The reasons we aren't married at 35 - Part 2

Idle Tears by Edward Robert Hughes (English, 1851–1914)

At the same time, blessing of blessings, He also gave me a man.  Oh, such a man.  A man I would never be worthy of in a million years.  A man full of intellect, and wit, and kindness, and sweetness, and gentleness.  And so handsome and pleasant to look at, and strong times a million.  But a sinner like me...we are so much alike!  We have both light and darkness and are aware.

And now these same things bite at my heels.  From years of changing, years of fear and wanting, longing and sins.  Years of war in my heart.  I am laid waste in many ways, while Jesus builds me up.  I wish I had more to offer him than a 35 year old heart which has been torn to shreds in every direction.  I am angry.  I felt like I had so much to give at the tender ages...18, 19, 20...before anger set in.  Before my parents divorced.  Before I was taken up by so many things.

But Jesus said I am His girl.

Do I trust Jesus with my soul but not my heart?
Can Jesus pull me out of Utah and folly and depression, but not pull me into Chris' arms?  My struggles to come to Jesus and my struggle to come relax into love are so similar.

I feel fully confident in my new-ish relationship.  I absolutely feel that it is meet and right.  It is blessed.  Even heaven-favored, but that's a separate story.  The story of me becoming a Catholic is intricately woven of late into the life of this wonderful man.  Jesus is speaking to me through him, my Christ-Bearer, sanctifying me and giving me hard won graces from His own heart.  He is changing me.

Fairy tales always seem like tragedies if you stop in the middle of the story.
Think about that for a minute.

Being in this amazing love story sometimes feels like being taken to the gym.  It's an awesome place with amenities: a pool and and sauna and free towels.  But you are there to work.  And the work makes you look awesome and feel amazing and be your very best you.  But some days you just wanna sit on the couch and eat Doritos and watch X-Files.

But we are better than that.  Jesus is better than that.  My relationship is better than that.

If I didn't have years of utter baggage behind me, maybe I'd be married by now.
If I had not been so terribly hurt by church, maybe I'd be Catholic by now. (Or Orthodox, or Lutheran, or Southern Baptist, or Presbyterian).
If I had only had a good relationship with a dad, maybe I'd have kids by now.
All of these things make the years seem so empty; such a painful waste.

But we can't live our lives in maybe, just like we can't live our lives in someday.
This is our time. It really is.  It's what we've been given, and what we have.  It's our gift from God.  It's our gift to God.  I'm getting a little better at it, very slowly, about trusting my Jesus with all those somedays and maybes.  I just want Him.

And I want him.  The best him I've known.  I'm a huge fan.  I'm so excited for my life with him.  I'm so excited about where Jesus is taking us, and how we will figure out the details.  It's so good.  Now to just get to that gym every day and not skip #legday.

Seriously though, y'all.  So in love.  We are babies in love, but oh...sweetness!  Kindness and hope are chasing me round.  Hold tight to me, my good sir.

The reasons we aren't married at 35 - Part 1

Nikiphoros Lytras

The Waiting

c.1895

This post is gonna be really honest.  Soul-baring, perhaps.  Maybe I won't post it.  Maybe I'll delete it later.  Who knows.

This past week I turned 35.  I can barely bring myself to type that number.  Part of living in our youth-obsessed culture is shame at being a relatively young "old" age.  Youth is the goal, and pretending to be young is the way we do it.  Memes about forever being cat ladies, eating pizza under a blanket on a Friday night, or dressing up like 19 year olds in mini-skirts and going to clubs at age 40.  Things like that.

We find molds and try our hardest to stuff ourselves into them.
"I'm a poor college student."
"I'm a tired mom."
"I'm a gamer."
"I'm a church girl."

Or, for me, "I'm an actress."

Or more accurately - "I'm an actress, I don't have commitments.  I am young and free.  I won't commit to anything because it makes me freer. So my life is a blank canvas.  I kinda want to belong to a church but am not sure which one so I just visit and float around between them.  I can argue various theological positions and I go with what feels right at the time.  Whatever guy I'm dating at the time is my world.  And when he breaks up with me, or I get sick of him, I recreate my entire world.  I am really nothing except whatever chameleon shade I morph into."

But who am I, really?  Who was I?  Who am I being to become?

I recently left one life for another.
I had morphed into someone that I didn't like.  I was chasing good dreams, but in the wrong way.  I was so depressed and trapped in my own pain and fear that I didn't know how to get away from it.  I drowned myself in my own tears for trying to swim out.  Then, a hand through the pitch black, Jesus himself pulled me out and we started over.  But this time, it was different.

He basically told me that I was His girl, and no more dating.  It was now or never.  We marry...or I was free to not marry Him.  But He told me I'd be so happy with Him and He'd take good care of me and always feed and protect and comfort me.  And LOVE me.  Love me fruitfully.  He never loves anyone without fruit.

So we got engaged.  I started letting Him court me.  Kicking and screaming and full of young loves' tears at times, I let Him love me.  I'd cry when I saw other married couples sharing physical communion, because I had to wait.  And I still wait.  And I still long.  It's so hard seeing people who aren't aware or appreciative of their marriages being able to share each other...while I wait for the okay to share in my Jesus.  But I'm waiting.  And someday soon I'll have my first Confession, Confirmation and First Holy Communion.  My wedding, so to speak.  To Him...I'm already His but I'm waiting.  It seems like forever.

I'm His girl.

He remade me into yet another version of myself, but without a silly man at the center.  HE is at the center.  He is my world, my King, my Love.  I get really really mad at Him sometimes for making me wait and for some of the deputy decisions made by his earthly court.  But I'm HIS, y'all.  Forever.  I don't get to remake myself anymore.  He reminded me that the core parts of me won't change because He put them there.  The virtues He has given me are who I am.  I just have to practice them.

So this is who I am.  I'm so glad to know it, and it won't change.  My church is solid and ready to welcome me.  I'm just waiting like a patient bride.

Future Husbands, Pray for Us!

I just finished reading a silly, fairy tale children's book, and it made me long for him.
Him...whoever he is, if he exists. And if I'm not over romanticizing him. (Which I very well may be, but I'm so jaded in every other aspect of romance that I feel I can allow myself a few silly minutes to dream about his good qualities).

To my future husband:
I freaking miss you. I'm lonely for you. There is nothing more I want right now than to cuddle up into your arms and make you so glad you married me. (I am talking about marriage here...so you can interject any naughty images that brings up, if you want. No shame in it.)
I don't feel like this a lot, and I know it's not unique to just me to feel this way. But right now, I am praying for you. I hope you are praying for me. I could sure use it!

Please pray that I'm strong, that I don't lose hope, that I keep myself pure for you.
Pray that I see a broad picture of the future and don't only focus on myself.
Pray that I will be patient.
Pray that I'll do you good now, even before I know who you are.
Pray for our marriage...that we will be prepared for a wild, difficult ride that will ultimately glorify God.
Pray that I won't be too depressed and let myself become more negative and cynical.
Pray that I'll glorify God now, and not just dream about tomorrow.


I am not always the best future wife, but right now I really want to be.



April 25th, 2009

Lustre

By a crisp December morning
We'll harvest these seeds of love - sown in May
With prayers and tears, and hours on knees
And darkness unfled, nothing unspilled.

You've poured your love on me
Only mixed with breath - Untempered by touch
In prayers collected by a Spring wind
In the mirror of the thoughts of God.

Come with me, love-drunk on a dream!
Run aground this airy flight
And talk of every nothing we can spin
Unrepentant future, unspent.

The night buds have burst
Their scent drowning time like wine
Bashful darkness hides her head in shame
We will shine on till morning.


Oct. 11, 2009

Burn

If God wants a fire,
If He wants to set my heart on fire,
To give light and warmth

I will walk through fiery trials to get there.

And nothing burns better than the bitter, dried up wood that my heart used to be.



June 23rd, 2009

I'll have warmth to give you

I'll have warmth to give you
In a short time I'll
Press my face to the Glass
not just fog with breath
rest with me
share this space for one
Two is half too many
it must be One
for the spark of formerly lonely nights.

October 4th, 2009

Every 3rd Day - an Intro to Fire Life

I am the babbiest of babies in the "Fire Life".  So I know if some awesome senior fire department wife finds this blog and reads it, she'll probably laugh and roll her eyes.  If she's Southern, she might say "Bless her heart".  And that's okay.  I hope to do that too, someday.

Today I'm feeling it keenly - the one day on, two days off schedule.  Don't get me wrong, it's a great system.  It works.  I'm really grateful for it.  It is a tremendous blessing to me right now.  I don't think I could date someone who had a regular 9-5 job.  I am working 3 jobs, which is the equivalent of a full time job.  It's a juggling act!  My whole life I've battled laziness and irresponsibility.  I was a blanket burrito throughout most of college, depressed during my 20s, etc.  I did a lot of things well, but I'd give up sometimes.  Take on less than I could.  Build in escapes.  Undersell myself.  I've always been content with someone taking care of me.

Not that I don't want to be taken care of!  But in my 30s, I figured I'd messed around enough and that it was time to get serious about my life.  I've always been intensely serious inwardly, with ideas and beliefs and desires.  But I couldn't quite make that translate to the bravery required to work really hard for a really long time.  Well, here I am, world.  I am teaching 54 voice students a week, teaching a class at the gym, and singing professionally at a church.  I'm about to take on opera rehearsals.  Put on top of all that my conversion to the Roman Catholic faith.  It's a busy and beautiful life!

Enter Mr. Wonderful.  The Mister of my life.  A hunk of a man who came out of nowhere and swept me off my feet.  He is gentle, kind, strong, talented, smart as the dickens, musical, verbal, sciency, and loves Jesus.  I don't want to live my life without him.  I love him.

And he's a firefighter.

Which means 33% of his life is lived at the fire station.  The other 2/3rds is very free.  Like anything, it has pros and cons.  On the pro side, I am free to be an introvert and have my precious alone time.  This is a need for me.  I get snippy, anxious, and tired when I am around people too much.  I have time to scheme and plan and be independent a bit.  Also, on his two days off, he can come see me at odd hours (lunch break) or all day if he wants.  Super cool.

The con side I am feeling right now.  Christopher is at the fire station, and I am home in bed.  I feel ill, like I might be coming down with something.  I'm not advocating that he should drop everything and come sit with me, at all.  But it's hard to converse with him even on the phone between calls.  It's spotty, and good.  I'm so grateful for it.  Absence DOES make the heart grow fonder.  I'm spending time with Jesus in prayer, relying on Him.  It's good.  But I miss Christopher.

Actually...bottom line, I WANT to become an expert on this way of scheduling my life.  I'm excited about my life.  I'm excited about growing closer to my boyfriend and becoming great at communicating through these unique challenges.  Weird to talk so assuredly with 'just dating'?  Maybe.  I don't care.  I'm done with my 20's style underselling myself and building in escapes.  I'm gonna do this.  Even when I feel like poop, like right now.  Because he's out there, through the night watches, fighting for me.  And for you.

That's what love does.  We aren't alone.  Not even on station days.

Betweenpie

My own heart let me more have pity on; let
Me live to my sad self hereafter kind,
Charitable; not live this tormented mind
With this tormented mind tormenting yet.
I cast for comfort I can no more get
By groping round my comfortless, than blind
Eyes in their dark can day or thirst can find
Thirst's all-in-all in all a world of wet.

Soul, self; come, poor Jackself, I do advise
You, jaded, let be; call off thoughts awhile
Elsewhere; leave comfort root-room; let joy size
At God knows when to God knows what; whose smile
's not wrung, see you; unforeseen times rather — as skies
Betweenpie mountains — lights a lovely mile.

Gerard Manley Hopkins

There is a stretch of jaw

leading down to the crease of your neck

Where my nose can nuzzle into my future

All the thoughts that pile up and day over day spill

into your waiting arms, into that exquisite patch of rough, manly stubble.

and planting a kiss

I unplant my fears

toss them into the grey sky

So an October wind blows them far away, into the Advent

of the coming of the Bridegroom

And salty, dewy, delicious skin

I am allowed for a moment or two

Where I might safely giggle, or dream, or want, or long

But always be loved.

Press me there, may I tell my whimsy to your throat

Kiss me at least a hundred more times

Let my lips flit upon yours 

Let me be Home, just a moment more!

Let my hairs stay snagged on you somehow

Let me live on long after I've gone

Let me find you tomorrow 

Hungrier than today, but satisfied

Knowing each day I will come to you with myself

With an offering of the best of me, as the Lord wills it

He made my nose cold

And your skin rough

..and mine soft...

We shall know Him in our lacking, 

in our longing

And in our loving.

Come, holy friend.

You on the nightwatch

Me in my bed, asleep.

You pay me compliment just by being. 

Let me love you, scratchy as you are.

I will nuzzle you on the morrow.

And a million times onward. 

Stella Maris

And shall I whisper to the sea?
It tells me a never-ending story of you.

How you bore all my hopes and fears together
Saying "this mulberry tree shall be cast into the sea".
And flung far away, like a message in a bottle
Upon waves which reached exotic lands.
Moonlight began her vigil
The travails of this night set themselves upon us.

Undulating --
Dying in the throes upon craggy rocks
And quiet resignation upon sandy shores
Washed pale and helpless, choking in unfamiliar air.
How the demons of night were matchless
For a matched set of two mustard seeds.

And starting again with each new breath
Hoping with each beat of your heart
And the stars are my witness
Your true heart finds North
And the sea bears us far away
Under a Mantle of sky
Where night is our bounty
Starlight bathing us in crisp memory
Of our first night in the Sea.

Take my hand, and we shall sail onward.
To that land where promise meets us
You, my captain and my confidant.
I, thy dear handmaid.  Thy bidding is sweet.
On this Barque we have started.
And Mother sings us home,
A string of roses binds our hands and hearts
to an Unbound home in a new free land.

One cell in the sea

Love is changing me.

The feeling of doing good - immeasurable good - is creeping around on my pillow at night, like a faint whisper of a far forgotten story.  When we pray, we do good.  When we eat a broccoli, we do good.  When we smile at a stranger, we do good.

We know these things are good.  We've been told, and we know.
But how?  Why?  Someone knows.  Someone knows about what happens in my cells when I drink water instead of whiskey.  Or when I exercise instead of sit and eat tacos.  Good things happen.  I can't see them, but they happen.  They are happening all the time, everywhere around me.

I have choices to make.  Who will I be?  Who will I become?

And all this love has been dropped on me like a pointless YouTube challenge video where one dumps ice water over one's head.  Yet, this isn't pointless.  I'm not sure where these forces are pulling from, but things are changing in my little world.

Love will change the world.
By the very simple act of love, you are changing the world.
You are SAVING the world
You won't see it, but it is happening.

When you smile at a stranger, you are imparting love.  Love that we so desperately need.  Love that we crave.  That will save us.  Jesus' love is so free and so available...please go hand it out to people?

And love works internally, like a medicine.  It's so slow.
It's like love can slowly, surely...like honey and molasses moving, change every atom of your being.  Love transforms souls.  You think you are loving someone else, loving a handsome firefighter, perhaps, who swaggered into your life, wrecking holy havoc on all the stupid pre-conceived lies you'd told yourself.
You *think* that you will go about loving this person, making him happy and hoping he'll smile once in a while because you wore nice shoes or your hair was pretty.

But nay, lassie.  All that love, Jesus (sneaky as ever) has held up as a mirror.  Give it away and it still hits you like radiation.  If you give one inch to that kind of sanctifying love, it will come back and slap you silly into a holy tizzy.  Next thing you know, you are marveling at things in your own heart you thought long-dead.  Gifts you didn't even ask for.  Things beyond your wildest dreams.  And all because of love.  All because of Jesus.  And all because you trusted Him enough to let go of the armfuls of dead, dried-up flowers and trust Him to give you something else.

I recommend trusting Jesus with your life.  And your love.  You won't see it, but it's so worth it.  I promise.  And I'm not into waiting and empty, far-off promises.  I cannot wait to see what Jesus has up his sleeves.

The world has turned

This is the day that the world changed.

It happens every year, and I look forward to it with anticipation.  But it's not something that the weatherman can announce (or more accurately, the weather app I use to check the weather).  It has to be felt.  There is a golden day, a subtle thing where sunlight turns to shadow and Autumn is upon us.  It is felt by stepping outside.  Not just a cool in the air, but a change in the earth: a turn of sorts.  The world has turned.

It always has and always will.

Today was delicious.  I've been wrapped up: first in my duvet cover this morning as I awoke 30 minutes before my alarm, then in my work, then in morning prayer...and the best of all, in my Beloved's arms as he held me close in the blanket he brought to keep me warm on our picnic.  How could he know the world would be chilly for me?  How could he know the world would change, today?


There are many mysteries in the world.  Some I'm okay with just experiencing.  Fall brings those beautiful golden red mysteries forth and displays them with pride.  The world is changing.  I'm changing.  Jesus has me wrapped up, safely in His arms.  He's displaying me with pride close to His heart.  Let the world change: it is delicious and good and I am at peace.

Secondhand Handmaid

He lingered upon thy lips, I think, just to give His handmaid a second hand holy kiss.

And oh...oh

What a kiss. I'll give You my sin, again.

Swan Dive

When he finally arrived, she was tired of waiting.


"Edward!" she exclaimed, not trying to hide the indigence in her voice. "Where have you been? I've grown so tired of waiting. I don't think I can bear the years I've spent in sadness."


His eyes beheld her tears, and he answered with trembling honestly.

"It was very far. I ran the whole way, and I didn't know what you looked like.

But my heart did."





(retrieved from April 2013)

Lamps

Shall that little light be burning when our day is done? When the shadows and the voices play on hither walls Form themselves into dread familiar figures Who have kindly walked into the night, here To bring a nuptial treaty forth Forgetting why we waited We felt the cold and sleep’s wooing call We laughed ourselves silly And mercifully slept beneath the banded stars And the clear half moon While our sisters eschewed frivolity

And now His face is barely lit With scant lamp-glow and adoring eyes From our lovelorn sisters Who dance on with perfumed feet and holy hearts But ‘twas just a little sleep, just giggles Which faded into the night, into the stars.

They waited; we forgot. Dawn stings more than not.

They are shooting people

Who is "they"?

"They" is always someone else, someone who doesn't represent "us", of course.


Unless the person is a victim then he represents "us". Why is this? Who says that a victim gets to always be passed around and worn like the Traveling Pants. It seems too convenient.

Forgive me for not making much sense.
They are shooting people.
They are shooting people in my hometown, down the road from me.
They are shooting people who were there to protect them.
Whoever "they" is. "

They" need to go home.
"They" aren't me.
"They" don't represent me.
"They" sure showed us.


 I am angry. I am unsettled. I am not okay with "they".

Open hands, wounded heart

The hardest thing is to open my hands to Jesus.

I know that I must come with empty hands to get anything from Him.  He only gives good things to me.  But to have empty hands, I have to let go of things I don't want to.

To put my heart out there to Jesus knowing that my heart is basically held together with Scotch tape in places, others places in slivers, still other places crumbling to dust.  How can I give Jesus my heart when it is so broken?  How do I know that He won't break it even more?

I guess because His heart looks like this:

Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.

A present help in times of trouble

     Today was very ordinary.  I went to the gym to do one of my favorite things: take a group dance class from one of my favorite instructors, and talk to my friends at the gym who are also regulars.  Though I don't know them as well, they are dear to me and I look forward to the mutual encouragement we share about our fitness goals.

     Right between the two classes, one of my friends got a text that a high school friend of hers had been shot yesterday and had died.  Of course this was terribly shocking news and my friend burst into tears right there in the group X room.  Another friend and I shuffled her out into the hallway and sat with her as she cried a bit and tried to process this terrible shock.  We listened as she talked about her friend, the kind of person she was, and how felt guilty for not getting together with her more.

     As a person uncomfortable with conflict or distressing situations, this would have been really hard for me to do a few years ago.  But now, as I come to know Jesus more, I saw it in a different way.  I feel it is a privilege to be witness to another's suffering.  I used to be very into things being the "right way", things going just as planned, everything being perfect, how people should act was almost scripted in my expectations.  I got awfully upset if people veered away from how I thought they should act.  I lived in almost constant disappointment.

     But life isn't like that, is it?  We aren't perfect.  Situations are messy.  People are messy.  Terrible things happen.  Plans get ruined.  Life is interrupted.  It's all a part of the beautiful mess that is humanity.

     And into such a mess stepped Jesus, the Perfect One.

     Talk about broken dreams and ruined plans!  Jesus, the King, left His heavenly court where everything was perfect.  He willingly plunged head-first into this awkward and annoyingly common thing known as human life.  He had trouble meeting deadlines.  He got yelled at by people who were having a bad day.  He stubbed his toes.  He had family members and friends die and wept awkward, inconvenient tears, knowing the pain of loss.  He was well acquainted with our grief.

     My thinking was on Him today as I sat with my friend against the steel wall at the gym.  What a privilege to be with another person as she experiences pain.  What an absolute honor to witness suffering.  I feel that Jesus feels honored when we let Him into our naked suffering.  He's not ashamed when we cry.  He's not ashamed when snot is dripping off our noses and onto our pillows when someone hurts us.  He is there with us and feels our suffering with us.  It isn't awkward to Him.

     I like to picture Him with me, placing his hands on my head, wiping away my tears as they drip off my nose.  Because I believe He really is doing that.  Not in a distant, metaphorical way, but as someone actually sitting there doing it.  There is no shame in crying with Him.  He's honored.  There is no "right way" to grieve.  Just grieve with Him, and He's got it covered.


Psalm 46: 1
God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in times of trouble.

Brokenness

    I've heard a cry from other churches against the Catholic Church - "Christ died but once! How then do you call Him down from heaven, to crucify Him again?"  I have wept bitter tears to gaze at the altar and watch Him, my darling and my Lord,  be broken yet again for me.  It makes my heart ache.

     But having wept these tears, I begin to see the great comfort of these words: "This is My Body, which is broken for you".  What solace! What understanding! These are the words of suffering --- not needless, empty suffering, but a kind of moment when I, lost in a crowd of unfeeling strangers, meet eyes with Him.  And we see each other.  It's like all my secrets are already there in His heart. And all my lonely tears have already fallen onto His chest.  And the kind of pain that only victims can recognize in each other - He knows.  We know each other. 

     And neither of us will ever weep alone again.

     For when he asked me to come and die, He never meant that I'd do it alone.
When he bids me to take up my own cross and follow Him, He never walks behind me.  He leads the way.

     So when I gaze upon His broken Body, mystical and strangely hidden in the hands of the priest, all I need do is glance down at my own broken heart.  Oddly mangled, messy, nothing like the paintings of saints.  All I need is look at my own brokenness to feel Him nearer.  He will never leave me or forsake me.  Even in this pain.  And as we are broken together by the hands of the world, may we mingle so close that no one can distinguish us.

     I am my Beloved's
     And He is mine.
     And His banner over me is love.

     Here I will stand, weepy and broken, unashamed of my injuries and my weakness, because my incredibly strong Jesus did it first.  And if I can't stand, I will kneel.  And if I can't kneel, I will fall.  Falling, I will die.  Jesus did it all first.

My I be consumed by His love, His tears, His brokenness, until that blessed day when I, too, can say with Him "It is Finished".

Buckling Down

When I got up today, the sun was streaming at a certain angle through the beaded glass front door.  This caught my eye.  This made my heart happy.  For some reason, even though it showed how dusty my entry table is, it reminded me of hope.  It reminded me of home.  It reminded me of charging on, bolstered by past victories.

The battle for accomplishment is fought in my own head and heart. I have every tool I need to proceed.  I have won a role.  I have won a body capable of performing the steps it needs.  I have worked on a voice that can sing these things.  I know how to memorize.  I know how to act.  I know rehearsal and show etiquette.  I have all the superstitions and rituals down.  Then why it is so hard to buckle down and rehearse on my own?  It's like jumping mental hurdles.

I have three things worrying me at this point in the show:

1. Spanish Rose.
I learned a different version (!?) last time I did this show.  Why do different versions of shows exist?  Quite annoying.

2. One Boy Reprise dance.  I just need to practice dancing it with the briefcase in my hand.

3. Shriners Ballet.
Oh, my.  I haven't learned the last part of it, and it's a dance with me and 6 non-dancer men.  I just need a lot of rehearsal for this, and I'm not going to get it.  My fault.  Mea culpa.

I'm the one who said it would be fine to go out of town a week before tech week.  No big deal, right?

Yep!


Hope, heart, and hard work.  Here we go!
I'm muscling through these lines and these songs and dances.  Someone's gotta do it and that someone is me.

The moon so bright

I am home in Texas.

I feel off.  I feel off balance.  I feel off kilter.

Usually I know what is wrong and know how to fix it.
This time it doesn't seem like I know where I'm heading.  I just feel like I might be about to crash into some dark wall.

I need peace in a bad way.  I need to rebalance myself, in a literal way and a spiritual one.  I need to know where I'm going.  I need to know who is on my team.

It seems like the world is spinning so fast.  I've neglected "me" for 2 years.  I need to find myself again.  I need to find my path.  My track.  My clan.  I need Amy back.  I'm hanging off the edge of the cliff here, watching the world spin around me.  Going so fast, going like crazy.  Politics and religion and wars and words.  And hate, always hate.

I've been an escapist as long as I remember.  Even now I spend hours on Tumblr looking at pictures of forests and fairies and castles.  Add some ambient space music into that and I'm happy for an evening.  It's how I get away.  I hope to find myself in there somewhere.

My real self is hidden in Christ.  I need to find Him.

One of the best choices I ever made was to join 24 Hour Fitness with my mom back when I was in college.  It seriously has changed my life, going from someone overweight and out of shape to now being certified as a fitness instructor, and someone who loves working out.

Traveling between Utah and Texas makes it hard to fall into a class routine, so I wanted a place to lay out my plans.  Don't mind me.

(Can you tell I miss daily, mundane style blogging?)

Monday:

Options:
Close club:
Zumba at 9:30 am
Bodypump at 12:00 pm
Bodypump at 6:30 pm

Club 2:
Step at 9:15 am
Yoga at 10:15 am
Bodypump at 6 pm
Zumba at 7 pm

Club 3:
Bodypump at 6:00 pm
Yoga at 7:00 pm
U-Jam at 8:00

I'm honestly leaning toward doing Bodypump here close at noon, then driving out to Club 3 at 8 for U-Jam.  I'm a U-Jam instructor, not currently teaching yet, and just LOVE the class and the great workout it gives me.

Here's to working out on Monday!

2016

New Year!

May we meet adversity with hope
May we meet opportunity without fear!


I need to find some traction.  My heart is caught up with Jesus, but my feet are barely touching the ground.  I want to run!  I want to run to Him and with Him!  Through the wild fields and brambles and forests, I want to run on.

Life updates:
I've been in Texas for two months, singing at my church.  My beautiful St. Laurence.

In `12 days I return to Utah.  2 weeks after that I travel to Arizona to do a film.  I'm looking forward to it, but the old fears remain.

After that, who knows?  I really want to go up to NYC to the Strawhat Auditions to see if I can get a summer stock job for the summer, somewhere in the country.  Not that I want to run away, but I really want to be working on something this summer.  It's one of the largest Non-Equity auditions of the year.

It would cost airfare, and I hope I could find someone to stay with in New York.  I have several friends there.

Lead on, Jesus.