Getting to say goodbye.

Let's say you have been given a month to live. What do you do in that time?

First, I would probably cry. I would cry because I would feel like I still had many things left to do, but then I would realize God knows what He is doing.


Next, I would start writing letters. I would write a letter to each person I love. My cousins, my parents, my friends, and the people I wish I had worked things out with. I wouldn't tell anyone about them. Each letter would be placed in an envelope, the name scrawled across the front, and then tossed into a box with the rest of them. 
Why would I do this? Well... I communicate through written language. I don't communicate well through spoken words very well. And I have hundreds of things I want people to know. I want people to know about hope and real love. I want people to know about freedom. 

The next thing I would do is write my story. All of it. From different angles, with different things emphasized. 

I would also continue to journal. I would fill up blank pages with what was going on, how I felt, and my prayers to the God who could heal me. 

A few days before my month was up, I would make sure someone had all my journals. I would tell that person to share them. I would tell them to share my story. The ugly parts. The pretty parts. 

But through everything else I would do, I would also spend time with people. And just talk. Just be. I would slow down, like I always meant to, and really get to know the people I love. I would ask for funny stories and sad stories. 

I would pray a heck of a lot, too. 

So, if you had a month left to live, what would you do? Who would you spend it with? Where would you go?

I'll be honest. Today really sucked.

And now I'm nearly in tears over precalc homework.

And I would really like to sleep for an entire week.

Even the Beatles aren't making me feel better.

Music day

I have been holding onto this (^^) song as a promise.  Especially the "You are peace.  You are peace when my fear is crippling".  It's been a phrase I repeat a lot. 

I like to worship God in Spanish.  Last night driving down the road I sang Spanish songs because I remembered the lyrics. 

Perception.

"How did you know?" She sent.
"I don't know... I just did." I replied.

Sometimes, I just know things. Not like knowledge. I mean when a person walks by me or walks up to me, sometimes I know exactly what they are struggling with (or have struggled with).

A perfect example happened over Christmas break at Winter Retreat. There was a girl there who I had seen before, but never met. After talking to her I felt like we were kind of similar. When she shared during small group times I knew more and more that she was a lot like me. (I stalked her blog after WR and found out my suspicions were correct. (: ) She never out right said anything outright about certain things, I just knew.

Those of you who know me know that I give hugs a lot. Some days I need a hug, so I go through my day looking for someone who might need a hug. And when I see the right person, I just know.

We talked about hearing God's voice during chapel groups a while back. We were asked if we had ever hears God's voice and, if so, what it sounded like. I have never heard a booming voice like Moses hears in the movies. I often receive a little prodding in my chest. Instead of a cmand "Kaylyn, you must do this if you love Me", He uses His still, small voice to tug and nudge my heart towards the people with needs.

Tonight after sharin my testimony one girl mentioned I was a great encourager. (Thanks Sabrina!) That's not me. I honestly believe God uses my hands to type or write those things. I just listen for the things I am supposed to write.

I can't explain it, but I keep using it because I know it's God.

(Oh, and I have lunch with the girl from the first paragraph on Sunday. At least, I will if everything works out. I'm so excited! I sent her a copy of my testimony tonight. I had been debating for a long time over whether or not I should send it to her. Finally, I sucked up my fear and sent it off through the vast world of the Internet. It was a good decision.)

Fights, Stories, and Tears

"My God is not dead. He is surely alive."


I got into a fight with God tonight.

Really? Who gets into a fight with the creator of the universe?

Me.

I got into the car to drive to small groups and I was mad. I was mad God was making me share my testimony.
I turned off the radio and I sat there huffily.
"I'm not going to do it!" I said out loud. "You can't make me."
I was driving down the road telling God He couldn't make me do something. Yes, sometimes I act like a three-year-old. Sorry. A knot sat in my stomach and I wanted to throw up. I was nervous. I was terrified. I did NOT want to go to small groups.
I thought about turning around and going home. But I kept on driving. Right into Nappanee and into the field next to the house where we meet.
No one else was there yet. I pulled out my journal and tried to write everything down. I tried to be honest. I tried to calm down.
I was terrified. What would the other girls think? Was I going to cry the way I had when I wrote it?  (which, by the way, was me basically rolled into a ball, sobbing. no, I did not enjoy writing it.) I was scared. I tried to reassure myself.
Deep breath.
"God is still with me."
Deep breath.
"He loves me when no one else does."
Another girl pulled up and we went out to the pool house. My small group ate dinner and we talked about stuff that had happened since we had met last.
Then, Tonya, our leader, gave me the floor.
Now, I hate talking for long periods of time. I hate one-sided conversations and long stories about one moment/event. I had to fight all those fears tonight. I grabbed some tissues and started. I had it written on my iPod as a guideline, so I kept referencing it. In the second paragraph I started crying. My voice got all weird and after that I kept losing my train of thought. (which resulted in lots of "um"s and "like"s.)
At one point I thought I was going to cry and not be able to stop (but I pulled through).
When I finished I was still terrified. What did they think of me? Did I ruin their idea of me? 

I'm scared of the dark in unfamiliar areas, so I waited for someone to walk out to their car so I could go with them when it was time to leave. 
I climbed into my car and frantically shut the door and locked it behind me. (fear of the dark. I have to have the doors locked at ALL times.) 
I sat in my car with the keys in the ignition for a few seconds and thought. I started my car and started my journey home. I shut off the radio and started to sing. 
I don't have a great voice, but I I knew I couldn't sing with someone else leading me at that moment. 
After awhile, I started talking out loud to God. I didn't really realize I was speaking, but words kept coming out. I talked to Him like He was right there in the passenger seat. I started crying as I talked to Him. 
Yes, He already knew all those things, but I still had to tell Him. I had to admit things and ask Him to hold onto me and help me believe. 
One thing I kept saying again and again was "I don't want to keep living like this." I don't want to keep depending on things to keep me happy. All I want is God. 

I'm still processing all the things God showed me while I shared tonight. 

Tonight was one of the best nights I have had in quite a long time. (:

Nervous.

"It's not about what you did then. It's about who you are now." -me

At 6:30 pm tomorrow night I will be sharing my testimony with my small group. I keep hoping it will be moved to next week. There is a knot in my stomach that churns and aches when think about sharing. I shouldn't be so scared, but I am. Just like in the rest of my life, I fear rejection and failure. I fear my small group might not understand and will not work to understand. I fear I might even be able to share because I will cry. I have gone over the events I'm sharing over and over in my mind, but I know as soon as I start talking, I will start crying. I cried just holding my pen to my paper. I can't imagine how much I will cry as I actually speak. 
I also fear people thinking that my past is my present and my future. It's not, but I don't know how many girls will realize that. 

I know Jesus is my strength, but in situations like this it is so hard to just hand it all over. 

Overcome

Tonight we sang "How He Loves".  That song is absolutely my favorite.

Especially when I switch up the lyrics.

Tonight instead of singing

Yeah He loves us

Oh how He loves us

Oh how He loves us

I sang

Yeah You love me

Oh how You love me

Oh how You love me

I always change the pronouns "He" to "You" and "us" to "me".  No, I don't think singing those words is selfish at all.  Especially as someone who has searched for real love for the longest time. 

As I sang I became overcome.  And I just started crying.  I felt kind of dumb because tears were running down my face and my breathing was doing that shaky thing.  I was standing there with my arms up in the air crying out to God with my tears and my voice (which was NOT in tune)... and I felt so broken.  God reminded me where I came from.  He reminded me I am not done healing.  And then He held me.  If anyone had physically touched me right then, I am pretty sure I would have totally broken down.  Like sobbing uncontrollably.

Tonight was one of the best times of worship I have ever had.  I can honestly say I was not worried about what other people were saying about me or the way I looked to the people around me.  I know it's not all about the way I feel, but I know I honestly engaged in worship tonight.  It was hard to stay focused at first, but I shut my eyes and let the words coming out of my mouth be my prayer and truth I was confident in.



Dear people who read this, please be praying on Sunday evening around 6:30-7.  I'm going to be sharing my testimony with my small group.  I am terrified.  I'm working on giving that fear over to God, but I am scared I won't be able to share.  I'm praying like crazy, but thinking about it makes my heart beat fast and my palms sweat. I know God is going to be there while I share... but I still fear judgment and abandonment.  
So, please pray I would be calm and not freak out.  Pray I would not cry (too much).  Pray I would have the right words as well. 

Change

I wrote this today in Creative Writing. Most of the time, I hate poems, but this one was following a certain pattern.

I was a lost and angry sinner
I remember the loneliness and loud music
I heard "You need to get it together" "Clearly, you aren't a Christian"
I saw disappointment, tears, and failing tests, all because of me
I worried my parents thought I was crazy and were going to send me away with one more mistake
I thought no light could illuminate the darkness I saw.
But, I wanted to change
I was buried by secrets, lies, and shame
I thought no one could love me
I needed someone to take my hand, look me in the eye, and promise me hope was just behind the clouds
I forgave my parents for the misunderstandings and my peers for taunts and jokes.
Now I have changed
I still look for grace when my past looks like my future
I choose vulnerability and transparency instead of secrets and shame
I dream of a plain white house teaching freedom and healing with liberal doses of paint, fabric, and markers
I hope to offer others hope in Christ
I predict overflowing joy and a will to share stories
I know I have been redeemed
I have changed.

Loneliness vs. Being alone

"Loneliness is different than being alone."
- Fop, remedy.fm
Many of us spend time alone. Personally, I enjoy having time alone. It lets me recharge and calm myself. And when I really need a good, long time with God, I get away.
But loneliness is different than just being alone.
People who struggle with loneliness feel alone even in big crowds. They can be with 100 people, yet still feel like they are the only person in the room.
I have felt this way. It's real. And it's not fun. Any time I went any where I noticed how I didn't really seem to belong to anyone.
My generation is the most "connected" generation. We text. We send pictures. We send emails. We spend hours on Facebook. Because of how much we seem to communicate, it is logical that we would have the most meaningful and deep relationships. I mean, we are constantly talking to people and sharing our opinions, right? Yet the numbers of suicides, attempted suicides, those struggling with depression, and the rates of self-harm still rise. How can this be happening?
Constant communication isn't always good. Meaningful, deep relationships cannot be built when there is some sort of device in between two people. It is much easier to share when two people are typing instead of speaking to each other. It's much easier to be rude or mean when I don't see the look on a person's face when I hurt them. I can have thousands of conversations over the Internet about everything from A to Z, but the sum of them will not mean as much to me as one conversation with a person who is fully focused on our conversation. My generation has an incredible access to communication, but we need to be sure that our relationships are real when we are with people.
The breakdown of family has also been a big issue. If I was to ask someone about their struggle with loneliness or depression, I am sure that one of the reasons they would pinpoint would come from some sort of relationship with their parents. A dysfunctional family creates wounds that don't easily go away. A child needs love and affirmation from both parents. When a parent is physically or emotionally absent, the child is not always going to receive the examples and care that they need. Some single-parent households produce kids who do not struggle with the "unspokens" of our society, but I would venture to say that many do.

Loneliness is something that our society seems to ignore. It needs to be addressed. But not with more video games or more texting. It needs to be addressed with kindness and love. A smile to a lonely person can mean the world. Looking at them and speaking to them like they are a legitimate human being can help them rise up from the trap of loneliness. Jesus called us to care for the poor. The lonely and depressed are poor in spirit. We must hold out our hands and help them.

(Do struggle with loneliness? Do you need someone to talk to? Groundwire.net allows you to talk to a caring adult who will pray for you and try to help you. There are many call centers you can contact if you need a physical voice. You are not alone. I pray that you would find the things you lack in Christ instead of people. Hold on, God has not let go of you.)



I found out about Remedy.fm last night. I have already listened to three past The Cure shows. Dude, they are pretty awesome. They do their research. Do you want biblical information on a topic? Search "remedy.fm the cure" in the search box on iTunes. They have talked about many, many things.

Masks

I wrote this in my Creative Writing journal.  It's a rough draft, so I'm sorry about flow issues.


I stand on foot bridge suspended over a swollen river.  I stand against the wooden rail and watch while the sun sets over the thick forest.  
The sky is bathed in a swirl of yellow, pink, and red.  Vaporous remnants of the afternoon's thunderstorm swim lazily westward.  
Unlike other evenings, I did not come here just to watch the sun set.  
I reach into the bag slung across my chest and pull out the reason.
The object feels like an old friend.  It even smiles up at me with a perfect, painted mouth.  All the things people have expected me to be stand accusingly in black letters on the smooth white surface. 
Perfect
A+
Beautiful
Well-adjusted
Friendly

It sits perfectly on my face when I put it on.  The upturned smile covers my own downcast one.  I feel complete with it there on my face, much like a child who carries a blankie.

I remove it, feeling like a part of me is lost, and watch the sun saunter below the horizon.  

I inspect the item one final time.

I take a deep breath and hold it out over the muddy water.  

I close my eyes.  

I breathe again.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

And... I let go.

I open my eyes in time to watch it hit the surface, dunk below, then float.  As it drifts away I imagine it floating out to sea and settling in a trench or being found by an artist who repurposes it.  

I watch it float off and feel a little lost.  Who am I without that?  

I turn and walk away.  That isn't me.  Me is the person standing on the bridge.  Me is the real person, not the pretend.  

Fear.

I'm going to be honest, here.

I'm afraid of the dark.

I don't mean like "Ah! It's dark out! Oh no!"

I mean like, absolutely terrified of even opening an outside door.

I can't even walk to the end of my driveway to leave the trash on the curb after the sun sets.

But tonight, I challenged my fear.

I walked home from my neighbor's two houses down.

You might think it's not a big deal, but I struggled to walk calmly up the wet street with only my keychain flashlight for protection. Fear consumed me. What was behind me? Was that a shadow a mailbox or a person? I forced myself to walk at a normal pace, even though everything in me told me to run for it.

I was terrified. But I made it to my safe, warm, locked house.

I marvel at the people who can just stand there in the night and still have a steady heartbeat.

Uncharted territory.

Today I had two hours after school where I had nothing to do because Zack had practice and weightlifting for softball was canceled, so I pulled out my journal and started to write.  After an hour, my hand had a huge cramp in it and my elbows hurt from propping myself up on the cold, hard floor.  And, I had to pee.  So, I took a quick bathroom break and then started flipping through my journal.

I am thirteen pages from having no room left.  It is rather bittersweet... but fitting at the same time... See, I am in uncharted territory.

This summer was not a great summer for me.  It was a time full of doubts, questions, and misunderstandings.  I was angry at God many times.  At one point on a missions-oriented trip I sat at the foot of a cross and basically told God that I didn't like Him anymore and I didn't believe He could do anything for me.  The scariest part?  I don't remember much of that happening.  Yes, I remember a rough summer where I wrestled with the idea of freedom and what that means.  I also remember laying in bed feeling incredibly inadequate, worthless, and inferior.  I just hadn't remembered going through so many questions.

But... I don't want to take that summer back.  Because of those questions and doubts, I now know more about God than I ever knew.

I am in uncharted territory because I have never given over my entire self to God.  I have been on a journey these last eight months to finally give up my past.  I read over and over in my own handwriting how the past seemed safer and easier, but I know that the past is full of pain that I do not want to experience again.  Today I handed it to God.  Sharing my testimony next Saturday (it was moved... :( frustrated) will also be a step in forever closing that door.

But not closing it so that I forget about it.  I will never forget the things God has freed me from.  It isn't an option.  Those things have shaped me.  Because I am alive in Christ, though, those things no longer hold onto me.

I am in uncharted territory.  Please pray with me as I seek God's will and live in freedom.  Pray with me as I surrender with every sunrise.  Please pray as I close this journal and open my new one.

Which, fittingly, has a verse on the front:

"I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."

Short stories are my favorite!

(NOT!)

I am taking Creative Writing this semester.  The first month was good.  The second month was pretty good, too.  But now we are writing a fictional short story.  The rough draft is due tomorrow.  And I hate my main character.  And I have no idea where the story can possibly end. 

I changed my entire story last week.  I would love to change it again, but that would mean staying up all night writing a new story...

I suppose I will stick with this one. 

While I absolutely hate this, I want to do another for class.  Perhaps about something that I am more familiar with?

This one is about a woman getting left at the altar.  I have never been married.  Or left at the altar. 

And where could this story end? 

I wish it would just write itself... Like life seems to do. 

Life is like a novel.  It just has lots of writers that fight with each other over everything. 

Oh, the epicness.

I love music.  I listen to almost every kind (except country and rap.).  Some days, I listen to only wordless music.  Today feels like one of those days... so here is one of my favorites.  My orchestra director tried to find music for it, but she was unsuccessful.  (I was really sad... really, really sad.)

This version is really cool, too.  But then again, I like electric guitars.  :)

Just one message...

My wonderful, beautiful Wednesday just shattered into a thousand pieces, like a perfect porcelain plate against concrete. How is it that a few sentences can destroy my day?

A good night's sleep

I wrote my testimony last night.

I cried only once.

It wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be.

Last night God gave me peace (thanks Grace!).

I slept like I haven't in a very long time. 

Today I give my best friends a copy.

Today I trust God more than I ever have.