Archive - November, 2011

dear heartbreak [a thank you.]

November 28, 2011 in 20-something troubles, dating, lessons learned, my story with 4 Comments

In light of this week’s American tradition, I have been reflecting on the things I am thankful for. There are the obvious: my job, my family, my friends, my great hair. But some days I like to think outside of the box, and be thankful for those blessings-in-disguise that sneak up on me. Today is one of those days, and I am oh-so-thankful. -Originally published on The Well Written Woman.

 

~~~

Dear Heartbreak,

I have to admit; I never really expected you. Are you always so abrupt? You kind of took the wind out of me. Like that time I was eight and I begged my dad to let me go down the big metal slide at the park, only to fall on my face and stop breathing for two full minutes. Yeah, abrupt like that.

The first time I met you, I thought I was literally going to die. You have this ridiculous ability to scrape away at my soul with what feels like a sheath knife, without even being something physical I can grasp onto. I wish I could grasp onto you and choke the life out of you. Instead, you kind of did that to me. I cried in new ways and I spoke in new terms. I don’t know when I stopped functioning normally, but I know it was sometime during our first encounter. You took part of me that I’m not sure I will ever get back. People call you difficult. It was not difficult to meet you; it was unbearable.

The subsequent times we were able to meet always surprised me. Maybe I’m naïve, but I never knew you were coming to pay me a visit and then BAM! There we were, curled up on the couch watching reruns of When Harry Met Sally all over again. You disguised your visits as coffee dates or midnight walks. You weave yourself in and out of clichés and horrible looking tears. You were there when my friends let me down, or when my family went through hardships. You always show up. You’re faithful like that.

The only thing worse than your presence is your absence. You walk away, and you leave this void of “what am I going to do now?”

I remember meeting you at an airport in the middle of nowhere. As I sat in a chair waiting for my flight, I wept into a napkin and repeatedly asked anyone who was listening, “What am I going to do now?” Then a girl stepped off the terminal and was carrying a bag that had a quote on it, and I felt like someone was talking to me. It said “Bloom where you are planted.”

I used to scream at you and wish you dead. But today as I survey your presence in and out of my life over the last several years, the only phrase that comes to mind is this: Thank you.

Thank you for your lessons; they have shaped my character. Thank you for your pain; it reminds me I am alive. Thank you for your stories; I have used them to touch the lives of countless other women you interact with. And thank you for teaching me that I can survive you; I have a bright future ahead of me. So, for now, we must part ways. I don’t want to see you again ever, though I know that is inevitable. But next time I will be stronger, next time I will be more hopeful. Next time, I plan on kicking your ass.

Sincerely,

Rachel

by his [wounds.]

November 27, 2011 in bible verses, jesus, lessons learned, my story, stories with 2 Comments

As a student leader in college, I was required to attend a month long training at the beginning of every school year. The first 10 days of this training were spent in the outdoors, on a backpacking trip through the Ansel Adams Wilderness in Yosemite, California.

Not only was this leadership position completely unrelated to anything that would have a need for physical training, I myself am not a particularly outdoors-y individual. This is important, dear reader, because you need to have a visual image in your head of an already-awkward girl who is used to the luxuries of air conditioning, flip-flop-friendly sidewalks, and the availability of diet coke at any moment.

Ansel Adams has none of these things.

What could I possibly learn from an experience like this?

The things I bought, did, and read in order to prepare for this trip are pretty much textbook “rookie.” I memorized dumbed-down books on camping, and then I bought everything that the outdoor store had in my size. Underwear that lasts 2 weeks without needing to be washed (um, EW.), wool socks, and upwards of 50 packages of second-skin bandages.

I was padded up, weighed down, and wholly ready for anything that wilderness had waiting for me. I was basically ready to just grin-and-bear-it, and get back to my real life.

During the trip, I avoided sickness by drinking tons of water and swallowing pain pills at the first sign of a headache. I managed to not fall while scaling a mountain, or get eaten by the bears I read about in the guidebooks.

But I did get a blister on my pinky toe. 

Minor injury to most, this little contusion became the bane of that trip for me. It throbbed so painfully that my whole ankle was in agony; I could feel my heartbeat in my heel. Every night, I threw out the old bandage, cleaned out my wound, and wrapped my aching pinky toe with new bandages. I kept it tightly covered up from all of the bacteria and poison hidden in the air that I read all about.

In the middle of the trip, we took a two-day break. Forty-eight hours of undisturbed silence and rest; an intermission to a very exhausting adventure.

Since I wouldn’t be hiking for two days, I was able to take off my very confining and uncomfortable hiking boots. Almost as soon as we stopped to rest, I kicked them off and let my toes feel the cool green grass. I let them soak up the sun until the skin turned pink again. I stared down at them, and saw that little bandage. I remembered the pain that I had been ignoring. It was frustrating that it had been five days and my toe still wasn’t healed. I had been covering it up with all the proper material, drowning it in all the right medications, and putting very little pressure on it. And that silly little toe Just. Wouldn’t. Heal.

I decided to remove all of the wrapping. I wouldn’t be walking on it, so it seemed appropriate for me to let it be. I went to sleep, finally allowing my body to recharge.

The change I saw in the morning was remarkable. Not only had my toe almost completely healed, but the swelling in my ankle was also gone, and the pain had disappeared.

As crazy as I might have sounded, I said something out loud to myself. No one was there to hear me, but no one was there to stop me either, so I just said it.

“Maybe some wounds just need to breathe before they can begin to heal.”

It shocked me how badly I needed to breathe in and out the pain in my heart. I needed to talk about it! I needed to wrestle with the emotions in my heart, I needed to feel the grief in my soul. And I needed to breathe in the peace of forgiveness and grace.

And that’s when I learned about the power of story telling; it heals me.

“But He was pierced for our transgressions, He was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon Him, and by His wounds we are healed.” [Isaiah 53:5]

Christ’s wounds bring peace. And His wounds have taught me how to find healing from my own wounds,

I used to cover up my stories, my truths, my mistakes. I wrapped my broken heart in heavy-duty bandages and ignored the throbbing pain.

I used the heavy medication of rebellion to numb the ache I had in my soul. And the rebellion, the mistakes, the choices – those were not accepted in the small Christian atmosphere I was in. So I didn’t tell anyone; I kept them wrapped up in bandages, suffocated by regret.  I dare not let the words of my story escape into the air that surrounded me. In an effort to bite my tongue, I lost my voice. And I stood on the shaky stones of approval as I hid parts and pieces of the real me.

I did not believe that the air around me was thick with freedom, grace, and the power to change lives.

I kept quiet and pretended that I was the exact same as everyone else.

It is an incredibly sobering moment when you realize that you have been completely blinded by the very spotlight you demanded.

By telling my stories through words on a page, I open myself up, one stitch at a time.

And I just breathe.

10 things for [10 years ago.]

November 19, 2011 in stories with 2 Comments

1.)  It’s not proven yet, but high school is pretty much 100% guaranteed to be awkward. No matter what the current trends are, you will probably look like you don’t know what you are doing in terms of clothes. If you can, figure out how to not care what other people think about your wardrobe choices.

2.)  Your period. It’s coming. It’s weird. It makes you an unjustified nightmare to anyone who crosses you, and also gives you the freedom to consume your body weight in dark chocolate. Just remember that you are laboring for your future children, and that somehow makes it all worth it.

3.)  BUY. TWEEZERS. Sculpted eyebrows know no age, so you better get started. Your pictures in 10 years will thank you.

4.)  Be nice to your parents. They didn’t pray for a daughter who acts like a little shit during her teenage years, and they have put up with enough by now. Pretty soon you’ll be off to college in a state far, far away, wishing you could hug your mom again. So smile when you see them, and don’t tell people they are “ruining my life” just because they won’t let you go to the movies on a school night.

5.)  Apply for college scholarships. Student loans are not free money, and Sallie Mae is not a nice little red-haired girl from Iowa. They will find you, they will destroy you, they will empty your wallets.

6.)  Do not date until you are married. Okay, maybe that’s a little extreme. Don’t date until you are absolutely ready to get dumped. I know that still sounds harsh, but hear me out: it is extremely painful to be vulnerable to someone in a way that lets them in on who you are. Love is emotional, and it should not be awakened before your time has come. The only person that can know that is you. And unfortunately, statistics would argue that whoever you “absolutely have to date right now” is probably not going to be the same person in a few years. And you won’t be the same. So wait until you know you are, before trying to get to know someone else.

7.)  This is the only time your legs will ever look this good. Metabolism only slows down from here, girlfriend. I’m not promoting slut-like behavior or scandalous dress, but you should probably take advantage of cellulite-free thighs.

8.)  Eat your mother’s home cooked meals very slowly, savoring every bite. Pretty soon you’ll have to pay for your own food and let’s be real: you cannot cook to save your life.

9.)  Ask questions of every person you meet. You’ll learn more than you think.

10.) Don’t be afraid of the future. It’s going to be hard, it’s going to be chaotic, it’s going to be awesome. The best is yet to come; live like you love today.

 

~~~

originally published on the well written woman. 

five [mistakes] i’ve made in dating.

November 14, 2011 in stories with 1 Comment

this week on the well written women, i confess some of my past dating experiences and how i’ve learned from them. please tell me i’m not the only one who has messed up dating a time or two…

~~~~

This week I got an email from a young lady who asked the following: What are some mistakes you made in past dating relationships that you’ve learned from?

My initial response: How much time do you have?

Then I came up with a “Top Five” list. It’s kind of ridiculous that I’ve made enough mistakes to actually have a list. If you “control + F” the phrase “oops” onto the archives of my life, you will probably get 1,000 results. BUT I believe in finding the good amongst the gross; hopefully this helps some of you avoid making the same mistakes I did.

1)     Compromising myself. This one is numero uno because it is most important. Women are [usually] born with nurturing, compassionate, caring spirits. We love to please, we love to be accepted, we love to care. This sometimes works against us when we find Mr. Not Right But Still Really Awesome. We too often martyr our own expectations in a relationship because “he’s a really good guy” and we forget what it is that we stand for. I did this over and over again, and each time I got my heart broken because he ended up being morally different than me. And every time I coaxed myself out of a break-up, I vowed to “never do that again.” Pieces of me – some of the most important pieces of me – eroded away slowly at the hand of someone who tried to change me. Ladies, do not compromise yourself for anyone who can’t support and uplift who you are. You are already “significant” without an “other”; you shouldn’t need to change for anyone.

2)     Forgetting my girls. I’m sure you all have had that friend who gets a boyfriend and then goes “POOF!” That was me. I still feel bad that I ditched my very best friends for a dumb boy. No boy is worth sacrificing female relationships for. In fact, I would say that female relationships make you a better girlfriend/fiancé/wife. We need women to talk to and process everything with. I always consider my best friends a “buffer” when it comes to the ridiculous things I think I have to say to my boyfriend. They always talk me off the cliff so that I don’t unleash ALL the crazy onto him. They help me see the bigger picture and they validate my feelings while not letting me believe lies. Don’t forget your girls; you need them more than you know.

3)     Ignoring red flags. This is a big one. If you feel a tug in the pit of your stomach that tells you something isn’t right, then something probably isn’t right. And that something is probably a big something. I once didn’t question the fact that the guy I was seeing never let me come see his house, even after months of dating. I felt that tug, but I stifled it with all of the justifications that I made for him in my head. I’m pretty smart and I can convince myself of anything. So I talked my way out of it and I kept on dating him. And once I met his live-in girlfriend, that tug in my stomach felt like a cannonball wound.

4)     Airing out dirty laundry. It took me a long time to learn how to respect my boyfriend in his absence. The answer is simple; don’t talk bad about him. Ever. Even when you’re super mad because OH-EM-GEE HE DIDN’T CALL ME BACK YET, stick with the “if you can’t say anything nice” model. Nothing hurts a man more than disrespect; it is at his core to desire to be respected. As I said before, we women need to talk and process things. This is fine, but it can be done without portraying your man in a bad light. He deserves to be well-liked and well-respected amongst your friends and family, especially since you like and respect him. He deserves to never be slandered by your tongue.

5)     Using him to heal my oh-so-wounded soul. A boy is many things, but he should never be a band-aid to your deep, underlying issues. Singleness is one of the most powerful medicines in the universe. It’s like grape cough syrups. Tastes like crap, makes your world look funny, but boy does it make you feel like a new woman! I used to hate being single. I hated the way people looked at me like I had a terminal disease. So instead of breathing in the vapors of Singleness, I dated boys out of desperation. I needed a cure to my loneliness so instead of becoming self-sufficient and independent, I became clingy and awkward. I filled my mind with thoughts of boys who were “meh” at best, and I pretended I didn’t feel the ache in my soul for something more fulfilling. Many a boy got injured on my path to self-discovery, and that’s an awful thing to live with as well. Things finally tilted in such a way that I literally could not have gotten a date if I truly was dying, and I spent some time discovering me, figuring out who I am. I’m still awkward, for the record. But I’m less clingy. It’s important to find out who you are, my dears. And it’s even more important that you do it starting now.

 

I wish this list ended at five, but you get my drift. I wouldn’t be who I am in large part without some of these mistakes, but I sure would be a lot skinnier. (I eat when I mess up. It’s kind of my thing.) So please, if you’re making any or all of these mistakes, you are not dating correctly. And dating’s like racecar driving; you should probably at least attempt to do it correctly before you spin out of control.

diagnosis: [single.]

November 8, 2011 in 20-something troubles, dating, lessons learned, my story with 8 Comments

this is one from a loooooong time ago. can i just say it is very refreshing to read back and see how i used to feel, and to see how God earnestly pursued me and then provided for me? He gives and He takes away, and both are blessings.

note: i am not suddenly single. still madly in love with my super great boyfriend. fear not. 

xxo, rachel

~~~

The thing about being single is that sometimes, it feels like a disease.

Like you stepped in a puddle of bacteria-filled water and now you have this rash that has spread from your ankle to your hip and everyone is able to see that there’s something seriously wrong with you. You scratch in a subtle way and make sure to keep your mind off of it, but it’s still there; it’s not going away.

And sometimes it feels as if it’s not only this topical disease that is itchy and raw and unbelievable obvious, but it’s also untreatable. Facial expressions darken in pity once the singleness is revealed, like it’s a life sentence. So we mask it like it’s really not a big deal at all, just something tiny and probably temporary.

We cover it up with ointments and clothing and disguise it as something that doesn’t bother us, when actually it is incredibly painful, all of the time.

And it feels like it will never go away.

And oh, the loneliness. It aches in a deep place in your ribcage; a pain that you cannot soothe. And is it just me, or does anyone else feel like everyone around you is getting engaged? “Ring By Spring” is a real, vicious, neck-breaking hurricane. And it makes that pain even more deep.

Being single can ache in the worst kind of lonely, because you can be with hundreds of friends and still feel completely alone.

For the longest time I was afraid that I was broken. I thought that I had screwed up too much to ever be loved, and I feared that I would never find anyone who could love me. I felt like I was paying for all of my past mistakes. As if my struggles with selfishness and idolatry and sexuality had now tarnished my soul and deemed me unworthy of the joys of being in love.

I equated relationship with reward. Thus, I felt that singleness was a punishment.

Like being a sinner made me unfit for what the Gospel means: abundant life.

To all my single ladies dancing around in black leotards, listen up: being single is not a punishment.

And being a sinner makes you completely fit for the Gospel. And “abundant life” does not mean, “having a boyfriend.”

Being single means I strive to make much of Jesus in every thought of my heart, through every word on my tongue, and with every step of my path.

And when I finally get to taste the sparkly waters of marriage, it will still mean that I strive to make much of Jesus with every thought of my heart, through every word on my tongue, and with every step of my path. I’ll have someone else around to do it with, yes. But my objective remains: to let Jesus reign in every moment.

You see, our task never changes, single or dating or engaged or married.

It’s hard to live obediently right now, as a single woman who sins far too often and believes far too many lies. I am by human nature, a sinner. I struggle daily to fight against the desires of my flesh, and to live for Christ rather than myself.

I can’t imagine how much harder that fight will be once I am a sinner living with another sinner.

But whatever the season, I live to walk in obedience with a God who created everything and knows how it all works. A God who loves me, as I am. Whether I have a plus one or not, He absolutely adores me.

And there is absolutely nothing to fear when you are loved by the Creator of all.

“Perfect love casts out fear.” [1 John 4:18]

I misread that once. I thought it said that when I finally found my Say Anything kind of love, I wouldn’t be afraid anymore.

But that’s not it at all.

There is only One who will every love me perfectly; the only One who is faithful all of the time. And once I trust in that love, all my fear is gone. The deepest fight of my every day single life is to cling to this promise: His love casts out all of my fears.

My fears about not being good enough, about not ever finding a man to love me, about being too broken for what the gospel means: He takes those fears and tells them to shove it, and I get to fall into the pillows of grace.

So yeah, maybe it’s hard to keep trudging along as a fifth wheel, and it gets redundant not having an excuse to straighten my hair or skip my way to class. But I am not afraid. And when the loneliness sets in and my mind and heart are throwing lies back and forth to each other, I am reminded that being so close to pain is a sign that I have come so close to Jesus that He could literally kiss me. And I dare not let the fear seep in too deeply, lest I forget the joys of His perfect love.

 

become [real.]

November 8, 2011 in stories with 0 Comments

“You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t often happen to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real, you can’t be ugly, except to people that don’t understand.” – Margery Williams, The Velveteen Rabbit

anniversary: the [celebration] of an event.

November 1, 2011 in bible verses, jesus, lessons learned, my story, stories with 6 Comments

One year ago today I was wearing high heels, a nametag, and felt like I had drank a bucketful of butterflies as I started my first day at a new job in a new state in what felt like a new life.

Even today, I cannot believe I moved myself halfway across the country.

I didn’t know anyone in the great state of Texas before packing up my Nissan Sentra full of my entire life and settling down here. To be honest, I don’t know why I applied for this job. Don’t get me wrong, everything about it is a perfect fit for me. But there is no way I would have cognitively applied for a job in Texas. I hated Texas. I am a Californian to my bone and I never would have thought I’d live anywhere like here.

But I am here. And it was probably one of the best ideas I ever accidentally had.

Before I came here, I had one of the most tumultuous years I’d ever had. I spent the entire year working at a bar that I was overqualified to work at; I spent my days mopping up smashed olives and polishing wine glasses. And I spent my days applying for job after job that I was under-qualified for. I soon realized, there are a LOT of jobs I am under-qualified for. I reflected on the year in this very blog, one year ago. In fact, it was that post that catapulted this entire blog. I love looking back. Years have a crazy significance to me, and I don’t exactly know why. But I love being able to pause, and take stock, and see how much has happened and how much I’ve learned.

So, 2011. Wowzas. What a year! My first professional job in a field that I actually enjoy. I have had 365 days of challenge, frustration, guidance, learning, growing, and trusting. I’ve been to more meetings than I can count, written more student reports than I ever thought my little hand could write, and become a supervisor to more people than I probably should be responsible for. I’ve calmed students down from tear-streaked panic attacks, held a flashlight for police during drug tests, and  told more and more of my own story than I even knew was there. I have more than a dozen student leaders who I get the pleasure of supervising and I see myself in them more than they probably realize.

Most people get into this particular field because they want to make a difference; they want to bless the students. I entered into this job no different, but I can tell you that one year later I am the one who is blessed instead. They have made a difference in my life, and I am so grateful.

I love working in student life, I love the busy-ness. I love wearing jeans to work and baking cupcakes for staff meetings. I love drowning in college drama and living around people who average 3 hours of sleep a night. They keep me young and remind me to live in this moment, because we aren’t guaranteed any others.

I also started this journey as a single, bitter, giving-up-on-love kind of girl. I thought that by dating everyone in LA, I could intelligently decide that there was no one left who deserved my trust. I decided to focus on my career, because my career would never wake up in the morning and decide it didn’t love me anymore.

And now I’m in love. 365 days later, I can honestly say that I’ve found myself a good man. He is kind, he is patient, he is goofy, he is strong. He loves me in a way that makes me brave, in a way that makes me understand love. He puts up with my tears, listens to my dreams, and helps me process the crazy life I lead. He’s my best friend and the counterpart to my very existence. And he has blue eyes and dimples. Come on, God. You really one-upped Yourself. My super great boyfriend might not be fully aware of how incredible he is, but I plan on showing him for a very, very long time.

[Today]: 11/1/11

[Hebrews 11:1]: “Now faith is being sure of what we hope for; certain of what we do not see.”

My hope in God is different now; I trust Him in a different way. It’s a hope without the jittery feeling in my stomach. You know what I’m talking about? Like when you hope your name is next at a restaurant, or when you hope that you got an A on a paper. This hope is different than that; it’s steady and strong. It is sure.

I recommend that all of you start over from scratch at least once in your life. Not because you’ll land the perfect job, not because you’ll finally get a boyfriend, not because the humidity is actually really good for your skin. Yes, those things happened to me. But that might not be your story. And you shouldn’t live your life in a way that is desperate to have some crazy interesting story; you should live your life so closely knit to the power of the story that is already true in you, that you cannot help but burst at the seams with excitement to be alive. You are the most fascinating thing in the world, and the depths of your experiences are wildly inspirational. Live your story.

Watch God take the gross and make it good. And watch the world spin madly on.