How the hell did I get here?

Last night, as  I was falling asleep, I looked around and for some strange reason realized that I was sleeping alone, in an apartment I paid for, without a husband, without a mother, without a high-paying job in New York City . I was praying, and as a firm believer in being honest with God, the last thing I remember before falling asleep is whispering "How the hell did I get here?"

This was not supposed to be my life. In the life I had planned, I would go from college to a married life and I would have 2 kids by now, probably with a third on the way. Somehow though, I ended up with living the single life at 27 in St. Louis. In the words of Robin Williams in "Mrs. Doubtfire" I thought, This is not my life.

 

To the friends I thought would never get married, I said "I'm so thrilled for you! This will be an adventure and I'm so glad you're taking it!" To the friends who did not do well in college but ended up in exciting places with wonderful jobs I said "I'm so thrilled for you! This will be an adventure and I'm so glad you're taking it!" I said all of this, thinking that some day soon in the future, I would be married, or in an exciting place. 

I made my own decisions. I made the decision of majoring in education. I made the decision of attending graduate school in education at uw. I made the decision of living in Poland and Korea. I made all of those decisions based on what I wanted and what was possible. I made the best decisions I could with that was available to me, what I was good at, what I wanted. 

Somehow, those decisions did not lead me to the life I thought I wanted. 

I do not know if I ever will be married. I do not know if I will ever live in another country or in exciting cities like New York, Chicago, or Boston. I do not know if this will be my life. I do not know.

What I do know is that I have amazing family that chooses to support me. I do know that I have friends who love me, strangely, without conditions. I do know that I have a dog and a guinea pig that take a large part of my heart. I do know that I'm part of a church that loves me even when I fail to attend. I do know that I have so much to be thankful for. 

Surely, this is not the life I had planned. This is not the life I prayed for. Yet I am here. I made the best decisions I could and God has answered my prayers in strange ways. God did not save my mother. God has not brought me a husband. God has not given me a high-paying position in a bustling city. God has me here. It's strange and every now and then I look around and think "How the hell did I end up here?" 

Yet I am here, and I don't want to waste it. I want to love and make connections. I want my nieces to know me and be excited about spending the day with Aunt Callie. I want to spend time with my brothers and sisters-in-laws. I don't want to move away, although I am tempted from time to time with a new start and a new life. After much prayer, I do not think that this is a good time to move away. I want to set down roots. 

I want it all, but God has given me what I have now. I have much to be thankful for. My life's mantra should not be "how the hell did I get here" but "who am I deserve so much?" 

And everybody knows their names

Just like many of you, I was almost glued to my computer during the Boston lock-down and the search for the man who was responsible for the bombing during a race in that city. I wanted him to be caught alive and be brought to justice.

Just like when Osama Bin Laden was killed, I felt a surge of electricity and elatedness when he was apprehended. This one, I thought, won't get to die like a martyr for his cause though. He'll have to live the rest of his life facing what he did and the hatred of millions of people.

Osama Bin Laden, Adam Lanza, Timothy Mcveigh, the Tsarnaev brothers. A list of people who have challenged America and we have won. But have we really?

Do you honestly think that the Tsarnaev brothers expected to get out alive? I personally don't. They were two young boys in the most powerful country in the world. They had to know they would be caught. They did it though and for reasons I don't understand. What I do understand is that now millions of people know their names. The city of Boston knows their name. Perhaps they ultimately got what they wanted.

I for one, don't want to know who they are. I don't want to cheer their deaths or their captures. I want to ignore their names and focus my attentions on the fallen. I can't name one single person who died in 9/11, the Oklahoma bombings, at Hook Elementary School, at the Boston bombings. Yet I know the names of the men who did it. Something is twisted and wrong. Somehow, they ultimately got what they wanted. They got a parade, fireworks, thousands of people tweeting and facebooking their images. 

I want to forget them. I want to erase their names from this blog, from the internet. I don't want to die knowing their names and not knowing the names of the victims. We are part of a powerful and strong country. This won't be the last time evil people choose to kill others and die on our land to further their own purposes. Something has to change. We have to somehow know the victims and not know the perpetrators. We are giving them what they want, we are giving them infamy, which is not as good as being famous, but they died and live knowing we all know who they are.  

We don't have a better deal than the Israelites

I'm 27 years old and certified to teach high school social studies and I still get Jefferson Davis and Thomas Jefferson confused...

Ok ok, that's not what this blog is about at all, I just thought I'd share.

What I really wanted to talk about is reading through my Bible chronologically in one year. I have this great one year Bible that Lindsay Beeman got me a few years ago that goes through the Bible based on when stuff took place. It's awesome, but the flaw is that most one year plans have you read a little of the Old Testament, a little of the Psalms and Proverbs, and a little of the New Testament each day. I'm realizing why that is such a good idea. The Old Testament is horrifying in some places, boring in others, and only occasionally interesting. 

I'm starting in Leviticus and I hate it. I want to skip through it, but that's not what reading the Bible in one year is about. I'm at the part where it keeps talking about guilt offerings, sin offerings, and fellowship offerings. It talks about what to do if you have knowingly and unknowingly sinned and gives very detailed instructions on how to slaughter the sacrifice: what parts to tear up, how to drizzle the blood, what can and cannot by eaten of what you sacrifice and by whom it can or cannot eaten. 

It's gruesome, overly detailed, and boring. My mind tends to wander. I wonder why we have to read this stuff if it's no longer necessary, and then I realized it: all the gruesomeness and technical information on sacrifice should lead me constantly to Christ's death on the cross.

In Old Testament times, dealing with sin was a mindful ritual, an actual killing of another living being before your eyes to make some sort of atonement for your sin. The people in the Old Testament saw what sin causes; it causes death. We, however, don't have to see this kind of death....or do we?

I love animals. I can't stand to think of an animal in pain. Yet my sin doesn't hurt an animal, it is a nail in the body of  the very man who exists to save my soul. Every lie, every prideful thought, every lustful action is a nail in Jesus' hands and feet. Who gets a better deal, us or the original Israelites? I'm thinking it's the Israelites.

The Old Testament is important because it forces us to look at the blood, the pain, and the destruction our  sin costs. Maybe we don't have to watch the blood flow or hear the being cry out in pain, but we know it happened. My sin is a nail in the cross, just like the blade that slashed the throat of every sacrifice of the ancient Israelites. 

God in a messy day

I like to think I understand grace. I've grown up knowing that while God calls us to do good works, they have no bearing on His ultimate love for us. I'm starting to realize, slowly but surely, that I have no inkling of what really living in God's grace is like. 

I've been on this kick lately to get my life together. By this, I mean living each day perfectly. My perfect day would be something like this: get up in time to read my Bible, take a shower, prepare a healthy lunch, be an awesome teacher with kick-ass lesson plans, come home and walk my dog, clean my apartment, make another healthy dinner, and then enjoy an hour or so in a hot bath while reading a good book. 

My problem is that if one tiny things go awry, I give up. For some strange reason, I feel like I can only communicate with God if I'm making good choices and my life is in order. If I feel like my relationship with God isn't good or He's upset with me, I have this strange feeling that the day is lost anyway, so it doesn't really matter.

Today, for instance, I got up early, read my Bible, and made a salad for lunch. In all my self-congratulations, I forgot to grab my lunch from the kitchen. The rest of the day did not go well. I rushed off a school letter that my boss had to correct and then my kids went crazy in the afternoon and refused to learn anything. 

I was going to recover, though. Nope, they weren't going to get me down. I had a list of things from Target, Petsmart, and Trader Joe's and I mean an expansive list. This list included fruits, vegetables, lesson plan binders, and toilet paper. 

I'm on my way to Target and I'm at this intersection from Kingshighway to 64 West that no joke takes about 5-10 minutes to get through when it hits me: I forgot to turn off the coffee pot at school. Crap. In those few seconds, I know that my day is totally shot. I lose, Wednesday wins. I think, in internet-safe terms, screw it. 

I turn my car around, drive back to school and unplug the coffee pot, and head straight for home only pausing to pick up a bottle of wine at a gas station. My day is over. I failed. I might as well give it up for lost and start again tomorrow. I order take out, turn on Law and Order SVU, and pull up a blog that I've read through about 30 times. 

Where is grace in this day? Why do I not feel free to fail and try again? Why do I have to wait until tomorrow to start over? I honestly want God to fit in this neat little box on a healthily, happy, day between 6am and 7am. I feel like if I read my Bible and pray before I go to work, and then am productive throughout the rest of the day, then that's good enough.

Maybe the reason I keep failing at this ridiculous goal of "getting my life together" is because I refuse to let Jesus into the hum-drum, messy parts of my day. When things are going great, I pray. When things are falling apart, I pray. When I make bad decisions or slightly aggravating things happen to me, I ignore God until I can start again. 

This is just a theory, but I feel like if I let God into every part of my day, prayed before I gave up on going to the grocery store, prayed before I picked up that bottle of wine, prayed before I ordered take-out that I obviously didn't need, maybe I wouldn't need to skip the grocery story, get a bottle of wine, or order take out. My day falls apart and I go to an easy fix, an easy way to forget my problems. 

God needs to be in the messy parts of life. He doesn't fit into a quiet time or into a life that runs smoothly without Him. God loves me a lot more than I'm giving Him credit for, and I have a feeling I'm hurting Him as much as I'm hurting myself. 

A Prayer for Smoot

Before I start out this blog, I want to assure all of the Smoot-lovers out there that Smoot is perfectly healthy. There have been some recent events that have me thinking about what I want for the end when it comes to Smoot. These are my ramblings dealing with these ideas...

Yesterday, a neighbors dog died. I went to check up on her and she told me her horrid story. She came home and her sweet pup who normally snoozes on the couch or bed was by the back door. She was lying in a puddle of blood and urine, having seizure after seizure. No doubt she was trying to get outside to be obedient. She rushed her to the E.R. (animal version) and they told her that she was blind and it would cost thousands of dollars to keep her alive. This dog was 13 years old and my neighbor chose to euthanize her, which I applaud as a brave decision.

I'm saying all of this because this episode put a terrible fear in my heart. The idea of coming home to Smoot lying in a puddle of blood by the door, trying to be obedient to his last breath, breaks my heart. Smoot will be 8 in March. The average lifespans for English Bulldogs is eight years. While Smoot is healthy and happy, I can't deny that in all likelihood these are his twilight years. I'm praying to God that when I found out something is wrong, it will be in a vet's office. I pray that I will have the strength not to let him live blind, deaf, in pain, scared. I pray that I have the courage to give the ok to end his life. 

When it comes down to it, dogs don't have souls. Their suffering isn't "counted to them as righteousness." The only reason people have to keep terminal pets around is their own selfishness. I pray that I am not one of these people. I'm praying that I'll be able to say goodbye to Smoot in a vet's office, stroking him while he painlessly falls asleep. I'm praying that he never has to suffer. I'm praying that by some grace of God, I'll see him on the other side. 

Here's hoping heaven is better than sex

There is nothing I hate more than being single and wishing I wasn't then when well-intentioned people say "Don't worry, God has someone great in store for you." 

Ok, actually I just lied. I love hearing that, but as soon as they leave the room and I'm back in my messy apartment and my messy life, I wonder how they could possibly say such a thing. I wonder how anyone can be married. 

Another break-up, but fortunately (or unfortunately) this relationship lasted all of 5 days, and we didn't really talk during those 5 days, obviously because he was planning on how to end it. It's sobering, and it leaves me wondering once again why I let myself get excited, hopeful, that somehow this would be the end of my singleness.

This is the part where I'm supposed to say that what I really need is a closer relationship with God, trust him, make him the center of my life and blah blah blah. I know all of that is true, and I know that people say that you can't have a marriage until you've proven yourself trustworthy in your relationship with God. (yes, I actually heard a pastor say that at a wedding.)

I think that's bullshit. Once we get all of our ducks in a row, find complete satisfaction in him, and prove how good we are, then we can be married. If that were true, none would be married. 

Here's the thing, before sin entered the world, before Adam and Eve ate the forbidden fruit, before we had need of a Savior, God said "It is not good for man to be alone." We needed this kind of partnership before Satan had corrupted us and made us aware of our sinful natures. If we needed marriage when we were perfect, how much more do we need it in this messy, fallen world? 

Yet I'm not married. I'm about to be 27 and honestly I'm lonely. This hasn't made me quite desperate yet. I don't hang out at single bars or go out with anyone who asks. I keep my standards pretty high, but I try to be open to as many possibilities as I can. Yet I'm still single. I'm still praying that I won't be. 

Whenever I share my struggle with other women, usually they say something along the lines of "You'll find someone! God made someone just for you." I'm so appreciative for their belief in my man-getting abilities, but I also have to take a shot of something sobering after their words. God did not promise me a husband. 

God promised to be faithful to me, regardless if I was faithful to him. God promised me eternal life. God promised me a lot of things, but he never promised me a marriage, sex, and kids. 

When I look at things objectively, I have to realize that there is a possibility that I'll remain single for the rest of my life. I won't die surrounded by kids and grandkids, but surrounded by dogs and a few people from the nursing home where I spent my twilight years. 

And it sucks. That's all I can say. God knows the desires of my heart, and so far he hasn't answered them the way I want them to be answered. He might give me a husband, and he might not. But he's still God and this life is short. I might die alone at 97 sad and heartbroken. And you know what? That will be ok. I mean sucky, but ok. When I get to heaven and I look back on this camping trip I called life, I don't think I'll regret anything. Can God have something better than marriage, sex, and family in heaven? I'm pretty sure he promised us that heaven will be more than we can ever imagine. 

Frankly, when you get to the point when you realize your most cherished dreams won't come true and you start longing for heaven, you realize you're in a low spot. But isn't that the kind of place God wants us to be in? 

Whenever I'm really lonely and depressed, I imagine life as a camping trip. I freakin hate camping. It's sojourning in hell to me, actually. But I LOVE coming home after camping. I get through camping trips by imagining how great that bubble bath and comfy bed will be. I think this temporary life with these temporary tents are kind of like that. I don't mind doing the dirty work of life, and perhaps even enjoying a sunset or two, when I know I'll be going home soon. 

And we'll all be going home soon. Just one favor, if I die single, can I spend the holidays in heaven with you guys???

Prayer of a Tangled Necklace

This morning I wore a shirt that *required* me to wear this beautiful blue and purple gemstone necklace that I never get to wear. I found it tangled in the midst of several other necklaces. As I started to untangle it, I had a spiritual crisis of sorts.

My time was running low and I really really wanted this necklace. I half laughingly and half seriously said a prayer out loud "God, please help me get this necklace untangled!" As I worked, I went through a spiritual journey.

As I prayed this strange prayer, I started imagining God answering it. What an amazing blog post! I could write about how God answers prayers from His children, even over silly things. Then however, I started wondering if planning a blog post in advance about how God answers prayers might be testing God. Would God help me get my necklace untangled if I wanted to use the story for publicity? I switched my prayer to a prayer of repentance, but asked that God still help me untangle my necklace anyway, because it would look smashing with the shirt I was wearing.

As I continued to work, I thought about how prayer is kind of like a tangled necklace. We have all of these different reasons and motivations and they may or may not hinder us from getting to the purpose of prayer. But does that mean that praying successfully is like showing off a beautiful necklace? Perhaps I went to metaphorical with this.

I continue to untangle. This time my thoughts took a dreaded turn. I started to think about what it would mean if God did help me get this necklace untangled. It would be wonderful, but what does it say about God that He would help me untangle a necklace but not save my dying mother from cancer? I shuddered and kept working.

Do we pray for ourselves? Do we pray for God? Do unanswered prayers bring us faith or do answered prayers do that? Why does God answer some prayers and not others, especially answer prayers that are trivial and not the ones that change lives? Does God really care if I get this necklace untangled? If He does answer it, is He a trivial God?

I got the necklace untangled, but I think I know less about prayer then when I started.