Going to bed.

Going to bed knowing that the Lord is pleased with me is better than any human affirmation. 

Moms Know Best

Moms really do know best sometimes. There are some things my Mom has told me that I have forgotten until today. Some of these things have not only slipped through my sub-conscience into the unseen, but have disappeared from my demeanor altogether, so as to seem nonexistent. If I have remembered these things in the past few months, it has usually been with the assumption that they were false claims, made half-heartedly or insincerely. But today I was reminded that God speaks through people to proclaim truth (this is what it means to be prophets of God).

She told me:

You are the joy of my life.

You are fearless.

You are able.

I don't think she knew over the course of all 19 years of my life that I would, on April 29, 2013 be struggling to believe those things, or see them as truth in my life. Rather, I think that God has been speaking words into her mouth since my birth, beautiful words that would comfort me when I feel joyless, scared and disabled. Today God used those words to confirm in my heart that he is not done with me. My flesh is still battling my spirit for my allegiance (something I fail to understand). Christ is still pursuing my wandering heart. This wandering heart flirts with depression, is seduced by fear, and sleeps with inability. But God has promised to reverse my flesh in the resurrection, and in sanctification to begin my transformation. Now he has used the words of my mother over the course of my life to remind me of who I really am as his daughter. Does the King of the Universe have a depressed, frightened and totally unable daughter? No. His blood could never make such a thing. Rather, his daughter is joyful, fearless and able, just like her mother always told her. 

You Are My Sunshine

My little sister, Peyton, was having trouble sleeping the other night. In an effort to lull her to bed I began recanting all the songs I could off the top of my head. After I felt my repertoire running dry this song came in to my head. After singing it, my eyes were opened to its depressing nature.

You are my sunshine,

My only sunshine.

You make me happy

When skies are gray.

You'll never know, dear, 

How much I love you.

Please don't take my sunshine away.

Tomorrow the Minnesota Supreme Court decides if Peyton, and her sister Hannah, get to stay with the only family they've ever known, or be returned to the biological grandparents-- nearly perfect strangers.  Please don't take my sunshine away. 

Whatever happens, whatever battle ensues after the decision is made tomorrow, I know that my real sunshine is the Lord, and because of that I have wells of peace.

Dimensional

Relationships have many dimensions-- layers like an onion, and planes like a stack of graphing paper. It can get confusing. It can get pretty challenging. But for my boyfriend and I we deal with more than just abstract ideas of a dimensional relationship. We really do live our life out in two different, sometimes opposing worlds-- the 3D world and the 2D world.

In the 3D world we are together, holding hands and going on walks. In the 3D world we have engaging conversations utilizing all forms of relational language--body language, eye contact, physical contact, juxtaposition, etc. We have comforting gestures like hugs, and alarming gestures like the slight wincing of an angry face. In the 3D world we spend time with our other friends in engaging conversations and activities. In the 3D world we have the comfort of quality time, my primary love language, which feeds almost purely off of proximity.

In the 2D world are are apart. We live separately, in distinct existences. His face takes on a flat, anti-tactile-like-identity, composed of pixels. His voice, and our communication, is only as good as our connection or surroundings (it seems important conversations always seem to happen when one of us is walking through a windstorm or something). He can only go where my phone or my computer goes, and no where else. Technology becomes a kind of bridge between our real (3D) selves. In fact, technology becomes a falsehood in many ways. My toddler siblings have often confused my computer with my boyfriend. The youngest repeatedly asks for Stefan, when she really desires to look at photos of Stefan on my phone, or sometimes just my phone. Though I am more able to recognize the difference between my phone and my boyfriend (obviously a good thing for our relationship), living in the 2D world does get confusing.

In all reality, however, neither of these two worlds are really easier or harder than the other, but rather different. I learn different things from both worlds. Operating most often in the 2D world means we learn to really process things together. Conflict is elongated, due to the complexity of long distance communication, but we really learn to resolve. In the 2D world, we are not able to comfort one another during conflict by an encouraging hug (which surprisingly goes a long way to making one feel resolved, as I've learned in the 3D world), so we know that when we resolve something it really is resolved. The 3D world, conversely, is obviously much more enjoyable. There are always pros and cons.

But the real struggle is the transition between the two worlds. After each time we visit, there is a transition period of 2D loathing. After spending Christmas break with my boyfriend and his family, coming back to our 2D reality felt like hell. The first time he said an inside joke we had formed while in our 3D world I cried. There is some sort of barrier between these worlds that only some sort of long travel experience can cross. Emotions have a hard time making the trip, or at least in a timely fashion. There is always lots of pain in the aftermath of the 3D-2D transition.

Four Months.

Four months ago I started dating an incredible guy. 

A guy that has made everything more beautiful, although sometimes more complicated.

I've had to learn a lot these four months.

I've had to learn how to communicate over 1725 miles.

I've had to learn how to edit photos better.

I've had to learn how to be flexible, and how to be firm.

I've had to learn how to say what I'm thinking, but not always. 

I've had to learn how to concisely explain where my boyfriend is from (usually by leaving out the Singapore/ Atlanta/ Florida part if I can help it).

I've had to learn lots of Chinese words. 

I've had to learn how to remember how handsome my boyfriend is when all I can see is fifty pixels on my screen.

I've had to learn how to get homework done when all I want to do is stare at his handsome face over Skype.

I've had to learn to get better at timing videos over Skype (mostly Pokemon). 

I've had to learn how to have better lighting over Skype.

I've had to learn a lot about Skype.

Actually, I've had to learn a lot about computers in general.

He's taught me an awful lot, and I'm so grateful for the things I've learned. It's been a crazy four months, and I hope for many more. 

Abnormality is pretty normal for us. I guess I never really think about how weird our relationship really is. We've seen each other a grand total of 20 days since dating. So we're 20 for 120 days. That's a pretty good ratio for us. Better than expected, at least. 

We've never seen each other in the same place twice.

Beijing

Minnesota

Charlotte 

Georgia

West Palm Beach

Next time I see my lovely man it will be in Chicago. After that we have a repeat of Minnesota. But then we're back to our exploring. I love my adventuring boyfriend. We're definitely a strange couple, but I love it. 

Happy four months, dear! 

Tuesdays

Uncertain.

Anticipating.

Unready.

222: 365

March (A Prelude to Spring)