Life Wasting and Chosen Foolishness

Lately I’ve been trying to keep myself from facebooking before I fall asleep. I got into the nasty habit of stalking other people’s profiles as a way of numbing my brain to reality. For no reason outside of foolishness did I start up this poor tendency but it sure did take a toll on my desire to pray; unfortunately the prayerlessness of my heart is quick to affect my love for Christ and I am willingly blinded to my reliance on Him. How heartbreaking it is to know that I am more accustomed to my obedience to destructive rubbishness than I am to fight for purity. My entire flesh desires the comfort of weakness as though it were more beneficial than striving for godliness.

For a couple weeks or so I fought to intently pray before falling asleep but last night I failed. I snuggled up into the multiple layers of my bed’s blankets and began the two hours of life-wasting-sleeplessness. And I knew that as I continued staring off into the status updates of my cyber friends I was fighting to forget the blasted conviction I’d been currently feeling. Sound it out with me: IIIDDIIIOOOTTT. That is what I love to be.

Oh Jesus, when I feel the weightiness of my soul’s weakness, help me fight to know you and to run to your scriptures, being convinced of the beauty of your truth, just as Colossians 1:13 says. Continue to grow my heart to desire you more than myself and to know in the depths of my being that you are better than my failure. Give me the peace of knowing that though I was once alienated, you have reconciled me to yourself and I have been graciously given the ability to grow in love for you. Help me fight for you more so than I fight for myself. I’ve been blessed with the understanding of such death; I need you, Father, to sanctify me into the servant who considers that death to be tasteless.

"Get Out of The Bitter Barn and Come Play in the Heyy!"

Yesterday I woke up to a voicemail from my boss' number. But it was not by boss. Instead, a gentleman who wasn’t so pleasant boldly informed me that if the text messages I’d sent him were intentional spam then the Communication Board (or whatever terminology he used), who apparently look at “this kind of thing” very intently, would take harsh action against me. I got a new phone because my old one was incapable of responding obediently, to say the least; because of it's inadequacies, I had to manually transfer my contacts from the old to the new. The keys of my new cell are tiny and my fingers aren’t so I must have confused one digit with another, inputting the incorrect number for what I thought was my boss’. Within a two week period I had sent two simple text messages, asking who September’s team member of the month was voted to be for a duty I perform at work. According to Voicemail Jerk (I could not understand his real name because of poor communication skills), this was an inappropriate message. Whatever happened to a quick reply, affirming that I had the wrong number? Some people, let me tell ya…

After venting my frustration to Morgan she shared how quick things like this ruin her entire day. “Oh, dear,” I thought. I hadn’t wanted this grumpy fellow to affect the rest of my awakedness as I had a day planned for newly blonded hair and hangin’ with a cute babe at the precious home of Melina Dennis. Morgan’s desire to pray for me was that which Christ used to soften my heart. How beautiful God’s graciousness is. I am thankful for lovely ladies who care about my heart and even that my day might be joyful rather than dark because I am quick to allow myself to revel in that darkness. God is incredibly good to use necessary means to call me out of it.

Without Christ's blood washing out my poison, I'm destructive. Instead of spending my day in seemingly-justified bitterness, I can trust that there is much hope in Christ as it is his character, imputed to me by his gracious will that helps me fight to pursue happiness in the most consistent, beautiful truth I will ever know. I’m still fighting to know, some days  more strongly than others, but trusting Him with this growth has been the most precious gift, allowing me to hope for a life that is compelled by His glory so that I might not be as wayward as I was yesterday.

Babycakes

At Starbucks today I managed to spill some of my Salted Caramel Mocha on my blue jeans, on my grey sweater and in the split ends of my blonded hair without having noticed. I came home and saw the slightly obvious stain just under the collar of my blouse in the mirror then recognized the one on my jeans when I spilled beans just next to it. Why must I always spill? I did it at work the other day when I was sneakily consuming my Whiskey River BBQ Chicken Wrap in the bar closet – we’re not allowed to eat there. But my stealthy attempts were negated since I wore the evidence on my ugly, red polo. Seriously, I eat like an infant. Know what else I do like a babe? Cry. I have been crying so much lately. I don’t know if it’s because of my heightened emotional status that has come from events that have affected my heart or just because it’s I've been working a lot and the exhaustion that comes from sleepless weekends influences my tears. But I cry when things are beautiful, when things are painful, and just because. It’s kind of fun, I suppose. I always cried when I was young but after enduring much ridicule for excessive sensitivity I trained my soul and my eyes to be dry and settled there for years. God’s grown me into a healthier place and I do think that tears are a beautiful expression of emotional experiences. But let’s tone it down in there, Heart of Mine.

Muscles Are Nice

A foxy gent came into my workplace today. Let me express my fervent excitement as there aren’t many fellas I’m initially attracted to in said place. I work in a town that isn’t so glam where the men are more ladylike and pathetic, coming in and demanding free fries – who ever heard of such a thing? No offense to them as I’m sure they are pleasant elsewhere but I like a guy who is nice to humans and is real manly. You know; good facial hair, nice arms, outgoing. I think this is mostly because I don’t have facial hair, my arms are so weak, and I’m kinda quiet when I first meet someone. I like the contrast, makes for good balance and that’s what I’m about.

Soooo I didn’t ever learn his name nor did I invite him to know mine but the wedding I planned in my brain was beautiful. I’ve found as I’ve grown up and considered myself eager to find a fella that I like guys who are intelligent. And this one is a UW graduate. Cha-ching! I’ve also noticed that I am a shallow, typical girl who wants to feel the security of the heighty pay-check. Now I understand that that’s not particularly vital as I dream of being a young, strugglin' married couple within the first few years of being married. But let’s be honest, I want to feel taken care of. Also, he had a deep voice, wore a cool watch, and spoke passionately of his truck. Mmmm, manly. Oh how I hoped that the multiple counts of eye-contact we encountered would encourage him to flirt with me a bit! Too bad I’m so cowardly and avoided any further interaction; didn’t give him a chance. And it’s not really likely that such a prestigious gentleman would cross paths with a floofy waitress (especially when my having woken up late influenced my having forgotten to apply the eye-liner). That’s like Jennifer Aniston dating my brother: Not. Gonna. Happen.

This seemingly silly event has been another catalyst to the realization of my heart’s faultiness. I prefer cultural masculinity (which isn’t necessarily bad but should by no means be ultimate) to biblical masculinity. Make me feel secure with your previously mentioned nice arms and facial hair and I’m yours (not really, I’ve been single forever!). I’ve been privileged to come to this understanding with the help of those in my Doxa Community and am still thinking through the detriment of my foolish desires. I’m praying and hoping for growth into the lady that Christ saved me to be, for eventually acquiring desires that are wholly God-glorifying and Christ like as I’ve been mysteriously granted the most beautiful example and the most gracious substitution. God is crazy good and because of Him I have much hope.

Cookie Hooky

Ahh I love me a lazy Saturday, one that’s cloudy and grey so I can feel a bit more justified in my laziness. I’ll say it straight: I am currently hooky-playing. I called in sick for both of my shifts today and that is just ludacris! Saturdays are my money makers! I’m mostly impressed with myself for having done it. Because the only time I’ve ever called in sick has been when I’ve been actually sickly. I remember it, I was sick in bed for three days. It was awful. But today I am very much so well. In fact, I’ve not ever felt better! Except I didn’t go on a run so I’m feeling significantly less fresh – that is, if contrasting the healthiness I feel after having pushed myself unto vomiting (I’m lying). But seriously, I love the I-made-it-home-from-actively-coaching-mylegstokeepmoving (I got bored of putting a space-line deal between each word) feeling, that sense of a miniature accomplishment that no one else cares about.

However, today is one that is absent from any kind of work. I woke up at 6:30 am to attend book group with some members of Doxa where I was encouraged to understanding more of Richard Sibbes’ The Bruised Reed. I sure am glad we discuss the book because there is much that I miss when I read it by my lonesome. It is incredibly beautiful to be lead into understanding by my others who are attempting the same level of understanding.

So now I sit at Starbucks with Pastor Brian and good pal Ryan. We’re working on computer stuff (and by we I mean they, I’m just facebooking) while we wait for the husky game. Mmmm I love me some college football. Not really, I just like hanging out with people and haven’t been able to for quite some time because I have been working nights more frequently. While I love being a waitress more than anything it does suck alittle bit that the good shifts are night and weekend shifts so I miss out on the good hang outs because everyone else works the very opposite schedule. So in my desperation for good conversations and stressless hangin’ I pretended to be sick. While I’m prayferful for a repentant heart in the sin that I committed against Red Robin (Dear God, I’m a loser) I sure am excited to have a day that is free of commitment. Whoop whoop!!