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Woke up this morning with Ingrid floating through my mind. Got up and sang without stretching my voice or putting on makeup. It’s good. Took me till this afternoon to convince myself I should post it. Sometimes transparency has nothing to do with what others can see and everything to do with me, letting go of my walls but by bit. #ingridmichaelson #ukulele
https://www.instagram.com/p/Bqsu-jkAAVh/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=jor4ihkflox6
On absence (and my talent for procrastinating blog posts) :
If there was an award for least successful blogger I think I would win it.
The past few months have been so full of ups and downs I’ve barely caught my breath, let alone considered actually following through with a new post. Yet here I am now, three days until my sister’s wedding, writing a quick note to this blog I like to call my own.
To my blog: I’m sorry I’ve neglected you so thoroughly lately. There’s no real excuse for my lack of diligence. I miss fussing over you and filling your drafts with my truest thoughts. I want to do better though I don’t know how soon I really will.
To my readers: I’m sorry for my absence. I see there are still plenty of you checking in to see if there are any new posts and I am truly honored that you take the time. Thank you! If you have a spare moment, I could use your prayers in the coming days to make it through all of the wedding prep and festivities. I’m not exactly a party person and, with my ongoing health challenges, I’m exceedingly tired. Even so, at the end of it my sister will be married to the man she loves and my nephew already plans to call him “Dad”. It will be very good.
Thanks again for sticking it out with me.
You’re the best.
Until next time,
November
On Companionship:
Sometimes I can feel my heart welling up, seemingly in preparation to explode with need for something just out of my grasp. The desires that fill my being so entirely and overwhelmingly are generally the ones that stick around for years with no real end in sight. So often, I find that those particular desires are rooted in parts of my character that I don’t yet fully understand.
The past few years in my life have been decidedly marked with a longing for companionship. It’s not necessarily a need for romantic entanglement or marriage (though both sound fantastic!) but rather a deep desire to have kinship with people who I can truly exist with. I’ve had many friends in my past who were grand for a time, but it seems quite rare to meet someone who values that which you value. While I am thankful for those I have known in my life, I do long for the companionship of people who want the things I want and live with intentionality; people who are actively considerate, have dreams, and desire to be who they were created to be.
I’m very much of the opinion that I can have many friends who I don’t share all that much in common with, yet those are not the people I will lean on when I need to lean. On too many occasions, I’ve found myself treating such friends as a support when I needed someone though they didn’t have the means to hold me up. Pretty uncool of me. It’s not exactly Christlike for me to take from those who cannot give, even if they’re willing.
All this is to say that I’m trying to learn from my misdoings and move forward. I’m unsure of where it will lead me, but I’m looking for some friendships in which the support is mutual and ever striving- where all parties involved are propelled forward by the same force. I’m praying for help and taking action when I can… Baby steps. On a tangible note, I’m settling slowly into a new church and trying to find my footing amongst so many strangers.
Let’s pray they aren’t all strangers for long!
Until next time,
November
On security:
I spent some time with my momma and little sister this past week. We wandered towns that were not our own, yet I think we would all agree we felt fairly at home everywhere we went. I know I can’t speak for anyone but myself, but somehow my parents raised me to find home in that which isn’t a place. I’ve become a walking contradiction: I long for roots in a place that is my own- a spouse to begin life with, physical property, and a house that my hands took part in, and yet I am so elated to spend days with my feet floating along sidewalks I’ve never met before. I crave the settling in that so many people my age are finding, but I know I can always find home in a shared cup of coffee, a friendly smile, the smell of coastal air, or even the way my backpack fits perfectly to me.
I remember, during my senior year of high school I had friends who went to concerts all of the time. We would figure out the logistics of getting to the tiny venue at the last minute and we would make it to shows with bands that consisted of people we knew or would know and though I loved some of it and I was thrilled to be included in the lives these friends led, it didn’t feel like my life. I was always meeting people who wouldn’t come to know my name or going places without knowing where I really was. That year, I became so accustomed to finding home in my backpack. I felt home while sitting on my friends porch early in the morning, waiting for my ride to find me or when actually having a real conversation with the rare individual that I met while out. I always had a house to come home to, but I clung to my backpack like it was a life saving device in the midst of a stormy sea. As that year went on, I became attached at the hip to a young man who, likely unknowingly, pushed me further and further from comfort with everything he told me to do and as we did life together I became more and more reliant on that backpack always being with me. It was as though, as long as I had my backpack, I could survive whatever uncomfortable situation he placed me in or I mistakenly got myself into.
I was just finally learning how to trust God when that year began and suddenly I was thrust back to the start again.
The smell of the old leather backpack I carried became my comfort and solace and my reliance on God shrank with every passing day.
But this isn’t a story of failure! In time, some of those people I met while going to shows took a risk rarely taken and stepped in to stop me from continuing life with that boy. They intervened when I couldn’t see past the stories and control. I may not have ever found community that truly felt like my own, but I did find some of the best love in people who were willing to watch me weep for the sake of bringing me into some truth that I wouldn’t have otherwise found.
I broke off connection to that boy the day after I was confronted, but I still clung to my backpack life for a while after- always keeping five dollars, a spare bus pass, and a toothbrush in my jacket pocket.
God is ever patient with me! I still take comfort in a good backpack, packed neatly with the necessities for any given week, but I don’t have to have it within reach always. I can walk out of my house with just the clothes on my back and my wallet without panicking (in truth, I still don’t love it, but I’m working on that!) I’ve come to learn that God gives me so many resources that I can and should make use of most of the time and yet it’s okay for me to trust when it’s time to walk without grabbing all my things first.
Security is not in my physical means, but rather in the One who I trust to lead me.
Someday I hope I can help instill that value in others.
Until next time,
November
Self care and the ongoing battle between my feelings and the truth:
As it turns out, sometimes self care looks like walking away.
Sorry I’ve been gone a long while. The last few weeks have been a real struggle for me as I prayed though some very tough decisions.
Today was one of those days where I knew what I needed to do and essentially how to do it and yet doing what was needed absolutely broke my heart.
There’s really not much I feel I can say on this subject today. Today I’m spending too much time crying and going over tiny details in my mind to confirm with myself that I’ve done my very best. Today I’m giving myself permission to feel crummy, but knowing that tomorrow will be another day and I am not hopeless. Tonight I’m watching videos of my favorite potters at work because it calms me and reminds me that there’s so much more in life than the particular thing that hurts in any given moment.
The truth is, I may feel like I’m hitting my lowest today, but feelings and truth are not one in the same. My feelings are transitory and I can acknowledge them, but they don’t have to define me.
My feelings are fickle and Jesus isn’t.
I’m writing somewhat to remind myself of solid truths that should be ingrained in me by now and partially to convince myself to trust them.
Jesus doesn’t stop loving me sacrificially because I’m sad about life. Jesus doesn’t stop seeing me as precious just because I do. Jesus doesn’t give up on me just because I probably definitely deserve it.
Jesus’ love and compassion and mercy aren’t controlled by my circumstances.
Tonight, self care looks like staring into the coming days and trusting that this new chapter is one that I can face and one that will bring good into my heart that I’m greatly in need of.
This post is mostly for me. I hope you don’t mind.
Until next time,
November
Don’t wait for it. Create a world, your world. Alone. Stand alone. Create. And then the love will come to you, then it comes to you.
Be messy and complicated and afraid and show up anyways.
Try to learn to breathe deeply, really to taste food when you eat, and when you sleep, really to sleep. Try as much as possible to be wholly alive… You will be dead soon enough.
