“One minute I held the key
Next the walls were closed on me
And I discovered that my castles stand
Upon pillars of salt and pillars of sand”
It’s amazing to me how things can change so quickly, and in that instant you’re hit with the revelation that such circumstances can only shake or chaotically break a foundation.
I ask, what will these closing walls reveal in me?
Shake.
I know this air, the scent of the dew warming up under the heat of the new day.
I know the reminder that this familiar comfort brings; the revelation of hope and beginning.
It seems to be, this morning, that this familiar comfort was the only thing that accompanied me on my way to work this morning. As I ventured into the arena of exhaustion, pressure, and discontent, I was awakened to the possibility that instead I was joining the unknown, the excitement, and the peace that comes with a brand new day.
Oh, the possibilities I am presented with when I can stare past the mundane. The opportunities await me amid everything my discouraged heart sees as what has confined my restless soul.
“Go to work in the morning and stick to it until evening without watching the clock.
You never know from moment to moment
how your work will turn out in the end.
Before the Years Take Their Toll
Oh, how sweet the light of day, And how wonderful to live in the sunshine!
Even if you live a long time, don’t take a single day for granted. Take delight in each light-filled hour,
Remembering that there will also be many dark days
And that most of what comes your way is smoke.
You who are young, make the most of your youth. Relish your youthful vigor.
Follow the impulses of your heart.
If something looks good to you, pursue it.
But know also that not just anything goes;
You have to answer to God for every last bit of it.
Live footloose and fancy free—You won’t be young forever.
Youth lasts about as long as smoke.”
So, I’m learning to make the most out of every day. Hoping to find a beautiful vision beyond what seemingly can’t be seen. I’m rolling up my sleeves in anticipation; hope for the new day.
-
Being bald has been a beautiful experience. One of the best decisions I’ve made.
I expected the agony, the insecurity, the impatience to be more drawn out. I was expecting to battle the unsure mentality much longer than I have. Part of me is disappointed that it didn’t experience the growing pains longer than I did, indicating that my heart cries out for the character building situations that bring about lasting growth. The other part of me is comforted by the genuine assurance that my heart was on the right track, the understanding that my confidence and security was rooted in solid ground.
But I must say that during the brief time that my security was challenged, I was privileged with an opportunity that I might have not otherwise had. The very depths of my personality and character, the very depths of my heart, battled a fight that I internally initiated.
And I survived.
It’s been quite the growing experience, in more ways than one. An experience that I wouldn’t trade for the length that my hair would be now, along with all of the other things my mind will try and trick me into “missing out on”.
People say that my hair is “looking shaggy these days” which is very exciting for me. I should probably not that while I wouldn’t trade this experience for anything I could have kept instead of relinquished, I’m enjoying the process of growth. It’s no longer bald, and more like a 12 year-old boy’s buzz cut instead. In reality, it’s not even close to shaggy, more “fuzzy” than anything.
To mostly everyone I interact with, this is just normal, it’s what I look like. People are over the initial shock and have satisfied their curiosity. I’m going on a vacation in July to spend some much needed time with my family and see my best friends. None of them have seen me since I “went bald”, so it should be an interesting situation, dealing with the reactions again.
Oh, the journey.
What a beautiful summer day today! I swear that Fort Worth has the best clouds in the whole country. I’m sure there’s a scientific reasoning for it all, but I’ve never seen such awe-inspiring figures in the sky like this. My favorite is when they seem to tower over everything, as if there was about to be an avalanche. The depth and the power that they hold is completely majestic.
The Bible says that the unseen qualities of the Lord are found in the earth and sky. How amazing to witness things like this, right outside of my own window.
The sun fighting to get past the clouds left over from the storm inspires the hope inside of me this morning. And God knows I need that hope to carry me through, more than ever now. I thank God for planting that seed of hope in us whenever we feel like there’s just nothing left. It’s amazing how His Holy Spirit empowers us in ways that we didn’t even know we needed, but ways that are so crucial to our survival; to our growth.
Oh, thank you.
God knew that I needed this week off with my foot to rest, but more importantly for my heart and my mind to rest. I didn’t necessarily manage my time perfectly, and spent a lot of it getting lost in tv series and episodes online. I’ve exhausted almost all of the shows worth watching, and some that aren’t, but even though it was quite possibly a complete waste of time, it was nice to just not do anything for a change.
Now I’ve been watching sermon series online at lifechurch.tv and it’s been a really refreshing shift from The Bachelorette, Bones, Life, The Office, Grey’s, etc. I’ve been watching a 4-part series called “Take a Vow” - it’s the four biblical vows we should have in marriage. It’s been inspiring a lot of reflection, and thus, a lot of understanding, grace, forgiveness, and hope.
So many miracles, please.
I think I may paint my nails today. We aren’t allowed to wear nail polish at Starbucks, and it’s pointless to put it on for the evenings and then have to take it off for the mornings. So, painting your nails gets to be a treat, also indicating you have the day off somewhere.
We went grocery shopping last night, and I’ve started back on another health-kick. It seems like I go in phases through life. I’ll shift back and forth between a super-organized, healthy life, and then I’ll go through a phase where it doesn’t matter, and it’s just good to let go of those things. I like being unpredictable though, and sometimes it’s nice to get out of “the swing of things”, but I think I always go back to being type-a-for-anal-super-organized because it works. My mind feels so much more organized when my life is. It’s definitely a psychological thing. Like how I sleep better when the bed is made before I get into it, or how my life always seems to be more calm and collected when my house is clean and organized. I figured this out early on in high school when I realized life is just better and more simple with a clean room. I felt like the state of my room was a physical representation of my mental state, so I’d spend my Sunday nights cleaning the heck out of my room which helped me organize to start my new week out on a good note.
I’m psycho, but I’m used to it, so what’s psycho is normal.
Right.
There was no point to this, other than the need to just type.
I feel like my heart is being beat - down into the ground
In you I’m longing for some peace - to be found
I know the heaviness that’s - making me cold
Is stealing my youthful soul and - making me old
This is my life.
I’ve written a minimal amount in the last nine months, which is understandable, but also purposeful. I’m not able to articulate my way through the mess around me and the gutting pain inside me. I’d rather not document it. I’d rather not remember it.
My hope is in you. In what you will do. My hope is in you.
It’s one-day-at-a-time around here. I’m patiently waiting for my miracle. Grabbing at the fray.
I’m in need of restoration.
Freedom.
A genuine smile.
A fresh breath of air.
A good nights sleep.
A side-splitting laugh.
A great cup of coffee in a great mug.
I need a best friend and a familiar home.
I need some Thai House.
Cold weather.
Strong wind.
Beautiful sunrise.
Another camping trip.
My mom.
This new job they’re talking about.
A healed stomach and foot.
A bonfire.
Day at the beach.
A nalgene bottle of Marquette water.
Home.
Jesus.
I walked into work last week with a baseball cap over my bald and pale head. The greatest thing I had to overcome was the fear of rejection; fear of man’s opinion, man’s acceptance. My stomach was twisted and tied in nauseating knots as I took a deep breath, as if somehow inhaling the courage I needed to get myself out of the car and face my fears.
In my mind I could picture everyone thinking how awful I looked; how hideous. I wore my Starbucks baseball hat to cover what short little prickles of hair was left on my head. I honestly thought that people would be disgusted by how I looked, and therefore not want their drinks.
I was so ashamed.
Tears would well up in me as I searched for the words to answer the countless questions. It was so overwhelming to feel ugly, to try not to care, to absorb the shocked glances, to explain all the answers. The learning process became something that only I could understand in the moment. I’ve never felt more ugly, more ashamed, more embarrassed in my life.
I’ve learned though, that you look at the world in such a different way when you feel ugly, ashamed, and embarrassed. I felt so fearful, so insecure, so unsure. Looking back, that first day was such a gift. I’ve learned more than I could even begin to write and articulate. The lessons very well may be left unsaid, but my heart and character have been molded into different shapes that, God willing, will last forever.
The unsure, insecure feeling that seemed to swallow me that day really helped me to empathize with those who feel consumed by these emotions constantly. Girls who have no idea of what it feels like to be confident and sure. My eyes were opened as I understood what they must be going through, fighting on a regular basis.
I noticed through the day that I had a harder time smiling as bright as I usually do, making eye contact, and striking up random conversations to entertain customers while I make their drinks. It was as if my confidence, my security, my extroverted personality had been stripped away with my hair.
I felt so unsure.
The reactions from people were much less horrific than I had imagined. In fact, I was shocked by how understanding and supportive my partners were.
The acceptance from the people around me hadn’t changed. In fact, I think the respect and acceptance actually grew as people started to understand. But despite the understanding from those around me, I still felt so ugly.
All of this time I felt as if my problem was my fear of man - people’s reactions, the lack of support and acceptance - but I soon realized that it was the fear of myself that was hindering me. It was God’s turn to show me what “beautiful” really meant, and how knowing that could change me from the inside out.
[May 9, 2008]
I stood in front of my bathroom mirror last night, pulling my hair, tight, away from my face. Imagining what it would be like, what this could look like. Tears streamed down my cheeks as the fear of man in me stirred up emotions that would be soon be quieted with the sweet release of freedom. I can’t even being to explain what it was that came over me as I grabbed the first handful of hair and clipped away. I felt as if I had just trampled something; killed. Putting to death that fear, I believe, was just the first in a long line of many fears I will need to conquer first-handedly with the strength and empowerment of Jesus in me.
I continued to cut away at my hair, pieces falling to the bathroom floor all around me.
Rise, Oh Lord, lift up your eyes, don’t forget I’m helpless.
Oh you, lead me to waters and pastures so green.
Oh I will not be in want, no I will not be in want.
You’re with me.
I will not fear.
You comfort me.
I will not fear.
Those words and acoustic guitar notes bounced around the walls of my bathroom, resonating in my heart.
I will not be in want.
With my hair getting shorter and shorter by the second, I was surprisingly so calm and at peace. It wasn’t until later that I allowed the fear to set in.
My stomach was in knots all night. The adrenaline so high that I couldn’t fall asleep until three in the morning. I woke up startled at six o’ clock only to be shockingly reminded by the way my head felt against the pillow, and the knots in my stomach, that I’m still bald.
Still bald.
What bothered me so much wasn’t really the fact that my hair is gone - it will grow back, just in time - but more of the fact that in three hours, I had to get up and waltz into work like nothing had changed, only to greet wide eyes and dropped jaws. I was so afraid of what people would think. How disgusted they would be when they saw me bald, they’d think I’m ugly; hideous.
I tried writing something this morning, but I typed and erased, typed and erased. I’m searching to find a way to articulate everything I’m feeling, sorting my way through these mixed emotions, but there are so many places to search. Time might pass by and my hair might as well be down past my shoulders again before I have searched and sorted out every area that has been affected by this decision.
The true purpose of all of this is to grow, and I love the freedom in knowing that if I’m the only one that understands why I have done what I’ve done then that is enough. The explanation, I owe to no one, but I want to document my journey as I deal with such a drastic change in my life.
I took a challenge from God, inspired by a friend, to die to myself and let go of just one piece of my material world. Little did I know that something I had thought to be so insignificant, had stirred and started a lasting change, and a new outlook on life.
All last night I went back and forth with my final decision regarding this challenge. My hair was the longest it had ever been in my life. I had been so patient to let it grow. I liked being girly; feeling pretty. I just couldn’t bring myself to cut it all off. But I thought about the experience I would have, the humility that would develop in me, the empathy for the lost and insecure of this world buried under the weight of our materialistic world view and expectations. I thought of how the roots of my confidence, security, and charisma would be exposed. The lessons that I would learn throughout this time that I could never really learned unless I looked at the world from a bald, vulnerable, and maybe even ugly state.
The temporary loss of my hair is nothing compared to the invaluable lessons that will soon become a part of me; the lessons that will shape my world and how I see forever.
That was just the intro and background to all of this. Today has it’s own story, but here’s a photo to tie you over - all of those who can’t believe what the heck I’ve done. But I just KNOW, it WILL be worth it.
I used to write all of the time, expressing myself with the rare vulnerability of most writers today. And in those days the freeing vulnerable way that I used communicate came so easily.
But things got personal.
Weren’t they always personal? To this degree?
I just can’t bring myself to hang up this amount of hurt on the clothesline yet.
I say “yet” because even though I feel there’s no reason to, a part of me is hoping, wishing, waiting for that day when this is all over. And when that day comes I’ll muster up the words to rip open and expose my heart only then to praise and thank the One who always, always, always remains faithful.
In these days, I’m so thankful that God never changes. I’m so thankful that in my own little world, my little heart beaten with inconsistency, is bandaged up with the truth and reassurance that even when everything changes, He remains the same.
It’s only by God’s generous grace, that I’ve managed to experience real “bubbles” of joy in this time. Fortunately he has equipped me with the strength of joy and the endurance-inspiring hope. Equipping me with enough energy to bend down and pick up those seemingly perfect pieces, and muster up the power of love inside to simply forgive and begin the puzzle all over again.
But as my puzzle is continually destroyed, and the apologies result from the once again inconsistency, it makes it even more discouraging to do what I should do; pick up the pieces, love, and put the puzzle back together.
The pieces chip and break as they hit the floor with such a shocking intensity, and with more pieces to work with than ever before, confusion seems as if it might just consume you if you stop long enough to figure out where in the world to begin.
I’m thankful for the Puzzle Maker, who is the King of Restoration, and knows exactly where every piece belongs in it’s time.
Usually the sun will wake me up - and make me stay up - every morning at 8:30a, but this morning I missed the sun. In fact, it’s still hiding away up there, only to make noon arrive just as cloudy as the hours before it.
I like that the sun let me sleep in though, it’s nice to have a cool relaxing morning every now and then. It’s a nice change to enjoy a warm cup of coffee with the morning breeze floating in instead of what I’ve gotten used to down here in the “big state of Texas”. I refuse to use my AC, so I’m waiting until last bearable moment to kick it on. It works though because my energy bill has only been in the $60’s. My neighbor has her AC on (and the windows open…don’t ask me why?) and her bill was $300-something.
I’d rather save the cash and have to choose between hot or iced coffee.
Good Morning Hot Coffee.
I remember when I home schooled myself online during high school, I would stay up until 3 in the morning working. It was just me, a pot of Cafe Verona - sometimes Sumatra - and the silence.
Some of my best memories are sitting in that uncomfortable computer chair, working until the early hours of the morning, sipping cup after cup of coffee and…being productive. It was during that time, when the rest of the world had gone to bed, that I was able to focus, concentrate, and think.
My heart grew so much in the silence of those nights.
Later, during the Honor Academy, I became so exhausted when I had to wake up around the time that I usually would have gone to bed, that I forced myself to squash the night owl in me.
And even after the Honor Academy, I tried to teach myself to get into a “normal sleeping schedule” as my mom would say.
Moved back to Texas, got married, and started working opening shifts at The Buck. Again, getting up around the time that I would have been wandering down the hall to my room. My body got so used to waking up early that no matter what time I went to bed, I was up at the butt-crack of dawn. Up with the sun. And then, of course, my “sleeping schedule” changed again.
Too many transitions, too many changes, no adjusting.
And I’ve beat myself up for the last couple of days. A vicious cycle of being stressed out about all there is to do, but not having enough focus or energy to actually get it done. I’ll end my days with an overwhelming feeling of failure and of course, more stress.
But if these are my most productive hours, then these are my most productive hours. Sometimes I just can’t do the whole bed-at-ten-thirty-up-at-six deal.
A quad-one-inch-cold-breve-three-raw-espresso and another cup of coffee might have played a huge role in my nocturnal activity, but I’m thankful to finally be able to focus. Maybe all I need is just more caffeine.
Tomorrow, Christopher and I will have been married 6 months. It’s still so hard to believe, but it’s halfway done with one of the worst years of marriage. Every married person I’ve talked to has said the first year is the hardest (of course, not at all denying hard years of unexpected circumstances through out life).
I can’t believe it’s been almost 6 months. Half a year.
It seems like just yesterday we were answering the “How long have you been married?” question with “a month an a half”.
But I’m also thankful to have “gotten through” the first half.
It’s harder than anything I could have even expected or imagined.
There’s so much to learn.
And the transitions really shake every foundation you thought you had.
I’ve had lots of transitions in the last year.
Lots of shakin’.
I leave for Minneapolis in 11 days, and for Marquette in 13.
I can hardly stand it.
It seems that vacations always come at the most perfect time.
I need Jesus.
