I've convinced myself that, although some people tell me that in order to get good at writing fiction I need to practice, I really should never write fiction again. I'm not very proud of my last two blog posts; any fiction I seem to produce seems devastatingly hokey to me.
However, I still want to practice story-writing. So I guess I'll try writing stories that actually happened. Wish me luck.
Last summer, I and 19 other women on Juneau Summer Project headed out to Boy Scout Beach to camp. Technically we were backpacking, because we had to hike a mile to the site with our food, tents, etc. loaded onto our backs. This short hike covered a wide range of gorgeous terrains (as many hikes in Juneau do): forest, open field, marsh, beach. The beach was beautiful; the water stretched out almost as far as the eye could see, but was cut off by snow-capped mountains lining the horizon. The beach was soft with sand and stopped abruptly with a field of tall grass.
I occupied myself with building the fire while the other girls set up the tents and galavanted in the rising tide. The fire was of minor importance, as we had already eaten dinner and the weather was relatively warm, but I had a trick I wanted to share with the ladies that Elizabeth had shown us the previous summer: fire breathing.
It was pretty simple: crumple up a piece of newspaper, shove it onto the end of a stick, light it on fire, fill your mouth with corn starch, and blow the corn starch into the blazing newspaper. The result can be pretty impressive when done well, as all the little corn starch pieces catch fire and spread out in the air like a blow torch. I was the first to demonstrate, and the problem I found was that if you don't blow out the corn starch almost immediately after putting it in your mouth, your saliva moistens it and it doesn't want to be blown. Nevertheless, we amused ourselves with this trick for a good ten minutes.
The tide was rising quickly and it was getting dark (not because the sun was really going to go very far below the horizon, but because it was cloudy). I went out into the water with one of the ladies and timed it as the water level traveled about ten meters in a minute. We couldn't really see a line in the sand where we anticipated the water level would stop. We were camping high on the sand close to the grass, which was too tall to camp in. Behind the grass a ways was the beginning of a pine forest with a clean floor where theoretically we could have camped, but we wouldn't have felt it fair to say we had camped on the beach in that case.
We went to bed kind of late, about 11:00 p.m., and fell asleep without a plan regarding what would happen if the tide got too high. We reasoned that we had camped on this beach the previous summer, when the tide had risen at about the same time of day, and hadn't had any issues with the water level getting too high, so why should it be a problem this year?
I awoke at about 1:00 a.m. to the sound of Lexi's voice hissing my name from outside my tent. I had been in deep sleep and was pretty groggy when she explained to me that she had set a frisbee on the sand about ten feet in front of the tents, and that she had stayed up watching the water level with the plan that if the water reached the frisbee, she would wake me up for collaboration. I started coming to; it was decision time. Do we wake the girls up and move our tents to the forest area? Do we wake the girls up and leave altogether? Do we do nothing and risk getting everything, including ourselves, pretty soggy?
We decided to leave. It wasn't worth the risk, and if we were going to have to pack up and go, we might as well go all the way home rather than try to set everything back up elsewhere in the middle of the night just to say we had camped through the night.
We woke the ladies up and everyone sprung into action. Impressively, we were all packed up and ready to go within ten minutes. The water had risen almost to where our tents had been, and we determined we had made the right choice. While everyone was folding tents, gathering bear bags, and packing their packs, I was handed the can of bear spray and told that I was in charge of warding off bears during our mile hike back to the cars. After I packed my bag and everyone was still bustling around me, I sat there studying the instructions on the can with the light from my headlamp trying to figure out how to operate it.
I led the group on the hike out. The trail had flooded as it had started drizzling during the night, and of course it was dark. I marched through the tall grass beside the trail, trying to avoid the flooding, with 19 women parading behind me. We sang songs and tried to be cheerful. I saw dozens of frogs as we hiked, who seemed to be delighting in the puddles. I warned people of them so that they wouldn't get stepped on. Meanwhile, I was armed and ready with bear spray, on the lookout for a furry midnight attacker.
What relief when we reached the cars! We arrived back on campus at 2:00 a.m., dropped our gear, and fell into bed.
Was our camping trip an utter failure? Yes. Was it worth it? Definitely. Sometimes failing brings out more of the adventurer in you than succeeding. All 20 of us have a story to tell now.
God bless.
Thursday, October 22, 2015
Thursday, October 1, 2015
Letter #2: Child to President
You may or may not have noticed that while my blog is more or less a place for me to experiment with writing, I almost never publish any sort of fiction.
I would like to wade into the world of fiction by practicing something that I hope will be easy: fictional letters.
Please allow me to experiment as I try this out. Please feel free to comment below with comments or suggestions. My plan is to create two new people each time; a letter-writer and a letter-receiver, both of which you will hopefully learn a little bit about.
I have no idea how this will go, so again, your comments and suggestions are not only welcome, but I ask them of you.
Dear Mr. President,
I listened to your speech last night and I think you did a good job. Your wife is very good at ironing your shirts. Mom said you were giving a "message of hope," and Daddy said that means you're telling our country that it will all be okay.
I'm not worried, though. I know that bombs and war are bad but things always get better. My brother is a soldier in the army and he says all his friends are very brave.
Guess what. Someday I want to be President of the United States of America too. And I will always give messages of hope to people who are sad or scared.
My friend Katie said if she were president she would make sure all the orphans would have mommies and daddies to adopt them. And Doug said if he were president he would make sure everyone had ice cream every day for free but I told him that was stupid because some people are lactose-intolerant.
Anyway I have to go feed my dog, Rocket now. He's a golden retriever.
Love,
Teagan
I would like to wade into the world of fiction by practicing something that I hope will be easy: fictional letters.
Please allow me to experiment as I try this out. Please feel free to comment below with comments or suggestions. My plan is to create two new people each time; a letter-writer and a letter-receiver, both of which you will hopefully learn a little bit about.
I have no idea how this will go, so again, your comments and suggestions are not only welcome, but I ask them of you.
Dear Mr. President,
I listened to your speech last night and I think you did a good job. Your wife is very good at ironing your shirts. Mom said you were giving a "message of hope," and Daddy said that means you're telling our country that it will all be okay.
I'm not worried, though. I know that bombs and war are bad but things always get better. My brother is a soldier in the army and he says all his friends are very brave.
Guess what. Someday I want to be President of the United States of America too. And I will always give messages of hope to people who are sad or scared.
My friend Katie said if she were president she would make sure all the orphans would have mommies and daddies to adopt them. And Doug said if he were president he would make sure everyone had ice cream every day for free but I told him that was stupid because some people are lactose-intolerant.
Anyway I have to go feed my dog, Rocket now. He's a golden retriever.
Love,
Teagan
Letter #1: Woman to ex-lover
You may or may not have noticed that while my blog is more or less a place for me to experiment with writing, I almost never publish any sort of fiction.
I would like to wade into the world of fiction by practicing something that I hope will be easy: fictional letters.
Please allow me to experiment as I try this out. Please feel free to comment below with comments or suggestions. My plan is to create two new people each time; a letter-writer and a letter-receiver, both of which you will hopefully learn a little bit about.
I have no idea how this will go, so again, your comments and suggestions are not only welcome, but I ask them of you.
Nate-
I don't know if I'm going to send this letter yet or not. Part of me just wants to vent, but the other part can't help but be -kind of- grateful. You've ruined my life and given me everything. Can you even begin to understand that?
You led me to believe things about you that simply aren't true: your trustworthiness, your faithfulness. You didn't bail when things got a little difficult, like when I got the flu and couldn't come to your parents', or when we got in that fight when you came home stinking of booze and weed. We always seemed to make it work somehow. We always said sorry and we always did our parts to fix things. But I guess Mallory was too much for you.
You didn't just leave. You disappeared. I came home from a twelve-hour shift to find the apartment half-empty. No note. Nothing. I found out from a mutual friend that you had moved to Chicago. What? I mean, WHAT?!? Do you realize how heart-breaking that was for me? Do you realize how alone and confused I felt? I am estranged from my parents and friends because of you, and now I'm on my own. I blamed myself for awhile, but it's not my fault. I know it's not my fault.
Eventually I realized that you don't deserve Mallory. I'm glad I finally figured that out.
To be honest, I thought about an abortion. Then I thought about adoption. It was terrible making all those decisions on my own. But if you had stuck around, there wouldn't have been a decision: she would have been ours. The thought of raising her on my own absolutely terrified me. I work full-time and don't make much money. I'm paying rent by myself now. I can barely keep my own life together, let alone take care of someone else's. Why would you put my through this? You perceived the "freedom" to take this situation or leave it, but I never had that freedom. I don't have a choice but to deal with this.
I wonder if you miss me. If you ever wish this had never happened so that we could still be together. Are you happy?
I can't say motherhood isn't kicking my butt. I want to scream 98% of the time but I don't because then I will wake up or scare Mallory and that will just make it worse. Financially, I'm barely scraping by. I still don't have friends or my parents. I lost my freedom. But maybe it was lost all along, from the day I met you.
BUT. Listen to me, Nate. I am so happy to have Mallory. She is my world and my heart beats for her in a way that it never did for you. When I feel like completely giving up, her precious toothless smile brings all meaning back to my life. I live for her. And you would, too, if you would just catch one glimpse of her beautiful blue eyes or her tiny, tiny fingers. I'd send a picture, but you don't deserve that. If you really wanted to love her, you could come see her for yourself. You know where we live.
The other day, my coworker, June (remember her? Sweetest person ever.), asked me innocently if motherhood was worth losing you. The question took me aback because I really haven't talked about the situation much at work. It was really a pretty bold question for her to ask, but she's sweet as honey and I know she was being genuine when she asked me that. I asked her what she meant. "Well, maybe that's not what I meant. Maybe I'm asking if being with him was worth it, rather than losing him. I like you, Shelly, but you made some mistakes, I think. It seems like that guy was no good but you dove into the relationship head-first and now you're suffering the consequences. Easy come, easy go. But you were also rewarded for enduring his abandonment: you have a beautiful daughter. Was it worth it?"
Yes, June, it was worth it.
Yes, Nate, it was worth it. Good riddance.
-Shelly
I would like to wade into the world of fiction by practicing something that I hope will be easy: fictional letters.
Please allow me to experiment as I try this out. Please feel free to comment below with comments or suggestions. My plan is to create two new people each time; a letter-writer and a letter-receiver, both of which you will hopefully learn a little bit about.
I have no idea how this will go, so again, your comments and suggestions are not only welcome, but I ask them of you.
Nate-
I don't know if I'm going to send this letter yet or not. Part of me just wants to vent, but the other part can't help but be -kind of- grateful. You've ruined my life and given me everything. Can you even begin to understand that?
You led me to believe things about you that simply aren't true: your trustworthiness, your faithfulness. You didn't bail when things got a little difficult, like when I got the flu and couldn't come to your parents', or when we got in that fight when you came home stinking of booze and weed. We always seemed to make it work somehow. We always said sorry and we always did our parts to fix things. But I guess Mallory was too much for you.
You didn't just leave. You disappeared. I came home from a twelve-hour shift to find the apartment half-empty. No note. Nothing. I found out from a mutual friend that you had moved to Chicago. What? I mean, WHAT?!? Do you realize how heart-breaking that was for me? Do you realize how alone and confused I felt? I am estranged from my parents and friends because of you, and now I'm on my own. I blamed myself for awhile, but it's not my fault. I know it's not my fault.
Eventually I realized that you don't deserve Mallory. I'm glad I finally figured that out.
To be honest, I thought about an abortion. Then I thought about adoption. It was terrible making all those decisions on my own. But if you had stuck around, there wouldn't have been a decision: she would have been ours. The thought of raising her on my own absolutely terrified me. I work full-time and don't make much money. I'm paying rent by myself now. I can barely keep my own life together, let alone take care of someone else's. Why would you put my through this? You perceived the "freedom" to take this situation or leave it, but I never had that freedom. I don't have a choice but to deal with this.
I wonder if you miss me. If you ever wish this had never happened so that we could still be together. Are you happy?
I can't say motherhood isn't kicking my butt. I want to scream 98% of the time but I don't because then I will wake up or scare Mallory and that will just make it worse. Financially, I'm barely scraping by. I still don't have friends or my parents. I lost my freedom. But maybe it was lost all along, from the day I met you.
BUT. Listen to me, Nate. I am so happy to have Mallory. She is my world and my heart beats for her in a way that it never did for you. When I feel like completely giving up, her precious toothless smile brings all meaning back to my life. I live for her. And you would, too, if you would just catch one glimpse of her beautiful blue eyes or her tiny, tiny fingers. I'd send a picture, but you don't deserve that. If you really wanted to love her, you could come see her for yourself. You know where we live.
The other day, my coworker, June (remember her? Sweetest person ever.), asked me innocently if motherhood was worth losing you. The question took me aback because I really haven't talked about the situation much at work. It was really a pretty bold question for her to ask, but she's sweet as honey and I know she was being genuine when she asked me that. I asked her what she meant. "Well, maybe that's not what I meant. Maybe I'm asking if being with him was worth it, rather than losing him. I like you, Shelly, but you made some mistakes, I think. It seems like that guy was no good but you dove into the relationship head-first and now you're suffering the consequences. Easy come, easy go. But you were also rewarded for enduring his abandonment: you have a beautiful daughter. Was it worth it?"
Yes, June, it was worth it.
Yes, Nate, it was worth it. Good riddance.
-Shelly
Friday, August 14, 2015
Pursuit
For her you planted fields of blooming silk
And with your palette and brush,
You set that field ablaze.
She drives past.
For her you sculpted a body;
The purest pearl as a home for her soul
With dark wisps for eyelashes.
She beats and neglects it.
For her you took your fingertips
And gently lifted the sun
Into the glory of morning.
She turns on her mattress.
For her you created sound waves
That she might joy to hear and to sing
And perhaps return your affections thus.
She would rather weep.
For her you brought yourself to shame
By being slaughtered like cattle,
Letting your blood and tears intermingle.
She forgets to thank you.
Your tortured longing,
Your screams for her
To notice and accept your love
Go ignored.
But you found a servant,
A Jacob for a Rachel,
Who offered all he could to her
And lifted her chin to the heavens.
She turned to you and asked,
Can my Lord love me more than this?
So she bowed and sang
In fields of fiery silk.
God bless.
And with your palette and brush,
You set that field ablaze.
She drives past.
For her you sculpted a body;
The purest pearl as a home for her soul
With dark wisps for eyelashes.
She beats and neglects it.
For her you took your fingertips
And gently lifted the sun
Into the glory of morning.
She turns on her mattress.
For her you created sound waves
That she might joy to hear and to sing
And perhaps return your affections thus.
She would rather weep.
For her you brought yourself to shame
By being slaughtered like cattle,
Letting your blood and tears intermingle.
She forgets to thank you.
Your tortured longing,
Your screams for her
To notice and accept your love
Go ignored.
But you found a servant,
A Jacob for a Rachel,
Who offered all he could to her
And lifted her chin to the heavens.
She turned to you and asked,
Can my Lord love me more than this?
So she bowed and sang
In fields of fiery silk.
God bless.
Overwhelmed
I had a thought this "morning." (I put "morning" in quotation mark because since starting night shift, it would seem that my mornings have become everyone else's afternoons). Anyway, this "morning" I had a thought. I suppose I will tell you what it was:
I recognize that I am young and hopefully have much life to live yet. However, I am slowly getting older and one of the things I find fascinating about getting older is that the more I live, the more pain I see, but also the more beauty I see.
Pain and beauty have been here all along, but in my experiences of them thus far, not only am I more exposed to both of them quantitatively as my life passes through time, I feel the weight of them more strongly.
After having this thought, it came to life in a song called "Mad World," originally by Tears for Fears, but Pandora decided to give me the Jasmine Thompson version. Although this song speaks of almost unspeakable pain, I found it to be profoundly beautiful.
A significant part of my life is devoted to music, but it's not every day I am overwhelmed by it, when I don't feel that I can bear the beauty of it. That was one of those aching moments. The beauty wasn't in the pain of the lyrics; the beauty was in the music in spite of the lyrics. Not that the two do not complement each other extraordinarily.
Anyway. This isn't much of a blog post and I don't really know how to end it. I wish I had the skills to put my thoughts to poetry in this instance but at the moment I find myself incapable. I feel that to put to poetry something that I found to be absolutely overwhelming, my poetry must also be overwhelming, and I'm afraid my writing skills aren't quite there yet. I'm sorry this is all you get. But still, can you relate to my sentiments?
God bless.
I recognize that I am young and hopefully have much life to live yet. However, I am slowly getting older and one of the things I find fascinating about getting older is that the more I live, the more pain I see, but also the more beauty I see.
Pain and beauty have been here all along, but in my experiences of them thus far, not only am I more exposed to both of them quantitatively as my life passes through time, I feel the weight of them more strongly.
After having this thought, it came to life in a song called "Mad World," originally by Tears for Fears, but Pandora decided to give me the Jasmine Thompson version. Although this song speaks of almost unspeakable pain, I found it to be profoundly beautiful.
A significant part of my life is devoted to music, but it's not every day I am overwhelmed by it, when I don't feel that I can bear the beauty of it. That was one of those aching moments. The beauty wasn't in the pain of the lyrics; the beauty was in the music in spite of the lyrics. Not that the two do not complement each other extraordinarily.
Anyway. This isn't much of a blog post and I don't really know how to end it. I wish I had the skills to put my thoughts to poetry in this instance but at the moment I find myself incapable. I feel that to put to poetry something that I found to be absolutely overwhelming, my poetry must also be overwhelming, and I'm afraid my writing skills aren't quite there yet. I'm sorry this is all you get. But still, can you relate to my sentiments?
God bless.
Wednesday, July 29, 2015
Seven Things I Learned
A year ago today, I committed to fast from dating for one year. I have mentioned it several times on this blog but have never written specifically about it. Now that my year has ended, I would like to share with you some of the things I've learned over the last twelve months (in approximate order of when I learned them).
1) How to not be lonely
An adage I heard once goes, "Lonely single people turn into lonely married people." This lesson stuck with me and it was one of the only lessons I actively tried to teach myself during this last year (as opposed to the ones that I accidentally learned or rather, left the door open to be learned).
There are certain target times for loneliness to strike: when you're alone at night, when you have nobody to share your thoughts with or hang out with when you're bored or accompany you to this or that event. It's easy for single to people to bemoan their singleness in these moments, but if your tendency is to bemoan, it will happen when you're in a relationship too. Even when another person knows you better than anyone else ever has, they can never know you fully, so in a way you will always be ultimately alone. Always.
Fortunately I think I learned how to not bemoan my aloneness; how to not be lonely. While sometimes I may have felt utterly alone and unknown, I reminded myself that God knows me fully; more fully than I know myself (Psalm 39). Turning to him in those moments brought me comfort. I also turned more toward friendship. In a society that glorifies romance, the wonder and strength of friendship often falls by the wayside. Reaching out to friends on nights when I had nothing to do, sharing my deepest thoughts and secrets with them rather than with a romantic interest, brought a vibrant shade back to my life.
In moments where I could not bring myself to be comforted either by God or by friends, I simply prayed and let myself feel lonely. Sometimes I even tried to find enjoyment in my aloneness. I suffered through and am the better for it.
2) How to say no
This was another lesson that I planned to learn. I'm not sure I was successful, however, but I thought it deserved to be discussed.
I mentally prepared for what would happen if someone asked me on a date during my year of fasting from dating. Depending on how I felt about them, I decided I would say either: 1) No, sorry, I'm not interested, or 2) No, sorry, I'm not dating for now, but maybe you can ask me again in August!
I never had to use either of those, though, and I think the reason is because I learned (accidentally) how to imply "no."
3) How to imply no
One of the biggest reasons I made this year-long commitment was because I have dated a lot in the past and knew something was wrong with that cycle. I couldn't really tell why the cycle was happening. I just figured it was an idol of mine that I should purge (which was true, but not the whole picture).
The problem was that I was consistently making myself "available" to date without realizing it. I flirted and I gave men one-on-one attention whether I was interested in them or not because I liked the attention I received back. I was more than willing to be alone with a guy friend and share deep thoughts and feelings with him because I wanted to feel cherished. My behavior made me available.
However, when I had no intention of dating anyone, the way I treated men started to change. I drew boundaries. I pursued my friendships with other women rather than trying to dive deep into my friendships with men. I stopped flirting. I don't think I even realized this change was happening until I started questioning why no one seemed to be interested in me.
Being closed-off can go too far, but in my case I found wisdom in being more careful about who I opened up to.
4) What it's like to be addicted
This is probably the biggest and most important lesson I learned throughout the year. It colored the way I looked at my sin and my past and my year-long fast.
I clearly remember the morning at church when I realized my problem was an addiction. My church didn't often do topical sermons, but in this case, they were doing a four-week sermon series called "The Problem of Pain." This week happened to be on addiction. I sat there during the whole sermon wondering what on earth my "addiction" could be, since Pastor Nick insisted that everyone had some sort of addiction, even if it wasn't substance addiction, even if it was subtle, even if it was socially acceptable. I sat there wondering and for the whole sermon, couldn't put my finger on it.
During worship afterward, though, it hit me like a brick wall. My addiction was relationships with men.
I realized in many ways how much this addiction resembled addiction to substance abuse. I realized how real it was. I clearly saw the ways I jumped through hoops to get my fix. I saw how I shot up, got high, and when I came back down, everything was about my next fix, and I knew how to get it. I knew how to get the attention, how to get guys to like me, how to get the attention I craved.
Then I realized that my year of no dating needed to be more than a behavioral change. I needed to undergo a deep and thorough heart change. I knew if I treated this term like "jail" (i.e. strictly behavioral change), that I would just go back to my drug as soon as I was discharged, just like so many jailed drug addicts do. Rather, I needed to treat my year more like rehab, where I learn how to function and succeed in a world where my drug is all around me, tempting me. I didn't really have a way of doing that except to, like I said before, passively open the door for God to work, but for me that was enough.
5) The Awesome Test
It's been hard for me in the past to decide how much about a person should be a deal-breaker and how much I should let slide; how strict I should be in my "qualifications" for a man. Lexi and I recently found a list of "husband qualifications" that I had written sometime in high school and we had a good laugh at the absurdity and rigidity of my standards (which of course my high school self did not abide by when a prospective relationship presented itself). In many cases, I've settled for less. (Briefly, let me say that some of the "settling" I've done may have been more a symptom of my pride; i.e. "I'm better than this person and deserve someone more at my level" rather than allowing that person dignity and humbling myself to recognize that the problem may have been me.)
At any rate, I realized that I needed to both throw away my checklist and yet be unrelenting in the most important standards. It was then that I developed The Awesome Test. It's very simple, only four facets, but I believe it covers all my bases. Here are the four facets:
1. Does this person find me to be awesome? Do they get excited about who I am as a person?
2. Do I find this person to be awesome? Do I get excited about who they are?
3. Does this person help me to see Jesus as awesome? Do their words and actions help me to become more excited about who Jesus is?
4. Do I help this person to see Jesus as awesome? Do my words and actions help this person to become more excited about who Jesus is?
I have never dated or met a guy who passed all four facets, which is why, I believe, I have so far never had a successful relationship. I now swear by The Awesome Test and concede that if I find someone that passes, I will probably marry him.
6) What it means to "like" somebody
About halfway through my year of no dating, I got a crush on someone. Because of my inability to truly act on my feelings, I spent a lot of time just thinking about it, processing through it with friends, and trying to decide where to go with it. That's when I realized that there is a big difference between being attracted to somebody and really liking them.
I realized that with this particular man, I was merely attracted to his appearance, his skills, and what little I knew of his personality. I realized that this didn't necessarily mean that I liked him. But I didn't know what really liking someone did mean.
Then, a month or two ago, in talking with Lexi I realized that, at least for me, the distinction between attraction and liking someone is whether or not I truly cared about the individual. This may be obvious to many of you, but for me it was incredibly liberating. The man I had had a crush on several months prior, I didn't care about him and his well-being all that much. I just cared about what he could do for me, all the good feelings he could make me feel. It occurred to me how selfish my crush on him had been.
This will help me a lot in the future, I think, when I find that I'm attracted to somebody but don't actually care about him, it will be easier to let my feelings for that person slide away. And when I am both attracted to someone and care about them, I can take my feelings for him more seriously.
7) I can't stop
I have talked about my lessons learned and my little improvements but one of the most terrifying things I've found is that when it comes to my sin, I can't stop.
This area of my life has been being sanctified slowly for several years, not just for the last year. But I face the dreadful truth that I'll never get to the point where I will never slip back into old sin. I will always be tempted to idolize, lust, gorge on attention. I will continue to disappoint, hurt, and fail people. I may improve, but the struggle will always be there, for the rest of my life. It won't be until I've moved on from this planet that that will change and I will finally be completely free from sin.
Of course, in the midst of the grave fact of my unrelenting sin, there's grace. No matter what I do or whom I sin against, God will always forgive me and give me another chance. If I get married, I hope to be married to a husband who also forgives me again and again. And sanctification will continue, even now that my fast has ended.
God bless.
1) How to not be lonely
An adage I heard once goes, "Lonely single people turn into lonely married people." This lesson stuck with me and it was one of the only lessons I actively tried to teach myself during this last year (as opposed to the ones that I accidentally learned or rather, left the door open to be learned).
There are certain target times for loneliness to strike: when you're alone at night, when you have nobody to share your thoughts with or hang out with when you're bored or accompany you to this or that event. It's easy for single to people to bemoan their singleness in these moments, but if your tendency is to bemoan, it will happen when you're in a relationship too. Even when another person knows you better than anyone else ever has, they can never know you fully, so in a way you will always be ultimately alone. Always.
Fortunately I think I learned how to not bemoan my aloneness; how to not be lonely. While sometimes I may have felt utterly alone and unknown, I reminded myself that God knows me fully; more fully than I know myself (Psalm 39). Turning to him in those moments brought me comfort. I also turned more toward friendship. In a society that glorifies romance, the wonder and strength of friendship often falls by the wayside. Reaching out to friends on nights when I had nothing to do, sharing my deepest thoughts and secrets with them rather than with a romantic interest, brought a vibrant shade back to my life.
In moments where I could not bring myself to be comforted either by God or by friends, I simply prayed and let myself feel lonely. Sometimes I even tried to find enjoyment in my aloneness. I suffered through and am the better for it.
2) How to say no
This was another lesson that I planned to learn. I'm not sure I was successful, however, but I thought it deserved to be discussed.
I mentally prepared for what would happen if someone asked me on a date during my year of fasting from dating. Depending on how I felt about them, I decided I would say either: 1) No, sorry, I'm not interested, or 2) No, sorry, I'm not dating for now, but maybe you can ask me again in August!
I never had to use either of those, though, and I think the reason is because I learned (accidentally) how to imply "no."
3) How to imply no
One of the biggest reasons I made this year-long commitment was because I have dated a lot in the past and knew something was wrong with that cycle. I couldn't really tell why the cycle was happening. I just figured it was an idol of mine that I should purge (which was true, but not the whole picture).
The problem was that I was consistently making myself "available" to date without realizing it. I flirted and I gave men one-on-one attention whether I was interested in them or not because I liked the attention I received back. I was more than willing to be alone with a guy friend and share deep thoughts and feelings with him because I wanted to feel cherished. My behavior made me available.
However, when I had no intention of dating anyone, the way I treated men started to change. I drew boundaries. I pursued my friendships with other women rather than trying to dive deep into my friendships with men. I stopped flirting. I don't think I even realized this change was happening until I started questioning why no one seemed to be interested in me.
Being closed-off can go too far, but in my case I found wisdom in being more careful about who I opened up to.
4) What it's like to be addicted
This is probably the biggest and most important lesson I learned throughout the year. It colored the way I looked at my sin and my past and my year-long fast.
I clearly remember the morning at church when I realized my problem was an addiction. My church didn't often do topical sermons, but in this case, they were doing a four-week sermon series called "The Problem of Pain." This week happened to be on addiction. I sat there during the whole sermon wondering what on earth my "addiction" could be, since Pastor Nick insisted that everyone had some sort of addiction, even if it wasn't substance addiction, even if it was subtle, even if it was socially acceptable. I sat there wondering and for the whole sermon, couldn't put my finger on it.
During worship afterward, though, it hit me like a brick wall. My addiction was relationships with men.
I realized in many ways how much this addiction resembled addiction to substance abuse. I realized how real it was. I clearly saw the ways I jumped through hoops to get my fix. I saw how I shot up, got high, and when I came back down, everything was about my next fix, and I knew how to get it. I knew how to get the attention, how to get guys to like me, how to get the attention I craved.
Then I realized that my year of no dating needed to be more than a behavioral change. I needed to undergo a deep and thorough heart change. I knew if I treated this term like "jail" (i.e. strictly behavioral change), that I would just go back to my drug as soon as I was discharged, just like so many jailed drug addicts do. Rather, I needed to treat my year more like rehab, where I learn how to function and succeed in a world where my drug is all around me, tempting me. I didn't really have a way of doing that except to, like I said before, passively open the door for God to work, but for me that was enough.
5) The Awesome Test
It's been hard for me in the past to decide how much about a person should be a deal-breaker and how much I should let slide; how strict I should be in my "qualifications" for a man. Lexi and I recently found a list of "husband qualifications" that I had written sometime in high school and we had a good laugh at the absurdity and rigidity of my standards (which of course my high school self did not abide by when a prospective relationship presented itself). In many cases, I've settled for less. (Briefly, let me say that some of the "settling" I've done may have been more a symptom of my pride; i.e. "I'm better than this person and deserve someone more at my level" rather than allowing that person dignity and humbling myself to recognize that the problem may have been me.)
At any rate, I realized that I needed to both throw away my checklist and yet be unrelenting in the most important standards. It was then that I developed The Awesome Test. It's very simple, only four facets, but I believe it covers all my bases. Here are the four facets:
1. Does this person find me to be awesome? Do they get excited about who I am as a person?
2. Do I find this person to be awesome? Do I get excited about who they are?
3. Does this person help me to see Jesus as awesome? Do their words and actions help me to become more excited about who Jesus is?
4. Do I help this person to see Jesus as awesome? Do my words and actions help this person to become more excited about who Jesus is?
I have never dated or met a guy who passed all four facets, which is why, I believe, I have so far never had a successful relationship. I now swear by The Awesome Test and concede that if I find someone that passes, I will probably marry him.
6) What it means to "like" somebody
About halfway through my year of no dating, I got a crush on someone. Because of my inability to truly act on my feelings, I spent a lot of time just thinking about it, processing through it with friends, and trying to decide where to go with it. That's when I realized that there is a big difference between being attracted to somebody and really liking them.
I realized that with this particular man, I was merely attracted to his appearance, his skills, and what little I knew of his personality. I realized that this didn't necessarily mean that I liked him. But I didn't know what really liking someone did mean.
Then, a month or two ago, in talking with Lexi I realized that, at least for me, the distinction between attraction and liking someone is whether or not I truly cared about the individual. This may be obvious to many of you, but for me it was incredibly liberating. The man I had had a crush on several months prior, I didn't care about him and his well-being all that much. I just cared about what he could do for me, all the good feelings he could make me feel. It occurred to me how selfish my crush on him had been.
This will help me a lot in the future, I think, when I find that I'm attracted to somebody but don't actually care about him, it will be easier to let my feelings for that person slide away. And when I am both attracted to someone and care about them, I can take my feelings for him more seriously.
7) I can't stop
I have talked about my lessons learned and my little improvements but one of the most terrifying things I've found is that when it comes to my sin, I can't stop.
This area of my life has been being sanctified slowly for several years, not just for the last year. But I face the dreadful truth that I'll never get to the point where I will never slip back into old sin. I will always be tempted to idolize, lust, gorge on attention. I will continue to disappoint, hurt, and fail people. I may improve, but the struggle will always be there, for the rest of my life. It won't be until I've moved on from this planet that that will change and I will finally be completely free from sin.
Of course, in the midst of the grave fact of my unrelenting sin, there's grace. No matter what I do or whom I sin against, God will always forgive me and give me another chance. If I get married, I hope to be married to a husband who also forgives me again and again. And sanctification will continue, even now that my fast has ended.
God bless.
Sunday, July 19, 2015
Writing A Book
Behold, I have a dream! A dream of writing a book. I would really just love that.
There are a few things that stand in my way of this dream:
1) I have no topics that I feel both competent enough in and passionate enough about to use for an entire book.
2) I lack the writing skills. This blog, however, is a testament to my efforts to change this.
3) I lack the life experience. Whether I write about my own experiences, try to impart wisdom or knowledge, or even write a fiction based on my own experiences, I doubt I will have anything worthwhile to say until I am a few decades older.
I consider myself to be a writer, but a writer must be an expert in something in order to write anything worthwhile. While there are innumerable topics a person could be an expert in, there is one topic everyone is an expert in: our own life.
But a biography about a boring life is not really worth reading.
My goal is to write a book, but my other, more important goal, is to live a life worth writing a book about. Even if a book never gets written, at least I will have lived a worthwhile, productive, adventurous life.
Who knows? Maybe when I am old I will have something to say.
God bless.
There are a few things that stand in my way of this dream:
1) I have no topics that I feel both competent enough in and passionate enough about to use for an entire book.
2) I lack the writing skills. This blog, however, is a testament to my efforts to change this.
3) I lack the life experience. Whether I write about my own experiences, try to impart wisdom or knowledge, or even write a fiction based on my own experiences, I doubt I will have anything worthwhile to say until I am a few decades older.
I consider myself to be a writer, but a writer must be an expert in something in order to write anything worthwhile. While there are innumerable topics a person could be an expert in, there is one topic everyone is an expert in: our own life.
But a biography about a boring life is not really worth reading.
My goal is to write a book, but my other, more important goal, is to live a life worth writing a book about. Even if a book never gets written, at least I will have lived a worthwhile, productive, adventurous life.
Who knows? Maybe when I am old I will have something to say.
God bless.
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