You know that feeling you get in the pit of your stomach when you know something is not exactly how you wanted or imagined it would be like? That sinking, twisted, odd, nervous feeling; it confuses you because you do not know if you are feeling that way because what is unfolding before you is wrong (and something you don't want) or if it is something wonderful that you should embrace (whether you know you want it or not). A part of you wants to run, while another wants to stay and see what is about to unfold. It is this tension that you create within yourself, all balled up into one little moment.
I have been feeling that tension, that odd feeling, for over a week. I don't know what to do with it (if there is anything I am supposed to do with it). I can't seem to shake it. It lingers in the pit of my stomach, pulling at my heart. The most frustrating part of it all is not that I can't sleep more than a couple restless hours a night. The most frustrating part is not that I cannot share these thoughts or feelings with anyone in the middle of the night because even the night owls in my life are asleep. It is not so much frustrating that I can't make the feeling change. What is frustrating to me is the fact that I cannot quite put the feeling into words. This awkward, gut wrenching tension that does not exist out of guilt, pity, self loathing, sadness, frustration, anger, or pain. Because let's be honest - life is pretty good right now. I have amazing friends, great roommates, a new job that involves coffee (woo hoo!), brand new books to read, a brand new quarter of school, a new year to fill with memories and adventures of all sorts, and a desire to find the heart of God unlike any desire I have ever felt before. So where is this tension coming from?
That feeling - that awkward, terrible feeling that simply won't leave me alone. What drives it? Why can't I kick it out of my psyche? If anyone has any words of advice, I am more than willing to take them. Maybe it will drive the feeling way for at least one night.
Not gonna lie - I'm really wrestling with myself right now. For weeks I haven't been able to sleep. I just lay awake at night, wrestling with the thoughts that fill my mind. Why am I not content? Why am I afraid of letting go of the old and reaching out for the new? Why do I want what I do not need? Why does my heart ache when the night sky falls?
Wrestling with yourself is the worst thing in the world. There is no one to beat or be beaten by. You simply struggle internally, becoming more and more frustrated by the minute because you cannot win and you cannot loose. The fight is constant and consistent, unwavering. You know where to hit yourself below the belt and you know how to block it (or recover quickly from the hit, since you know it's coming at you anyways).
When will peace come? How do we reach that point of accepting reality, looking forward, moving on, and realizing peace within ourselves and the world we surround ourselves with? I long for that peace.....
Well, it's officially Christmas Eve. My dad and his wife are in the kitchen getting our early holiday dinner ready (with seven kids + sister's husband in the mix they have kicked everyone out of the kitchen). All the kids (and sister's husband) are awkwardly crammed into the living room trying to figure out how to behave around one another. We're not really family. We're not not family. What do you do? Lucky enough for us we are Americans and we have a large television to stare at. "Who Wants to Be A Millionaire" has potentially saved our afternoon as it somehow creates a trivia bondage amongst our cluster.
Last night was spent baking to not end. I made four different types of creations that will play a role in creating a Christmas sugar high for everyone who will later (once again) cram into the living room to open presents. The hustle and bustle is awkward and strange - and it feels a bit like betrayal. It really bothers me how much holidays have become a time of all the traditional joy and celebration and special memories, combined with the feelings of disappointment and harsh actions towards other parts of the family by "choosing" one side over them to spend the holiday with. Never again will there be an easy going day of traditional celebration without hurt feelings. And the hardest part to most of it is the fact that it was not done on purpose. No one ever meant to make others feel like they were betraying or neglecting others. No one ever meant for it to be awkward. Nevertheless, it is what it is.
Perhaps I will have a chance to write later and it will all be better. Maybe the awkward harshness that dances along the line of comfortable harmony with blur. Maybe it's all just a line I am creating all on my own. Maybe it doesn't exist at all.
Either way, it's Christmas Eve.
There are moments in life when we find ourselves torn; torn in different directions, in the middle of different decisions that need to be made, in the middle of people and commitments. What do we do when we reach that point? How do we know that the direction we've chosen is the right one? How do we know we went with the stronger side?
The worst part about being torn is the feeling of being lost in that moment of tension. We can loose sight of what we are seeking, or what we used to see. Confusion sets in. We can loose our sense of direction. We can become caught up in our fear.
Tension. It can be good. It can be bad. No matter what happens in the end, we just need to trust ourselves and whatever it is that drives us. The tension is there for a reason. It is there to bring awareness and truth.
Dear Friends,
This week marked a first in the life of Sarah Johnson. Tuesday morning I found myself in a hospital gown (one of the awkward ones what flies open in the back when you least expect it), quadrouple checking which knee the doctor was going to fix. The anesthesiologist came in and explained to me how I would have the joy of "sleeping" through the entire procedure. What was about to happen was my first experience of going "under the knife". Well, the arthroscopic knife. I was nervous as heck. This irrational fear of not waking up from the drugs kept filling my head. And the only comfort I could find from that thought was words spoken from my friends Mike and Kyle....
A couple days earlier Mike, Kyle, and I went and played frisbee golf (our typical trio-activity). Afterwards we decided to take on a ridiculously random challenge together. What was the random challenge? We decided to drink an entire gallon of water as quickly as possible - each. So, Kyle and I went to Fred Meyer and purchased three gallons of filtered water. Then the three of us gathered at Telulah (Kyle's house) and sat in the dining room, chugging away at our gallons of water and making funny faces at each other, wondering why we decided to attempt such a feat. In less than 45 minutes, a couple bathroom trips each, and a sad loss of half a gallon through oral projectalization (I may have thrown a good amount of my gallon up towards the end), we all completed our gallons. The Gallon Challenge of December 2007 was complete, and we marked the victory by autographing each other's gallon jugs. Ridiculous. Wonderful. A cherished moment with two of my favorite Bellingham boys.
The reason I tell you this story is not only to brag about my ability to play with the boys (well, sort of - neither of them threw up their gallons), but also to give you a little insight into my random, encouraging friends. Mike and Kyle are two of my Bellingham friends who I pretty much don't hesitate telling my fears, worries, goals, and dreams to. They help me process life. They help me process faith. They are good for my souls.
Kyle and Mike both kept reassuring me that I was going to wake up from the medicine and that my surgery was going to go through with flying colors. They prayed with me and for me, they gave me hugs of encouragement, and they smiled me through my anxious pre-surgery day moments. It was those moments and prayers that reassured my anxious heart. I knew my fears were irrational, but they were still very real. And my boys were good to remind me that it was okay to be afraid, and it was all going to be alright.
And those boys were right on the money. I am sitting at my sister's kitchen table next to her and her husband. My head is a little foggy and a little spinny on vicodin, and my knee is swollen and stiff, but I am awake. I survived! Looking back, it was silly to be worried as much as I was. But, I have friends who let me be silly. They let me worry. They listen to me, they reassure me, they comfort me, they make me laugh. They ease my mind.
Thanks Mike and Kyle! Thanks for being so ridiculously wonderful. Thank you to all of you who took the time to leave me messages, give me "recovery" items, such as magazines and M&Ms, and remind me that you'll be around to make fun of me as I limp around in a groggy state. I cherish each and every single one of you.
It may just be the fact that I'm in college and live in a town named Bellingham where everyone cherishes vintage, "well loved" clothing. It may be because it is something that makes us smile every year no matter how ridiculous it may be. Perhaps we really just have a desire to be ridiculously sparkly. No matter what the reason may be, 'tis the season for ugly Christmas sweaters.
They are everywhere - holiday house parties, Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-INN, strolling across campus, fashionably being displayed in used clothing stores, popping out of boxes from the post office, hanging up in our closets. No matter where you go, the ridiculously gaudy Christmas sweaters have taken over the bulk of holiday festivities.
Red, green, and gold, sparkly with glitter and sequins, some even have lights. Fluffy, knitted, patterns galore, Santa Claus faces and reindeers, stockings and Christmas trees, stars and snowflakes, and snowmen popping out here and there. Christmas is being embraced by the loud, ugly, yet somehow glorious Christmas sweaters our friends (and we ourselves) wear with shoulders back and chests high.
Ugly Christmas sweaters - whoever created the first one was a foolish genius who knew she was doing something spectacular for the world.
What does it take to be content?
I see people every day, working hard to meet expectations, accomplish goals and tasks, continuing to pulvault over the rising the bar of their ambicious high-jumps in life. Every day we (yes, we) go through life jumping higher and higher, running faster and faster, working harder and harder, bringing ourselves to an emotional exaughstion and burnout. Then we crash and wonder why. We wonder why we are tired, cranky, anxious, annoyed, and left with a feeling of little to no accomplishment.
Why is it that we cannot see that who we are and what we have to give is enough? Why can we not just embrace the fact that there are some things where we are strong, and there are other aspects of life where we are weak? Where we are weak, someone is strong. Where we are strong, someone is weak. We are all in this together, whether we realize it or not. LET'S REALIZE IT! COME ON PEOPLE!
More than anything I guess I want to realize this all myself. I want to be content with who I am, what I have to give, what I have to accept, and what I exist in. I want to be content with this chapter of life. There is no reason to be anything but content. Yet, this is where I sit - at a table in a coffee shop, procrastinating on completing the homework I am lucky enough to have, complaining about not being content.
So what does it take? When will I be?
So, I have another song to add to the soundtrack of my life. It's a song of declaration of healing a broken heart. And it may seem a little cheesy, but really, it's me right now. I like it. Just thought I'd share. (mostly with Mandy, because I know you're reading this right now).
Over You
by Chris Daughtry
Now that it’s all said and done I can’t believe you were the one
To build me up then tear me down like an old abandoned house
What you said when you left just left me cold and out of breath
I felt a thousand weights to deep
Guess I let you get the best of me
I never saw it comin’ I should of started running a long, long time ago
And I’m never gonna doubt you I’m better off without you more than you know
I’m slowly getting closer, I guess it’s really over I’m finally getting better
Now I’m picking up the pieces spending all of these years putting my heart back together
The day I never thought I’d get through, I got over you
You took a hammer to these walls, dragged the memories down the hall
Packed your bags and walked away there was nothing I could say
And when you slammed the front door shut a lot of others opened up
So did my eyes so I could see that you never were the best for me
I never saw it coming I should of started running a long long time ago
And I’m never gonna doubt you I’m better off without you more than you know
I’m slowly getting closure, I guess it’s really over I’m finally getting better
Now I’m picking up the pieces spending all of these years putting my heart back together
the day I never thought I’d get through, I got over you
*Kinda wish I could sing this song at a concert with someone looking right at me - it feels like if I could just do that, the healing could really be over. The sad part about wanting to do that, is that the person I really want to declare it to probably wouldn't care. At least not as much as me. And I think I need to be okay with that.
Every tuesday night I wonder why people raise their hands when they worship. Sometimes I stop singing and I just listen to the words being sung. I look out over the group of students humbling themselves before God as they worship. Have you ever done that? It's overwhelming. Really, it is. Sometimes I feel the urge to do the same - but I never do. Sometimes that makes me feel guilty.
This tuesday we were talking about how Jesus must have been frustrated when people just didn't understand Him. We talked about how Jesus must have been annoyed when He would tell people over and over again that He was doing things with a purpose and they just stared back at Him wondering why He was "such a fool". The talk then led to thankfulness. Students wrote down what they were thankful for and put it in a box. Seth and Kim stood up and read a few of them outloud for the whole community to hear. And in that moment, when I was hearing those words of gratitude, I began to realize why people raise their hands in worship.
It's all because they are thankful. They raise their hands because they are grateful for the grace, love, comfort, gifts, blessings, sacrifice, justice, and life that comes from knowing Christ.
I kinda like that.
Long nights are the worst thing in the world. Long nights are those nights when you put on you pajamas, kick off your socks, cuddle into your bed, and realize that it is not only the place you want to be because you are exhausted, but it is also the place you suddenly dread. You end up spending the whole night attempting to convince yourself to close your eyes and embrace the darkness. You try to let dreams sweep you up and let rest refresh your tired body. Yet you lay there; you lay there wondering how long it will take for morning to come.
After a while a fear sets in. You may begin to fear that morning will never come. That you will be stuck in this place of uncomfortable, awkward darkness, alone while the rest of the world gets what it needs and you anxiously await a savior to rescue you from this little hell you have created in the night. It is the worst feeling in the world.
Lucky enough for us (when we do have these nights) the night will never last forever. Dawn will break, as will our fear. We are not stuck in darkness forever, just for a time. I wonder if sometimes we are given those long nights for a purpose. Perhaps we are to embrace those long, lonely, dreadful never-ending nights and turn them into something magical.
Sometimes I forget that I have friends who love me. Sometimes I neglect to look at my faith and acknowledge that it is not merely a feeling, but truth. Sometimes I feel alone when there really is no reason to feel that way. Sometimes I feel so sorry for myself that I forget that there are other people in the world who have less than me. Sometimes I get so overwhelmed by the fact that I am "unattatched" in a relationship that I forget that I do not need another person to define my worth.
Today I had a moment when I was reminded that all of these feelings are silly and unimportant. Today I remembered that God is great. Today I remembered that God loves me more than I will ever comprehend. Today I was reminded that I am loved, wanted, and accepted beyond my understanding.
I forgot - but today I remembered.
Tonight I have discovered a new element to WWU's constant energy conservation efforts - sensor lights in the computer lab. It is the night of Halloween and I am sitting here, working on recreation homework and not at the same time. Silently sitting alone in a big, cold, empty communications building on the south end of campus I was reading an academic article when the lights all went out. For a few seconds I sat still, not moving out of fear of something jumping out to get me. However, when I reached for my phone (to call someone to save me through the glory that is text messaging) the lights came back on. I brushed it off, not thinking much of it after that. Then it happened again. Just as scared, I reached for my only hope of a text message when the lights, again, turned back on. The third time the lights went out on me I danced - they came on.
Sitting alone in the lab makes me think of how much I really do like it here. I complain about homework and being stuck in the computer lab researching and writing. I complain about having to much to do and not being able to manage the specific details of my life. Yet, here I am - privilaged to be in one of the most difficult recreation programs in the country, attending the most difficult public university to attend in Washington state. I have professors who know my name and favorite coffee, not just a student number on a computer screen. I have classmates to share inside jokes and the desire to serve. I get to write this silly 2am blog on one of hundreds of fully functioning computers on campus. I drank a coffee tonight that I had the bills in my pocket to purchase. I'm listening to music off of my little iPod shuffle from my dad. I am learning how to be a better recreation professional, citizen to the community, state, and country, and how to be a person who simply lives to live life with others.
That's cool. Remembering all that makes this late night in the computer lab all worth it.
My mom was here this weekend and while she was here I quickly discovered where my passion for the fall comes from. Every time we drove past a tree (which was about every three feet here in Bellingham) she would "oooo" and "aaahhh" over the colors of the changing leaves and comment on how beautifully golden the sun was. She commented on the crisp wind and worried over my warmth (or lack of). She's such a great mom - she really is.
I convinced my family to go to a pumpkin patch out towards Mt. Baker saturday afternoon. It was GLORIOUS! Pumpkins, scarecrows, apples, corn fields, and farm animals everywhere. With warm cider in hand we wandered throughout the farm, down the gravel road to the pumpkin patch. The pickings were slim (Halloween is only a few days away), but we picked out 80lbs of glorious pumpkin. Three big, round, orange pumpkins (one with a glowing face) now guard our door from the goblins and gouls who will soon be filling the streets of Bellingham in search of a sugar high.
Before falling asleep my mom, sister and I sat on the couch in my living room, creating ghosts out of tootsie roll suckers. We giggled and goofed, watching Grey's Anatomy on DVD and making fun of the candy we were decorating.
It's moments like this weekend that make me grateful for fall. Fall is good simply because it is good. Sure there's Halloween and Thanksgiving in the season (both holidays I love), but really fall is just good because it exists. Sweatshirts and blankets, rain jackets and the desire to hold something warm in your hands when you go to a walk. Warm reds, oranges, yellows, browns, and golds float through the air when the wind blows. Pumpkins, spices, and coziness begins to fill our lives. It's just great. It's great because it simply is. That's all there is to it.
This afternoon I had the pleaure of spending a chunk of time with a woman I greatly admire. This woman has the ability to paint some of the most wonderful pictures and analogies in the world to help depict what is going on in life. For example, I once heard her speak about stewardship (quite recently, actually) and she was explaining why stewardship is important. Beyond the fact that Jesus calls us to stewardship (it's as simple as that) there is a perfectly good reason why we should practice it; without stewardship, we are dead.
She explained by using the example of the Dead Sea. The Dead Sea is dead because there is nothing coming in and there is nothing going out. The Dead Sea is, well, stagnent and dead. It gives nothing, it receives nothing. If we give nothing of ourselves, we are full of our own selfishness and dead. If we neglect to receive, we end up empty and dead. There is a happy middle ground of flow between others and ourselves that is vital to have in our lives. It creates this good, healthy, strong balance that helps us to live the life we have been given.
This afternoon, this wonderful woman and I had coffee at a little place called Cafe Adagio. Walking into the warm, cozy coffee shop, it's floor covered with beautiful little yellow leaves that had blown in the doors throughout the day and leaving the cold, gray, rainy day behind us, we ordered pumpkin pie lattes. GLORIOUS! Better than any pumpkin beverage I've had in my entire life. We sat at a table on tall chairs, staring out the window at the gray sky, sipping our pumpkin/coffee goodness, and talking about what it means to move on, out of the darkness and into the light. We talked about what it means to take on the challenge of growing and accepting, the challenge of living life without regret or fear. I am jeaous of my friend's strength and desire to do just that. I want to, I really do; but am I ready?
I don't know if I am. But I know that my little chit chat over a couple of pumpkin pie lattes with my friend was good for my little heart.
Life is hard. It always will be. That's just the way it is. Someone will always be heart broken. Someone will always be sick. Somone will always be hurt. Someone will always be dying. Someone will always feel betrayed and cheated. Someone will always be sad. Someone will always feel alone. Someone will always be crying. Someone will always feel lost. Somone will always feel let down or guilty. Someone will always feel used and confused. More often than we like that someone will always be us. But.......
The "but" in all of this is that there is hope. For some ridiculous reason amongst the hopelessness there is strength, comfort, and perseverance. I don't know why. But it's there. And it's going to be hard to remember it's there. But if we forget, we loose the fight. Loosing the fight isn't an option because the battle has already been won. Therefore....
Life will always be hopeful. Someone will always be rejoicing. Someone will always feel love. Someone will always feel the support of a friend and guiding hand. Someone will always be showing kindness. Someone will always believe and trust. Someone will always be grateful. Someone will always be cherished. Someone will keep us going.