To my husband...
I prayed for you today. I know I promised myself that I would pray for you every day, beginning several months ago, but I failed to start. I never knew how to begin...where to begin. What to ask for, how to talk to God about you. It's silly to think that I was embarrassed about all of it. About how much love I have for you already, about how much I have planned for our future, about the names I have picked out for the children that I hope we bring into this world, about everything. It's silly to think that I was afraid of bringing the idea of you to Him, of laying it all down at His feet. I think I was afraid of letting go of control and allowing God to have His way with our future. I just wanted it to be us, ya know? For life to happen as it may, for us to meet and fall in love, to have Lillia and Cadance and Tobin and Elijah, to have a great family. The surface of my mind was always clouded with the doubt of God's ability to handle it. What a silly thought...doubting Him like that. After all, He knows you and He knows me. He knows "us" better than we ever will. He's the one that has handled each of us individually for the past 19+ years, and he'll begin to handle us together when He's ready. When we're ready.
Last night was hard. I got into bed, just like any other night, but this insane wave of emotion rushed over my body and I started sobbing and praying to God about how scared I was for the future, and I started writing this letter to you and our children and everything just felt so real. I wish you could've been there to comfort me. I've been feeling somewhat melancholy in general lately, and I think it's just a compilation of a bunch of little things starting to weigh heavily on my psyche. Sometimes I wonder where you are, who you're with, and what you're doing. I wonder if you think about me when your mind wanders. I wonder if you pray for me, too, and if you love the Lord like I do. I wonder how we'll meet, and if you'll make me nervous. I wonder if you'll be impressed by me and if we'll act silly together. I wonder what it will feel like to have butterflies again. But most of all, I wonder how you'll love someone like me.
Even though I'm surrounded by friends that love me and cherish me every day, I can't help but feel lonely. Some of my closest friends are moving right along in this department, and here I am -- the only one that really wants to get married, that really wants to be a mommy, that really could care less about college or a degree or a career so long as I have a family -- and I can't seem to do anything right. I'm definitely aware of my lack of experience in the love department and I always worry that I'm going to disappoint you, so I try to make up for it in any way that I can. Nearly every single decision I make revolves around our family. I don't support the consumption of alcohol or drugs or sex because I want to be the best person I can be. For you. And for Lillia. And Cadence, and Tobin, and Elijah. I want to be healthy so that we can lead our children into a healthy lifestyle and prolong their lifespan to the best of our abilities. I want to grow spiritually so that you can depend on me. I want to love the Lord so that I can learn how to properly love you. I want to be your rock in times of struggle, your refuge in times of need. I want us to work together and lean on Him in every way. They say a family that prays together stays together, and I know that we can live that out if we work at it.
I am so excited to have children. To start a family, to get our lives going. Most of my friends think the idea of being pregnant is not at all appealing, but I will be elated when we find out we're having our first little one. To be honest, a part of me worries that God may have other plans for us. I know this is extremely far fetched, but what if I can't have kids? What if my body won't allow me to? What if I have miscarriages? What if I can't get pregnant? Don't get me wrong, I'm not opposed to adoption. I've recently seen a spark of light in me that is actually drawn to it. I've always seen adoption as an amazing thing to pursue, but I never thought I would be strong enough. But I'm beginning to rethink that now. Would you want to adopt? I want to be pregnant and have the experience of bringing someone into the world myself, but maybe we can adopt as well. Just one. Or two, or three, or five -- whatever the Lord calls us to do, we'll do it. If it's in His cards for us, we will lean on Him for guidance.
I carry you, our children, and each of our own families on my heart every single day. My children...our children...they haven't even been conceived and I worry for their safety. I worry for your safety and I haven't even met you. I'm sure by now you've sensed that I'm a worry wart....Tess even agreed that I was last night when I texted her. (She's my best friend -- you'll meet her someday, I'm sure of it.) I like to think that all of the worry is my brain's way of extending the rhythm of compassion my heart beats to. I hope that you love that part of me -- the compassionate part. I think our marriage is going to be a passionate one, mentally and spiritually and emotionally. I think passionate people are beautiful people. I hope you're beautiful in that way.
I just want you to know that I am trying my absolute hardest to be my best self. I want to be a Proverbs 31 woman for you...clothed in dignity and strength, laughing without fear of the future. And I hope that you're hard at work too, becoming the man that God made you to be and building a strong spiritual foundation for our family. I will love you with everything that I have, following the image of the One who loves us.
I'll see you soon, dear. I love you.
xoxo
Thursday, January 31, 2013
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
Confession #9: Your grace is enough.
On December 4, I applied to be a spring 2013 columnist for Mizzou's student-run newspaper The Maneater. I was confident in my application -- the answers I provided, my two sample columns, and the link to this very blog which I was sure would catch attention. I was really hopeful to see where the columnist position could take me and what sort of voice I could bring to campus.
To me, entitlement is an emotion created by the human race. An emotion of greed, desire, and a self-centered lifestyle that takes over our minds and hearts on an almost daily basis. Who ever said that we have a right to all of the blessings that are bestowed onto us in this lifetime -- a right so critical that it is viewed as legal? A claim of ownership that stems from disillusion and possessive tendencies? Walking through life every day with a mind of entitlement leads to disaster. We are reminded in Proverbs 19:21 that our own plans are of very little importance: "Many are the plans in a person’s heart, but it is the Lord’s purpose that prevails." God's plan is bigger and better than anything that we could ever imagine. Whatever you believe you are entitled to, whatever I believe I deserve, whatever we believe we have earned, is irrelevant in the eyes of the Lord. He generously blesses each and every one of us in ways we can't even begin to understand. There is no shame in hard-work and determination; they can be crucial aspects of progress and success. It is when this driven attitude morphs into greedy privilege that the true trouble begins. Entitlement is powerful. It is not yielding to take over, it is not hesitant to rule. It swiftly fills in the gaps of our hearts and clouds our minds. We must instead focus on the grace of God to develop true understanding. Grace is the single most important thing that we receive without deserving. We have done nothing to earn God's grace, but He gives it to us regardless. Sin forgiven, we are cleansed. He pardons our mistakes and blesses us abundantly every day.
On January 18, I received the following email from one of the paper's staff members:
Dear Alix,
On behalf of The Maneater editorial board, I'd like to thank you again for applying for a Spring 2013 column. I was very impressed. Your application and blog reflected thoughtfulness, knowledge, and strong communication skills. However, the editorial board has decided not to select you for a column this semester.
We hope that you continue to pursue your talents in persuasive writing and spreading your message, and urge you to apply next fall if you are so inclined. Have a great semester!
My heart dropped instantly. I was so ready to begin working on my portfolio, to write columns that could be used as clips for later applications, to gain some sort of entrance into the journalistic world to which I am still a complete stranger. I was eager to get my words out into the public forum. I wanted to speak, and I wanted people to listen. When I first emailed my application, I was sure that I had a fair chance at getting the position. I had heard countless times from many of my peers and professors that I was a great writer with wisdom, talent, and a real future. And I truly thought that this column was my one-way ticket into a completely new environment. I felt entitled, worthy, and sure of myself for the first time in months.
Over the past few days, I've found myself moping around with the belief that a position I deserved had been taken away from me. Stolen from me, even, by people who failed to see my true potential. I was angry and frustrated and sickened by the lack of recognition my application received. I felt deserving of the position and was extremely bitter about the outcome. In my mind, the column had been mine to claim all along. But that was not the reality. That feeling of entitlement was completely toxic -- but nothing new. In past years, it has crept into every aspect of my life, wriggled its way into the shadowed corners of my soul, and turned my world inside out. Believing that I deserve everything I ever want is exhausting and continually disappointing. The world does not revolve around me. The human race does not bow down at my feet. I am not supreme. In reality, everyone does not get everything on their wish list. Those who attain such pleasure are usually plagued by minds that are off-centered, clouded, and confused. Idolizing success is just as sinful as idolizing any other god.
The Oxford Dictionary entry for "entitled" is as follows:
One of the worst parts of this entire scenario is the fact that I completely ignored the actual praise I was given in that email. I was deemed impressive, thoughtful, and knowledgable. The editorial board didn't dislike my blog. They weren't disgusted by my writing style. They didn't fail to understand my message or believe in my talent. The compliments I did receive were small blessings which gave me a sense of happiness that I failed to notice in the first place. My belief that the position was mine from the get-go was a result of greed and insecurity. It's probable that the "big prize" I so desperately wanted was given to a writer of equal or higher talent. Every single one of the applicants worked hard to get the application done on time, display the best of their creativity, and promote a message they sought to expand on. Just because I didn't get the position I wanted doesn't mean the person who did was of less merit. Being a spring 2013 columnist for The Maneater wasn't in the deck for me, but it was a card played by God for someone else. Each of our decks differs in time, place, and circumstance; though the timing may seem off to us, every card is perfected by Him. Worry has no place in the eyes of the Lord; He has "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future" (Jeremiah 29:11).
My advice? Monitor your heart, your mind, and your spirit. Watch the words you say, the thoughts you think, the emotions you feel. Stray from greed and focus on His grace. The rest will fall into place.
"Now to him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think, according to the power at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever. Amen." -- Ephesians 3:20-21
Tuesday, January 8, 2013
Confession #8: I am rabbit-hearted.
Sometimes I am utterly stunned by how tender my heart can be. How emotional I get, how heavy a toll life's softest blows can have on my well-being, how hard it is for me to let go of the people and factors of my life that I grasp onto with my whole heart. I've been advised to take a more reasonable approach and think with my head, but I can't resist following my heart. I always have and I like to think that I always will. I don't care for logical thinking, I don't favor practicality, and I don't see a sensibility in going through life with a view so black and white. I immerse myself in the 'what if' -- the grey area that slips between the cracks, the hopeful and sincere thought of the possibilities of life. The good, the bad, the heartfelt. Over the past two months, I've come to the somewhat shocking realization that I am not as tough as I have always believed.
Throughout middle school, I was not a pleasant person. I don't really remember why or how I got to be so cold, but the friends who have stuck by my side for the past nearly 8 years serve as a daily reminder that I am blessed to have eventually grown out of that persona. Even in high school, I was known as the girl with thick skin. The girl with a quick mind, who could take it from you and dish it right back. The girl whose fuse was easily lit but slow to burn out. I've experienced numerous things throughout the past 19 years that I would never wish on a person. Familial challenges, heartbreak, uncertainty, and emotional damage that I've worked to (at least begin to) repair. But I've come out on the other end a much happier person. When you get down to it, life truly is beautiful. It's so repetitive yet so spontaneous. So permanent yet so fleeting. So challenging but so immensely inspiring that it's virtually impossible for me to maintain a bad mood for anything more than a few hours.
It has recently come to my attention, though, that my heart is much more tender than I thought. Since I moved to Missouri, I have had to quickly educate myself on the how-to's of adulthood. Living 11 hours away from everything I've ever known, attempting to reinvent myself to a group of people who thankfully cannot use any irrelevant factors of my previous life in Texas to my disadvantage, paying my own way through daily life, maintaining a job while going to school full-time and keeping a 4.0, making independent decisions with consequences that fall on my shoulders and my shoulders only. It's been a crazy, amazing, fulfilling ride, and I still have 3 years left. In such a short amount of time, I've already learned that rejection's sting can be just as permanent even if the journey is crammed into a shorter period. I've learned how college changes people, regardless of the amount of love you attempt to pour into them day by day. I've learned that ignorance is not bliss in most circumstances, but rather power lies in knowledge and understanding. I've learned the insufficiency of second chances in the hands of those who are repetitively disappointing. I've learned that a focus on short-term fulfillment leads to a road of long-term solidarity. I've learned the importance of community, both in the friend and family sense. Most importantly, I've learned that the only being in this entire world that will ever treat me the way I deserve to be treated 100% of the time, make me feel adored and appreciated every single day, and stand by my side no matter the circumstance, is my Lord. He is so good in every way possible. I have yet to find a man at Mizzou whose spiritual life is strong enough to spark my interest, but I hope to soon. Rejection wears heavily on my heart, and I'm doing my best to pour myself into Him so that He will show me His plans for my future in whatever means necessary.
So, despite the advice of my peers, I wear my heart on my sleeve every day. I'm often told that I'm simply sending out invitations for disappointment, but I refuse to hide such an honest part of myself that is so naive and delicate. There are many days where my heart is heavier than I would like to admit. It's scary to be so open with people, but I believe that our hearts are meant to be put on display. The heart is the sole pump of life throughout our anatomy. Without it, we would not exist. We would be cold, lifeless, and irrelevant. Such a noble organ with such a crucial duty shouldn't be hidden.
Life is a risk. It's scary and thrilling and one giant leap of faith. So put it all out there. Lay it all down. Show the world what you're made of. You'll get hurt in the process, I promise you that. But one day, maybe even in the smallest way, you'll realize that it was all worth it. That all of the disappointment and all of the despair and all of the departure and all of the devastation was completely worth your while.
I'm not gonna worry
I know that You've got me
Right inside the palm of Your hand
Each and every moment
What's good and what gets broken
Happens just the way You planned
Throughout middle school, I was not a pleasant person. I don't really remember why or how I got to be so cold, but the friends who have stuck by my side for the past nearly 8 years serve as a daily reminder that I am blessed to have eventually grown out of that persona. Even in high school, I was known as the girl with thick skin. The girl with a quick mind, who could take it from you and dish it right back. The girl whose fuse was easily lit but slow to burn out. I've experienced numerous things throughout the past 19 years that I would never wish on a person. Familial challenges, heartbreak, uncertainty, and emotional damage that I've worked to (at least begin to) repair. But I've come out on the other end a much happier person. When you get down to it, life truly is beautiful. It's so repetitive yet so spontaneous. So permanent yet so fleeting. So challenging but so immensely inspiring that it's virtually impossible for me to maintain a bad mood for anything more than a few hours.
It has recently come to my attention, though, that my heart is much more tender than I thought. Since I moved to Missouri, I have had to quickly educate myself on the how-to's of adulthood. Living 11 hours away from everything I've ever known, attempting to reinvent myself to a group of people who thankfully cannot use any irrelevant factors of my previous life in Texas to my disadvantage, paying my own way through daily life, maintaining a job while going to school full-time and keeping a 4.0, making independent decisions with consequences that fall on my shoulders and my shoulders only. It's been a crazy, amazing, fulfilling ride, and I still have 3 years left. In such a short amount of time, I've already learned that rejection's sting can be just as permanent even if the journey is crammed into a shorter period. I've learned how college changes people, regardless of the amount of love you attempt to pour into them day by day. I've learned that ignorance is not bliss in most circumstances, but rather power lies in knowledge and understanding. I've learned the insufficiency of second chances in the hands of those who are repetitively disappointing. I've learned that a focus on short-term fulfillment leads to a road of long-term solidarity. I've learned the importance of community, both in the friend and family sense. Most importantly, I've learned that the only being in this entire world that will ever treat me the way I deserve to be treated 100% of the time, make me feel adored and appreciated every single day, and stand by my side no matter the circumstance, is my Lord. He is so good in every way possible. I have yet to find a man at Mizzou whose spiritual life is strong enough to spark my interest, but I hope to soon. Rejection wears heavily on my heart, and I'm doing my best to pour myself into Him so that He will show me His plans for my future in whatever means necessary.
So, despite the advice of my peers, I wear my heart on my sleeve every day. I'm often told that I'm simply sending out invitations for disappointment, but I refuse to hide such an honest part of myself that is so naive and delicate. There are many days where my heart is heavier than I would like to admit. It's scary to be so open with people, but I believe that our hearts are meant to be put on display. The heart is the sole pump of life throughout our anatomy. Without it, we would not exist. We would be cold, lifeless, and irrelevant. Such a noble organ with such a crucial duty shouldn't be hidden.
Life is a risk. It's scary and thrilling and one giant leap of faith. So put it all out there. Lay it all down. Show the world what you're made of. You'll get hurt in the process, I promise you that. But one day, maybe even in the smallest way, you'll realize that it was all worth it. That all of the disappointment and all of the despair and all of the departure and all of the devastation was completely worth your while.
I'm not gonna worry
I know that You've got me
Right inside the palm of Your hand
Each and every moment
What's good and what gets broken
Happens just the way You planned
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