worn and protected

5:41am

"I'm worn...my prayers are wearing thin.
  I'm worn...even before the day begins.
   I'm worn...I've lost my will to fight.
    I'm worn..so heaven come and flood my eyes."   --I'm Worn, Tenth Avenue North

7:19am

" How about a mother brown bear when her cubs are threatened? Six hundred pounds of unrelenting fury. Now imagine you are watching one of these scenes not on the nature channel but from thirty feet away. Oh, yes, we find a very fierce intentionality in nature—reflecting the personality of the Artist."   --Beautiful Outlaw, John Eldridge

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There's something incredibly comforting about a God full of fury. Fury against darkness, fury against your enemies. Days like this--when I am overwhelmed, feeling like I'm swimming in tidal waves--there is something absolutely comforting about all-powerful fury, that shakes the ground and makes others flee.

Because, you see, it's just too easy to walk down a path of quitting. It's too easy to just lie down and wait for the waves to lessen. But that leads to days of sorrow, negativity--days of being closed off and shut down.

So this comfort comes from knowing that Jesus is right here, yelling at my enemy to leave. The comfort is in knowing that I am tired, but not dead. The comfort comes from just imagining a God who is saying--yelling, shouting, "You cannot have her, she is mine!" The comfort comes from knowing that I will not be kicked when I am down, but that I'll have the strength to stand.

11:43am

"The mountains shake before You, the demons run and flee
At the mention of your name, King of Majesty
  There is no power in hell or any who can stand
before the power and the presence of the Great I Am." --The Great I Am, Phillips, Craig and Dean

 

25th Year: Week One

Welcome to the 25th year, people!

(Which, technically,the 26th...if you think about it.)

 

So, it's 'Welcome to the year I respond '25' when people ask how old I am!'. I'm committing myself to a picture a day for this whole year, and here are the first few days. (More than a week, but you have to get caught up.) And here, is what I've learned.

 

 

1. My husband is an author. And illustrator.

 

2. We are getting old in this house. None of us can party like we used to.

 

3. Real castles and real princesses DO exist.

 

4. Garbanzo beans work as an excellent bribery tool (and are something of a super-food for dogs.)

 

5.Food does NOT have calories while in vacation.

 

6. My grandma IS a professional quilter and makes the best gifts.

 

7. It's always good to have a pup at home who misses you when you're away.

 

8. Snow is NOT a good luck charm when looking at/buying houses.

 

AND

 

9. Contrary to popular belief, while many things DO freeze in Minnesota, the sushi does not.

 



 





 

 

 

 

not mine

I've never thought of myself as arrogant. Far from it, actually. In fact, today I learned that I am A for accommodating!... But it wasn't just the team-building, workday, all-hands on deck, personality test that told me that--no, no, no, it's my life experience, my history, part of and most of what I am, deeply engrained and embodied in the person I was woven to be.

I'll go out of my way to get people to like me, whether that's accommodating to them, even if it's detrimental to me. I'll help men on the street corner, complete strangers down the hall, and family and friends alike. Sometimes, I'm even actually hard on myself, saying that I may not have done enough to accommodate someone.

On the good side of the trait is the hospitality and kindness. I like to have warm, fluffed towels out for guests; I like to have matching plates, silverware and fun glasses on the table for dinner, orange juice in a carafe, and warm inviting scents and music. I like people to feel appreciated, loved, welcome, and cared for. And, truthfully, most of the time I'm hardly thinking about these things--they just seem to pour out.

The dirty side of this trait is the part that believes it my job to make people feel appreciated, loved, cared for, welcome, always right, perfect, better than others...and so on. And what I noticed recently is that I feel compelled--obligated--to save people; from themselves, from people in their life, from trials and troubles. Somewhere along the line, I started to believe it was my job to save people.

When a co-worker told me the other day, "it's not your job to save people", I was completely unaware that I ever believed that it was. But again, I've believed it my whole life. I have watched loved ones walk into dangerous territory and ran after them or in front of them to save them. I witnessed people very close to me making bad decision after bad decision and jumped in front of moving cars, whirlwind tornadoes, and evil itself to hopefully stop or save them.

All the while, who was saving me?

Our God is a God who saves! The Sovereign LORD rescues us from death.
(Psalm 68:20, NLT)

All along, wandering in my own darkness and death, I wasn't concerned with saving myself, but He was. I was watching for roadblocks and potholes for all these people around me, but never for myself. And yet, here I am, working at a Christian college where we pray before work and meetings, big events and often for one another, going to a church on Sunday mornings and praising God in a band and with other people praising God, too, and here I am, in a marriage with a foundation that I never knew existed before. I was saved, but it wasn't because I saved me.


Arrogance is having an exaggerated sense of one's own importance or abilities, and similar words include haughty, proud, conceited, lofty... ouch.

It's lofty of me to believe I can save her from this. It's conceited of me to think I can save him from them. And it's haughty and proud of me to think I can do any saving at all.

These people, whom I love and care for so deeply, are experiencing battles and struggles, but so am I. These people, who remind me how blessed I am today, are people that do not need a lousy human to rescue them from the depths of lions and fire pits. These people are people who just need love, which is all that I can--and need and am required--to give.

It is Him who will save them, not me. Those are battles they are facing, battles they have to save themselves from, but not my battles. They are in need of help, desperate for a grand rescue, but that is not something I can do, not something that is my own responsibility, it is not mine.

They, we, all need saving, but that saving will not come from me, that saving is not something I can even do, the job to save is not mine.

Coming Soon

It's February 2nd. Groundhog Day and Birthday Month Commences Day. (Well, that might have been yesterday.)

Supposedly, we're getting spring a bit sooner this year. (Woop!) But you're also getting a new, fun thing on Dance.Love.Sing.Live. called 'The 25th Year'. I've tried starting these picture journeys before, but this time, it's for real. Starting the 17th, I'm bringing you some blogs that will be pleasing to the eye.

Plus, this writer's block is just not leaving. I can write plenty of other things--like papers, half thought-out books, clever notes--but nothing that feels too blog-worthy.

So, in the meantime, be watching for the Photo Project that WILL survive: The 25th Year, as well as our first sign of spring!

 

no looking back

"The hardest part of moving forward is not looking back." --Sally, on Felicity

The majority of people have goals in life to move forward. Bigger paychecks, higher degrees, greater promotions. Chasing and catching dreams, be like that, have more of this, make great changes. Accomplish this, finally do that. Grow, deepen, strengthen. New Years, college, mid-life crises, tragedies, and changes, all inspire everyone to move forward.

But what's rarely talked about is the looking back.

What about when it didn't work then? How about the time luck didn't run my way? What about all the nay-sayers, the obstacles, and the things that could go wrong?

What about the fact that I may not have what it takes?

If not for this subtle, yet very powerful, dark force that causes us to second guess, worry, and remember all that hasn't work before, this world would be full of achievers, believers, dreamers, and doers.

I think there's another quote that goes something like, "Imagine what you would do if there was no failing", or maybe it's, "what would you do if you knew you wouldn't fail", or, "what if your dreams were bigger than failures".

So, think about it, how many things would you have already done if you hadn't looked back? How many dreams would you have chased if you hadn't crumbled under the fear of the jump?

That enemy is out there, ready to kill, steal, and destroy. To kill your dreams--squash them dead. To steal any hope you had of achieving them. And to destroy any future attempts of trying, reaching, going for it.

So, you've got the encouragement you need, the push to move past that fear and doubt, and just go for it. There are quotes and books and movies and little gifts everywhere to inspire you.

But there are days when that just isn't enough. There are days when all you can do is look back. It takes every bit of strength you have to look up and away.

Enter, worship.

To be grateful for what you have, what you've survived, what you've accomplished, and just simply who you are, is to worship without looking back. To submerse yourself in awe, and wonder, amazement, and joy, is to be content with the sitting still. Here, there is no pressure, no force, no darkness, no doubt, fear, or feet-looking. Instead, you're looking up, looking forward.

No, you may not be moving forward in that moment, but the looking forward and denying the looking back, opens you up for moments of moving forward. Find yourself in a place of worship and find yourself in a position ready to move forward.


 

tough choices

Last night, Felicity chose Ben. Ben was kind of jerk to her before, broke her heart, dated her friend, and got Hulk-style angry at times. Noel, on the other hand, was always sweet, caring, kind, generous; HE was the obvious choice! And, instead, Felicity broke his heart, turning him into this raging, cursing, disrespectful Meany…in a public restaurant, no less. Jerk in Public, I call it.

And I was just so upset. I couldn't believe what a dumb mistake she had made. I also couldn't believe that I had done the same thing at one time. I remember being the Felicity in high school. I remember having one adoring boy on this side, and one cool, casual player on the other, and always being confused about who to "choose". Then I very clearly remembered break-ups. And oh, how awful those things were. I cried rivers of tears, spent days in doubt, and thought that I was just walking my way through life, waiting for the choosing to be over and Mr. Prince to reveal himself and we could live happily ever after.

I remember being Felicity and I remember the boys that played Ben and Noel. And for a while, wondered how those all ended up into being married to neither the Ben nor the Noel, today.

Any recent visit to this bog in the past year, will remind you that our first year of marriage was anything but a newlywed-blissful cakewalk. In fact, to this day, it feels like a lot of unchartered waters, a lot of tears, and a lot of reactions, arguments, difficulties, and imbalances that I cannot work my way through. Even today, there are days that are hard and days we don't know what to do.

So, again, I wonder how I went from drama and relationships, choosing this guy or that, feeling like romance and love were the only things that mattered in relationships to today. But when I think about it a little more, I remembered that those things all faded back then, and simply turned into the heartache called The Breakup.

So, later I ran across a version of this verse I'd never seen.


⁴ Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous or boastful or proud ⁵ or rude. It does not demand its own way. It is not irritable, and it keeps no record of being wronged. ⁶ It does not rejoice about injustice but rejoices whenever the truth wins out. ⁷ Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance. (I know, I know--New Living Translation, not necessarily the newest thing on the market.)

But those words, I get. I just don't know how.

Even as I type these words I think, "my readers will think I'm crazy. OF COURSE these are the things that make up a "Christian" marriage! It's only been plastered on every marriage book, counseling pamphlet, movie poster, and home furnishing decor out there." But I just don't know how to never be irritable, never want my own way, to stop keeping record of how many times my heart has been broken or disappointed. I don't know how to always have faith and hope, and I surely don't know how to endure. I am nearly 25 years old...what, this far, have I had to endure?

Not to mention, I lived 21 years (nah, more like 24 years) believing that love was the opposite of each these; don't let him get away with that, make sure he spends money and says all the right things, tell him you're not sleeping with him but run if he never even tries, and only stick with the guy if there are real, honest to Moses, sparks. And it's freaking hard to change the way I've thought for years.

But when I decided to get married, in a whirlwind of affairs, I was certain about the choice I was making; I chose love. The real stuff. I chose someone who loved me for who I was, who wanted to love like God, and knew the meaning of love.

There are days when he zigs and I zag, days when our words just do not come from the same novel, and days when I question what we did and where we went wrong. There are days that my fear gets the best of me, and makes me question a choice I made and am committed to. There are days where it just doesn't seem fair.

So, maybe I am just writing this for me. Maybe I just need to get it on "paper", the reasons that this marriage is hard and the reasons this marriage is good. Maybe this is just part of my homework, changing the way I think and all that. Maybe every other "Christian" has it all figured out, and they love this way every day, all the time. But I don't believe it's a coincidence that we prayed for one another's marriages in church last week, and I don’t believe it’s a coincidence that we-together-are learning how to live outside of the bondage of “should” and “shouldn’ts”.

Marriage is tough, but not because it was ever supposed to be. It's tough because we naturally think and desire in one way, and for many, it isn't the way of God. Marriage is touch for me because I had very human-like expectations of what it would look like, feel like, and act like. Marriage is touch for me because I want to live a faithful and godly life, but somewhere deep in my heart, I've got the wrong ideas and thoughts.

So, I'll continue to be molded and changed, because I want something different for my life, something different than Felicity and the high school me. I'll go through the hard days because I know that I have to, because I have chosen to.

...still "out of the office"

Wondering what's happened?

 

 

There was Christmas,

 

 

And Hawaii...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And, Thanksgiving. Not in that order...

 

And somewhere along the line, I went on hiatus and forgot to come back.

 

But, I'm still here, and will be back in the office shortly. TBD.

 

In the meantime, check out that post to the right, "game of fetch"; it has 349 views, as of today. More than any other post, simply because it has somehow been working overtime while I've been away. I can't explain it, but it's been all over the world. And then some.

 

Thanks to all of you faithful readers--for not just forgetting me and tossing me in your blog-trash. Love, love you :)

 

I'll see ya soon,

-A

healing in His wings

These days, I work at a job that seems unreasonably insignificant. I make zero dollars, I do all the work that no one else wants to do, and I sit in a cubicle that is unseen to, really, anyone else. And I can successfully grade 100 essays, scan 1,000 documents, and read 40 emails without anyone remembering that I came into work today.

And, you know me, I'm used to jobs that basically boost my self-esteem, self-worth, and value. I'm used to a job that matters to lots of people. It's more of a fault than a feat.

I left the last job like that because I felt unappreciated, degraded, and disrespected. I left the one before that because, well, mainly the same reasons. Truthfully, the reasons were deeper and bigger than that, and I prayed about those exits long before they took place. But now, here I am, pretty insignificant and pretty broke, (Good thing for sugar-daddies, eh?) questioning making a move like that in the first place.

But here I sit, grading a few more essays about people who are trying to be accepted into a program. Most of them spill their guts, hoping that's what it takes to be "accepted", while others poof their feathers, cluck loudly, and still, don't impresss.

Then, there's one about a three-time cancer survivor. There's another about a young woman who found her calling in a third-world country, where a bus had just crashed into a jeep and she used her bare hands to hold a man's skull together. There's one about a recovering alcoholic, one that came from an abusive mother and neglectful father, and there's a few about those that were lost, and now have been found.

And it's wildly humbling.

Here I am, all selfished-up and worried about my job prospects and financial concerns, (Which, by the way, seem to be woven into my genetics. The biggest damn tweezers can't seem to remove these worries.) while there are dozens of life stories in my lap, far worse than mine could ever be. These candidates have suffered and walked a long, long way to get here while I sit cozily in my seat, with a homemade latte, hole-free clothing, and a smart phone at my side. These people have looked evil in the eye and overcome it. These people have been near to death, multiple times, while I'm only missing a gall bladder.

This happens every year, you know. I'm putting up a tree, toting goodies to potlucks, and listening to Christmas music like it may not come back at Halloween-time next year. Then, out of nowhere, the actual meaning of Christmas lands in my lap.

So I've had writer's block for three months, so I quit a good-paying, respectful and noteable job, and so I dropped the ball on my 365 days of photos already—it just kind of opened me up for a totally humbling, totally heart-breaking day like today. And, as a co-worker mentioned in the break room, through a phone conversation I shouldn't have been listening to: "It's a nudge from God, so it's Good. It's His hand, His working--it's Good."


To the alcoholic, the life-saver, the abused, and the worried...

Hark the herald angels sing
"Glory to the newborn King!
Peace on earth and mercy mild
God and sinners reconciled"

Hail the Son of Righteousness!
Light and life to all He brings
Ris'n with healing in His wings.

Evening News: voters and opposites

It's election day (obvi.) and everyone out there is all, "Don't vote for him!" and "Better vote for him!" and "Those people are voting for That guy!"

 

Well, this guy votes one way.

 

And I vote another.

 

And he listens to that music and I listen to this music. He thinks that's so cool and I think it's so not. I really dig this and he really does not.

 

But guess what? I still think he's freakin' awesome.

 

So, go on, and vote. But also, get over it, and love one another.

 

 

Around the Lunchtable: rough waters

These days, I spend my lunch hours with Doctors, Nurses, and Deans. Oh, and Christy, the Admin. Between the array of degrees and personalities, each lunch experience holds its own uniqueness. Yesterday, the topic of conversation was Donald and his wife. (Names are changed for sake of their marriage here, people.)

Donald's wife just lost her job of 27 years. "Forced early retirement", they're calling it. Just in the beginning of her sixties, Donald's wife comes to him and says she may just be done working. She's worked since the day of her 15th birthday, after all, and is relieved to just be done.

As Donald tells the story, his eyes are popped wide open, his eyebrows in a quivering state, and his hands are shaking in what looks like Gangnam style. Then, he starts to give us the signs of when he's losing it. This way, we'll be able to get him immediate attention.

As he sat, eating his Pho', we each (as women, you know) tried to provide comfort, aid, and realistic approaches. I mentioned that it's probably just the exhale of a stressful job, finally coming to a close. "She's taking time to breath; the pressure and stress of it all is being lifted and she feels like living life again, rather than working it all away. She'll go back to do something." I was sure of this actually, as I've been there a couple of times this year already.

"She could do hobby work!" one woman yelped.

"She'll have time to do work on the house!" another cried.

"Won't it be so nice, to see her all of the time?" another mentioned.

Donald's face just buried further into the giant bowl, trying not to say the things about his beloved wife that we all knew were right on the tip of the tongue, and always in the forefront of his mind.

Finally, he simply said, "we're just in a transition."

He calmed himself (because the women certainly weren't) and talked about the movements and changings of life, and how every so often, we go through an unexpected glitch. And here, all along, I thought the late teens and early twenties were the rough seas of the ocean of life. I hoped that by thirty there would be a home settled into, a career routinely done and very well recognized, and patterns of friends, activities, ministries, and goals being achieved. Donald, however, kind of just squashed that idea.

"The truth is," he spoke, "there is always another transition around the corner. Just once you've settled in and gotten comfortable, there is something else to stir the pot, rough the waters. The deal is, do you let it actually rough your waters? Or do you just say, alright, fine, and watch the sails whip around? Because right now I think I'm just going to dive overboard and toss in the towel, I'm kind of losing it, but maybe I need to chin up and go with the flow".

And I think he is right. I think I'll be very disappointed if I go through life waiting for the waters to even out. I think that around every corner is another opportunity for growth, and every opportunity for growth is also an opportunity for transition, change, adjustment...all the things I don't so much enjoy, of course.

I also think that every one of these moments gives me the chance to complain, worry, and fret, OR wait and see. Because, you know, God is always doing something, He's always moving. And do I want to be the foolish one who worries constantly, and then when He does something great, look like a Great Unbeliever? Or would I rather look up and say, "I knew You would do that,"?

Donald and I choose not to be the worrying, unbelievers, but instead the people who sail the seas and laugh when things actually turn out.

In the meantime, until Thursday at lunchtime, please, oh please, tell us how.

starving

I was starving and didn’t know why,

Tired and weary, nothing to do, but cry.

I had no words, nothing to say

And didn’t really know anything was really that wrong

But You fed me, even when I was starving

And didn’t know why

 

I was struggling and fighting, and didn’t understand

But as much as I kicked, You stayed, and held my hand.

I hid behind closed doors, but You stayed.

I caved myself in, and You stayed.

You waited and held my hand, even when I was struggling and fighting

And didn’t understand.

 

It was like wearing sunglasses and never looking up,
It was living in darkness with any empty cup.

But You filled up my lungs, You gave me words again,

There in the church, there by the cross, there, once more, with friends.

 

I was starving and didn’t know why,

Hope was gone, joy was lost.

So, You fed me. Even though

I was starving, and didn’t know why.

 

fought for

 

 

No matter the struggle, no matter the pain, we're always fought for.

Evening News: Mowing

So many people think that the grass is greener on the other side of everything...

 

 

 

Truth is, it may be greener, but you still gotta mow.

wishing for whales

It's been a month since I've been here, and it's a month until we leave for Hawaii. Time to break out of this 'not doing anything' funk and get back to it…



I've been thinking a lot lately about the things I want during our time in Hawaii. Neither of us, Mr. Italian or I, thought we would make it to Hawaii before the age of 60-ish, when we were retired and the kids were gone. But because we're just so lucky to be going, I really want to make the most of every single minute. My personality rarely lets me stop thinking about all the small details, which translates into 'I'll have to intentionally not worry about the other things worrying me in life'. So I am making a plan to put a stop to all stress, all worry, all 'what-ifs' while we're there.

And on the top of that Hawaii-want list is to see a whale. Both of us have agreed that would take the cake.

However, most people have said, "It's not whale season, don't get your hopes up".

But God says, "I am able to do much more than you imagine or even ask me. I've got the power." (Ephesians 3:20, loosely)

Sure, this relates to all other things in life, and Paul probably wasn't talking about whales. But the unimaginable size and power of that whale is beyond anything I can wrap my mind around.

So, we're wishing for whales.


P.s. Mom is doing great! It took us a while, but we did survive.

P.s.s. Mrs. Crappypants hasn't crappied in her pants again...yet.
 Here's what we've been doing since...

 He's trying out Mr. Italian, for now.

These two don't know they're not going on the trip yet... And they might be the worst part about being gone for a week.

Maybe.

Mrs. Crappypants

Meet Mrs. Crappypants.

That's just what she did this morning. She crapped in her pants.

Phoebe has this awful habit of not "going before we leave", but more like, "going before we sleep". The solution: doggy diaper. Typically, she has a late-night tinkle, or goes completely dry all night. But, oh, last night....last night, she left a stinker of a surprise.

So, forward to 5:30 a.m. and husband and I are cleaning said stinky surprise out of the diaper and off of the dog. (Those of you non-dog people now know why you're non-dog people...)

Mom (our 2 week visitor) walks in and says, "What are ya doin'!?"

"Cleaning the crap off our dog," I say.

"Will this go in your blog?" she says.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Well, here it is. Just for you, Momma.

I gave her this weird look of disgust like, "you-think-I'm-going-to-take-a-picture-of-THIS???" or, "I'll-reveal-the-most-intimate-details-about-my-life, but-cleaning-poop-off-a-dog? Nu-uh."

Yet, here it is.

Because then she said, "well, surely there's a lesson in here somewhere."

And she's right.

You'd think the lesson is 'don't make your dogs wear diapers, they hate it', or, 'try training your dogs once, idiots'. But no, none of those are the lessons here. The lesson is this:

Shit Happens. And lessons can still be learned.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Love you, Mom.

P.s. Mom is having surgery this week and camping at our house. Pray for her recovery, everyone's sanity, and less dirty diapers.

P.s.s. I've noticed that everyone in the blogosphere has a nickname for their husband. Mine is just 'husband'. Help? We need a new fun one...

paralyzed in a boat

My professor reminded me yesterday that worry and fear only cause paralysis. I asked her to elaborate...

"Remember that show...the one with the little mom and the little dad...they have three kids and one of them is little too? I can't remember the name. (probably, 'Little People', I thought.) Well, they all go to Australia and the entire family dives into everything, but the husband is afraid of and worried about everything. He's afraid of snorkeling, flying, hiking...you name it. He’s worried because he's afraid something bad will happen. Then, he's watching his whole family snorkel in the ocean and he stands up and says, 'What am I doing?" and dives in the water.

Every time you worry about something because of fear, or every time you worry just to worry, you’re paralyzing yourself, prohibiting yourself from really living."

And bam, I got it. My brother was paralyzed from the time he was two years old. I remember watching him lie on the couch or sit in his wheelchair for hours, because that's all he could do. I remember watching mommy open up his feeding tube for every meal, and pour in the "milk". I remember communicating with him by batting my eyelashes, blinking, kissing him--loudly--on the cheeks, giggling just so he would giggle. I remember lying next to him, pushing his stroller, being so angry when peopled stared, and missing him, missing him all of the time. I remember him being paralyzed, but never knowing him any other way.

So, it occurred to me, what if people don't know me any other way than paralyzed? What if my worry (because I'm really, really good at it) has caused me to be paralyzed? I can walk, jump, and run, I can talk to people, I can eat anything I want (trust me, I do), I can laugh and smile and work and play, because my body works that way. But how ashamed of me would Adam be, if I have all of those things but am still acting paralyzed?

Each time I worry what someone will think, each time I worry that I've made the wrong decision, each time that I worry something bad will happen, I'm paralyzing myself. Each and every time I worry just to worry, I'm like a little man watching his friends and family frolic in the ocean, and I'm still sitting in the boat.

Time to stop sitting in the boat.

  

game of fetch

With the changing of seasons comes the changing of cd’s in my car. Yes, I will be one of those people who forever buys or burns cd’s...there is just something about having a person's heart and soul recordings in your car, where you can hit repeat as often as you like.

This Fall, it will be Mat Kearney all the way.

I heard you were back in town
I heard you would come around
Trying to get off the ground
Every road you went down
...
Do you ever think about me? Do you ever call my name?
Ask me now I'll give you the reasons
My love will not fade
Through the fire and rain, the fire and rain

I'll meet you half way
If you're coming the long way
Don't care what the people say
Of the prodigal runaway
...
We'll say goodbye, I'm gone
Oh, it hurts to hold on
If you settle your score, no, no
Pick you up off the floor


I used to think this was another unrequited love song about the couple that breaks up and comes back together. Then I read a little interview with Mat...

"I guess I lived it up and did what everyone said you should do in college. I discovered the depth of depravity, the bleakness of that lifestyle. It just wasn’t working. I finally started understanding there must be more to life." Mat continued, "God found me when I was at my lowest point. That was the first time in my life when I really felt like I understood who Jesus was- it was more than knowing about Him, I felt like He met me in that time and place."

And if you've ever had Jesus meet you in that place, you totally get this. In fact, it's happened so many times to me that I cry each time I read that statement. Because He does, He meets YOU, right there. You don't have to run or climb or swim or work to figure out where He's been hiding. This isn't a game of fetch.

So, actually, this song probably is about unrequited love. If anyone knows about that kind of heartache, it's Jesus. I have personally felt not good enough for a lot of people. Whether that comes from me or from them, I know the pain of watching people walk away. I can't imagine longing to love hundreds and thousands of people and watching them continually walk away.

This Fall, I'm going to simply sit and wait and watch for Jesus meeting me right where I am.

No more work, no more climbing and sweating. No more running and fetching.