Confession #18: I need to see Your blueprint.

If you've ever seen the "Shoot Christians Say" YouTube video by Tripp and Tyler, you recognize the cliche phrase, "I'm just such a words guy." Well I'm definitely a words girl. I don't know if it's my journalist coming out, or if it's part of being such a right brain. Regardless, it's been that way for years now. And when I get into emotional ruts, and I can't seem to put my own thoughts into words, I look for someone else to do the job for me. I google quotes. Lame, I know, but it's my "thing" -- it's my go-to.

Sunday night, I attended small group with a few of my friends from Veritas. We're studying Don't Waste Your Life by John Piper (which has introduced even more stress into my life as I question what the heck I'm doing when I graduate in three years -- but that's a topic for another day). One of the study questions our leaders asked was whether we considered ourselves logical or emotional. Everyone in the room unanimously agreed that I fit into the emotional category. I couldn't complain, though, because they were right. I am an emotional person. On a deeper level, the how's and why's of that character feature are confusing and complex. But, simply put, I am emotionally-driven, and it's obvious to anyone who spends any amount of time in my presence.

After that question, I started wondering whether me being emotional is a good or bad thing. That sounds like an awful thing to question, and I don't mean that I'm looking to change that quality. I don't think I ever could, even if I wanted to. But there are pros and cons that go along with being emotional. My inability to cope with disappointment is a con, while the tangible love I have for the people in my life is a plus. I could go on and on with this list. But over the past 48 hours, I've been hammering my brain with negatives. How being emotional has caused me more stress than necessary, especially recently. How being emotional has caused me heartbreak in an instant. How being emotional drives me to dive into relationships with people quickly and heavily and I'm left feeling empty when that leap of faith isn't returned.

Today, I am in one of those emotional ruts where I need someone else's words to explain my thoughts. So, like many times before, C.S. Lewis was there to untangle my mess of a mind.

“Imagine yourself as a living house. God comes in to rebuild that house. At first, perhaps, you can understand what He is doing. He is getting the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on; you knew that those jobs needed doing and so you are not surprised. But presently He starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably and does not seem to make any sense. What on earth is He up to? The explanation is that He is building quite a different house from the one you thought of - throwing out a new wing here, putting on an extra floor there, running up towers, making courtyards. You thought you were being made into a decent little cottage: but He is building a palace. He intends to come and live in it Himself.” - C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity

According to C.S. Lewis, God is building His home in my heart. He's restructuring the floor plan and knocking down some walls and painting a ceiling or two. He's deep-cleaning the dirty kitchen and tearing up the stained carpet. He's taking out all of that filth, all of that rust, all of that sin, and He's replacing it with beautiful color palettes and modern fixtures. I can't imagine anything else making my heart so homey besides the presence of the Holy Spirit. And that's a beautiful revelation.

But I don't understand why each of these individual changes are happening. When does he want to knock down that wall? Why does he want to replace that window? What's he going to do with the new flooring? What's the purpose for all of this?

I look at the blueprint for my Heart House as an illustration of my inner-most traits. But there's a disconnect between where I see the plan going and what God intends to do with it -- which is expected! Ephesians 3:20 tells us that God "is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine." After all, who are we to assume that God's plan doesn't amount to our happiness? He knows us better than anyone else. He's got this.

But as I type these words, as I reassure all of you that God's plan is perfect in His grace, I have trouble believing it myself. I have trouble believing that my fragile right brain and frail emotional state could possibly work out to glorify the Lord. How the heck am I going to make my Daddy proud with a heart that can't even hold itself together for more than a few hours?

I don't doubt God's plan. I believe that the finish line is going to be indescribably righteous -- pun intended. But I just can't see the steps lining up. I can't see this heart doing great things. It's weak and unsustainable and it carries every little event as a couple of pounds on the scale. The deep connections with friends and family are wonderful -- but sometimes I feel like all of this passion and all of this love just weighs me down. There aren't enough outlets in this world to alleviate the burden of my emotions.

I'm sitting here trying to lay this out plainly for you, but I can't. I can't fully explain what's happening in my head and how ridiculously heavy my heart has felt over the past 48 hours. Is that even possible? Can your heart feel like it's actually gained some sort of weight simply due to emotional distress? Because it's happening. It's happening to me right now and I can't get it to stop. 

My passion for life is great for other people. I have friends who remind me on a regular basis that they always feel loved and cherished through our friendship, and I'm so incredibly glad that that's the case. I love that my love is obvious and honest and there.

But why can't I see this character trait, this reliance on emotion, as a positive? When I give this topic any thought, there's a grey cloud of doubt and hatred and worry lingering in my mind.

I do need to clarify something, though: I love opening my heart. I love that I have absolutely no problem letting people in. There are certain people in my life that hold a special place in my heart. My family, friends, mentors, Granny's House kiddos...they're my lifeline. My passion for those people surpasses anything else.

I've done Granny's House for over a year now, but these past four weeks have been much more intense. The kids remember me; they call me by my name. They genuinely do not want me to leave. They want me to go to school with them. They want me to love on them. And I do. I love on them a lot, as much as I possibly can in that two-hour period, because who knows what happens when they step foot into their homes again after Granny's House ends for the day. It's a connection that I can't get with any other age group. It's incomparable, unique, unmatched. I wouldn't trade it for the world and I am insanely grateful that God placed Granny's House in my life. Columbia is home to me because of that ministry.

I always enjoy bringing new people into the environment, opening my heart and letting them in. It's great for both the new volunteers and the kiddos, but it weighs heavily on my heart as an observer.

When someone comes into that space, onto that playground, into such a vulnerable and tender part of my life, and when they passionately and selflessly devote their heart and soul to these kids, and fall in love with these precious faces, I mean it when I say that my heart is overcome with emotion. Once they're running around the playground with all of my little ones, I feel like our connection intensifies as they move into a new space in my heart, a space that is dark and quiet and personal. It's vulnerable.

Kids see people and life and experiences in a different light than adults. I mean, we all have our own eyes, our own lenses. But when I witness these young souls see my friends in their own shade of light, it's unexplainable. It's an out of body experience. I get to watch someone else fall in love with these kids. I get to watch someone else fall in love with Jenny, with Beatrice and Joshua, with Giselle and Eli and Draeden. I get to observe someone else's connection with such a precious individual.

Children love unconditionally. They love without judgment, without malice, without bitterness. They love like Jesus loves. So, naturally, when I witness these young ones loving on my friends like Jesus does, I want nothing more than to mimic that love, to see my friends in the eyes of a child. I want to love them without judgment, without malice, without bitterness. I want to love my friends in the ways of the Father and His Son.

It's an experience that is unmatched. It's an intense adoration and I enjoy growing in that friendship because of that experience. Sometimes, though, the intensity is overwhelming. It's too much for my tender heart to handle. There's too much joy and elation and gratefulness and pride and excitement and love for such a small space. My heart is overwhelmed.

It's not negative or positive. It doesn't fall on one specific side of the spectrum -- it's just intense. There really isn't another word for it. And maybe I'm not making sense, maybe none of this is logical or easily understood for you as a reader. But maybe, by reading this and seeing the complexity of it all, you can begin to understand what my heart is going through on a daily basis.

Simple experiences aren't simple for me. They're light in weight when you're looking from the outside in. But as my heart looks outward, it feels heavy. Simple experiences are more complex, longer-lasting. There's more time involved, more emotion, more joy and more pain.

Alix being emotionally driven is great for everyone else. But for Alix, it's exhausting.

Last night, I laid in bed and wept. I tried to speak to the Lord and form words with my clouded mind, but it was incredibly difficult. At one point I felt like I was just yelling at Him due to a lack of patience.

Why did You make me like this?
Why am I not strong enough?
Why do things affect me so heavily?
Why do I develop passions so quickly?
What is the purpose of this heart and why does it hurt me so much?
Lord, what are You going to do with me?

I don't want to yell at God. I don't like snapping at Him. But I reached a wall last night where I truly did not know how else to express my brokenness and alleviate my heavy heart. If I'm being honest here, I'm angry with God. I'm angry with my Daddy because I feel like I've been let down. I feel I'm completely in the dark here. I'm asking questions and getting absolutely nowhere.

I just want some clarity. I want to see the blueprint of this Heart House that God is constructing. I want to know that my heart is the way it is for a reason. I want to know that God sees me laying here, helpless and confused and hurting, and has an answer. I want to know that this tenderness and sensitivity resides in my soul for a purpose.

I'm not sure how much more this heart can handle.

Confession #17: I am blessed to be stressed.

I've been back at school for almost three weeks now, and I've already experienced the "ups and downs" of Fall 2012 all over again. If I had to sum it up in one word, it would be stress. I've just been stressed -- overwhelmed by all aspects of moving back here, getting readjusted in a new apartment, figuring out work and transportation schedules, meeting new professors, making art for a new audience. Though I've lived here for nine months before, it all feels so new. And I've never been too good with new.

By now, we all know that I have a delicate heart. I've mentioned that detail of my make-up in basically every blog I've posted on the site, so there's no reason to get into that explanation again. But I have noticed one key difference lately in the way my heart handles pressure and deadlines and other people's expectations.

It seems as though the span of time that occurs before I shut down completely and am too overwhelmed to function has gotten shorter...which scares me a bit, considering how tender-hearted I've always been and how that part of me really shouldn't become more sensitive. But for some reason, since August 14, I've noticed a lack of stamina in that area. A lack of an ability to work through stress in my mind and balance more than one responsibility at a time. A lack of trust in the Lord's guidance, my own strengths, and an understanding of the love that comes from those closest to me.

Now that I've become more independent, the responsibilities of adulthood have really kicked in. I'm in 12 credit hours, I work 20+ hours a week, I'm heavily involved in our college ministry, I volunteer for an after-school program for inner-city children, I serve with the church's preschool ministry for Sunday service, I sell handmade art at a consignment store on campus, I have some sort of a social life and I enjoy whatever sleep I can get. It may not sound like much to some people, but I spent my summer enjoying time with Texas friends and starting up a small business. My schedule was 100% flexible and I had more lazy days than I can count.

That laid-back schedule disappeared the day I returned to the Midwest. The chaotic life I'd left behind in May resumed again, and I wasn't mentally or emotionally ready for it. 

When the mountain of emotion began to block my view of any future serenity, I broke down. Like any college student, I called my mom and cried. I cried like a baby for two hours. I was only two weeks in, but I couldn't handle it anymore. I couldn't handle the seven hour shifts or the numerous class deadlines or the pile of blank canvases or the busy schedule of Veritas socials or the demands of a classroom of 30 four-year-olds or anything else.

I was stressed too heavily, stretched too thin. I was unable to handle the changes on my own, and I needed God to let me breathe, even if just for a minute. I remember legitimately asking God, "Why am I so stressed? Why do I have to do all of this stuff? Why do I have so many responsibilities? Why me?"

I'm going to go ahead and admit to something important here: I am a wallower. I wallow in self pity on a regular basis. I get down about various things and feel bad for myself and sit in that sadness for far too long. I complain and run my mouth instead of actually making an effort to turn things around and take a step forward. I've tried to become an optimistic person, but more often than not, the pessimism wins out and I'm left feeling broken and alone.

Typically, in times of wallowing, I attempt to drown out my own thoughts with music. That oh-so-hipster-indie-pop-mellow-sad vibe usually does the trick, but recently I've been looking to tracks that are more upbeat.

Sara Bareilles is one of my favorite musical artists of all time, mainly due to the fact that she understands a heart like mine and writes poetry that is relateable. Her newest song, Brave, has a lyric that really struck a chord with me when I heard it for the first time.

"Nothing's gonna hurt you the way that words do when they settle beneath your skin.
Kept on the inside, no sunlight -- sometimes the shadow wins."

Words are a unique form of weaponry. Sometimes -- actually, all of the time -- my own thoughts hurt more than the words of others. I'm surrounded by friends who love me and comfort me and support my art, my passions, and my faith. But, despite all of the humbling praise that is given, I tend to live off of this ridiculous pile of doubt I've stashed away in the back of my mind since middle school. Doubt that such love isn't real, isn't authentic, isn't deserved, isn't lasting. The pile has grown into a mountain by now, with every self-doubt I've ever felt rearing its ugly head in my times of weakness. Words that have never actually been spoken, but have a wicked power just the same.

During the heart-to-heart phone call with my mama, I was given some stellar advice (as usual -- don't you just love how moms can do that?). She explained that all of the stress was good stress. She began to list off every worry and complaint that I had expressed over the phone, negating each point with a blessing from God that caused such busyness.

The seven hour shifts come from dedication to teamwork and a desire to lead.

The class deadlines come from hard work in high school that has allowed me to skip basic courses.

The pile of blank canvases come from the encouragement of so many people who support my passion.

The busy schedule of Veritas socials comes from a community of believers whose outpouring of love is unmatched.

The demands of a classroom of 30 four-year-olds come from a maternal heart and an affinity for children's ministry.

Every stress, every time commitment, every pressure point is some sort of manifestation of God's blessings in my life. He gave me a job at Baja Grill. He gave me the opportunity to attend this university. He gave me a steady hand and a passion for art. He gave me a home church filled with amazing people. He gave me a passion for motherhood. He blessed me with opportunities that are incredibly demanding, but also rewarding.

I am able to shine my light through the stress. God doesn't give gifts and talents and experiences to cause sadness, or make us overwhelmed, or create doubt. He gives us blessing upon blessing upon blessing out of love. We're talking about a man who gave His only son so that you could be forgiven. That's a love that I can't even begin to understand. But I trust in that love because it is unmatched by anything else, and it has afforded me so many things I would never have deserved in the first place.

I know that life can be hard. Trust me. I get that. I've been there, I've done it all, I have the book. I've probably painted a canvas about it. But hard times of stress and demanding schedules do not justify ungratefulness or a sense of inadequacy. God never gives you more than you can handle. You may not believe that you can succeed and flourish under His blessings, but you can. And you will.

I can, and I will.

Thank you, Father, for stressing blessing me. I promise to work as hard as I can to make You proud.