sadness

It's really hard for me to let myself get sad.

I don't like feeling worn down, so most of the time I just don't let myself go there. When I'm sick, I push through. When I'm tired, I push through. When I get stepped on, I take it. I don't like being around people who complain, so I try my best not to complain.
Even when it feels like nothing is going right.

I just don't feel like it's fair to let myself get sad or frustrated or discontent. I grew up in a loving home with two amazing parents and two amazing sisters. I could afford to go to college. I found a job right after graduation. I have amazing friends. I've led a pretty easy life. God has blessed me immensely more than he should have. I shouldn't be unhappy.

But sometimes I get sad. And sometimes I get scared. And frustrated. And sometimes I feel helpless and hopeless and lost and unsupported. Sometimes I feel unappreciated and forgotten. I feel silenced and disregarded and hurt and hated. Sometimes I feel insecure and untalented and lonely.

Right now I feel sad.

And I'm realizing that it's okay to feel that way sometimes.

I'm realizing that it's okay to not have everything together all the time.
It's okay to be broken. It proves that I have to be fixed—that I can't fix myself.

Sometimes it's hard to trust that God cares when I feel this way; but why would he have created me with the ability to feel this way if I weren't ever meant to be sad?

I'm supposed to be discontent sometimes. Discomfort forces change—it forces growth. It proves that I'm meant for something bigger. That my life as it is isn't supposed to be a stagnant, repetative algorithm. God created me to innovative and creative. He created me to desire more.

It's okay to be sad. Sad is a feeling. I can't control my feelings. I can control what I do with them. I can decide what actions will sprout from discontentment.

There's a time to be sad.
I pray that what comes of the sadness is good, positive, and glorifying.
I pray for joy in the darkness.

want

what do i want?

enough

desire

Often I find myself aching for an eternity that seems all too far away. I stop, look around, and am overwhelmed. Our world needs redemption and at this moment, I am desperately praying for it.

"If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world."                                                                                —C.S. Lewis

tracing

Lightly,

my fingertips trace

along rough grain.

Aged wood

of a centuries old tree

passes slowly underneath my hands

like braille for the blind.

Barely touching the timber,

I feel along grooves

and over knots,

searching

for a place

that my weak hands

might cling

to the crudely-formed cross.

I must be careful,

for the wood's not been sanded.

I must find a place

that does not threaten

to scrape or splinter

my delicate hands,

though

I long
so deeply

to cling to it

with all of my strength.

I trace the tree
and wonder

what might happen

if my fingers

and palms

formed

white-knuckled fists

and I was brave enough
to hold on
tight.

resolutions

I'm not much for making New Year's resolutions, but I pray that for me this is a year of growth, joy, reflection, and peace.

Since I started my big girl job in August it seems like my world has become a giant blur of people and events and emotions and tasks. Whenever I get the chance to stop and catch my breath I don't know what to do with myself.

I pray that I learn what to do in those moments. I pray that I learn how to use those moments; how to not waste them. How to really truly rest and reflect and enjoy the peace that comes from being still.

propaganda

Oh my. I'm already halfway through September. For those who are still interested in my increasingly busy life, I'm a teacher in Durham, NC. It's... well, I'm learning a lot.

I'm going to try and be better about posting here. Not because I think anyone reads this, but because I like doing it.

Until then, here's a video: