Tomorrow is Set-ish

Dear God,
   I don't know if I did this on purpose but now I'm not so worried about the impending school year. ...although the word 'impending' is ominous, generally applied to storms. Anyway, I mean, I don't have, like, a plan. I have back-up plans. I know, I know. A back-up plan requires an initial plan, but my initial plan isn't really a plan so much as a ploy- a scheme- though without the negative connotations of ploys and schemes.
   (Honestly, can we have no secrets without ulterior motives?!)
   I'm just, you know, ready.
   Especially now that I have this short-term job. Thanks for that. I didn't think I'd get it. And I kind of don't know what to do with it. I mean, I know how to do the job, but I'm so surprised that I actually got a job-. It's surreal.
   I've already made a list of books I plan on bringing with me.
   Thank you, God, for your help. Thank you for your subtlety in my life. Thank you for not pounding on my head and heart. Thank you for just guiding me and nudging me, and for the occasional, "Seriously, Tine, go that way. There's no other way."
   I'm not excited for the future, no, but at this point not-dreading it is a plus.
   Thanks. Really.
   Thanks for the creative ways in which you approach me, and my sisters, and parents, and extended family, and friends, and strangers. Thank you for being so...individual. For mixing justice with mercy, and equality with commodity.
   Thank you for never fitting inside the box, and never letting your creation do the same.
   Maybe I am a little excited.
   Love you!

I love you more than I-.

Dear God,
   It's in all the movies and books and pamphlets and blogs and vlogs and accessories and t-shirts, but these past few days have taught me the value of saying "I love you" to those I love.
   The other day I told my mother, "I love you," and she asked, "Where are you going?"
   Why do I only say "I love you" when I'm leaving?
   I guess "I love you" are nice last words, but what's to say last if I never mean what I say first?
   I know that the worse things we say are easier to remember than the good things we say, but I still want to say more good things. I want people to know that I do think well of them; that I love them. There's no reason to say things that make people feel horrible.
   "I love you."
   "Where are you going?"
   "No, I'm just saying. I'm not going anywhere."
   "Oh, I love you, too!"
   Let it be more usual to say "I love you" than "Goodbye".
   So, I love you, God. Thank you.
   I'm scared and kind of nervous, but indeed, love conquers all.

STOP

Dear God,
   I don't know if you intend success and fame for me.
   You probably don't.
   I don't know I want that sort of success. I appreciate anonymity, but you'll have to forgive my daydreams. I can't always predict what I'll think next. My mind is as unbridled as my tongue. No; all the more unbridled because no one knows what I think not unless I give them permission to know.  I am the master of what I reveal, not of what I hide.
   But despite not wanting success and fame I keep hearing in my head "STOP" and I don't want to stop. What's telling me to stop, and why is it telling me to stop?
   What will happen if I stop? Who cares if I stop?
   I should.
   But if I stop...
   Stopping's not so dark as dying.
   Is stopping, to me, some sort of failure I won't be able to overcome? But I can overcome any failure, right?
   Maybe I want to make sure I'm doing something important.
   Is it weird that I don't want to be important but I only want what I do to be important? No, that's not true. I also want to be important. If I stop, I'll never know how I can be important.
   That's weird, and I'm okay with that.
   Don't let me stop, God.
   Thank you for your plans for me. I don't know what they are, but I don't care- you've got them. I'll keep going to see if the path changes or not.
   I love you, God.

lighter months.

dear God,
   so, you know how i've been worrying about the future? well, now i'm in danger of living too much in the future and not in today. which, to a certain extent, is fine. you know. you tell me to look ahead to future promises and gifts. the immediate gifts of this world are temporary. totally, i get that. i do. i should look to the future of heaven, but surely not to the point where all i do is dream. dream, yes, but also do!
   it's weird. i don't think i have anything to look forward to, you know what i mean? it's not like i have any set goals that makes me all like, "i can't wait to get there!" i don't know what makes me eagerly anticipate tomorrow. i used to be so afraid of today; of the impending evening!
   what did you do?
   it's the summer weather, isn't it? or spring weather, whatever. that's it, isn't it? new things reborn/born. things are their natural color (for the most part- save tanning salons).
   i'm sorry i deny your encouragement during the bleaker months of the year. i who enjoy all four seasons. this perhaps is an easier season for me. or i've learned what it is to be stupid and complacent during the darker months that i'd rather not do that during lighter months.
   what will i learn these lighter months? i want to learn during these months to take them with me to darker months. please.
   still, it is refreshing to have lighter months. i am no less grateful for it. i could do without nights full of tears and mornings full of panic attacks.
   but you are still Lord even then.
   you were still Lord of Nehemiah, Esther, Job, and Job's ridiculous friends.
   thank you, God. i love you.





"truly i know that it is so: but how can a man be in the right before God? / if one wished to contend with him, one could not answer him once in a thousand times." Job 9.2,3
   why should my actions dictate God's actions- that would require him to be more reactionary; more fickle. i like my gods stable. perhaps that's what God means when he says he's unchanging: he won't suddenly turn on us like Two Face. 

work in progress.

Dear God,
   A lot more people are proud of me--more than I expected. But I guess if I should have no pride others should have it for me in case I need to take out a loan of pride.
   Thank you for them. Without many of friendships and family I'd be nothing more than pitiless heap of BLAH.
   And I finally got my TB test done yesterday. Excellent. Took long enough.
   And thank you yesterday that I was finally able to take a picture of this piece of graffiti. You let me take a picture of it just the day I needed to. **

I need to meet this graffiti artists. I dig his/her work. 

   I love you, God.

** back story >> I work a little ways away from home. I often get stuck in traffic to and from work. Stuck in a car the only thing I can do is look around outside; that, or have a private jam session [; Anyway, anyway, I came upon this piece of graffiti first:

I don't remember my initial reaction to it, but I appreciated it. Another day in the same area, I came across this piece by the same artist:

I kept my eye out for others like it, hoping to notice his/her signature (first: underneath 'evol'; second: after 'moment'). 

I finally did, but after a few months I doubted I'd ever get a picture of it. I could never hit the stoplight on time. Then I did. On the day I needed to read it most. 

Laugh at me, go ahead!

Dear God,

   I want to thank you for your sense of humor. Truly, you are hilarious. I'll have to be careful next time what I complain about else you turn it into a joke.

   You'll have to keep surprising me apparently.

   Love you.

Bring back that LOVELY feeling!

Dear God,
   So, I have this problem with bitterness. And right now, it's worse. Or at least, it's been bad this past hour. How do I get over it? Because trying to look on the bright side makes it worse.
   I understand you want me to learn all these things in these experiences that I am going through, but honestly...  I can't believe I'm asking this. I've never asked this before but, (oh, geez) when is it my turn?
   This is coming from someone who's barely old enough to merit a quarter-life crisis.
   I know. You're right. You're right.
   What's two years to the rest of my life?
   Nothing. Nothing. Tomorrow will always be better.
   So, yeah, don't bring back that lovely feeling. Give me something new.
   Like your blessings renewed every day.
   Okay. I got this.
   Or...you got this. Okay. It's all good.
   Tomorrow will be kinder.
   Though I've hardly experienced yesterdays that are horrid.
   I love you, God.

Tomorrow Will Be Kinder

Dear God,
   Thank you so much for these warmer months! I mean, I know I say I like cold weather, but I still have my limits- not being able to wear the cute outfits I want to wear wears me down.
   Funny the things that keep my moods good.
   Books.
   Classy outfits.
   Food and drink.
   Comfy chairs.
   Music.
   So, anyway, today was a good. Didn't have to pay the meter for parking, thank you. Little things, right? What else happened today? Got a lot of writing done today. Yesterday, I started reading 'Apt Pupil'- the second novel/novella of Stephen King's Different Seasons. I was so horribly thrilled, God, that I am now extremely grateful for King's writing prowess. I'm almost afraid of finishing 'Apt Pupil' not because I don't want it to end, but I'm afraid of what will progress.
   So...today wasn't mean to me, it was just...another day. So, (my readers can't hear me) God, when I sing 'Tomorrow Will Be Kinder' to you...I guess I'm asking for a particularly special surprise. I don't know what surprise. I just-. This whole 'active waiting' thing is making me anxious. It's almost summer- I'll have all that time to vegetate, but I really don't want to vegetate. What should I do? I don't want to vegetate. I want to do something. ...something that will earn me money. Preferably. But, you know, whatever.
   Fields of flowers don't worry. I shouldn't worry. Nope.

   You got it, God. No worrying. Just...you'll forgive me if I keep singing 'Tomorrow Will Be Kinder'. It's such a melancholy tune, and my throat likes the feel of it.
   Thank you for everything God. Meter-less parking spots. A voice that sounds decent when it sings. Caring friends and family. A sense of purpose.
   Thanks.
   I love you.

Church Shopping

Dear God,
   This past Sunday I attended a new church. I even stepped out of social comfort zone and met new people. Like, A LOT of new people. But I enjoyed myself and had my best friend with me. But I've been thinking...
   Since I've started asking, "Where do you want me to work?" I thought I should start asking, "Where do you want me to attend church?" Especially now that I have the opportunity to visit multiple churches, I don't want to pick any random ol' church. They're everywhere! I want to know where I can best serve and worship you. Where is that?
   If I ever get frustrated looking for a church, or worried that I'm too socially awkward to fit in (although, if there's any one place where socially awkward people reside, it's church). I don't want to miss out on the community that will give as much as take; and a community that rightfully expects the same of me.
   ...anyway, yeah.
   Help me not be so cynical when I walk into a sanctuary (whether a rented hall or historical site). You know how cynical I can be.
   Thank you.
   I love you.

Responsibility.

Dear God,
   Easter's just passed.
   A slight panic attack awoke me Easter Sunday, then I realized: it's Easter Sunday. My panic attack completely dissipated when I realized it was the official anniversary of your Resurrection. I would like to relieve myself of panic attacks more often than just the reminder of Easter. As cheesy as it is, Easter should affect my every day.
   I don't know that my life would be easier to deal with, or that I'd be happier. Maybe I'd make better decisions. Ask better questions. For instance, I suddenly realized instead of begging you to "pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeease give me a job" I should ask, "Where do you want me to work?" Because I have applied and applied and applied (like millions of other wandering twentysomethings) and have worried endlessly about tomorrow, but even non-religious folk will tell you, "All you have is today. Now." Right? Look at the lilies of the fields. Are they not dressed more finely than King Solomon? Yes, indeed, and they pay no bills- perhaps only owned by they who do.
   I know I still have responsibilities to pay taxes, and bills, and gas, and, you know, nourishment, but I don't want these things to be a chore, or something to dread.
   I have no doubt, God, that you will provide. I ask that you provide sooner and faster, but still...all in your time, isn't it? All things in your time. I must still have something to learn during this waiting period. I guess, technically, it's not a waiting period because I have no idea of anticipating anything special. Besides, I'm sure that as soon as I get a job I'll start waiting for my own apartment or home.
   My list of wants just won't end.
   Anyway, God, I love you.

I know a lot.

Dear God,

   Can you help my interpersonal skills? I believe I am an expert in intrapersonal skills, but seriously, I've observed people too much to know how to properly interact with them. It's like I know a lot, but I have no idea how to act on that knowledge. Like I've a doctorate in physiology, but don't ask me to teach aspiring physiologists because I don't know how to simplify information well enough for them to allow individual progression.
   That was a lot.
   I may regret telling you this, God, but I'm tired of just knowing. I want to do. But I don't know if the barriers that surround me are imaginary or legitimate. I don't want to feel guilty for the wrong reasons. I need to make sure I've actually committed the sin before I pretend I did, and be overcome with self-righteousness. What am I actually doing wrong? (This is the part where you tell me.)
   I just-. Even if I am doing all the right things, it still leaves me empty, or at least, desperate to keep full. Hell, was I ever full in the first place? I interact so freely and personally with delusions, honestly.
   Please help me do whatever work you've given me. And make sure to pop my bubble. (I'm going to regret that last request, I know it.)
   Love you. 

Justice Served

Dear God,
   Yesterday, I finally got a parking ticket. I say 'finally'... It only took them four months to finally notice I'd been violating their parking procedures, but generally, with better weather comes better morals. At most, I was embarrassed: a bright orange boot on your car is certainly not a pick-me-up. And people staring? Not good for the social ego. But other than that, I felt nothing else. I deserved it. I accepted the consequences. Because that's what happens when you break rules: negative consequences.
   Although, God, I have to say, thank you for delaying their moral compasses for a bit there, otherwise, I would've had a harder time getting to work... Maybe I shouldn't thank you for that...
   I sound high and mighty, indeed. If I am, I deserve-. Oh, I'm about to curse myself: that's even higher and mightier.
   But, still, yes, I want to thank you for being as just and as merciful as you are. You always know how I need to learn a lesson. You don't make me learn something just to spite me, or prove you're better than me. When you teach me, you're not competing with me; and you certainly don't ask me to compete with you. You just ask me to be like you, which is more intimidating, to say the least, but frankly, also more inspiring: I get to learn to be like you? Kind, gracious, merciful, wise? I get to be all those things just by trying to mimic you? Thank you for guiding me as you teach me. You always want me to improve.
   God, help me graciously accept every life lesson I need to learn. I know I won't always be so perfect and understanding as I am now (haha).
   ...the sun shines on the blessed and the damned.
   It's like you know what you're doing because despite what I believe to be true of you, you always surprise me with some new facet: keeps me on my toes.
   Thank you for keeping my life, and everyone else's life in your hands.
   I love you.

Unfortunate Choices

Dear God,
   I have to be honest with you: it bothers me that you are not at all selective with who you choose to work for you. Frankly, if you were a place of higher education, you're like community college- you just accept everyone. Everyone. Everyone, everyone, everyone. All of them. Including me. It is for the least of these that you live, but did you have to pick the least of these that make everyone else feel as though they are lesser than the least of these? Probably an imprudent, presumptuous question- what if I'm one of the least of these that make others feel less than they are? What's my deal? What's your deal?! Why did you pick me? I wouldn't pick me.
   But you did. And though I consider that an unfortunate (permanent) choice, I cannot tell you how grateful I am that you don't just willy nilly strike your greatest offenders with lightning. Indeed, the sun shines down on both the righteous and unrighteous [in this way, we're not entirely sure who is who; in this way, you are the only one who truly knows].
   Remind me: when I sing, or say, or read "So the last will be first, and first last" (Matthew 20.16 - ESV) that I shouldn't become so hoity toity. I should be humbled. I am the last. I've got a long way to go before I'm first in anything.
   On another note, I'm sorry, God, that I've been neglecting my time with you. I suppose that to a certain extent I've taken you for granted: I've been apathetic because I haven't been either miserable or overjoyed, therefore I didn't think to bother you with every little thought that passes through me. I hardly do that with humans, much less the God of the Universe. I don't know how to get into the habit of telling you every little thing, and after a while, I'm just talking to myself because even I don't care about everything I think and have to toss away some of those thoughts.
   But you'll teach me how to approach you, won't you? Kind of like if I were going to meet the Queen of England, I'll probably have to enroll in etiquette lessons. How can you be so approachable and yet so formidable?
   Perhaps Ravi Zacharias said it best,

' Who is God? God is your Holy Father. Every time you get on your knees pray to God, "Holy" keeps the respect, the reverence; "Father" brings Him close; intimate. The Christian faith is the only faith that calls God "our Father". '

Tears Without Heart

Dear God,
   When was the last time you humbled me? I have no immediate recollection. Should I be worried because that means you're going to humble me soon? I don't know if I should ask for it or not. Even if my request were incredibly specific I should not like to ask wrongly, or let you work its loophole(s).
   Still...
   Please reveal to me the sins I unknowingly commit. I haven't arrived; of course I'm doing something wrong that requires all my attention (or at least most).
   I'm sorry that I sound too guarded and collected, but I don't always have the heart to weep. Besides, I always cry unexpectedly--I suppose that's true vulnerability: unplanned, unscheduled. Apparently, I'm not as vulnerable as I thought I am. Should I-?
   Help me be vulnerable. The walls I build between myself and the world are shoddy anyway; they try too hard to replace you. How do you do it? How are you strong enough to hold back the flood waters, but are willing to let me fight on the front lines? The former, so that I don't die (haha); the latter, that I might not cower.
   I know I already do very little, but thanks for sticking by me, anyway. And I know it'll never happen, but I'd like to strive to deserve you now that I have you...you have me? Whatever, it's a mutual belonging. You're all I've got, though I'm heartless and stubborn. Hell, you even gave me people on this side of heaven who love me. Thank you.
   Love you.

The call of Christ is always a promotion. -A.W. Tozer

Spring's Tomorrow.

Dear God,
   Tomorrow will come, won't it? It's not that I don't want it to come; there have been so many tomorrows that've passed I wonder that I still count it a miracle.
   You know, I have to tell you, prayer is generally a quiet habit, yes, but I can't that the Zumba/party music in the background is distracting--it's just work. Frankly, the music is repetitive enough that it dulls my senses enough to help continue my thoughts.
   Speaking of tomorrows, God, thank you for all my todays, and today, this day. I know that if I think about it long enough, todays and tomorrows they begin to blur together, but I know that every day really is different. I need only look back and see how much has changed.
   Like today! ...wait.
   Tomorrow is the first day of Spring. Finally! New Life, God! Oh, goodness! No snow until next November, at least! Thank you!
   I would be remiss if I did not also thank you for my jobs. My parents' jobs. My sister's job.
   Thank you for weekends off to visit friends, and cars to get there.
   ...I'm sure I'm the last person who should be saying this, but truly, some weeks are a lot harder than others. I know a few of my friends had a particularly hard week this time 'round. Thank you for being with them when I couldn't. Thank you for giving them friends and family (even the occasional stranger) to surround them; work and hobbies to distract or enlighten.
   I don't expect I'll ever understand why we must endure hard weeks, or months, or years...
   Anyway. (I feel like Percy Jackson praying to Poseidon. I don't know that talking to you will ever stop being weird, but I know I need to do it more often. So, as every Wednesday comes, and I have to post a prayer, help me understand the gravity of every request, and the easy love which you use to listen to me, and care for me.
   Good night, God.
   I'll see you later.
   ...when I say 'see'.

well-intentioned

thank you for your attempt!
that was very...well-intentioned of you.
i can't say i saw it coming,
no more than you really will keep it coming as you promise to do, but thank you.
your consideration for my...inherent?
my...obvious?- devastation is still kind.
thank you.
you are kind.
as kind as i will ever be.
although i don't remember drowning, choking, or bleeding
i still thank you.
perhaps i was drowning, choking, or bleeding at one point.
i don't know.
i'm sure there are cases of people drowning, choking, or bleeding without knowing.
surely, yes.
i've lied without knowing.
i don't know.
but, thank you.
your intentions will not go unnoticed.

We go together like...

Growing up I wanted to know how many friends I had, or could have. What middle schooler didn't want to know how many friends he or she had? You can imagine my disappointment when shopping in Claire's all the BFF jewelry could only be split between two, or among three, and I totally had more BFFs than that in middle school! But I just couldn't find any jewelry that could be shared among, at least, fifteen best friends. 

But I didn't really have fifteen best friends. I only had one. I think, at the time, I could only handle one best friend at a time. I mean, I liked talking to lots of different people, but I think middle schoolers are sometimes too insecure to know what to do with so many best friends which explain a lot of premature 'somebody I used to know' stories. 

So, I went on a walk this morning, by myself. Well, me and God. Or, at least, I was on my way to see him. I had to tell him something. 

I sat and started to write out a prayer. Short, simple; lots of lookingintothedistance, wondering what else to tell God. When a thought occurred to me: I don't have to be anywhere. I don't have my own thinking spot. I don't have a place where, if I ran away, people would intuitively know to find me. I don't have to be somewhere in order to talk to God. I just need to start talking...praying. 

I should be able to be anywhere and still feel close to those who are closest to me: something I couldn't understand as a middle schooler. 

On my walk back home I found these two puzzle pieces. They do not go together. 

These two pieces would make a horrible BFF necklace, bracelet or ring. 

But when you turn one of the pieces over...

They may not be right next to each other, but it is evident they are pieces of the same puzzle.

I don't have to be anywhere.

What if, really, we weren't just two pieces. A Romeo and Juliet; a Sherlock and John; lovers. A pair of friends are always excited to be joined by a third. 

I don't have to be your conjoined twin to know we get along, especially not at first glance--we might be as insecure as middle schoolers before we can know we're really part of the same puzzle. 

What if I never really knew my fifteen middle school friends because one of us was wearing a mask, and here we are, older, somewhat mask-less, and really, very similar. Yes! We really do want to do the same things! yes! We really are interested in the same things! Yes! We can talk to other people without throwing fits of intense jealousy or rage. We don't belong to each other. It's not us against the world! I am who I am because of the other puzzle pieces I've met along the way. 

Whether we were part of the same puzzle, or our crooks fit well together; whether we were completely abhorred by the other--doesn't matter. 

I may not find the right BFF necklace in Claire's to share with all my good friends. But it's good to know that I am part of a small piece of a huge puzzle, and that we're being put together by God. 

No, I don't have to be anywhere. 

Anyone that I used to know I may not have really known. 

Besides, whoever heard of a puzzle with only two pieces? Whoever ate peanut butter and jelly without bread? Even gluten-free bread! 

When I have good news I like to share it.

May I only be brave enough to be.