maybe, just maybe.

maybe im not cut out to be a counselor.

everytime i encounter someone needing advice, its like i just looked at myself in a giant mirror. a giant mirror exposing my every downfall. I advise someone about their situation, and im left sitting there convicted by my own words. I hear myself talking to someone about what they need to change in their life, and meanwhile i'm feeling like the hugest hypocrite in the world.

just a little overwhelming.

i tell the impatient to wait for God's perfect timing.... guess what my biggest struggle is?

i tell the self-pitying to count their blessings... guess what i have a hard time doing?

i tell the weak in heart to rely on Gods strength... guess what i need to start doing?

i tell the insecure to find their significance in God... guess where i need to place my own significance?

turns out, i should probably be learning the very same things as everyone else.

and i wonder why, at the end of the day, i have a hard time putting my finger a single lesson i have learned. i wonder why it feels like i am always learning about 7 and a half billion things at once. i wonder why i am on lesson overload.

maybe if i would start listening to my own advice.

maybe i would learn what it means to wait for Gods timing, and not just say i am. but really, truly, trust that God's timing is perfect.

maybe i would realize just how blessed i truly am. how silly it is for me to sit and feel sorry for myself.

maybe i would discover a new-found strength to make it through the day. perhaps even find that peace that passes all understanding.

maybe i would stop placing my significance in others, or my own accomplishments. stop being insecure in who God has created me to be. fully recognize my significance; as a child of God.

but maybe, just maybe, its good that i dont have it all together. maybe its good that i am forced to give the advice i need to hear. maybe its good that i am being convicted by every word that comes out of my mouth. maybe its good that i am on lesson overload. because clearly, i have a little to learn.

afterall, who wants to hear advice from someone who has all the answers. psh... not i.

maybe God wants to use a silly little counselor like me.

peanut butter and jelly.

time for my semester debriefing. i love the end of the semester when i can look back and see where i have come from. makes me feel like maybe something was accomplished this semester other than just 16 more credit hours.

call it introspection. call it reflection. call it paralysis of analysis (which is probably the most accurate description). you could call it peanut butter and jelly. but semester debriefing is fun for me.

if i could give this semester a theme, i would call it "grace. "

thats a play on words.

lets start theologically. never a bad idea. this semester was full of grace. because i probably need more grace than most people. maybe my parents anticipated that when they were naming me. maybe they knew that i would have a tendency to let the depraved side of me take over a little too often. but then, we would all have to be named grace. and that would just get complicated.

but God has shown me so much grace this semester. whenever i got discouraged or upset or impatient or irritated or discontent, i could just sense God waiting patiently for me. He always took me back when i started to feel really bad about myself. He's pretty awesome like that. i kinda felt like a three year old. you say sorry, and mean it, but then you see someone else who has a toy you want and decide the best way to get it is to punch them in the face. then you say sorry, and mean it. then you punch someone else in the face. i think i punched a lot of people in the face this semester.

metaphorically.

lets shift to the other grace i was talking about.
that grace is this one.
me.

this semester, i was so awakened to myself. its like i woke up every morning and was forced to look in the mirror. but instead of reflecting my ever-changing hair style, sleep deprived eyes, and irrespectivly attempted smile, it reflected my insides.

not blood and guts, you sicko.

my heart. and not the organ. grace, the heart. over and over again, i got a overwhelming dose of myself. everything i am was brought right in front of me; what drives me, what tears me down, all my insecurities, all my confidences, what i look like at my very best, and what i look like at my very worst.

grace.

we became very well acquainted this semester.

at first, it was all very overwhelming. i realized what a complicated mess of a human being i truly am. but at the same time, while God was displaying for me all the ways in which i have so far to go, He was also showing me all the ways in which He was maturing me. all the ways in which my insecurities were the best teacher i had ever had.

sometimes i get sick of learning.

seriously, sometimes i wish i could just learn a lesson and take a break. but there is no break. once one lesson has been taught (though not nearly mastered) the next lesson starts up. then before you know it, the next lesson begins. and dont plan on mastering that material, because dont you know it, the next one is coming.
so many lessons. always learning, and never mastering. just learning.

as a dear friend put it, "Grace, thats called growing."

graduation will come at glorification.

so here i sit. my first night at "home" after completing my fifth semester of college. blanket around my shoulders, mug full of hot tea next to my laptop propped up on the kitchen table. the only sounds i hear are ella fitzgerald singing to me the sad song of love and a faint chiming of the clock in the family room revealing to me that i should be sleeping. the main thoughts going through my head- with the exception of all the complicated ever-present wonderings - is that i just used a lot of words to say what i probably could have said in these seven:

i have grown a lot this semester.

definitely not without its trials, but it has been an incredible semester. i am thankful for what i have learned.

graduation is pretty far off though.

im still in kindergarten.

sometimes she forgets.

"All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,"

-William Shakespeare. As you like it.



behind the eyes, behind the smile. dig deep.
dig through the laughter.
dig through the wit.
dig deep.
through layers and layers of valiant attempts to repair.
imagine you're able to dig through them all.
what do you see?
pain? hurt? long-repressed tears?
ill tell you what you wont find,
if you can dig that deep.
you wont find eyes. you wont find smiles.
you wont find laughter. you wont find wit.
if anything, you'll find a pseudo reality of joy, clung to tightly by its owner.

why?

why hide?

no one's counting.

this isnt a game.

imagine with me a scenario.
a typical interaction in the hall on the way to somewhere
you dont want to go:
"Hi, how are you?"
"Good, you?"
"Good."
"Great, see you later."

what if the answer was, "not good. not good at all. im barely hanging in there."
what if i told you those 11 words are most frequently abbreviated to "Good."

would you still ask how they are doing?
do you still care?

why is it that we are so blessed?
blessed with a mind to formulate thoughts.
blessed with a mouth to articulate thoughts.

why does our formulating and articulating result in cliche?
im no mathematician, but those two dont add up.

what are we afraid of them seeing?
a real person?
because last i checked,
most of us are of the more real variety of human.

so what if they know.
so what if they see us cry.
so what if we happen to tell them why it hurts.

why is the easiest costume for pain to put on... a hearty laugh?

im about to say something shocking.

Christians hurt too.

we may have the joy of the Lord,
but the ocean we swim in is infested with sorrow.

clear the beach.
tell all your friends.
act 1 has ended.
the players are back stage putting on the next costume.

warming up their voices. getting into character.

but enter center stage with me.

she's beautiful. her tiara sparkles. her lines are flawless; thoroughly rehearsed.
but dig beneath the gown, deeper than the rib cage

her heart.
and it doesnt sparkle quite like the tiara does.

take her off stage. tell her the shows over.
sometimes she forgets.
gently take the tiara out of her hand.

tell her she can stop hiding now.

no ones counting.