Showing posts with label what I'm learning. Show all posts
Showing posts with label what I'm learning. Show all posts

Monday, May 1, 2017

we don't get pauses

On the rare occasion that my mom and I fight (wink wink), 
there is often one, if not more, pauses.
We're big pausers.

It usually goes like:
blahhhhh blahhhh
blahhhhh 
*volume increases* 
blahhhhhh
yell shout yeellllllll
I'M GETTING TOO MAD I NEED TO TAKE A BREAK
OKAY!
OKAY, FINE!

And then I (because it's usually me who needs to pause) storm off and
a) cry
or
b) think of evil comebacks.

And while I sit there trying to think about why this is such a big deal (clue: 98.99% of the time it's not), my mom comes in peace and we try to figure out where our communication went wrong.
In a calm(ish) manner.
Sometimes we take more pauses, sometimes we don't.


You know what I realized about this?
It's really hard to hit the pause button in real life.



Almost every day someone asks me for a detailed power-point of the next ten years of my life. Usually I respond with one of my three canned answers.
And every time, I'm subtly reminded that I don't know what-the-heck I'm going to do.
Which is fine.
It's fine.  

But I just want to pause this whole stupid growing-up thing!
I don't want to take the SAT on Saturday.
I don't want to make a list of collages to visit.
I don't want to be responsible and grow up schedule my own appointments.
I don't want to face conflict on my own!


But as much as I'd like it, there are no pauses in life.
We can stop, think and take a walk, but the clock keeps ticking.
The music keeps playing.
And there are no pauses.

"You mean to say that you wrote this just to tell me that the world keeps spinning and just to keep freaking out?!?!?!?"

Err, kinda.

But I also want to remind you (and me) that we don't know the plot.
We don't design the timeline.
He does.
And He knows when we need time-outs better than we do.

So before you keep yelling, take a breath.
And remember:
His strength.
His pauses.
Because he's got it.
He's got you.

Saturday, July 30, 2016

sitting in this weird thing called silence

Silence breathes on my tired face.
My head hurts from the previous days of sleep deprivation due to early mornings and little quiet.

The mission trip was amazing and powerful, yet I'm not ready to form words. 
Jayna's visit was a total blast, but far to short. 
It's scary that I might not see her until we're both in collage. 
I'm not ready for our friendship to go back into a screen. 

I lay in the quiet, not sure where to begin.
So I ask God to gently unpack me. 
Unpack my emotion,
My memories,
My guilt. 
To sort through this with Him, that it may bring Him glory. 

I don't know what to think or feel or do or say. 
Yet in this quiet, I know to listen.
Listen to His whisper saying, "Rest in me. Feel with me. And do not fear; for you can do all things through me, who strengthens you."