To Surprise and Be Surprised

A while back, TWLOHA posted a blog called "There is Still Some Time", reminding us that there are still good things ahead of us. The first time I read it, one line stuck out to me...

"There is still some time to be surprised"

This line surprised me (go figure) at first and then I kept thinking about it. About what it could mean for my life. Then I found myself saying it to myself when I couldn't stand the overbearing thought of what the future holds, when I couldn't get myself out of the fog that calls itself negativity. Then I found myself saying it to my friends when they needed a reminder that the days to come can hold great things despite our past. 

It started to become my mantra about the days and about the years that are before me. 

There is still some time to be surprised. 

About what the future holds... the job oppurtunities, the search to call somewhere home, the heartbreaks and the heart mendings, the big moments, the small moments that mean just as much as the big moments.

About those I love in my life... their joys, their passions, all the things that matter to them, the things they say and do, and who they will become

About me... my healing, my passions, the things that think they will take my joy, the dreams that have yet to appear, the person who I will become. 

There are so many things to be surprised about. There are so many things to look forward to that I won't be able to expect. There are so many surprises that will deserve celebration when the time comes. And I can't wait.

But I don't want to just be surprised. I want to be a part of the surprise.

I want to show up for people when they think no one will be there.

I want to show people that I'm thinking of them with gifts and words and time.

I want to help people heal and grow.

I want to help people reach their dreams and goals.

I want to help people surprise others. 

I want to learn to show grace.

I finished reading If You Feel Too Much by Jamie Tworkowski, the founder of TWLOHA, at 3 am yesterday because I couldn't put it down. And once again his words about this life and surprises burned their way into my mind. 

"I'm starting to believe those things, that the best is yet to be, that life comes back, that the dreams that live inside me are there for a reason, that life is not just a tragedy, not just a story about losing. It is also a story of surprises and grace and redemption, of conversations and moments that feel like miracles."

More importantly, MY story is a story of surprises and grace and redemption and dreams and miracles. As the new year starts, I started to think about what I hoped for this year and I kept coming back to the concept of surprises. This next year of my story is a chance to surprise and to be surprised. With graduating, getting a "real" job, moving out, and all the other big changes that will happen this year, I have plenty of chances to be surprised. Instead of facing these moments with dread and anxiety, I can face them as the surprising opportunity that they truly are. And I can face these moments with the greatest surprises that I have ever received, the people I have the honor of calling friends. And I hope to surprise them as we continue to write our stories together. 

I believe in these things. I believe that there is still some time. 

There is still some time to surprise and be surprised.

This, right now,  is the time to surprise and be surprised.

For Today and Tomorrow

New Year's.

A time for endings and a time for beginnings.

A time for nostalgia and a time for dreams.

A time to lay things to rest and a time to start anew.

There is so much hope in tonight. There is so much hope in tomorrow.

Hope to leave behind everything you wish you could forget.

Hope to create something better in the days to come.

Maybe this year has been a lot more difficult than we intended or than we wanted. And who knows what this upcoming year holds. It could be the worst year ever, or we could make it the best.Whatever kind of year it has been and whatever kind of year it will be, there is still time.

There is still time to fall apart.
There is still time to rebuild.
There is still time to be confused.
There is still time to figure it all out.
There is still time to love.
There is still time to be loved.
There is still time to hurt.
There is still time to heal.
There is still time to be scared.
There is still time to be courageous.
There is still time to ask questions.
There is still time to find some answers.
There is still time to start over.

A year ends and a year begins. Everything that we hated about 2015 can be left tonight. The hurts, the regrets, the bad decisions, the dark times... we can leave them all behind. We can let go, that's the beauty of a new start, it's new. Some of us need that second chance.

A chance to heal
To be better
To learn
To love
To understand
To be brave
To figure things out

But sometimes that chance seems bleak, or seems to fall through. But maybe 2016 can be a year of chances and grace. To let ourselves fail. To let ourselves start over again with grace rather than shame. To let ourselves commit to a cause and stick to that commitment. To let ourselves be rather than stress about always doing. To let others commit, fail, and start over. To give others grace. To let others be rather than hold them to impossible standards.

This year is a chance for so many things to happen, so many good things. Even if we fail, or if others fail, there are still so many good things awaiting us. No matter what is behind us, this night and this next morning are reminders that things can better. It doesn't matter what 2015 or 2014 or 2013 had for us, it doesn't matter how bad they hurt us or how many times they knocked us down. What matters is that 2016 is new, fresh, blank. It can be whatever we want it be. It can be a chance for us to get back up and begin on an adventure where we are always facing the horizon of what's next.

Tonight is a chance for the sun to set and tomorrow is a chance for the sun to rise.

Make the best of this chance, make it matter.

The Day After Tragedy

The day after a tragedy is the worst. I hate that today is a beautiful day outside. It doesn't feel right. It doesn't feel right that I had fun last night with my friends or that I woke up to sunshine coming through my blinds. It doesn't feel right that I lay in bed or that I get up and go do my necessary tasks for the day. It doesn't feel right to laugh during the day but it doesn't feel right to grieve either.  It doesn't feel right that we discuss foreign policy or shout about politics. It doesn't feel right that the best we can do is change our profile picture to one tinted with France's flag or create a hashtag showing our support, especially if we do something similar for something as trivial as a red Starbucks cup. It doesn't feel right that my small world will go about its ordinary routine but for over 120 families, their worlds have been drastically changed forever. It doesn't feel right that those who lived through the attacks will carry the constant fear and panic of yesterday's events for the rest of their lives. It doesn't feel right that we pray only for Paris when an attack from ISIS happened in Lebanon on Thursday where 40 more lives were lost, 40 more families are grieving. 

Our world is in turmoil and there is little we can do. 

But we must do something. We must. 

We must pray for our world. 

That light would pierce the darkness. That peace would become the norm rather than war and violence. That hurts would be healed. That grace and justice are shown where they are needed. That hearts are softened. That injustices will be made right. That death does not get the final say. That God's glory and love show, even through tragedy. 

We must love true justice

"Love that is not just is not love, and justice that is not loving is not just." Justice that fights for those who are different than us. Justice that fights for those who have no will to fight. Justice that fights for those who have no way to fight. Justice that fights for changed hearts of those who oppress. Justice that stems from love. 

We must be a neighbor. 

As Professor Wanner recently pointed out to our Ethics class, the question is not "who is my neighbor" but rather "am I being a neighbor". To be a neighbor to those who are hurting. To mourn with the mourning. To feed the hungry. To clothe the naked. To love the orphan and the widow. To show up when we are needed. To be kindness where there is hatred. To love those close to us and far away, even when it is difficult. 

And when attacks happen it is easy  to respond out of anger because it is valid to be angry. I am angry. I am angry that a group values human life so little that they take it so easily and without remorse. I am angry that families are missing loved ones due to someone else's choices. I am angry that there are minds forever scarred by flashbacks and panic. I am angry that we can't change the past or take away the hurt or do anything to instantly heal the hearts or the country devastated. I am angry that social media is our way of showing support. I am angry that some who say #PrayforParis do nothing of the sort. I am angry that I am angry at those people because I am not better than them. I am angry that I forget to pray for our world. I am angry that I do not act justly in all or even most circumstances. I am angry that I fail to be a neighbor to those in my everyday life and those on the other side of the world who need help in times like this. 

But my anger does nothing. 

It doesn't reverse the deaths or the injuries. 

It doesn't defeat ISIS. 

It doesn't transform me into a neighbor. 

It doesn't make me look more like love. 

So I must act against my anger. 

I must pray for my own heart to be changed. 

I must pray for the world.

I must act in a way that changes my heart.

I must act in a way that changes the world

Our world doesn't seem right today. But one day, justice will be served, wrong will be made right, hearts will be whole. 

Until then, we pray. 

You are a Light

I always get really weird when people give me compliments or say kind things to me. I usually don't make eye contact and I say "Thank You" in probably the most awkward way. Or I giggle uncomfortably. Or I probably blush and stumble upon the simplest of sentences. Accepting a compliment is a skill that I'm still working on, or it's more like  I'm going to start working on it.

Anyways, there's a kind phrase that I've heard more than once since school has begun and it baffles me every time I hear it.

"Marilyn, you are a light."

What?
Why?
How?

Have you seen me recently? I've absolutely been a wreck.

I feel unworthy of being called a light when I feel broken; when I feel like there is nothing but darkness inside of me and surrounding me.

And I know that those are just perceptions, but so often they feel so very real.

I have a difficult time recognizing why someone would call me a light in their life.
But then I think about the people who are a light in my life...

You are a light when you make others laugh.
You are a light when you whole heartedly laugh.
You are a light when you choose kind words.
You are a light when you choose honesty.
You are a light when you face darkness.
You are a light when you choose to see beyond the darkness.
You are a light when you choose to be vulnerable.
You are a light when you choose to be a refuge.
You are a light when you admit that things might not be okay but one day they will be.

You are a light when you choose to see the light in others.

You are a light when you choose to show grace. 

You are a light when you choose to love. 

You are a light when you choose to live life unapologetically. 

I don't realize that I can be a light when I don't feel like I am capable of being a light. Other people probably feel the same way about themselves. Actually, I know that other people feel the same way. I read this quote once that said when we believe that because we aren't perfect we can't be loved, it's like saying a broken window is incapable of letting sunlight in and warming a room. 

A broken window can still let light in. 

An imperfect and struggling person can still shine. 

Thank you for seeing the light in me, for believing that I am still capable of shining... Especially when I don't see it or believe it.  

Thank you for being a light in my life, for choosing to shine despite your darkness. Thank you for being a light, even if you don't think you are one.  

You are a light, continue to shine.

Love the Unwilling

I am the unwilling.

Not because I want to be, but in response to my circumstances, I have built a girl who is unable to trust, unwilling to accept love.  My mind has built this reality where love is rarely genuine, it is only charity, only pity, to the poor little girl who lost her parents. Sometimes I wear the identity of "orphan girl" proudly because it has drastically changed my life. And in some ways, rightfully so. Who could lose both parents at the age of sixteen and remain the same? In some ways it has made me a better person. I can wear that identity proudly because in a sense I am no longer an orphan. Yes, my mother and father died, but I have been "adopted" by so many people along the way. And as cheesy as it sounds, adopted by God.

Other times I try so hard to hide that my parents aren't here anymore. I try very hard for the rest of who I am to outshine the (for lack of a better word) "damaged" part of me. I try to let you see that I am funny, artistic, intelligent, nerdy, and everything else that I am before you get to see what death has done to my heart. Before you see the parts that I so desperately want change. The girl who is incredibly prideful and has a skewed view of independence. The one who is sarcastic and sassy and often rude in an attempt to keep people at a distance. The girl who became anxious about her future. The girl who is fearful of people and their paths of destruction... and their paths of grace.

Honestly, their grace is something that I am more fearful of most of the time. It's when they serve me when I believe that I am supposed to do it on my own. It's when they yell at me to share my life rather than living in self-inflicted isolation. It's when I try to keep track of what I "owe" in the relationship and it comes to a point where it's too much. It's when they give a response of kindness when I'm expecting anger. It's when they love me so well that it brings me to tears and humbles me.

It's when I feel like I have given them a million reasons to leave, and they choose to stay.

It's those moments that have changed me. It's those moments where I have seen that people can truly reflect the love of Christ. It's the moments that surprise me that have forced me to break down my walls brick by brick. It's those moments that ever so slowly change my heart.

I need to love the unwilling.

Because I have seen what love can do. Because I have seen that love and grace change things, change people... change me.

Because what I have been given, I need to give to others.

And it's not easy, not even a little bit.

I have seen people walk away when I try to support them. I have yelled at them to share their life because I can't guess what's going on. I have given them things and they keep trying to pay me back. I have sat and cried with them when they have expected judgment.

It's frustrating to stay sometimes. But I'm begging you, please stay. I promise that walls will come down. I promise that trust will be established. I promise that hearts will change, including your own. I promise that the love of Christ you show will not come back void. It may not be tomorrow, next week, a month from now or even years down the road. You may not even see the results, but love changes things... It changes everything. 

I still fight love. 

I will drag my feet when I have to be vulnerable. 

I will say no multiple times before accepting something. 

I won't cry in front of you because I feel I'm weak. 

It's my instinct. 

So, I'm fighting for love. 

I'm fighting to believe that you genuinely love me. 

I'm fighting to believe that our relationship isn't pity or charity. 

I'm fighting to love you the way that you love me. 

I'm fighting so one day I will no longer be unwilling. 

I am the unwilling... But love is changing me.  

For When Joy Isn't Easy

There are nights that you never want to end, the laughter echos for the longest time.
There are days that are extremely mundane, but they are "the best days of your life".

There are nights where you beg for morning to come quicker just to say you've made it another day.
There are days where 2 pm feels like darkness suffocating you.

There are days, weeks, and months where you don't feel like yourself. Where regret, fear, and emptiness sink in and make their home in your chest.

There are semesters where you stare at your blank documents for assignments that were due forever ago, but you just can't string words into sentences.

There are times when people ask how you're doing and you answer "ehhh" because you don't really know the problem or how to explain something you don't understand yourself.

There are times when you are irritable with the people you love most and hurt them without intending to and without reason.

Sometimes you just think it's a bad attitude day but you know that it's so much deeper than that.

Sometimes you need to convince yourself that in spite of your muscles shaking, your heart racing, your chest heaving, that today is a good day.

Sometimes joy needs to be replaced with rage.

Because "Rage, rage against the dying of the light", even when taken completely out of context, reminds me to stay.
Because there are times when you can still laugh, but it doesn't feel the same.
Because there are times when you don't recognize yourself.
Because there are times when people will say "but you seem fine" as to rationalize away the internal struggle.
Because this isn't trivial.
Because sometimes you're in a better place than you were and you are still struggling.
Because fighting to stay is one of the most difficult fights.
Because fighting to feel alive after you have promised to stay is just as difficult.

Because I am angry.
I am angry that fear and anxiety are my normals.
I am angry that laughing is always seen as a sign of vitality.
I am angry that existing is so difficult sometimes.
I am angry that better doesn't always mean completely healed.

Because I want more.
I want to excel not just to do okay.
I want to be consistently joyful not just temporarily happy.

Because I have been here before and won.
I was here in high school.
I was here when my mother was gone too quickly.
I was here when I slowly said goodbye to my father.
I was here when I dealt with shame.

I won because God is still in the business of redemption.

Because He is a good, good Father.
Because He loves me when I feel distant.
Because I need him more than my stubborn and prideful self would care to admit.
Because He rescues the lost.
Because He can give me joy in the midst of darkness.

So, when joy isn't easy.....
I choose to laugh at my embarrassing moments.
I choose to sing that He is a good, good Father over and over.
I choose to dance in the parking lot even when security gives me weird looks.
I choose to take stupid pictures in an art museum that look like I'm doing the chicken dance.
I choose to be grateful in prayers that bring me to tears.
I choose to write to bring peace to my heart.
I choose to share stupid Tweets and Facebook posts that make me giggle.
I choose to watch Pride and Prejudice 1,000 times because I love it most ardently.
I choose to be around people who encourage, forgive, love, understand and pray.
I choose to give more of my heart to be transformed by a love so indescribable.
I choose to see another day.
I choose to continue to struggle for joy.

For I have a Spirit of Fear

For I have a spirit of fear.

I know, that's not how the verse goes.  It goes, "For God has not given us a spirit of fear and timidity but of power, love, and self-discipline." (2 Timothy 1:7, NLT)

Maybe that's what I was given, but I am sure, just I am breathing, that it is not what I have.

I have become fearful and anxious, sometimes rightfully so and other times not so much.
It's gotten worse over the years. Last year, I attempted to actually figure out my fears and wrote down what I was afraid of. I recently found that list... it was 45 items long.

45 items long.

And that's not including spiders, or heights, or random things that shouldn't really terrify a grown adult. It's 45 things that bring me to tears, or make my heart race, or make me lose my breath if I start to think about them for too long. And that's a list from a year ago, let's not add fears that have arisen since then.

Is that normal?

Even if it is, I don't think that I should be so afraid.

I hate being so afraid.

But what I hate more are the things we say and do to "conquer" our fears, or to "help" other people with their fears.

"You just need to have more faith."

"Have you tried praying about it?"

"Don't be anxious about anything...."

"You just have to face your fears!"

"You know, the bible mentions fear 365 times, that's enough encouragement for every day!"

Thank you, you've cured me of years of irrational thinking and emotions with your empty attempt to understand my fears and anxieties. Thank you for choosing the option that involves the least amount of effort. Thank you for telling me that my faith isn't strong enough, that helps the situation and fosters an environment for me to grow in our relationship and in my walk. Thank you for your patience in dealing with someone who can't always calm herself down by throwing cliches in her face without thought or consideration.

No, really. Thank you.

You taught me that not everyone is capable of understanding fears or giving encouragement. You taught me that fears are a lot more complex than we try to make them seem and so is trying to overcome them.

So, I still have fears... a lot of them.

But, I'm learning that it takes a lot to become fearless. It takes a lot to be courageous in spite of fear. It takes a lot of patience to undo years of skewed thoughts. It takes a lot to reclaim the spirit of power, love, and self- discipline that I was given. It takes a lot of grace to deal with people who don't understand. It takes a lot of love to cast out fear.

Fear is real, anxiety is real...but so is courage and so is love.

And one day, I will no longer feel like I have a spirit of fear.