Annie Downs. She’s kinda awesome.
I was first introduced to her almost a year ago at Q Women, where she gave a talk about her comforter. So many of the words she said in that talk stuck with me, and have helped me so much the past year.
A couple weeks ago, I noticed a video of her talk was available on Q’s website. I was so excited! I’ve been at a place where I needed to hear her words again, so I hunkered down one night and watched. (I’ve since rewatched 3 or so more times, and gotten something different from it each time).
^ STOP READING THIS AND WATCH IT. SERIOUSLY. IT’S WORTH 18 MINUTES.
The samewords from last year grabbed my attention. But something else grabbed it more.
“The word says over and over that God has given us what we need… be joyful in hope, right?”
Be joyful in hope. I’ve probably seen that verse hundreds of times… but it was the way she said it that made it click.
When I think of hope, I think of what I’m hoping for: future plans, what my days look like. Hope was more about the thing/desire/ want I was hoping for, and not the action of hoping.
I never thought about how to hope. The how behind it– the action of the hoping, the way I hope for something.
Do not forget to rejoice, for hope is always just around the corner. (Romans 12:12 The Voice)
Rejoice for hope. Don’t just rejoice because of the things you’re hoping for… but rejoice in the process. In the waiting. Hope is around the corner– but be joyful on the journey to hope, too.
There is joy in the waiting. There is joy in the process of hoping– not just in the things we hope for. There doesn’t have to be joy at just the end, when our hopes become reality– because for some of us, we’ll be waiting for joy for a long time.
Or we’ll be waiting for a joy that never comes.
Because sometimes, the things we hope for won’t happen. And if we wait to be joyful for things that don’t materialize… well, then what are we going to be joyful about?
As much as I hate it when things I plan don’t work out, choosing joy before I know the ending gives me something to be happy about. Even when circumstances change, my joy doesn’t. My rejoicing in the hope doesn’t.
Even if the things we hope for don’t materialize, we can find joy in the hoping.
One of the biggest takeaways from Annie’s talk is a question that rattled me to the core:
“How do you craft a life that brings God glory and brings you joy, even if God doesn’t answer your deepest prayers?”
If all the things I hope for don’t happen. The hopes, the dreams, the plans… if they don’t come to pass in the way I want them. How do I find joy in that life?
Some days, I’m not so sure.
Thomas Merton– so true. As a friend told me recently about a situation, sometimes I have to throw my logic out the window. Because God is bigger than my logic.
Honesty hour: I want to live a life that I planned out. I want that picket-fence style dream that I have envisioned in my own head–where I’ve used the gifts and skills God has given me to map out exactly what I think my life should look like. I don’t want anything dramatic and out of the realm of what I know I can do. I just want what I want.Even if it over or underestimates what God wants me to be.
As I’ve learned since August, this mode of living doesn’t exactly work. I used the gifts and skills God has given me, in the place I thought I was meant to be… and it all went to hell. And now, I’m back to square one, trying to figure out what he wants me to do, and how he wants me to do it.
Wouldn’t it have been easier if I’d just given that to Him to figure out in the first place?
(Duh, Jordan. But at least God threw me a bone for awhile and let me try to figure it out, right?)
As I’ve learned lately: God is so much bigger than what I’ve imagined for myself.
—
Anywho, back to the topic at hand. How do I create a life for me that I both love, and that glorifies God? All the while hoping that someday, somehow, my deepest desires and hopes are fulfilled?
(Honesty hour again: I don’t even know if I know what my deepest desires are yet. Actually, I know I don’t have a wild clue what my deepest desires are. My desires have always been pretty simple: to teach, spend time in Mexico as much as possible, travel, write… nothing too deep there. I guess I could ask. This might be a good time for that, actually. /end honesty hour)
I think the key for me to craft this kind of life– this life that brings joy to both me and God– is to live a life of joyfully hoping.
To live focusing on the how we hope, the actual hoping, instead of the product of what we’re hoping for. Because, as has happened to me, the things that we hope for can either not happen or blow up in our faces (both have happened to me. lately.).
So, why wait for the answer to what you’re hoping for to find joy? Be joyful in the fact that you have something to hope for. That you have this desire, this hope, this dream of something bigger and better than yourself. Find the joy in getting there. And find the joy in the act of hoping– of desiring for, yearning for this thing. There is joy there.
Even if the actual thing or dream disappates, you have this joy to hold you until the next dream to hope for comes about. It might be hard to hope again, if the hope doesn’t materialize. But, you’ll have a joy to keep you, and to hold you until your hope and God’s hope for you align. It might take awhile, but He knows what He’s doing, I think.
On that same wavelength, I think trust is a factor when trying to craft a life of joyfully hoping. God has already given us what we need, right? We have to trust that He knows us. And that he’s there, in the hoping, walking with us through it all. We have to remember that He knows us better than we know ourselves– and he knows the plans that are best for us. And sometimes, that means having to wreck the plans we have to show us what’s better.
“But God is bigger. And his dreams for you are bigger.”
His dreams are so much bigger than the ones I have–both the known and unknown ones.
Emily Freeman shared a quote earlier today that resonated with me:
Instead of a map, He offers us His hand.
In this crazy life, I want a road map of what’s what. I want the pit stops, the road blocks, the detours and exit signs. I want a full-scale in-color map, with step-by-step directions of where to go and when.
God doesn’t work like that, much to my chagrin. He instead takes us by the hand, and leads us to a life full of joyfully hoping for what’s coming next. It may not be what we’re hoping and dreaming for in the moment– and we may not know what’s going to happen– but he promises it will be full of Him. And that’s truly what we need. Everything else is a bonus.
—
To hope for something– a good grade, a new job, a spouse, a new place to live, whatever your heart hopes for– is a beautiful thing. Hope is really something beautiful– to believe and expect for the unseen.
It’s also a scary, hard thing– to hope in something that may not come to pass. To dream something that may never be realized how we want it to.
Despite that, we remain joyful in our hope– and trust that God’s hopes for us surpass what we could ever dream up for ourselves.
May we find joy in the hoping– that someday, we can find a life that both gives God glory, and us joy. Even if the hopes and dreams we wanted don’t happen as we imagined them.
Even if he doesn’t answer my deepest hopes and prayers… He is still good, y’all. So, so good.
Let’s rejoice in hope– for hope in itself is something to be joyful about.
The Unmaking-Nichole Nordeman– Y’ALL. Sarah Bessey introduced me to this song, and it’s basically my life right now. It’s so on-point.
Come Away- Jesus Culture– I have a plan for you, it’s going to be wild, it’s going to be great, it’s going to be full of me… clinging to these words tonight.
So, I did write yesterday, but it was super early in the morning. (like 2am). I was planning on writing another post for 31 days later in the day, but I ended up having a miserable day at work, so I came home, put on my pajamas, and was in bed at 8 o’clock. It was much needed. I didn’t sleep til about 10 (because I was re-watching Annie Downs’ Q Women talk. It gets better every time), but still got about 12 hours of sleep. Hallelujah amen.
—
Tonight’s prompt is perhaps, but I’m going off the grid again. Partially because at this point in 31 days, I actually have things I want to write about. Imagine that! I will use the prompt for tomorrow, because I actually was planning on today’s post to be about it… glad I checked before I wrote it! haha 🙂
Anywho. Onto what I want to write about.
I am big Bob Goff fan- my copy of Love Does is literally falling apart.
Like me, he uses social media a lot to convey his thoughts. He always says the most wonderful things, usually right when I need them. He also says things that I need, even when I don’t want to hear them. Today was one of those days.
I tend to re-post quotes he posts on instagram because I find them relevant to me. Today’s was no exception:
“we spend a lot of time memorizing failures God spent a lot of love saying we could forget.”
Well, darnit. It’s like he is in my head, y’all.
I’ve been thinking about this a lot recently, actually. There was a post or blog of some sort that provoked this thought, but apparently I have completely blanked on what it is. Ooops. Anyhow, I have been thinking about this memorizing failures thing a lot, because… well, I do it.
I am the worst at forgiving myself for my mistakes.
Honestly, I’m the worst at forgiving myself, period.
I have always kept a record of all my wrongs in my head. Every bad grade, every fight I’ve had, every argument, every time I’ve put my foot in my mouth, every embarrassing moment… I remember them all. I replay them, like a film in my head.. constantly showing me my wrongdoings. I’ve never let myself forget. I remember the day I got my first B in school– and trust me, I’ve gotten worse than a B since then– but I’ll never forget that day, and the crushing disappointment I felt towards myself for that stupid B.
I hold grudges against myself.
And I’ve never, ever let myself live my failings down.
Yet God. God does the impossible. He sets us free from the mistakes, the failings, the foot-in-mouth situations. He takes every mess-up, every embarrassing moment, every failure, every screw up I’ve had… and he washes them away. He gives me grace— that both takes me as I am, and changes me inside out.
Yet I live like grace isn’t on the table for me, despite his giving it freely.
I don’t have to earn my keep by making up for the mess ups I’ve made. Yet I live like I do.
He took every thing I’ve done and nailed it to the cross. Yet I still live like the cross didn’t save me.
He died for me and my failings. He loves me so much that he literally died for me. And yet, I can’t love myself enough to let the stupid mistakes I’ve made go. Or let Him love me enough to see how those failings are worth nothing to him. Both are problems for me.
—
Sarah Bessey wrote on a previous post of hers: “Workers, you are now heirs, live like it.”
I no longer have to work for salvation. I no longer have to keep a tally of the good and bad things I’ve done– and neither does God. it has been washed away. I am an heir now, because of the cross that saved me. Yet why can’t i live like it?
I know I don’t deserve it. Yet, He’s given me freedom to live it, deserving or not. But I can’t. I don’t know why, but I still live in this place where freedom hasn’t saved me.
God forgives me of my wrongs, and takes my messed up self as-is. So why can’t I?
i don’t even know where to start…
Gave it All-Michaela McLaird “you saw treasure where I saw shame” ❤ ❤ ❤
I am restless, I run like the ocean to find your shore
I’m looking for you.
(Restless, Switchfoot)
My friend Emily introduced me to that song a few years ago, when I was feeling spiritually restless. Whenever I get that kind of restless, I listen to it non-stop.
Apparently, that’s tonight.
There is just something restless about me tonight. I can’t put my finger on it.
Remember when I wrote a few weeks about reading a scripture and it made my faith start to come back to life?
and when I wrote about my medicine finally feeling like it was starting to work, and I was coming up from the depressive fog I’ve been under? (i actually didn’t advertise this post much, for whatever reason. It felt kinda different, like I needed to write it but needed to keep it quiet. Either way, read it if you like. It’s short).
Yeah. I think those worlds are colliding tonight.
Now that I am feeling like I can get out of bed every day (and not dreading it), I’m starting to feel more things- and the biggest feeling right now is restless. I am itching for something. Something new, something different. Something to bring some peace, some fufillment to my life right now.
I have a lot of things I’m doing currently, mind you. But none are things that are filling this restless void I’m feeling.
My job is great, but it’s just a job- definitely not something I can/will do forever. I won’t start back to school until January. Cozumel stuff starts in a few weeks (*squeals with excitement*). I’m thinking/worrying about grad school/post-grad stuff in small doses. (*deep breaths*) Even in my quiet time, I am just bouncing off the walls, not able to concentrate.
Which leaves me with this restless, unquieted spirit feeling. I get this feeling when something big is about to happen– or, when something big needs to happen.
Something is brewing in my soul, I just don’t what.
I’m just ansty. Now that I’m starting to feel something beyond the numb sadness, I need things to feel. I need things to do. I need something to keep this excitedness going while at the same time fufilling my restlessness.
I need something to channel this restlessness into. I just need to figure out what that is.
Until that is, my spirit is just going to be bouncing off the walls, restless for whatever is coming next. (Just let it be something good, Lord. Please?)
Thanks for reading my 1am bouncy ramble blog, y’all. 😀
Then You crash over me and I’ve lost control but I’m free
I’m going under, I’m in over my head
And You crash over me, I’m where You want me to be
I’m going under, I’m in over my head
Whether I sink, whether I swim
It makes no difference when I’m beautifully in over my head
It makes no difference when I’m beautifully in over my head. I just love that line.
Lately I feel like life has been crashing around me. School, plans, mental health, home life. I’d gotten so wrapped up in my future plans, the plans I had devised for myself, that I’d stopped paying attention to what He was saying. He noticed.
So He crashed my life. He forced His way back in. Not in a way I wanted him to. But in a way I needed Him to.
He used those hellish, life-shattering moments of the past few months to find Him again. He used the tears and the grief to point me back to where my heart belongs: back to Him.
God has a tendency to wake us up when we need it. Not with a mere tap on the shoulder, or a whisper in the ear.
Sometimes, he wakes us up with a crash. A life-altering moment. A change in direction. A moment where we really, truly see how much we need Him.
So He crashes. He tears the walls and boxes we’ve made down. And he wrecks our lives up.
He sure did wreck mine up. And it’s been hard. It’s not been this beautiful worshipful moment. It’s been hell. It’s almost taken me under the depths a few times.
But it’s made me realize how much I need him to be the guide– not me. Because when I plan, it all goes to hell in a handbasket.
So he crashes into me, hard and fast and swift. He pulls me away from where I want to be, where my constructs and plans and wants are, and he pulls me towards where he wants me to be. Even if I don’t know exactly where that is yet, I know it’ll be better than where I was.
He crashes over me. He pulls me over my head– over what I want, back into the rhythms of grace. Back where I’m meant to be, even if it’s not where I want to be.
In the moments that drastically change us– the ones that stop our lives dead in our tracks– those are the moments where He is crashing into us, forcing us back into the plans He has for us. The moments where we don’t feel God or don’t understand– those are the moments that He’s leading us in over our heads. It’s scary, but it’s worth it.
He’s worth the crash.
the song this post was based on- Beautifully In Over My Head (Crash Over Me)
For an introvert, I’ve never been too big on silence.
I need noise. A distraction. Something in the background– music, TV, whatever. I’ve never been one to just sit in silence for long.
For some reason, silence freaks me out. I hear the natural noises of the house and outdoors- dogs snoring, floor boards creaking, wind blowing, neighbors talking, fireworks going off (my neighbors celebrate America year-round, apparently)… and it just overwhelms me.
(even now- I attempted to do this sans-music, but I couldn’t handle it!)
I thinks it’s because silence magnifies everything else around me, and that scares me a bit.
Even usually during my quiet time, I play music- whether it be soft worship music, or hymns, etc. Even if I’m trying to be still and listen to/for God, I usually have music on– music is one of the ways I connect to God, so I usually have it playing.
It’s taken me until recently to appreciate silence.
Even if it’s not always “pure” silence, peace and quiet have become very important in my life lately.
I live in a very loud, noisy house. With a barking/whining puppy, a loud grown dog, a very loud mom (I get it naturally) who blares her TV full-blast. Up until a week ago, we had roommates who spent most of their free time screaming at each other as a hobby. I’m surrounded by loud. It’s never quiet in my house.
Same goes for work. I work with toddlers all day-you can do the math. It’s never quiet. Even during naptime, there’s music playing.
The only place I have quiet is my back porch- it’s off of the house, screened-in, big and fully-furnished, and QUIET. One day this week I put the puppy to bed early and ventured out there and just sat for 20 minutes. No music, nothing. I just sat and breathed, painted my nails. I’ve been doing my quiet time out there too. But, the sitting in the quiet changed my day. I need to do that more often, for my sanity.
Earlier this week, Shauna Niequiest posted this thought about silence:
Silence used to terrify me. These days, though, silence is where I’m reminded what matters most.
Silence doesn’t terrify me as much anymore. Instead, it’s where I find the strength to fight through the noise.
Today’s prompt is value, but i already did that one by accident (oops). So, I’m winging it today, and will probably spend five minutes rambling. Oh well.
I think I’ve begun to realize that adulthood means I’ll never not be tired. I went to bed early (for me) last night, and yet woke up still exhausted. I don’t get it.
23 days into this 31 days of blogging thing, and this is one of the only nights I haven’t felt like doing it. Not for any reason other than I’ve got nothing much to say today. It’s a mix of being exhausted, tired of sitting in front of my computer screen to write, and basically drawing a blank at what to write about.
Today was pretty meh. Nothing grand, nothing awful. Just average.
Same goes for this week- nothing bad, nothing great about it.
—
About a month ago, I went to my doctor and requested an increase in my medicine– the meds I’m on for GAD and Depression. August and September were just too cruel to me, and I felt like I couldn’t get out from under the weight of the hurt. I was in one of the worst depressions I’ve ever been in, and was scared I wasn’t going to make it out from a hole that was caving on top of me. It was awful. I felt like I was trapped--locked away by both my circumstances and depression telling me there was no way out of them.
I finally got sick of living like that– living trapped. So I asked for help- something I hate (but am learning to accept that it’s necessary). And I took the help that was offered.
It took awhile for the medicine to start feeling like it was making much of a difference. I had a few glimpses here and there of feeling better, until this week.
This week, it’s the first week I’ve felt like I could handle the weight on my shoulders. I could work through the circumstances I was dealing with. I could find some joy in the midst of it all. After months of not feeling much other than fear and sadness, I finally felt some happiness. Even if I had bad days or bad moments in a day, I could get through them without wanting to die. I’ve gotten up every day cheerfully instead of wanting to stay in bed all day. (Though I have a never-ending cold right now, so I could get away with that).
Everything feels a little bit clearer. Everything feels like it’s going to get better, instead of worse.
And I feel a little bit more like myself, more than I have in a long time.
When life throws me curveballs or rogue waves, my brain is starting to help me handle them for once, instead of retreating in the corner like usual. I actually feel like I can do more than survive. I feel like I can thrive.
Life is starting to feel more lively again. And I’m hoping it stays that way.
Because I was made for so much more than just getting by.
I was made to be free from this mess that is mental illness. It just took asking for help to finally get that freedom.
Life is much more beautiful when you’re free.
because how else would i end this post?
Come on won’t you run? Come on won’t you run free?
Come on won’t you run? Come one won’t you run free?
Come on won’t you dance, like a prisoner released?
Come on won’t you run? Won’t you run free?
well, this post wasn’t exactly a ramble… i guess it’s exactly what was on my mind tonight. Funny how that works.
Joy is God in the marrow of our bones. {Eugenia Price}
That quote has stuck with me, years later.
Have you ever found yourself in the most mundane of moments, yet feeling unabashed joy in the midst of them?
Even when life isn’t exactly doing you any favors. Or rogue waves come at you from left field.
When circumstances don’t make you feel quite joyful, yet you still find joy? That’s not us. That’s God.
Joy isn’t dependent on what we’re doing, or what’s going on in our lives. Though we sometimes (often for me) feel like our joy is contingent on life working out for us, joy is so much more than that.
Joy is God in us. Joy is God– in the midst of the mundane, of the hellish moments, of the life screwups and sadness– still working, still breathing Himself into our lungs.
Joy is God in every fiber of being, making life worth celebrating even when circumstances aren’t.
(technically my timer went off right about here, but I have a story to add):
—
I worked in my school’s campus ministry office my junior year as an intern. We’d gone through some tough times the first semester of the year- and yet, you’d never know it when walking into the office. There was just an air about all of us interns and campus ministers- playing ball in the office, laughing loudly, talking giddily and excitingly about life, bouncing around like we were hyped up on caffeine– coming into our office in those days felt like joy, even when we probably could have all been sulking and sad about circumstances on our campus at the time. We went into campus ministry meetings laughing and goofy. (and I am not a goofy person, personality-wise).
It’s hard to describe. There was just something in the air– something that made us all just so happy when being with each other (and the campus ministers) in our office.
Our woman’s campus minister, my mentor Caroline, called it simply: The joy of the Lord.
We’d all just been struck by it. There was this insurmountable joy about us– we could not be shaken by what life had to offer us.
We were living like we had the joy of the Lord deep within us–in the marrow of our bones.
Simple as that. We lived the joy of the Lord, and it’s my goal to get back to that place where I feel like the joy of the Lord is less about my circumstances, and more about joy being in me, straight from God.
Because when you live life like the joy of the Lord is straight up in you, it shows.
Instead, You direct me on the path that leads to a beautiful life. As I walk with You, the pleasures are never-ending, and I know true joy and contentment. – Psalm 16:11 (The Voice)
Writeable moments 