December 30, 2009

fear of tomorrow

I have been holding my breath these last few weeks, wondering when the storm is going to hit again. The [not so] great part about this cute little disease is that you never know when it's going to strike. I have no idea when the next "low" is...and I'm afraid. Afraid that a week into my student teaching, I'm going to be depressed again. Afraid that the medication that I'm on, the low dose that we are slowly building on, will turn out to not be compatible with my body either. Afraid that my poor husband is going to have more terribly difficult months to deal with in the near future.

I know that I can't live in fear. I know that perfect love drives away fear--that in the presence of Jesus, I cannot-or at least should not- be afraid. But that doesn't stop the nagging thoughts, and the reality that this actually is going to happen eventually.


In other less depressing news, I have spent the past ten days of my life school free and LOVING it. I got to sleep in, eat whatever I wanted, be with my family, not once having to worry about homework, not once having to read something that I didn't feel like reading. It's glorious. And hopefully permanent.

And in the most exciting news of my last few days (drum roll) I finally have decided that I am capable of pulling off boots. I know, I know, where have I been right? But for some reason I haven't ever been able to convince myself that I could wear boots. Especially not tuck-your-jeans-in boots. But here I stand (sit), a boot-wearing 22 year old, proud of my new accomplishment.

Now, dear reader(s?) I am going to spend the next 9 hours of my life sitting in a cubicle reading Breaking Dawn, the most exciting aspect of my cubicle-bound existence this week.


December 21, 2009

another year

Whelp, I'm twenty-two today. Age is such a funny thing. I feel like I should be around 30 by now. I don't feel like a young-twenty. But alas, here I am, a mere 22 years old. I'm done with school now. Grades have been received (I love grades) and notebooks have been put away for a while. I'm a little bit nervous about student teaching, but I have been trying to give my brain a little break and not think about teaching quite yet. Trying to just enjoy my holidays.

I haven't been writing very much lately. Haven't written in my journal hardly at all these past two years. I'm not sure why. Something changed inside my heart, and I suddenly wasn't able to bear seeing my thoughts on paper. For some reason writing on this blog is okay, but even now, with many days of experiences that I could write about, I feel stunted- like I have nothing to offer.

Yesterday at church I was pretty convicted about how I have been living my life. So purposeless, using busyness as an excuse for laziness. Bryan was pretty relentless. He said "If you are living according to the culture and rushing around to the point that you don't have time for eternal things that matter, stop it." I loved that. Just stop it. But it feels easier said than done. I don't feel like I have the energy or the time to invest in new friendships, new relationships. I feel guarded, not able to share myself freely with others. And worse than that, I feel like if I were to actually engage with someone in a spiritual conversation, I would be stumped. I don't know what to think of my relationship with God. I try not to, but it's hard to not feel disillusioned concerning the bipolar aspect of the last 10 years of my life (or longer).

I look back at times when I was super inspired and motivated to do great things, and I feel so embarrassed. People must have thought I was crazy at best. Little did they know they were right. The great thing about bipolar highs is that you feel invincible, unstoppable, energized. The bad part is what goes up must come down. And when I do come down to reality, I realize that much of what I thought I was capable of, what I was convinced I was capable of, was really just a joke.

I don't know what to expect from life anymore. I used to have thoughts of missions, thoughts of writing, thoughts of maybe even working in ministry somewhere. Now, I feel crippled, uncertain, and a little bit jaded toward the whole idea of Jeremiah 29:11- I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord. Plans to prosper you and not to harm you. Plans to give you a hope and a future.

I know theoretically that this must be true if God said it. It probably does reflect his heart for all of his people, though it was written for the Israelites. But I just don't believe it. That's the honest truth. I know I should believe, but I know that I don't. A belief affects the way you live, and my life does not reflect the belief that God has something fulfilling and worthwhile for me in the future.

Anyways, this turned out a lot whinier than I was expecting. Sorry to my three readers for that. This is why I don't write anymore. Because when I write, I expose what's really there. And what's really there just doesn't seem very pleasant these days.

December 9, 2009


So we met with some missionaries the other day. They're here in Lincoln on furlough right now, but they are normally living in Peru, working with a Quechua people group.

They were extremely fascinating, generous, kind people who opened up their home to us and shared their ministry and their heart for this forgotten and cast away people group with us.

We're praying right now about what our "next step" in life is. We both know that we want to work in Missions. It's a definite option. The question is, when do we start stepping in that direction? We're not getting any younger (though I still am quite a little baby adult). I'll be graduating soon, we don't have any kids on the horizon (as far as we know) and we feel like this would be a good opportunity to start getting our feet wet in the area of missions.

The living conditions in which this family lives is quite interesting. They live in the city mainly, but ten days at a time they will trek up into the mountains (a 2 hour drive) to where their people group lives. They are still working on learning the language, and are currently building a house up there for their family to live. A one room house. No plumbing. A little stove. And an outhouse. Yes, that's right. An outhouse.

None of this phases me at first glance, but I do have to admit that on further glance, living with a little wood burning stove to cook on and an outhouse for potty time would be quite an...adventure.

The real question though is not whether that would be difficult, but rather how will I feel about live looking back on what we did with it 5o years from now? Because as hard as cooking with a wood stove might be, I can't imagine the heart break of looking back on a life wasted. I can't bear the thought of it.

It's so hard to live like a real Christian. So often I feel like I am just living through the monotony and routine of life, thinking about God occasionally, but not really making an impact on people's lives, not really building the kingdom. I'm tired of living this way, and I don't know how to get out of this routine. I know that becoming a missionary is a hard step to take, but it's where my heart has been since I was seven years old, and I just can't bear the thought of not at least pursuing what it would look like for us to move in that direction.

That's all. My heart is full, and at the same time not sure what to do with all of these possibilities. I guess we'll just continue to wait.