summer questions

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how do i draw the line between being content knowing that God will lead me through each lesson/trial in my life, and being so content that i plateau and disregard the need to actively seek after Him daily?

i worded that awkwardly. :/

how do i ask for forgiveness if i feel like i'm always fighting -- like it's a glitchy default setting of my proud, proud heart to refuse to feel remorse? what am i supposed to do if that room in hallways of my heart has become icy & callused?

if i'm asking these questions, does that mean i'm doubting the power of the holy spirit?

largely rhetorical, but for the sake of my exasperation (& my amusement at myself), imma ask anyways -- why are children so shallow? in fact, why are we so shallow? the other day, a little girl at the park chose another girl to be her partner over me. i automatically assumed it was because the other girl was prettier. and then i mentally slapped myself for being retarded & even thinking that. because sometimes i can be stupid.

furthermore -- why is our culture (primarily american, specifically CA, even more specifically socal)  so fixated upon appearances? because how am i supposed to compete if i'm not into that stuff. good thing i have jesus lol. 'cause beauty becomes wrinkles one day, and then we need to rely on our inner grace and loveliness that comes from jesus christ -- wapow, jesus wins 1-0. bam. KO. 

lovely and empty

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summer is lovely.

my desk is strewn with the blues and greens of my pack rat scrap book treasures. the air smells of sweet peas and fresh market apple, and in the morning i am pleasantly surprised to realize that i'm awake enough to listen to the songbirds serenade each other. i'm spending time with my friends of six years. it's bittersweet to i think about how we've grown--or how we've not grown--how i've become familiar with their quirks and how i'm able to predict their reactions to things (like when an old man barks at youngsters, or when an asian man tries miserably to hit on one of us, or when a saleslady implies that we're blocking the walkway).

that one day, at the playground, i remember how happy i felt when i played with those kids at the park. wonderful children. poor children. i'm going to go there everyday.

i remember feeling my heart skip a few beats, and it scared me. i wondered if my stroke volume had increased yet, after two weeks of running. i wondered irrationally if i had heart problems. i imagined myself in the hospital--and then i laughed. i remember feeling weary triumph, followed by confusion and grief. "if i'm doing the right thing, why does it hurt so much?" i thought. i prayed for healing, because i knew that the only thing preventing that part of my heart from crumbling was my stubbornness. i don't think i'm in denial; he led it with sweet on a winding road to nowhere, broke it with sweet, forgot it with sweet. that's all. i remember thinking, "what the hell is wrong with me?" as i watched my friends excitedly try on jewelry and nail polish at the mall. "why am i so not girly?" i remember hearing my voice harden and splinter as that angry monster raised its ugly head--as if i switched off the self-control button and let petty annoyance and dislike control my body, my actions, my words. since when did autopilot have a life of its own? i don't know. i don't know.

i fill my whiteboard each week with goals, plans, craft ideas, and to-do lists. some tasks disappear and some remain. yet in the midst of my busyness, i seem to have neglected Him. i never forgot--i just schedule it in haphazardly, as if it'll happen without my planning it to. everything takes diligence, effort, persistence, and self-control; i don't know how i failed to apply that to my time with the Father. when did i ever become a celebrity, and jesus a lowly fan? ridiculous. "i'm sleepy. tomorrow morning," i might justify to myself. or, "i promise, i'll spend time after i run." and i overestimate my ability to manage time. time kicks my butt. i wish i had superpowers, sometimes. and that's when i remember that i'm so proud and broken and silly

someone once told me that i need to find my voice. i wonder if i have found it yet.

everything is so lovely and empty and deep
and sweet and bitter, and slow and fast
summer is lovely

i stay up late to write about nothing--about silence
and everything in that silence

it was nothing

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it was nothing, when
you took it and smothered it in sweet-
laughter; made it flutter
said things you shouldn’t have
intentionless, you played—had your fun
you took it and bruised it with sweet-
then threw it on the ground,
stole from her future,
taught her how to expect
nothing.
it was nothing

currently reading: emotional purity by heather arnel paulsen
lessons; life takes discipline. love takes discipline.

dear God

fill me
heal me