Thursday, September 30, 2010

Running a marathon


I'm a runner, both with my feet and my heart.

When there's too much going on in my world, I'll escape and take a nap.
When my phone dings again with an f-bomb laden, accusatory text, I close the dialog.
I ignore calls from people and institutions that cause too much mayhem, delete emails that I don't want to deal with, and leave my phone in the car on those days when I just can't deal with anybody more than the person sitting next to me.
When the going gets rough, I pack my bags and move on to the next house.

It's what I do, and I suppose to some extent, it's a linear sin that's been passed down through the generations that hold my family name.

I'm not sure that taking a nap when you're overwhelmed or avoiding headache-inducing people is inherently bad - until it hinders progress. Sleeping through the entire weekend probably won't make for a better Monday. B-lining for the other side of the room probably won't resolve differences. There's a time for being alone to meditate. There's a time for just being left alone to deal with anything but your demons. There's a time to remove all extraneous distractions to be able to focus on one issue. But there's also a time to face them head on with a bold face.

Jamie George says "The truth is, for all of us, that whether we're living in a moment whether we don't understand, or we're living in a moment that, for us, on our end, it seems somewhat boring or full of futility, it all comes down to this little word - faith... and trust... and I would submit worship. Is He really The Holy One? Is the story really about Him?" Or have I made it about me? Have I put more concern in advancing my life than I have in advancing the Kingdom?

For the past year or so, I've felt like God is sitting in Heaven going "Let me see how jacked up you can make your life before I step in." While that's not reality, that is where I'm at. Prayers bounce off the roof. I've got a bulldozer to dig me deeper and deeper with no ladder to get out. But I'm not an idiot; I know God goes silent for a time, and I know that He is strongest when we are weakest. He'll drop us to the ground if that's what it takes for us to get on our knees.

Ray Orland believes, "Any hope that isn't from God is an idol of our own making." I've cleaned out the "big" idols (drinking, smoking, sex, 4 letter words) - there's no giant, looming Asherah pole in my view, but I've got enough skeletons in my closet to fill a peat bog. My whole life, I've put my hope in becoming an "adult"; becoming eighteen, moving away, and going to college were my vehicles to freedom. Now as this is all coming into play, I'm quickly realizing that this is not reality. Somehow, I had this idea that when the clock struck midnight between March 6th and March 7th, I'd suddenly have this beautiful world at my fingertips that would release me from whatever I had been living in for the past eighteen years. Now, I am becoming aware of a few things:

1) This event will do no more than allow me to buy my own White-Out and make me suddenly solely responsible for myself with no protection.
2) I'm an idiot. Really Dan? Look around at the young 20-somethings you know. They're all either still living with their parents or crammed up in sketchy apartments, swimming in debt and Ramen noodles. Yep, it's glorious.
3) The problems that I want to be released from won't go away just because I choose to run and put physical distance between me and their proprietors.
4) Home is home, and this is what it is.
5) I'd have to sincerely question whether this event has become an idol or not. Is my hope in the fact that God will protect me no matter my age, education status, or where I live? In the knowledge that He's got plans for me (love love love Jeremiah 29:11) and has got it all figured out? In awareness that He didn't create me with a spirit of timidity that would run and hide to LA or Chicago without ever looking back?

I'll be the first to admit that Sledgewater isn't the life I had envisioned for me. My life was very much supposed to be like "Even Stevens"; I was very convinced I would be Ren Stevens, reincarnate. But that doesn't matter; that's not my reality. I've been dealt other cards by the Dealer that gives no bad hands - we're just a bunch of awful players. He can read my p-p-poker face, even when myself and others can't. Have I put too much faith in test scores, grade point averages, and Pulitzer-worthy essays? Have I really trusted that He is holy? Set apart, beyond and above me, incomprehensible. He's entitled to my praise and worship - not some flashy degree.

Either I'll come back for Christmas with excitement or I'll be "that kid" that stays at school. If I do return, which I don't doubt I will at some point, I probably won't have the option of staying with my biological family. That hurts. This weekend, I'll go for the campus preview day at Florida Southern College. It cuts me like a knife to know that I'll be (one of, probably) the only kid without a doting parent leading the way, ensuring that their baby is well taken care of next fall. It's both within and without; I neither have a family, nor don't. It's a strange situation to not belong, but to need to belong. But this is what it is - I have to be independent and strong. Nobody will take care of me except for myself. Embellished resumes will only get me so far. Admissions offices don't care that my mom is absent or that my dad kicked me out; they'll look at my grades, look at my test scores, and make a mildly informed decision. And that's where I went wrong, under the belief that nothing else mattered beyond what my transcripts read while falsely and unknowingly thinking I could do it on my own.

So maybe, rather, He's sitting in Heaven saying "Let me see how jacked up you can get before you'll sincerely humble yourself." God's in the business of perfection, so I will finish this year with excellence and move on to seemingly greater things.

Sunday, September 5, 2010

Travelocity

I never grew up taking trips. I wasn't that kid that went to camp for the summer, or to Nana's every Thanksgiving or to the mountains over winter break. It's too often that I say "I've never been..." It's no wonder that now, as a seventeen year old young "adult", I have this itch to travel and go somewhere. I'm a well educated (as much as public school can give you, at least), fully competent (okay, so I lack common sense), young women with dreams and aspirations beyond this town of forty-thousand. I can sit here all night and tell you the functions of the kidney (test next Monday!) but I'm so incredibly uncultured and simply unfamiliar with the life outside of Daniland.

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Paige and I want to go camping. Please, stifle your laughter. I am fully aware of how dysfunctional that sounds. But I look at it this way - either we will die, or we will survive. I'm too young to die, so I'm banking on survival. While Nate and Darren may have bets that we'd last mere minutes alone in the woods, I'm convinced that we could handle it. I mean, how hard can starting a fire be? Bring on the Chanel scented bug repellent and Vera Bradley sleeping bags!

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I've been communicating with my Great Grandma a lot. I had the brilliant idea while I was in the shower (does anybody else make some great life decisions in the shower? I think the aromas of great smelling soaps and the hot water open some inner-brain pores or something) that I should go see her, and the rest of the family in Chester, Mass. I've already found flights. Now it's just a matter of scraping together the last few pieces of money. (Anybody need a babysitter?) My family has always been estranged to me - or rather, my mother has made it certain that I shall remain removed from them. I'm free from her now though, and I reserve the right to know where I come from. It's some sort of birth right; the older I get, the more I am convinced that knowing your family is essential to progressing yourself. We all want to go beyond what our previous generations did - but I haven't a clue what that is. I truly want to know the history of the people I come from. Who passed on their hazel eyes and dimple chin to me? Does anyone else share in the odd quirks that I have? Am I related to some influential historical figure? Where did this sickle cell come from?

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BTW - That bio book is the one we use for SL and HL bio (:

College applications are due all too soon and I have no clue what I'm doing with my life. I want to start making my rounds about what schools I want to see. I definitely want to look at Moody and Wheaton in Chicago, and Azusa in California. I have a few others that I like too, but really, I need someone to sit down with me, go over my options, and help me formulate some sort of slightly organized plan of attack / future. Now if only I can work out the logistics... Chaperone, anyone?

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I used this book as a source for my Extended Essay!

I don't have a doubt in my mind that I'll go back to Detroit one day. My heart aches for this city; I get teary eyed just thinking about it. I don't think I've ever loved a place as much as I love the 313. I don't think God is finished with me there, yet. Greater things are yet to come for Detroit; I can't even fathom the things that God may do with them for His Kingdom. I'm SO excited to watch this place change and grow; but for now, my heart will break and I will be left with that awful, helpless feeling. There's nothing I can do in this moment but pray.

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When Nate & Amanda took me to Virginia last year, we came upon an agreement. I'm not stupid; it's not that my lack of common sense and life skills is a failure on my part to learn - rather, I was never able to fully explore my classroom of life that is supposed to teach us these things. I just haven't been exposed to SO much. I can't grasp beyond what I've witnessed. Life is our best teacher, and I've never been outside my one myopic classroom. I want to experience what's beyond me; there's so much out there besides the bubble I live in!