I Don’t Know What To Do.

To begin, I ask you forgive me for all grammar and spelling errors. I am having to write this on my Kindle Fire and while it is useful for many things, it is not useful for editing a WordPress blog entry.

Do you ever feel like Atlas? You know the Greek myth of the man named Atlas who holds the world up on his shoulders? The one cursed for all eternity to hold the world’s problems on his back? I do.

I feel like I am holding this unbearable weight. I can’t see it, I haven’t the faintest clue what it is, but yet I hold it upon my shoulders like I am holding up the world and everyone on it.

I want more, I feel this pull of adventure and excitement, of this need to go out and explore. I feel this need to hold somebody in my arms, ro wake up next them every morning, to lie down with them every evening. I feel this underlying sadness as I realize that at 22, I have nothing to show for my life. I feel this emotion unlike the others. I cant put my finger on it, but I think it is this need to let go.

As Christians we are told, “let go and let God.” Let go and let God? How? No one ever really tells us. Believe 🆗, Trust 🆗, Read your Bible 🆗, and have faith 🆗. I have all of those things. And yet I still cannot find that solitude, that rest, that complete and utter ability to let go.

My brain and my heart want so many things, some the same and some different. I feel so tense all the time that at any moment I will crack and fall to pieces. I want to step outside of the world and sit in this place of solitude, just to collect my thoughts. To figure out what to do with my life that seems to headed somewhere but nowhere.

I don’t know what to do or how to do it. I dont know how to accomplish something that I don’t even know I want. I am lost in the sea of good things that lead nowhere in particular.

I Have Decided

We never get a choice, do we? We never get the choice to be in love with someone who doesn’t love us back. We don’t get a choice to choose if whether we are born rich or poor. We will never choose if this is the last time one’s heart chooses to beat. We don’t get a choice to decide.

I have struggled my whole life trying not be inferior, not to be the one others must take care of, be a burden. I have tried to not make mistakes, screw things up, show weakness in the face others strength. I did not choose a life where I am dependent on others, I would never have chosen that path.

I do not want to be pitied, I do not want sympathy, I do not want tears shed for me. I just want someone who will support me in a manner that suites my needs. But in a path I did not choose, I now must learn to rely on a man who died for me 2,000 years ago.

I did not want to be a Christian. I fought the lifestyle tooth and nail, it did not appeal to me in any way, shape or form. This “God” was nothing to me, meant nothing to me, did nothing for me. Christians to me were backstabbing, snipey, whiny children and I, being superior, wanted nothing to do with them or their “God.”

It turns out I did not choose to be a Christian, or to follow God, or be in the place I am now with the plans I have. I did not choose, but I was called. The first moment I came in contact with Jesus was the last moment I knew I no longer needed the world to solve my problems. The first time I heard His voice was the last time I needed to hear anyone else’s. The first time I felt the firm and mighty grip of my Lord and Savior, was the last I needed to firmly grip my painful past.

But I had a choice and I have made the wrong one. I had the choice to give up my past and hand it over to the one who died to take for me. I had the choice to forgive and let the poison leak from my pores. I had the choice to turn away from the world that has done nothing but cause pain, self-doubt, self-hatred, self-mutilation, and addiction. I had the choice to be inferior, to be second, to my God and let Him take care of me. I had the choice to be loved, unconditionally, and to love others.

I decided that my past was too good to give up. I decided that forgiveness was a poison I could not yet give up, like a drug it infected my veins. I decided to go down my path of self-destruction, my path of addiction, my path of suffering. I decided that I would be superior and could take care of myself and the people who I thought needed my help. I decided that love was a foreign concept, too much of a mystery to be accepted, too easily handed out to watch who I gave my heart to.

I decided I was better than God or anything He could offer me.

Now, I have the choice. I have had this choice since DAY ONE. I turned it down, I turned it away. But now I have the choice. I can continue down this path: one foot in heaven, the other in the world. I have the choice to call myself “Christian” while watching myself fall. I have the choice to turn to God fully, completely. I have the choice to surrender and learn what it means when God takes care of me. I have the choice to be a follower of Jesus Christ, to be a true disciple.

I have the choice. And my decision has been made. I don’t know what it looks like to surrender, what it looks like to be second, what it looks like to be taken care of. I don’t know how to abandon the mentality of working hard for myself and letting God take the reigns.

I decided it’s time to let God be God, for Him to be my Father, my Lord, My Savior, my King, and my Life.

Challenge

Having a lot of time to myself lately, I have had a lot of time to reflect and listen. I have had to spend time with myself and literally no one else. I have had to deal with many days of self-doubt and self-hatred. I would say and do things that I would never imagine of saying to someone else much less myself. I had come to realization that I do not accept myself the way I am. And I can’t accept others if I don’t accept myself first. I can’t truly love others unless I truly love myself.

So I want to challenge myself. But I don’t only want to challenge myself, no. I want to challenge you as well.

I think as a culture we forget that we are unique and beautiful individuals. We try so hard to look like the models that are photo-shopped, copied, and pasted on magazine covers and news paper articles. We starve ourselves (both men and women) and work ourselves to the bone to imitate bodies that we do not possess. And no one is immune to the power of the fashion/health industry.

Personally the idea of being thin with toned abs and strong arms is sexy. The idea of having a strong chin and striking features like Ruby Rose is beauty. I look at the women that are actresses, models, and celebrities and wish with all my heart that I could be just like them.

But I am not. I am 5’7″ and 265lbs. I wear a size 20/22 in most clothing lines. I have a soft chin with soft, baby-like features. I have acne scars, freckles, and new pimples. I have nothing “striking” in my appearance. Why is that not considered beautiful? The thing is… It is considered beautiful. By the God who made me just as I am. Could I be healthier? Yes, and I am currently working on that. But I am not working to be a model, I am working to be healthier.

This is my challenge:

Everyday, twice a day, you stand in front of a mirror. You can be fully dressed, in a bra and panties (or boxers/briefs), or completely nude. Then say these words: “I ACCEPT YOU UNCONDITIONALLY RIGHT NOW.” Then just stand there for 30 seconds staring at yourself.

That’s it. That’s all I want you to do. You can write out those words and post them on your mirror so you remember.

At first if it’s hard, that’s okay. Just stick it out. Let those negative words out, because soon you will begin to reject them. You will hear them but you know that you accept yourself for you are, for who God made you to be.

I will be doing this challenge with you! So join me in self-acceptance and self-love!

God Never Said It Was Going To Be Easy

I look at my life and I can remember the things I have gone through, things I have accomplished, people I have met, people who I loved, and times that at the time seemed to never end… but eventually did, no matter how painful.

I see the struggles and the climbing up metaphorical mountains, only the slide back down the other side and have to start the process all over again. You know, I remember this song by Miley Cyrus called “The Climb.” She sings about how she climbs up these mountains and how we show should never give up because at the top of that mountain was something better. It meant that you succeeded, it meant that you won.

Did it ever occur to Miley that you may be climbing Mt. Everest? Or maybe that you were climbing that mountain but you kept slipping and stepping on a few bad footholds and slide down that same mountain for the 500th time? Yea, I don’t think so. Not to be rude to Miley, but the only thing she really has to worry about is what new color to dye her armpit hair and what skimpy outfit she should wear on her next tour.

The rest of us have families, children, dying parents, maybe dying children. We have responsibilities like paying bills, paying off credit cards, trying to shovel our way out of hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt. We perfectly normal, everyday people have things going on everyday, all the time and we don’t have the luxury of singing about how wonderful it is to climb a mountain and find out they are child millionaires.

No, God never said it was going to be easy. He never mentions that overcoming an obstacle, going through that trial, climbing that mountain or loving that person was ever going to be easy.

I mean look at the examples in the Bible. For one, Joshua had to march around the walls of Jericho for 7 DAYS. Have you tried marching in a large circle, endlessly for days, while people doubted you, probably thought you were insane, and you didn’t get to stop? I am going to guess… No. But still he did it.
Sampson was a Nazirite. He had to go his entire life without cutting his hair, drinking wine (well, he really had to abstain from all grapes and things associated with grapes), and had to stay away from dead people. I am guessing that it wasn’t easy to abstain from doing these things. And even though in the end, it didn’t turn out to well for Sampson, for most of his life he did things and refrained from things that were hard.
And lastly, Jesus himself. I’ve never been beaten, spit on, laughed at, mocked, or crucified. But I can say one thing… It definitely wasn’t easy. The man was sweating blood he was so nervous and afraid of what he had to endure. And yet He did it anyway. He did it because that was what was asked of Him.

There are many other examples in the Bible alone, not even just asking people on the streets, that living life and doing things God has asked of you is NOT easy. I encourage you to look a few of them up and test my theory. If God asks something of someone, it usually doesn’t just magically happen, easy peasy lemon squeezy. It takes hard work, dedication, and prayer.

I have to say that I wish it were easy. I wish that when God asked something of me that it would happen because it did. That I wouldn’t have to work so hard, or pray so much, or dedicate myself to its every need and want. I wish that when God asked me to let go of a loved one that I wouldn’t grieve, that when He asked me to move 6 hours away from my closest friend that she would move with me, that when He asks me to be patient and hold back my feelings that my heart wouldn’t ache.

I wish it were so simple! But life isn’t that way. It isn’t easy, it was intended to be until Adam and Eve messed things up for us all. When I get to heaven I will be giving them a piece of my mind. Of course after I ask them both about what the Garden of Eden looked like and other important questions I have for them.

God never said it was going to be easy. And even though it sucks sometimes, I know no other way. I don’t know what it’s like not to work hard, dedicate myself, and pray through things. I don’t know what it is like to have a perfect world with easy mountains to climb and easy successes at the top.

But if I can do it, I know you can too.

I Miss You

I have written many posts about the good things in life, how I deal with the bad things, what i struggle with, and positive notes of encouragement. But I must say that I am weak.

It’s about 1am where I live, I should have been in bed hours ago. But instead I sit here and type. On my Kindle I listen to the sounds of a rain storm with thunder and pouring rain, the soft sounds of rain droplets hitting a pane glass window.

My room in true disarray is tiny and small, no bigger than the size of a walk-in closet. The room is hot, air stiff, and one small purple fan blows slightly cooler air on my skin.

This is my life. This is who I am behind the computer screen and fake smiles and corny pictures. A girl who yearns for love, looks for God and never seems to find Him, and sits in bed watching Gilmore Girls and checks Facebook.

And yet, I am weak. Because I miss my friends, I miss the life I had, I miss my church, I miss my comfort zone. I am alone here and I am sad. I am alone in a new city with a woman who drives me crazy, and all I want is some true human contact. I want to hug my friends and see their smiles. I want to hear their voices without the contortion of a phone line. I don’t want black letters on a white LED screen, I want people

I think as a society we crave community, friends, a place where we feel comfortable and loved. We try to fill in these holes with text, FaceTime, Skype, phone calls. But instead we get farther and farther away from one another. We separate into corners and reach out 100 miles away.
We don’t need new technology that makes seeing a loved one easier. We need to go to that loved one. I can tell you that when I hear my friends’ voices on the other end of the phone, my heart leaps out of my chest. I miss my friends dearly. But I know that if I were to actually see them and give them hugs than my heart would be filled even more.

The same goes for my mother, father, brother, sister, and nephew. I love them all very much and miss them everyday, and calling my mom once a week suffices. But to see my mom is whole other feeling.

I am going to ask a question and I want you to think really hard.

You really love him/her, don’t you?

Did you get a person in mind? Did someone who you love suddenly jump out from the back of your mind to the forefront of it? Do you see that person?

Good. Now when was the last time you went over to them and sat down and TALKED? Face-to-face. When you could see their facial expressions and see the way their smile lights up their face? When you could hug them goodbye, give them a firm handshake, or a kiss on the cheek?

If it’s been longer than a week, go to them. If its been longer than a month, I dare you to go to them now. If it’s been longer than a year, I guess it’s time to cash in on your vacation.

Take it from someone who knows. I push people back into the recesses of my mind because I have a million and one things to do, but as I sat here and thought about everyone I missed I wish I could transport myself straight into the arms of my best friend.

My life isn’t glamorous. But the people in my life make it so.

Know my friends that I miss you and miss you dearly. Come visit me soon!

I know

“I Never Left”

Toes dipped in the cold water of the ocean, I begin to sink a little deeper into the wet sand.
The cold water shocks my body but instead of stepping out, I step in. The water doesn’t just lap at my toes, like the wet kisses of dog, but now engulfs my feet.

My bones begin to ache. My muscle clench begging me to leave the shallows depths of the water. I persevere.
So my ankles and half of calves are under the water. The sand shifts some more. The sand, now deceptively warmer, tries to wrap my feet in warmth.

But I want to go further. The water is so beautiful, clear, almost purified of the damaging effects we as humans have created.
I can see my feet as clearly as though looking through glass. They are turning pink and my toes burrow for warmth in the sand.

I continue to walk deeper into the water. My bones continue to ache, they hurt to bend, it hurts to move. I am shivering. Naturally, my body wants to warm itself.

My tears drop into the ocean, adding a drop of salt to the soft waves that hit my thighs.

“I am tired Lord.” I say up to the sky.

I go deeper. Now the waves hit my waist. My hips ache in protest. My body wants me to leave the cold depths, but I refuse to listen. The cold is jolting me into an awareness that comes only very rarely.

“My heart is heavy God. My lungs feel weak. My mind feels like a scrambled egg. I am tired Lord.” I say once again. Up towards the heavens I look.
Huge white clouds hang in the sky. I feel as if an angel would be able to rest in those clouds.

The water goes up a little higher. Just to my belly button. The ice cold water is unaware of my plight. In a rhythmic motion it continues to lap gently, feeling no need to change its rhythm for me.

“When you found Me Faith, where were you?” I heard God answer.

“I was dead God. The only reason I was still living was because You were beating my heart, You put Your breath in my lungs.” I am ashamed of this fact. Being so young and giving up hope. But God kept me alive.

The icy waves reminded me of my past. They remind me of how numb I was to the world around me, how dead I was to the things that truly mattered. The burn of the cold water told me how I was going to die, alone, afraid, and utterly alone.

Why I walked further still into the chilly depths, I do not know, and yet the piercing water had reached my shoulders. The salty tears continued to fall down my sea-sprayed face. Salt water and tears mixing like a tonic.

“God,” I yelled, “why did you save me?” I wanted to know. What had I done to deserve the gift of life? What had I done to be saved?

“I have plans for you.” He rumbled. After I heard this, a white capped wave splashed me in the face, drowning my cries of whys and whats. I went under the water, opening my eyes, I saw nothing but blue waves crashing above me. My fingers frozen, my body completely numb. I floated in the deep waters.

No one came to save me. Then my body spurted into action, moving myself towards the distant shore. I could hear the clouds rolling, thundering above. They had turned black, heavy, and thick. I could sense God watching me, encouraging me to reach the shore. As I pulled myself up to the beach, I laid on the sand breathing heavily.

“God,” I whispered, “I made it. Promise me, Lord, promise me to never leave me again.” I cried.

“I never left, child, I was there all along. I was there every moment of every day. I will always be there.” I could almost feel a hand stroking my head, like a father does to his young child.

Like A Butterfly

Like a butterfly we all have wings. Not like birds, one because those things are scary and two because these wings are more delicate and intricate that a birds’ wings.

I have wings. My wings are unseen by the many I come in contact with, they don’t see the lovely designs that swirl, they don’e see the colors that spread like wildfire across my wings, and they don’t ever see me fly with them. But I know they’re there. You have them too. Yes, even men have these beautiful butterfly wings.

No, I’m not crazy. No, I’m not delusional. And I actually don’t like butterflies all that much.

But I worked hard for these butterfly wings. And with every season that I endure, I earn a new set of wings more beautiful than the last.

See, the butterfly must endure change, growth, and facing fears. It begins as a caterpillar. You know the gross, fat, spindly-legged insect. Scientists have yet to discover if caterpillars ever have an idea that one day they will fly instead of squirm on the ground. I tend to think that the caterpillar has no idea, I think that while they build their cocoon (it’s actually a chrysalis but for picture purposes we’ll just stick with a cocoon) they have no idea and maybe think to themselves, “Why am I building this small and tight sack around me?”
And yet, without fail they build this cocoon. I can’t imagine how terrified I would be if I just sat confined in this cocoon for who knows how longs while my body changes. Plus, I have no protection against predators or nature. Well actually I can imagine it. Because that’s what we do while we are going through change.

God guides us and most of time we have no idea we’re building this cocoon around ourselves. We just go on with our lives oblivious to the change that’s about to happen. Then all of a sudden… BAM! We are wrapped up in this cocoon, utterly cut off from the outside, and we start feeling changes.

I don’t know if caterpillars move or try to fight the changes occurring, but I know I do. The confinement of living in this cocoon wears on me very quickly. I push against, I yell, I scream, I cry, and sometimes I win. And what I do I get from “winning”? Deformed wings and a broken leg or two. (Just to confirm, I have two healthy human legs.)
In reality I have lost. I didn’t let God finish His work. And guess what? I have to go back. Now I have to do it all over again. I have to voluntarily return back to the tight confinement of that small cocoon and go through the changes again.

Have you ever seen a butterfly leave its cocoon? The cocoon cracks open and out comes out this newly formed butterfly with beautiful wings. But a caterpillar hasn’t ever flown before and now it’s lost weight, gained two hulking wings, and now has to fly. It has no idea what its doing.
So what’s the first thing the newly minted butterfly does? It flaps it’s wings and lets go. It doesn’t hold on and refuse to fly. Not at all, it let’s go and forgets all that it knew as a caterpillar. I can guarantee you aren’t going to find a butterfly behaving like a caterpillar. You’re going to find the butterfly behaving like a butterfly.

The same with you and me. Once we’ve gone through the changes of becoming a butterfly, why do we HOLD ON? What’s so good about what happened yesterday? We can’t ever go back, we can’t change what happened. We can only change what we are doing right now. So why do we act like caterpillars when we now have the wings that allow us to fly?
I fall under this trap as well. I caught myself thinking of things that happened five years ago and go, “Gosh, that was stupid. I shouldn’t have [fill in stupid mistake here].”

My question is: WHO CARES? I’m sure you are the only one who runs this through your brain at 4 in the morning. I can promise you the dumb thing you did, said, watched, whatever isn’t being turned over in your friends mind. They may remember it if you bring it up but at that point you are bringing it up, so that’s your fault.

The butterfly flies carefree, carelessly. They aren’t thinking about the bad piece of dirt they offered their fellow caterpillar. They are focused on finding a soft flower petal to land on. They are focused on the new path God has given them.

As humans we will go through this caterpillar to butterfly stage hundreds, if not thousands, of times in our lifetimes. We sometimes shed the wings we fought so hard for, but we get new ones in return. Other times the wings we have are transformed several times and made stronger, more powerful, and more beautiful than the last pair of wings.

I have a set of wings that are getting tired. They are almost done and soon I’ll have to work for another pair. Which i’m both excited and not excited about. It’s so painful sometimes to lose a pair of wings, the familiarity and the comfort of understanding these wings just to lose them.

Everyone has a set of wings. They are all different, so no need to compare!

Maybe you’re just a caterpillar at the moment and that’s okay. We have those stages too. Just being a lonely, wiggly insect that can be mistaken for a lowly slug. We have times that we come out of our cocoons early with deformed wings and ugly scars, we still try to fly but tire out easily. And other times we have to sit inside the tight cocoons for a very long time… and then wait even longer.
These are all okay. As long as you don’t stay there too long. We can get comfortable in any situation, even the most confining or uncomfortable. You should never be content, you should desire to move forward. Patience needs to be observed of course. But to be content with a broken wings or a deformed leg is not okay. To be content to stay in the past and hang on, is not okay. To stay as a caterpillar because you’re afraid of change, is not okay.

So go my friends, spread your wings and fly. You’re beautiful darling!

On Being Home

I’ve spoken once or twice about visiting home. Every time it’s a little different and a little harder. My last visit was over a month ago as it was for the birth of my nephew Emmett. This time it’s for Spring Break.

I arrived knowing full well that I wanted to spend as much time with my nephew as I could. He’s only young once and since I rarely come home, now is the time.
So far spending time with Emmett has been amazing. He’s adorable and smiley. He likes to laugh, smile, giggle, and be bounced… constantly. My biceps have gotten their workout this week. And my goodness can that little baby fart. He can rival any grown man for length, sound, and smell.

Other than that nothing has gone on. My mom and I had gotten close at one point. Or what I had deemed as close. I have never been one to be a “daddy’s girl” or my mom’s “best friend.”
We love each other but I keep myself at a distance, yes even my parents, but that it a different post for a different day.
This trip, however, seems to have put the distance between my parents and I at the forefront of my mind. Like a looming desert between us, we are separated.

I don’t feel bad. More like I feel uncomfortable and strangely alone. I feel like there is this castle filled with hundreds of people but I’m in the dungeon. Weird analogy I know, but it’s the truth.
I’m not lonely, I don’t feel like I need to change my situation, I don’t feel like I need to change myself. I just don’t feel right. Like something is missing.

God has given me a family, friends, mentors, a purpose. I guess what’s missing is the familiar end. I am different now, with different ways of doing things, I don’t watch the same things, and I don’t eat the same things. I have changed for the better, while my family has relatively stayed the same.
I’m not angry, upset, or even frustrated. I’m sad to be honest. I feel jealous of other people who have moms and dads that understand the bible, believe in God, and want to change daily for Him. But my parents get angry, irritated, and disgusted by my life, my God, my beliefs. They say they don’t, they say they support me, but I can see it and feel it.

My faith has put a deeper rift between us too.
My food choices (I no longer eat dairy and I try to eat as organic as possible) have but a barrier between us.
My life in a different city and a different state have pulled us apart.

Being home gets harder every time. But I love my family, I miss them when I am away, and I am always thinking about them when I can’t see them.
I miss my brother and I am so proud of him. I always love seeing him grow up every time I come home. I love watching him play football and baseball.
I miss my sister with her witty jokes and love of Doritos and Taco Bell. I miss Emmett and his smile. I love seeing him grow and get bigger.
I miss my mom and my dad. I miss them a lot more than they may realize.

I’m glad I am home, if only for a few days.

Friendship

I haven’t written in quite a while, even with my statements of return. Mostly because I had things to say, but I wanted God to guide me in how to say it.

This particular post is on friendship. One thing that I have been struggling with. In a lot of different ways.

For one, I take friendships seriously and when I trust you enough to be my friend, that’s a big step I’m taking. I don’t like fake friends, I don’t like hanging on to a dead friendship because of sentimentality, and I don’t like roller coaster friendships. That isn’t what friendship is about.

So why am I in several friendships just like the ones I’ve described above?
Because I’m confused. Even fake friends have good advice, dead friendships hold great memories, and roller coaster friendships still have those good moments. So I hold on and pray for the best. I hold on and feel conflicted and hurt and tired and worn out. I feel stupid for holding on, but strong for not letting go.

I want to ask them questions and determine what they need from me, if anything. That way I can sufficiently cut them from my life.
The problem is that with some, I’m bound to them. I’m bound to them because of my future, my friendship with their husbands or wives, I’m bound to them because I was asked to never let go.

I currently have a friend that is always at the forefront on my mind. His name is not important, just know he is important to me.
I’ve spoken of him often and for that I apologize to him, but he just so happens to revolve around many aspects of my life.

Being as I am female and he a male, we have an interesting dynamic to our friendship. Him being highly masculine with brief moments of femininity, and me being fairly feminine with hints of masculinity, we clash but somehow work together.
We have a lot in common, which I think terrifies us a little bit, and we learn from one another. We can fight, be stubborn, and frustrate each other while still loving one another. I personally thrive off of this fact. Whether he does or not, I couldn’t say but I’m not totally concerned with that.

But we obviously have boundaries. We have lines that we don’t cross and fences we don’t jump over. We stay on our own lawns and pretend that the wall of boundaries doesn’t exist until he decides to put it up.
Confusing right?

I understand boundaries. I agree to them and I am grateful for many that are in place. It helps keep me balanced, separate, and healthy. As I have a tendency to lean towards my male friends, I am thankful for boundaries.
But these boundaries also make it difficult. It makes it hard to be his friend sometimes. I’m always worried I’m crossing the line, jumping over my fence, not staying in my yard. And because I’m worried about that, I shrink back causing me to worry if I’ve gone too far back into my little house, shutting him out.

This is constantly on my mind, constantly nagging at me. I have tried bringing this up but when I do I feel clingy and needy. I’m not. I just don’t know what to do.

Not only that, but we can never be alone. There has always got to be a 3rd person involved. Like a chaperone, or in my other friend’s word a “babysitter.”
This boundary is okay and even welcomed in some situations. But for the love of all that is Holy, it’s straining.
If we trust ourselves, our friendship, and our actions why do we need a “buddy”? We respect each others space, limits, and understand that this friendship isn’t going past that: friendship. We keep our distance, we don’t touch other, we aren’t cuddling in a booth at a popular restaurant.
No! I barely hug him for fear I’m doing too much and making him uncomfortable!

I want to be able to sit with my friend and have a conversation. To talk about books that we are reading, to share stories, to learn about sports, debate over politics, and grow deeper in our faith.
Why is it that I can do that with everyone but him? Why can we not trust ourselves and how we present ourselves to the world and be a good example of a male/female friendship?

I’ve made plenty of mistakes. I am human. But we learn from them and we move on.
I don’t think our friendship is a mistake, there’s so much more to be developed and understood about our friendship. But its so hard to keep up and pretend that the way he handles our friendship doesn’t hurt.

That’s not what friendship is.

He used to read my blog, I have no idea if he still does. Especially since my hiatus for those few months. A part of me wishes he would read this, understand what I’m going through.
But another part of me wishes he wouldn’t read it, because then there’s the possibility of him getting hurt himself.

I thank all of you for being so patient and reading about my crazy life.

Blessings.

Poem #4

I haven’t written in awhile but this poem goes back several months, like in December. It wasn’t meant for anyone or anything in particular. It wasn’t fashioned out an event.  I just wrote and this is what I came up with.
It wasn’t built off of any particular way of writing poetry. And this currently has no title.

No Title

I see you with her,
Standing ever so close,
head down low,
Your breath slow

Her teeth white as pearls,
Skin dark as night,
Hair long and silky,
Her beauty radiating.

I didn’t know what to say,
Or how to say it.
My throat tightens,
My lips dry,
My mind races.

I hear your laughter
I see your perfect smile
I watched your dimples cast
Shadows upon your cheeks.

I didn’t know what to do,
Or how do it.
My heart pounds
My palms sweat
My hands clench.

“God” I prayed,
“Why do I love him?”
At that moment your eyes sparkled
Your hands twitched,
Wanting to grab hers.

I didn’t know what to feel,
Or how to feel it.
My tears stand unfallen
My mouth quivers
My heart shatters

You look up, away
See me standing there
Was that disappointment?
Was that approval?
I couldn’t tell.

You wave me over,
“Hello,” I say.
My lips curve into perfect smile.
Your lips copy mine.
“Hi Faith, meet…”

I know what to say,
I know what to do,
I know what to feel,
I stretch out my hand
“Nice to meet you.”