Many Partings

Isn't it amazing how changing a medium can coax thoughts into logical sentences. I spent long minutes sitting with this blank "compose" box glaring back at me. All I needed was a late night, a blank journal, and a new ink pen to pin my thoughts down. Finally, I sigh with relief, and copy the entry onto this blog.

I will never cease to understand the constant nudge I feel to publicly post on this very public blog my personal struggles and feelings. Perhaps it is rooted in a desire to help others. No, I'm far too sinful for so pure a desire. It probably has more to do with a strange sort of self-righteousness and false humility. Whatever the case, I post this journal excerpt here, mildly altered to avoid exposing identities and excruciating grammar errors.

6/13/11

I have never been a good journaler, and I don't expect that will change now. However, sometimes I need a thought dump, so I begin a new memoir. Here goes.

The past five weeks or so have been titled by myself, "Many Partings." Actually, the allusion to Tolkien will probably be extended to the whole summer. Why? Well, the obvious (and obscure all at the same time) answer is this: I am moving from my beloved home for 10 months to a new state, where I will live in a big city, attend a large church, and meet numerous people. For an introverted homebody, this is quite a traumatic prospect. Nonetheless, this is not my only reason.

This weekend I have been filled with a melancholy, half-mournful mood, and I think all these "many partings" are the source of my feelings. First, we have numerous literal partings: leaving my family for a trip abroad, "farewelling" new friends and places in Europe, ending relationships from ensembles after a year of hard work, sending off a happy bride and groom, enduring the annual goodbyes with old friends who visit yearly, etc. These experiences crammed into so short a period without having a good, therapeutic cry would be reason enough for a girl to be overwhelmed after a while. Yet, there is more.

I often feel that I am a 60 year old woman trapped in a 16 year old's body. Well, if that has been the case in the past, then my 90th birthday came and went this month. I feel so much more grown up, if that is possible, for not all of my goodbyes have been so straightforward. Some are more allegorical, philosophical, and symbolic, yet no less painful.

I've said goodbye to a beloved friend, who will never be the same after being touched by cancer. Yes, she is still her faith-driven, cheerful, gorgeous self, yet neither her life nor mine will ever be the same again. I've watched and witnessed the first of my childhood chums pledge her troth to her new husband. And even before Hannah walked up the aisle, radiant and glowing with excitement, I shed tears as my dearest friends -- no, my darling sisters -- Ruthie and Elizabee moved toward the alter as bridesmaids. In that split second, I realized how quickly time passes. As a wise woman I know has said many times recently, "In the next ten years, our lives will be filled with the weddings of you children." Life is happening.

And then I confess another parting -- the parting with a dream. My habits of pinning fictitious vignettes and Byronic scenes onto every person I meet is such a painful one. * (See my Dreamer post.) * Even though I know that God has not planned it, I watched a match disintegrate into the mist. Oh! the complications of silly crushes. I am ashamed to admit it, to even use such an inane word, yet I write it down, if for no other reason than my own humbling and the benefit of my own dear daughters one day.

Then I am reminded yet again of how little time I have left in this dear home of mine, and I fall into this horrid sadness. Lord, get me out!

I feel like time is like sand, constantly slipping through my fingers as a friend expressed through an email yesterday. I feel like Frodo, naked and groping in the dark, searching for protection, for something to cling to. All of my relationships, dreams, and normalcy has been kicked from under my feet. I feel like a man being hung at the gallows -- the prop has been moved; now I suffocate.

Look at this. Even as I write the words, I wonder how a girl can claim Christ as Redeemer and Friend and yet write such shallow words. I feel this, and I search for that. Who cares how I feel, and why do I search? There is truth that transcends each circumstance and emotion; there is hope which I have already received. I know that I know that I know. Then why is it so difficult? Why do I not understand His will, much less my own thoughts?

{Being a hormonal girl can be ever so frustrating.}

God, you are my Fast Anchor amidst the swelling seas of uncertainty, confusion, and downright misery. You are my Loving Father who smothers me with constant gifts to grow and mature me. You are the Beloved Bridegroom, enough to satisfy every thirst for intimacy, protection, and love. Grow me into a grateful girl -- not merely content, "gutting out" the godly response -- but wholly and completely dripping with thanksgiving for every painful circumstance and confusing situation.

* Note: I am not suicidal nor in the depths of despair right now. I share the thoughts that came to mind as ink flowed onto paper, and I tend to exaggerate in my constant journey to heights of literary genius. I'm fine, and God is faithful! (But isn't that so sad? My mind is so bothersome. I can't vent my own thoughts without the authoress inside watching for parallelism and pointing out potential phrases just begging for alliteration. Argh. It's kind of like when I cry. The actress inside yanks me over to a mirror, so that I can see what a sorrowful girl ought to look like. I hate feeling so base, fake, and shallow.) Anyways... I forgot what I was saying. ;-) *

It Is Not Death to Die

It is not death to die

To leave this weary road

And join the saints who dwell on high

Who've found their home with God.

It is not death to close

The eyes long dimmed by tears

And wake in joy before Your throne

Delivered from our fears.

O Jesus, conquering the grave

Your precious blood has the power to save.

Those who trust in You

Will in Your mercy find

That it is not death to die.

It is not death to fling

Aside this earthly dust

And rise with strong and noble wing

To live among the just.

It is not death to hear

The key unlock the door

That sets us free form mortal years

To praise you evermore.

Currently, I'm musing over the glorious hope of my Eternal Home. How I cannot wait to throw off these earthly shackles and take up my residence there! Living in light of eternity, with that beautiful rest ahead of me, that shining promise, keeps my mind focused on "things that are above." After all, they're far pleasanter to think about, aren't they?

Lest We Forget

We may look on in awe at the beauty and serenity of North Florida,

but did they as the boom of cannon and stench of smoke invaded its tranquility?

We may halt and smile for spectators' cameras,

but how could he smile when every moment might be his last?

She may lark about and climb oaks to her heart's content,

but would she feel so young bearing burdens no child should bear?

This is why we don the blue and the grey. This is why we reenact -- "Lest We Forget."

I Love This Girl...

even if she does intensify an already stressful week and stretches my two hour biology class to feeling like four. For those of ya'll who don't know her, this is my fourteen year old sister, Katie (also known as Hoi-man, kid-sister, Cootie.....).

She and I have grown close together so much over the years. We share (most times willingly) a lot. Late at night, we whisper little secrets and giggle over indescribable silliness that only sisters find funny. We rejoice at each others victories and sympathize with losses. And our spats are usually only reserved to the (lack of) cleanliness in our room. ;)

We are, in short, sisters, best of friends.

Today, however, we learned of a large cyst on her left femur that is causing her great pain and could, if she puts pressure on it, fracture her femur. This whole experience has been one long and tortuous 36-hour roller coaster for more than one reason.

Begin with a very busy and exhausting week of rehearsals for a local opera that I am performing in. Then doctors call having spotted a growth of some sort on a major bone. That's just a little disconcerting. Then a dear sister goes back in for more x-rays as I head to the college -- not where I wanted to be at that moment. When I receive a call from my sister reassuring me that the growth is only a cyst (as opposed to other . . . unpleasantries), I sigh with relief and thankfulness.

Fast forward to lunchtime, when I receive another call from Katie. Enter phrases like "large cyst," "thin femur," "possible fracture," "MRI," "Shans Hospital," "surgery," etc. Elder sisterness kicks in. (By the way, that's the nice way of saying that Jane Ellen has an internal freak out because one of her beloved is endangered.)

But, God is good and faithful and merciful and perfect and everything I could possibly need right now. While at the school, He provided people I could to "gush" to, quiet time to draw from His well of strength, homework to distract me, and peace that surpasses understanding.

After rereading this, I think the wording makes everything seem more scary than it really is right now. Katie is chilling on the couch and churning out folded laundry at a record rate for our family. She has been given a new nickname due to the occasional hopping on one foot she must do: The Dufflepud. I am growing in joyfulness, thanksgiving, trust, and reliance upon the Father.

Can I really ask for more?

Yes, I can. Please pray for our family as we ford this, admittedly, foggy river. I'll be back soon with more updates. Love to you all!

To Emmy Xiang

I love you so much. So often I am reminded of the fate you've been saved from and the deep, deep love that your family has for you, and I am overwhelmed with the goodness of God. Emmy, I hope that you never forget how much our Heavenly Father has blessed you -- you, my darling sister, have been chosen from the thousands of fatherless Chinese daughters with a home in an affluent country, with a body spry and healthy, and with the opportunity to learn about Him and His gospel.

My dear, I pray continually that you might be among the chosen ones, that the Lord would sweetly woo your heart into submission to His will. And I thank Him daily for giving you and our sisters, Katie and Gracie, to me. Sisterhood is a wonderful thing, a bond none can describe: treasure it.

At times like the one Mrs. Lenfestey captured, when you snuggle with me and caress my back, that I miss China and the sweetness of adoption so much that I can hardly stand it. Oh! How I hope that we can repeat those experiences again soon. Until then, you are the best China-sister ever. Love, love, love you!

Gracious God

"The working out of all things has been assigned to each person by our Lord, but it all happens according to His sovereign will even though he gives advice. He lacks nothing that it is in the power of men to give him. Oh what a gracious Lord, who desires that people should perform for Him those things for which He holds Himself responsible! Day and night moment by moment, everyone should express to Him their most devoted gratitude. . . ."

~ Christopher Columbus ~

Simple Pleasures...

Of the last twenty four hours:

~ staying up late with Mama and Daddy (even if it was biology homework...)

~ leaving the doors open and hearing all those lovely "night noises"

~ slipping on fuzzy socks for bed (Did you notice that I *love* fuzzy socks?)

~ waking up because I was cold in bed

~ wandering about early in the morning with a beloved friend

~ greetings from others with amiable cheerfulness

~ munching a pear (One day I hope to own this.)

~ opening the windows and doors of the house

~ identifying an elusive flower

~ watching leaves fall off a tree (Yes! I have found a tree that sheds leaves in FL!)

I also stumbled across this poem:

Out in the Fields with God

The little cares that fretted me,

I lost them yesterday,

Among the fields above the sea,

Among the winds at play,

Among the lowing of the herds,

The rustling of the trees,

Among the singing of the birds,

The humming of the bees.

The foolish fears of what might pass,

I cast them all away,

Among he clover-scented grass,

Among the new-mown hay,

Among the hushing of the corn

Where drowsy poppies nod,

Where ill thoughts die and good are born --

Out in the fields with God.

-Unknown

And, of course, I'm glorying in that oft spoken, yet simply glorious psalm:

The heavens declare the glory of God, and the sky above proclaims his handiwork.

~ Psalm 19:1 ~

I'm one blessed girl. :)

The Land I Love

There are days I continually complain about the heat or the humidity or the sand or the flatness or the tourism -- the list goes on and on. But then, I see this:

~ emerald waters with foaming crests ~

~ clear blue skies and thin wisps of white ~

~ vast ivory beaches and plump cumulous clouds ~

~ dramatic colors fuming with passion ~

~ the heavens ablaze with beauty ~

and suddenly, my complaints stop their constant flow, and I stumble backward in awe.

Morning Meditations

(Alfred Augustus Glendening, Spring Morning)

Therefore, brothers, since we have confidence to enter the holy places by the blood of Jesus, by the new and living way that he opened for us through the curtain, that is, through his flesh, and since we have a great priest over the house of God, let us draw near with a true heart in full assurance of faith, with our hearts sprinkled clean from an evil conscience and our bodies washed with pure water. Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for he who promised is faithful.

For Christ has entered, not into holy places made with hands, which are copies of the true things, but into heaven itself, now to appear in the presence of God on our behalf. Nor was it to offer himself repeatedly, as the high priest enters the holy places every year with blood not his own, for then he would have had to suffer repeatedly sine the foundation of the world. But as it is, he has appeared once for all at the end of the ages to put away sin by the sacrifice of himself. And just as it is appointed for man to die once, and after that comes judgment, so Christ, having been offered once to bear the sins of many, will appear a second time, not to deal with sin but to save those who are eagerly waiting for him.

Hebrews 10:22-23, 9:24-28

Help in the Lord

This passage of Scripture has oft been turned to in a rather hectic time of the year. I hope it encourages and edifies you as much as it has me! Praise God that we have been delivered from the torrent of temptation and circumstances, but thanks be to Him that He has broken the snare and showed us the way of escape: Jesus Christ!

Psalm 124: Our Help is in the Name of the Lord

If it had not been the LORD who was on our side --

let Israel now say --

if it had not been the LORD who was on our side

when people rose up against us,

then they would have swallowed us up alive,

when their anger was kindled against us;

then the flood would have swept us away,

the torrent would have gone over us;

then over us would have gone

the raging waters.

Blessed be the LORD,

who has not given us

as prey to their teeth!

We have escaped like a bird

from the snare of the fowlers;

the snare is broken,

and we have escaped!

Our help is in the name of the LORD,

who made heaven and earth.

(Emphasis mine.)

Running, Stress, and Grace

Here's a confession: I detest running. That's it, plain and simple. It's not the pain; actually, I really appreciate the pain, that good hurt which comes from exercising. I'm not really sure what it is that this abhorrence has sprung from, but whatever it is, it's bad!

Even though I really don't enjoy it, most of the time I have kept up running. I've done something. I'd go through little spurts when my motivation totally ran dry. That might not be true: I never had much of a motivation (other than to simply keep fit and trim). I'd go through spurts where I just plain gotten lazy. Recently I've gone through a rather long one, and I've felt it.

Have any of you other slacker exercisers ever had that feeling. You go without doing your workouts for a long time, and you find yourself feeling awful? I've been that way for a while now. For one thing, I can see it on the *ahem* figure. For another, I've gotten that strange, heavy, dirty feeling that comes from refusing to exercise. But, most of all, I've seen it in my stress level.

And, oh, do I hate that word -- stress. I'm always ranting to my family members how feelings like stress and depression only come from a lack of dependence on and trust in God. However, the fact of the matter is that even I (the oh-so-perfect one) get stressed at times. I take my eyes off my Savior and place them on my circumstances and emotions. What a messed up way of thinking! When my stress level goes up, I know what I need to do -- spend more time with God, in the Word, and in prayer.

I've guarded some extended periods with God more recently as the tension has escalated. My quiet times have been so, so, so much more beneficial and substantially longer. My prayer time too has gone from the occasional check-up, to routine heart-pourings. I've sought prayer from others, which helps tremendously. (For those of you who are struggling with something, seek prayer from others. You'll be amazed at how God uses the words of other people in amazing ways!)

Tonight, however, I feel so at peace. What's the difference? I went on a run. Before ya'll start hounding me for being all "un-spiritual" and claiming that running is better than praying, just chill for a minute. I'm not saying that at all; in fact, I'm attempting to relay a totally opposite message. Just as I said that God uses the words of others in fantastically powerful ways, God used running for me in a way I never expected possible. Through a cool night run, God brought peace. He showed me little, simple wonders that I've missed so badly by avoiding running and, consequently, the out of doors.

Do you see what I'm saying? God used something I detest, to bring me peace and renewing. He used running to remind me of His steadfast love and awe-inspiring power. And, to throw some icing on the cake, God let me see beauties in nature I so missed without realizing it. Isn't He good? Isn't He kind? I'm so amazed that I am loved by such a God.

Ya'll should know me well enough now to know how much I lack the skills for a booming conclusion. Let me end with this: Remember that God is so, so, so much bigger than you (and me!). He is utterly and completely amazing. He sweeps me off my feet and makes me fall head over heels in love with Him continually. Remember that He uses the little everyday trials and tribulations (oh, the monotony of running) to guide us to a better place.

What can we do but praise our glorious Creator for His splendor, His goodness, and His majesty? How can we not fall upon our knees and praise Him?

(Photo Credit: Jogger, Larry Silver)

Ramblings

And when I say ramblings, I really mean it. I composed this little entry while sitting outside with a little free time.

The trees are flowering; the sun is out.

Birds are chirping; spring is back.

It's amazing how the air on a Florida spring day is so wet and heavy you feel like you could wring the moisture out. The climate turns hot again. Te atmosphere's so thick, you feel as if you'll suffocate simply trying to breathe. And yet, for all these inconvenient elements, there's something lovely and comforting about Florida springs.

Because, for all its wetness, the air has an element of enveloping embraces to match the sun's kisses. The heat on a spring day isn't as intense or stifling as a summer one. And you never have to breathe in that thick air to the point of suffocation, for at just the right moment, a cool, soft breeze whisks it away and offers, thin, clean air.

Ah. Life truly is a beautiful gift. And so much lovelier it is when there are everyday miracles to wonder at and be grateful for. I stand amazed that people can live in the midst of such beauty and wonder and yet reject the Creator of it all, the Sustainer of life and nature.

Of course, I love the "big" things in life, too -- the pyramids, the Mona Lisa, Clair de Lune, Paris, the Great Wall. Yet, isn't it a blessing that while living life day to day and week to week, we can enjoy the glories of simple miracles -- a child's sandcastle, an absent-minded doodle, the melodious chirrup of birds, Ft. Payne, a picket fence.

Praise God from whom all blessings flow.

Praise Him all creatures here below.

Praise Him above ye heavenly hosts.

Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.

Amen.

The doxology. It's been ringing in my head for days now. Maybe because this single well-known, oft-sung chorus sums up so perfectly the overflow of a soul utterly filled with wonder at our amazing, generous God. He is indescribably perfect: perfect in form, perfect in deeds, perfect for me. People worry about finding "Mr. Perfect." I glory in the fact that I've found my Perfect One, my Redeemer.

Sacrifice

The cost of following Jesus, what is it? In Luke 9:57-62, the LORD calls for total sacrifice on our part. His desire is that nothing stand between us and total devotion to the Messiah, not bodily comfort, not family members. Nothing. He calls us to sacrifice our lives, yet what a sacrifice: death for life, poverty for riches, hatred for love, annihilation for adoption, and rot and decay for beauty and purity!

Thanks be to God for His indescribable gift!

Our Hymn of Praise II

Picking Bluebells, Ernest Walbourn

"For the beauty of each hour,

Of the day and of the night,

Hill and vale, and tree and flower,

Sun and moon, and stars of light.

Lord of all, to Thee we raise,

This our hymn of grateful praise."

Our Hymn of Praise

John Appleton Brown, Sheep Grazing Under Apple Blossoms

"For the beauty of the earth

For the glory of the skies,

For the love which from our birth

Over and around us lies.

Lord of all, to Thee we raise,

This our hymn of grateful praise."

Keep looking for more posts like this!