what's in store

I have this list, and it keeps growing. Mostly it grows at night, when I can't sleep. As I lie awake thinking, my mind, and my heart think up dreams I never knew I actually had, and suddenly, they become a priority. So I have this list, and I’m convinced that it’s not just for fun, but this list is a necessity for my life.

It's a list of "I wants..." I don't know if they'll ever be fulfilled, but they're fun to think about, and hope for as I try to figure out what I'm actually going to do with my life...

write a book I really like books. I'm convinced that I'll use every last dime that I have at Barnes & Noble. About a month ago, this one popped into my head. Ever since I could read, I've loved it, but I'd never dreamed of writing, until one day, I just wanted to...I have no idea where it came from and I have no topic in mind, just this desire…

own my own bookstore I already have all the plans drawn up in my head. It will be a bookstore/coffee shop with big lush couches that you sink into, curl up with a cup of tea and a blanket and lose yourself in a book. It will have beautiful bookshelves with ladders like in "Beauty and the Beast" and only the best books--new and used; it will have book clubs and meeting places, live music and art...maybe even art shows. And, in my imagination, it has brick walls...I don't know why, it just does. I know I have a lot of friends that don't necessarily like to read, but it's okay, you're invited too.

write a song my friends do this all the time and make it look so easy, but I haven’t quite figured it out yet. Maybe eventually.

fall in love and I want to remember every single detail from the first awkward moments to the cute things that are ridiculous to remember, but that I've absolutely freaked out about. Maybe this is too girly, or too old fashioned, but I want to be pursued; I want to scrapbook about it and write letters and get really excited about things that are so trivial, but so fun.

get a new last name shocking, I know…I want to be married.

get married well, yes, there’s a difference. I want to be married, but I also want to get married…I want to have the tents and the lanterns; it has to be outdoors, in the countryside or on top of some beautiful rolling hills. I can't give away too many details because I'm actually afraid that somebody will steal my ideas...

learn I want to major and minor in a billion things because I can't make up my mind. I don't want people to ask me what my plans are because, to be completely honest, I don't have any. I'm learning to embrace the uncertainty...I just want to keep learning...

teach I want to Teach for America. Or I want to Teach for any country, really.

babies I want to take care of babies. I want to go abroad with no return ticket; I want to love people. And I don't know what that means, but in my mind, it means hugs and laughter and holding babies and talking with young girls, and reminding people of their inherent worth and dignity.

find adventures I want to be adventurous, all the time. I want to stay up late and get up early, and learn to not be tired. I want to go sailing, and scuba diving, kayaking and river rafting, rock climbing and skydiving. I never want my life to be mundane--I want it to be spontaneous and ridiculous. I want to go whale watching and backpacking; I want to go to the opera, learn how to cook, take salsa lessons, make art, create stuff, explore different cultures and experience every facet of life.

I just want to live the best life that I can and I think that the ever-growing list is helping me get there.

the curse of being in love

Love is a funny thing. There are so many facets to love, so many qualities to it that we could just never understand. I feel like God has been teaching me about how to love forever. I don't know if I'll ever truly get it. On the opposite end of the spectrum, fear is a funny thing, too. I mean, it's really not that funny...it's more obnoxious than anything. And yet, even being fully aware of this, how often do we allow fear to control our lives, to dictate our relationships, to decide how we feel and how we act, to keep us from being open, from being vulnerable, from taking risks?

"Above all else, guard your heart, for it is the wellspring of life."
Proverbs 4:23

How much guarding have we been doing? How many walls have we put up around our hearts, our source of life, our one source of true connection with others, with God?

I get nervous about this, because I am continually learning about how important our hearts are, how much God cares about my heart, and how God is going to use my heart in His Kingdom; I get nervous because there is a difference between being careful with your heart, and being closed with your heart; I get nervous because I've put up so many walls to keep the bad out, which is important, but without even knowing it, these same protective walls have kept so much else out--so many potentially great things, so many people, and I think, sadly, that I've even locked God out of my heart on occasion.

And I think that if our guarding, our protective barriers, have the ability to keep things out, they also have the ability to turn on us, and destroy our ability to let our hearts do their jobs: to give life.

If we are so busy fearing and avoiding the unknown, the risky, the things that have the potential to hurt, we can't see that these same things, these scary things, are the same things that God would ask us to grab onto, and to run towards with our entire lives, with all of our hearts. God's greatest commandment to the world is simple, and terrifying: love. everyone.

Love is this incredible gift, this wonderfully beautiful ideal, that we are to share with everybody- friends, family, neighbors, spouses, even the people that we've barely just met. But I'm just going to be honest, it is scary. It is so vulnerable, and so naked. But it is so necessary. When we offer our hearts, hearts that have been redeemed and refined by Jesus, we offer life, and, I'm slowly learning, it's worth the risk. And when I say slowly, I really really mean it. I'm talking like a turtle's pace...

It's scary like the feeling when you move from having a crush on somebody to actually liking them and it moves from just being fun to being real; it's scary like when you actually start caring about a friend or a particular situation--your heart breaks when their heart breaks, you are burdened for them, you can no longer separate yourself from them...it's no longer just about you.

With all of this guarding, all of this closed-off-ness, it is so easy to confuse our fear with God's voice, or God's will. Where God would say, "Yes, open your heart to love and be loved," we interpret our fears and doubts as God saying, "No, not now, not yet..." or as God saying that we are no longer responsible for His greatest commandment, which, after writing it, just seems ridiculous.

Sometimes the risk is minimal, and that's awesome because it's not really that scary and it's really no biggie--maybe you just make a phone call or send a little text message. Sometimes the risk is far from minimal, and it's painful, and hard, and it's the best expression of love that we can muster up, and it gives life, and hope. But if nobody can see your heart, can feel your love, and experience the life that you have to give, then what is the point?

I'm going to steal a quote from "To Write Love on Her Arms:"

"Love is that simple answer to so many of our hardest questions. Don Miller says we're called to hold our hands against the wounds of a broken world, to stop the bleeding...Perhaps God would ask us to be that rescue, to be His body, to move for things that matter...I might be simple but more and more, I believe God works in love, speaks in love, is revealed in our love. We are only asked to love, to offer hope to the many hopeless...We won't solve all mysteries and our hearts will certainly break in such a vulnerable life, but it is the best way. We were made to be lovers bold in broken places, pouring ourselves out again and again until we're called home."

You know those people in your life that are just really really great at loving people, and you just don't really even understand? It just doesn't make sense because they seem so courageous and brave and still so whole, not broken, which is what I think we all fear. I think when you're seeking God and loving how He says to love and living in His will, then He takes care of the rest. If you can believe it (sometimes I can't), He cares more about your heart than you do. And, even better, perfect Love drives out all fear. whoa.

dance me to the end of love

It's weird that Valentine's Day makes us think so much about love. Not so much about love, more like love in it's Hallmark form: Who loves me enough to send me chocolate and flowers? Because that is obviously the epitome of love.

But it's almost Valentine's Day, and thus, every girl's mind is spinning, wondering if the newest crush will bear any fruit this year, if finally this year is the year that we have a Valentine. I'm guilty of this--and please don't pretend like you aren't also. It's okay--crushes are fun, flowers are great, chocolate is the best. We want to feel that spark, those butterflies, that feeling of being loved.

It's not that I want love just for the sake of having a Valentine or whatever cliche things come along with "love," it's just this love thing, not even romantic love--if you really experience it--it's amazing; it's redemptive and powerful; listening to stories about true love gives me chills and inspires me; it's God's greatest gift, and it's all that He is. No wonder we are all searching for it. No wonder we all long for it so badly. The amazing thing is that when we find love with one another, we find a piece of the heart of God. And that is Truth, even if you don't believe in God. But it's not a Valentine's Day thing. It's not even a boyfriend/girlfriend thing. It's just a life thing. What if we really understood what love was? That it wasn't about making ourselves feel good or about getting presents and fancy jewelry and dates...it's about so much more than that--it's about the heart of the Father.

Am I the only one that feels more lovey-dovey on Valentine's Day, even in my singledom? It's like the whole world, for one day, wants, if not to be in love, then, to BE love. If only every day could be Valentine's Day.

The ability to love is such a gift from God...if only that's where we sought to find love, if only that were where we found our identity. If only we acted out of His love and His heart every day, not just one day of the year (well, two, counting Christmas).

I vote that we reclaim Valentine's Day--Let's not glorify St. Valentine--he didn't invent love...it's not about getting chocolates or Harry Potter Valentines (even though I kind of want those....)...it's about Love. I mean, Love as God Loves kind of love. It might be so much easier to send a bouquet of roses, but Love, I mean real Love is waaaaaaay better than a bouquet...but it's also way harder. Love, I'm learning, means taking risks, being vulnerable, being open and honest; it means stepping outside of ourselves into something bigger and something greater--it's eternally satisfying, and it doesn't just come around once a year.

Eventually, there will be a person that gives you the sparks and the butterflies, but you don't have to wait for Valentine's Day or for that one person to find Love. It's already there...it's just waiting for you.

you got growin' up to do

My new favorite thing to do is watch the look on my friends' faces as their phones ring and light up, saying "Incoming Call: Home." In junior high and even high school, that was a dreaded phone call, a sure sign of conflict, of missed curfews, of expressed anger over uncleaned rooms or unhad family dinners.

Now, that phone call brings the opposite reaction. My favorite, most treasured calls are with my parents, either of them, both of them. After a long, trying day, I love to hear a familiar, encouraging voice, full of wisdom and always, always, always, love. After a great day, I love to tell them my stories, my dreams, my newest plan; I love to bounce ideas off of them; I love to talk to them like I would talk to a friend, because that's what my parents are. We've crossed that line between parent and friend, and for the most part, we're staying there.

I don't know exactly when it happened that I send more text messages to my parents than anyone else, even my best friends. I'm not really sure when I figured out that staying home at night to hang out with my parents could be more fun than going out with my friends. I'm not quite sure when I stopped talking to my friends about my latest crush, and instead, told my mom. I don't know when it changed from me barely making my 12:00 curfew to me being home at 10:45, just because...

I can't figure out how it happened, it just sort of did. And I don't think it's just me...believe me, I've noticed it in my friends, too, at school and at home. I've noticed how my friends look forward to conversations with their parents, to being picked up at the airport by their parents; I've noticed that I'm not the only one with a text message inbox full of messages from "Mom" and "Dad;" I've noticed the love and appreciation with which guys address their moms, the same love and respect that girls give their dads. I've noticed that even on some perfectly good hang out nights, sometimes, we'd rather be with our parents. I've noticed that it's now hard to discern whether people are talking to their parents on the phone, or their best friend.

I think being apart, going away to school, made me realize how great my parents are, how much I love and appreciate them, and how much they must love and care for me, especially for putting up with all of my crap, my emotional days, my constantly changing plans, my inability to make decisions, my days of multiple phone calls, my days of no phone calls at all. The thing is, I'm growing up, and I don't need the authority figure as much as I need the supportive wisdom of a friend....and that's what I'm getting, and I'm loving it.

So, thanks, parents. I mean, I'll probably text, call, email you, or all three, before you read this, but I'm glad you're my parents, and now I can say, I'm glad you're my friend.

lullaby

Bedtime is, by far, my favorite time of the day. Living at school with my three roommates, we usually hang out and watch tv, eat and talk about our days, then we retreat in pairs into our own bedrooms. We just recently rearranged our room, so it feels even more like home than ever. We get all cozied up and crawl into bed, like we're going to sleep, but that's never really how it happens.

My roommate is a science major, so she usually has a physics book or a biology lab manual in bed with her--she is actually taking classes towards a major (like hard classes), so she really has to work. I, on the other hand, have no major and no intent to declare anytime soon. I'm also surprisingly talkative at night, so I slowly coerce her into talking with me about any and everything.

We talk about boys like we're in the 7th grade--which is great because we weren't friends in 7th grade, so we're really just making up for lost time. We laugh so much and tell the ridiculous stories of our daily lives--the creepo guys who sit next to us in class...our crazy professors...how good lunch at the caf was today....what major I'm thinking about today...

But it always comes back to the same thing--we talk about our futures, our dreams, our fears, what excites us and what scares the crap out of us...we've laughed together (so much), we've cried together, we've missed home together, we've talked about God, challenged each other, prayed together, we have and continue to experience the best, and worst parts of life together. We've annoyed each other, though we'd never admit it. We've lived together and we even still like each other. It's amazing.

She even just told me that if my husband left me at Big Bear because he thought I was a lesbian, she would totally come get me. (My Fair Brady reference...) Now that is friendship.

The best thing is that we're never fake with each other because this is real and life is real and everything we're feeling is real, so we have to be real, too.

signing off, karagirl.

transparent

Can I be transparent with you? I just want you to know--I'm really good at faking it. I'm really good at pretending that I have it all together, that I am strong, that I have it all figured out. Even in the hard stuff, I was, or so I thought, strong enough to face it, strong enough to deal with it on my own. In my mind, weakness is not an option. I want Jesus to be Lord of my life, so long as I can still maintain control, as long as my strength is enough.

I think God laughs at my idea of strength. Or maybe He doesn't laugh--maybe He is so deeply saddened by it. Maybe He is so saddened that I think so often that I don't need Him, or that I don't deserve His strength, or that His strength isn't enough. I think He's even more sad when He tries and tries to make me understand the easy way, and I just don't get it. And then sometimes, you have to learn things the hard way. Sometimes your world crashes down around you; everything that you thought you'd figured out falls apart; everything that you thought you knew about yourself somehow just doesn't work anymore. And the only thing that works is Jesus, as if that is a surprise.

The only thing that works is Jesus.

Always. That is always true. Other things may work for a while, other things might hold up for a short period of time, but Jesus is eternal, and Jesus is a rock. The only thing that works is Jesus. Period.

2nd corinthians 12:9&10 "'my grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me. that is why, for Christ's sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. for when I am weak, then I am strong."

that is so freeing. things can be hard, and it's okay to say that. and it's okay to rejoice that Jesus is strong enough for our every need. for our EVERY need. He wants to be healer, provider, rescuer, redeemer, the God of our past, present, and future. He wants us to be free.

what am i to you?

I've come to a point in my life where I have realized, and maybe nobody else has, that I am not who I was, and that I am not yet who I want to be. It didn't happen overnight--it's been happening for awhile now, I just put it into words.

This feeling--unreality, lack of identity, yet itching to become this woman of my dreams, of your dreams, of God's dreams--is, unfortunately, months old. It must feel like the Israelites felt as they wandered through the desert for 40 years, waiting for the promise of God, which always comes, because He is always faithful. But it's been months filled with questions and anxiety:

"Where did I go?"; "Am I making this up?"; "Am I actually just crazy?"; "Where do I go from here?", and more pressing..."What do I do with my life?"

It's the question that forms our identity, our silly, earthly idea of an identity. It's like my whole identity, in my eyes, was based off of what I did or did not do. Going to school, I was either defined by my major or my weekend plans--and I don't have either, so I'm kind of screwed there.

I think mostly I wanted to look like a winner. I wanted to be perceived as someone who was going places, who was passionate and loving (someone who didn't just say that, but actually lived that), who had it all figured out--everyone loves those kind of people--I love those kind of people. I surround myself with those kind of people--those people are inspiring and demand my respect and admiration. Those people have awesome conversations about their plans and their goals. My conversations are a bit more boring:
"What is your major?"- I don't know.
"What do you want to do?" -I don't know.
"What do you care about?" -People.

Wow. Inspiring.

The thing is, I used to have it all figured out. I was comfortable with who I was--I knew God had plenty of work to do on me, but I liked who I was and where I was taking me. That's who I was, and am not anymore. I think God had to take it all away. I think He had to take away any false notion of who I was or who I thought He wanted me to be. He had to take away my plans, and even some of my dreams. He had to put me in this little cocoon, and I had to wait it out. He had to do all that, and then honestly, really just replace it with Him. He had to do it. I would have never, ever, ever in a million years done that on my own.

And then when you find out that you have nothing defining you, except that you are a Daughter of the King, you eventually realize that that's a pretty cool identity; that's a pretty cool foundation--it's promising--more promising than anything I would've come up with on my own.

I do have dreams, and goals, and ideas--sometimes they are overwhelming. And they don't really fit into the "college plan." So I'm in this place, and I'm sucking every piece of knowledge that I can out of it, I'm volunteering, I'm trying my best to love people like Jesus would, and to regain a sense of identity.

And I'm itching. I'm itching because I know that thing that makes us, any of us, good, is Jesus. And that's the one thing that I know for certain I have. And I'm itching because these dreams or wishes or ideas that I have (I can't tell you what they are--that would ruin the surprise), I have to believe are a gift from Jesus, and will eventually be fulfilled by Him.

It's just this waiting time, where I'm wondering what defines me, what is taking me from who I am into who I am going to be.
And it's God. And I'm getting there.

cold tangerines

I'm reading this book right now called "Cold Tangerines," by Shauna Niequist. It's one of those books that I just found while I was strolling through the bookstore. I was having a rough day, to say the least, and I came across this book. "Cold Tangerines: Celebrating the extraordinary nature of everyday life." Well, I'd been having a hard time doing exactly that, and I can't lie....the cover of the book was bright orange, and the title just connected with me (See Post: Mangoes)...I desperately needed a pick-me-up, so I bought it. And then I left it on the shelf. It's this weird thing I do.

Anyways, I found other forms of pick-me-ups--conversations with my dad, playing cards with my mom, laughing hysterically with my best friends, late night drives to donut wheel--and forgot about the book until I got back down to school. Yesterday, I was utterly exhausted from the week, from studying, from working out, from everything, so I took this book with me and I got into the bathtub. That's the best. Reading a book in the bath while listening to music is up there on my "all time favorite things to do list." Last night was no exception.

So this book is a collection of short stories from her life, and the one that really hit me was called "Swimming," and it was about friendship. I don't know if you are blessed with really incredible friends, but I am. I really am. The story talked about the importance of friendship, how friendship takes risk and how it is such a pure form of love.

"Maybe some of what we're doing here is representing the goodness and love of God in tangible ways. You're showing that love to the people in your life and then sometimes they're showing it to you, and when your friend isn't going to make it to the edge of the pool, you jump in with your clothes on and swim next to her."

I mean, wow. How beautiful is that. I was so excited and so touched by this story, I got out of the bathtub and ran to my beautiful roommate and forced her to let me read it to her. I don't know if she loved it as much as I did, but I had to read it to her. I had to read it to her because, and this is absolutely undebatable, we have wonderful friends. Friends who would forget their own plans and jump in with their most expensive clothes on to swim with us, to make sure we don't drown; friends who hug and love and are some of the more affectionate and loving people you'll ever meet; friends who let you come over just to get some encouragement and a hug; friends who you laugh with for literally hours and hours; friends who make you funnier, make you better; friends who forget their sleep schedule just to make sure you're okay; friends who get you even when you don't say anything; friends who pray instead of talk; friends who uplift and challenge us.

I don't know how many friends I've swam with...I'd like to think I've gotten wet a few times, but I know that my friends have swam with me countless times, and I think we've been doing a lot of swimming recently. Apparently the swimming is good for you...and it's really great to swim together.....together makes all the difference. Probably without even realizing it, these friends of mine have swam with me, and then they've dragged me out of the pool, given me a towel and a change of clothes and the encouragement and motivation to keep going.

mango tango

It's really hard to find the perfect mango. Like really hard. I would know, I'm a mango enthusiast. I love mangoes. "A mango a day keeps the doctor away," right? I mean, they're so good. A lot of people don't really like mangoes, which is sad to me...I totally feel like they're missing out. But I really love them. And let me just tell you, it's hard to find a good one.

Sometimes you pick it up cause it looks ripe, and it feels ripe, and it smells ripe, and then the anticipation of eating the mango builds because you just know, if this mango is ripe, man, it's gonna be good. And then it's not. It's too tart, or too hard. But you suck it up and eat it anyways.

Sometimes you pick it up, and it doesn't look ripe at all. It's still green, and hard, and doesn't smell anything like Hawaii, but it's the last thing in the apartment to eat, and you're hungry and don't want to walk to the caf, so you eat it. And it's okay. It's juicy enough and sweet enough...it's enjoyable, though you know it's not the best mango in the bunch.

Sometimes you pick it up. You really don't know what to expect. With all these mango mishaps, it's easy to become weary. But you start peeling, and you can just tell. This is it. This is THE mango. You peel faster and faster cause you just can't wait. It's juicy and lush, the perfect shade of orangeish-yellow...you've seen this before...it's the perfect mango. It kind of just melts in your mouth. It's fruit, so there is absolutely no guilt involved with eating something so sweet. (Some days I even eat two!) So it's good....and if you eat it first thing in the morning, like I like to do, it kind of sets the stage for your whole day. Weird that a fruit has so much influence over my day.

Some days are hard though, and I think God knows that we just need the perfect mango. That's what I like to think of mangoes as. You might start thinking I'm a freak right now, but seriously. It's like God is giving me a little gift...a little reminder of His love. He uses the weirdest things in my life. Sometimes it's people, sometimes it's circumstance, sometimes it's fruit. And I love that. I love that I never know what to expect. I love that when I pray, "God, I really need to feel Your love for me today," I know I will, I just have no idea how It's going to come. And I love that today, it came in the form of a perfect mango.

Also, could the mango be a metaphor for something else :) Yes, I think so....and believe me, I have a lot to say about that, too. We'll get there eventually.

the first song

Well, I actually can't believe I'm making a blog. I always love reading other people's blogs, and here I am, finally making my own. Is that weird? I kind of think it is. I actually really think it is, but, oh well, here I am, nonetheless.

This is more for me than anybody else. If you happen to get some great insight about life from my blog, yay! But really, it just seems like a really fun, easy way to say what I want to say. And I have a lot to say. So, for the next week, there's probably going to be at least...i don't know...30 or so posts...(not true) then I'll probably get bored and stop this whole "blogging" thing, partly cause I have nothing more to say, partly cause I'm really afraid of internet stalkers.

Anyways, here goes :)