Skin Deep

I've always felt like there was a bit of a dichotomy in me. A side of me that loves this blog and what it represents, my adventures and meager attempts to explore the things I don't understand. Then there's this other side of me that loves expression in a different sense.

So I started a new pet project. A blog called Skin Deep. After a significant amount of "wardrobe consulting" for friends and frequent questions about what I'm wearing and where I got it from, I've decided to share my faves, inspirations, guilty pleasures, obsessions, and secrets with as many of you as will listen. Follow me. Experiment. explore. comment and enjoy!

Cambria June

If I had a fishing supply store I'd call it "Keeping it Reel"

I'm continually surprised by the volume of women I encounter who are still enslaved. I'm not talking about women who are enslaved to obvious sin. I encounter them frequently as well and I am among them sometimes, regularly if I'm real honest. What I am surprised to encounter are women who are enslaved to their own image. Obsessed with trying to be the "perfect Christian girl." An oxy moron in and of itself.

For generations "The Church" (not one specific), our culture, and societal pressures have told women to conceal their true emotions. We're all supposed to be little June Cleavers. Little Pearl wearing, pie baking, husband loving, kid driving, June Cleavers. There is nothing wrong with being those things, in fact, a lot of them appeal to me, I love pearls, but the idea that a woman can be perfectly all those things, all the time is ridiculous. That's why an entire generation of women concealed their true emotions with quaaludes and martinis. Take my great grandmother for instance. She was raised to believe she wasn't a sinner (when I can tell you from first hand experience, she was). Sinners were bad people who murdered and she was a good armenian girl, not a sinner.

Things aren't exactly the same. We're not just expected to be the perfect wife anymore. We're expected to be the perfect employees, room moms, soccer moms, students, and the perfect Christian women.

We've come a ways since then, but not that far. Now it's ok for women to be sinners, but it's not ok for them to say HOW they sin. They are very generally sinners. Not that we are to boast in sin, but can we be honest about it? Can we be honest about the process God has us in? With the veil torn we come not as male or female, but one in Christ (Galations 3:28). Which means, we have the same responsibility to fervently pursue Holiness. We can't pursue what we won't allow the Spirit of God to search out in us. We can't sort out sin we aren't willing to face head on. We can't cleanse ourselves of what we aren't willing to shine light on.

It's time for women to stop monopolizing their time with how to fix the men in their lives and start admitting they have work to do on themselves.

I'm sick of seeing women obsessed with trying to pretend they are perfect. Always happy, always together, seemingly unacquainted with pain and sorrow. Unwilling to admit how hard life can be. Not in an effort to discredit God's ability to meet our needs in every circumstance, cause He surely is, but acknowledging the elephant in the room that this sanctification process is and should be hard. We are trying to overcome our very nature. At the very least, considering the pain of this world and the amount of people who have NO HOPE, NO FOOD, we should at the very least be somewhat burdened for them at times.

Paul was joyful in the Lord, but He wasn't bubbly all the time. Many of his writing is quite melancholy actually, because he was experiencing physical pain and because he was burdened for the lost that surrounded him.

Don't misunderstand me there is nothing wrong with being happy, or being joyful. It's one of the fruits of the spirit and we should be joyful. And despite what a lot of my writing sounds like sometimes, at the end of the day I am very satisfied. I think some women hide behind a false sense of joy. In doing so, they cause those who are suffering, those who are brave enough or forced to face their sin head on, to think that they could never attain that level of holiness. The truth is they can't, cause it's fake.

I aspire to be the kind of woman who is honest about her sin, but doesn't make excuses for it. Who is acquainted with pain, but maintains a peace that God is in control. Who pursues Holiness with tenacity and who allows her attitude and heart to be teachable and protest louder than her mouth. I'm going to be honest, I'm not there yet, but I see a few women that are...

Darlene Hanson, Cindy Heffner, & Wendi Mooney, just to name a few, so I know they exist.

What I'd like to see... Real women. Honest women. Authentic women. As Paul says in Second Corinthians: "Are we beginning to commend ourselves again? Or do we need, like some people, letters of recommendation to you or from you? You yourselves are our letter, written on our hearts, known and read by everybody." 2 Cor. 3: 1-3

Paul allowed those he invested in to be the testimony of the quality and depth of his walk with God.

So, ladies, let's allow those around us to be the testimony of our walks... not just our facebook posts. Let us desire to be honest with ourselves and with others about the state we are truly in, so we can experience true growth and true community together.

Energy, or Lack There Of

²⁹To this end I labor, struggling with all his energy, which so powerfully works in me.-Col. 1:29

Laboring to and for our own end is exhausting. Our energy is limited, especially when it comes to doing good. To accomplish what we were left here to accomplish. The gospel: To hope in the coming of Christ, which produces faith and love, which are abound to others that they may know Jesus is who He says He is. What a relief that it is not in my energy that these things are accomplished, or God would be quite limited to my emotions and mood. What a reminder that when I am emotionally and physically exhausted, when I'm at the end of myself, my efforts, what I'm capable of, I'm in the perfect place for Him to begin the works he always intended for me.

Why do I start to believe the lie that I can do anything good apart from Him? Probably because I can, at least for awhile. But like us, our efforts die. They only last so long. The energy to do good expires. The work that He does lasts. So often, I start to believe the lie that I don't have the time to spend with Christ, because I'm too busy doing "His" work. How He must laugh at the energy I expel to accomplish nothing. I have the ear of the creator, and yet, I ask Him not.

Friends, lets stop struggling to no avail to do what is right and seek Him today.

Dear, Sweet November

November is one of my favorite months and I'm not just saying that. It's at least top three for sure. The smells and sounds refresh me in a way my words wouldn't do justice. Where I live there are a lot of oak trees that shed their leaves this time of year. There is something captivating about the growth and changing of these trees. It mirrors for me the potential we have as human beings for growth. A challenge that is equally daunting and beautiful. Beautiful because of the opportunity for change and the possibility for each individual to overcome past wounds, present shortcomings, and avoid future pitfalls; and daunting because unlike the trees who shed their leaves without thought or effort, we must choose to shed ours.

The leaves that I grew last year, may not serve me any longer. The trees must loose their leaves to gain more. In the same way I must let go of the parts of me that served me in my youth, or may never have served me at all, to make room for the growth God has for me.It may be time to shed them and the only way I will is if I actively seek God's counsel, the counsel of trusted friends, and continue to look at myself through fresh eyes.

Can I be honest, I'm excited and terrified. Cause if I'm really being honest here, it's way easier, and more comfortable for me to just stay here. To be an evergreen. To maintain. The continual pruning and growing process is exhausting, even on it's best day, but I'm back, cause it's worth it. Cause it's better. Cause even though it's hard my Spirit can't stay put any longer.

Lord, may I be teachable this November. Humble. Open to shedding the structures and forms that may have served me in the past, but are now inhibiting the growth that You have for me. And don't let me be done, till I'm with You.

The Whole Truth

Upon further investigation, I don’t think I gave you the whole story. You see, a few months ago, everything changed and all the sudden all of my theories and all of my rationalizing couldn’t explain it away. A few months ago my Aunt & Uncle, who have courageously tried to get pregnant for sometime now miscarried their twins, Billie & Miles, at almost 6 months into her pregnancy. And just a few weeks later I watched dear friends of mine say goodbye to their little boy, Tyler James Rumley.

What was remarkable to see in Jerrod & Jen Rumley was their response. Faith and honesty in the midst of what can only be inadequately described as an utter tragedy. I tried for a few months to write something about it, something about them, but I couldn’t. I just felt like there was nothing significant to say after that. Words didn’t express enough. They couldn’t express the ache in my heart for all of them. They couldn’t express how completely pissed I was that this was happening. And they couldn’t express how helpless it is to sit by and watch such an injustice occur. And I watched them get up and give glory to God and I realized; I had no idea what faith really was.

So I got pissed. And more pissed. And months went by and I was still really pissed. Why would this happen? What possible benefit could there be to this? How would a good God ever allow this to happen? So pretty much for months, this has been internally circling around. And even a month on another continent couldn’t change it.

This week I had a tiny breakthrough. In reading a, let’s be honest, sorta boring passage in Deuteronomy, about the law, I discovered something. God is a God who loves justice. He has blessings and curses laid out for the Israelites that are so clear and quite frankly fair. That’s when I realized, God loves justice, and we’re the ones who don’t. And we can’t. Follow me here for a sec. As soon as we sinned, so long ago, we forfeited our right for justice, for a fair world. It’s the same injustice that has caused me to question the character of God by which I am saved. If not for the injustice of God these tragedies would not be allowed, but if it were not for His injustice, none of us would be saved. So we’re forced to live by faith. Trusting what we do not see played out in reality and what we aren’t able to rationalize into something positive, productive, better, or fair. We are forced to trust Him.

Honestly, I’m still pissed for them. I still don’t get it. It will still never be ok or make sense, but it isn’t ok to Him either. If I wish to remain upset I can only be upset with the sinful nature I was born into and the unfair, cruel world I must exist in, for what I’m sure I will learn someday, isn’t that long at all.

That’s the Truth. The Whole Truth. For now.

Confession

Have you ever had a seasonal friend? One of those people that enter your life and for a short time they are a large part of your life. They feel like they'll always be there and then, all the sudden, you drift apart. Maybe that thing or person you had in common isn't there anymore, but you live in Fresno, which means, you'll run into this person. Most likely at Target. It's not that you don't like this person anymore, you just don't know how to even talk to them anymore.

That's kinda what this blog has become for me. Like that friend I had a few months ago. The one I thought would definitely be in my wedding some day, but now, I can't even remember what it is we had in common. How did we get here? Maybe I was still unsure how much I wanted to expose myself in such a public manner. Maybe I was scared to be so vulnerable. Or maybe, I'm just not that interesting. Either way, I got so far away from this thing I wasn't sure how to come back, where to start again.

So, I've decided to do the hard thing, at least for me. Instead of just letting this thing slowly die and becoming another one of those people that started a blog, I've decided to revive this one. To rebuild. Hope you'll still join me, after all, we did say we'd be best friends forever.

Cam

Lessons in Worship from a Demon.

I think all of my problems could be boiled down to truly recognizing who Jesus is and who I am in comparison. 

Working for a church and being around the things of God a lot, I am in the business of "God" so to speak, it's easy to become desensitized. Overexposed. To take for granted who God truly is and what He has done. Too often I become too familiar and lose the sense of Awe, Wonder and Fear I should have as I approach Jesus. Instead of being a humble worshiper I become a cold hearted Pharisee, who finds my identity in the work I do and not in who I am in Him. 

Pharisees have had this problem for awhile. When they met Jesus for the first time they had mixed reactions. 

They gossiped about him to his disciples (Matt 9: 11)

They questioned his leadership (Matt 12:2)

They blasphemed him (Matt 9:34)

They were looking for a way to discredit him (Luke 6:7)

They plotted to kill him (Matt 12:14)

Why did the people who were supposed to be waiting for Jesus not recognize Him when He was right in front of their face? Too busy doing what was right? He didn't fit their paradigm? Too proud to need a Savior? 

Regardless of the reason, they missed it. They missed him. If I'm not careful I can miss Him too. When I fail to recognize Jesus for who He is in my life, When I begin to define myself by what I do and not who I am in Him, I've missed Him. 

By contrast, Jesus meets a man filled with an army of demons who receives Him quite differently. We know this man only as Legion, here's his response to Jesus:

 

Mark 5:6-7

6 When he saw Jesus from afar, he ran and worshiped Him. 7 And he cried out with a loud voice and said, “What have I to do with You, Jesus, Son of the Most High God? I implore You by God that You do not torment me.” 

When the man possessed by the army of demons saw Jesus from afar, he ran and worshiped him. If a demon responds to my Jesus like that, how much greater should my response be? A demon knows better than a pharisee who Jesus is, because he knows he is in opposition to him, a pharisee is, but doesn't realize it. His identity is in His empty obedience to legalistic "good works." Being a pharisee is like dying by carbon monoxide poisoning. It's a slow and silent death of the soul. 

If I truly recognize who Jesus is and who I am by comparison. I'll run to him, fall before him, and worship him. 

Mi Familia

Ok, so I was a little overzealous with this whole week of blogging in the middle of lots of events, storyboarding, and residency, so my bad. Instead, I'm going to give you the Legacy's I've been left. Abridged. Here you go...

Dad: Meekness, Strength in Humility

My Dad suffers from Parkinson's disease. As many of you already know. What you may or may not know is he was once a competitive body builder. He was, to me, the embodiment of physical strength and security. As the Lord has humbled the physical body of my father and in that broken him of every tie he had to his identity in this world, I have seen him depend more on Christ. The weaker his body becomes, the more humble he grows, the more dependent on Christ he becomes, and the stronger he is. 

Mom: Spontaneity & Individuality

My mother is an individual. I used to resent her for it. She is relentless in her desire to be true to who she is. I used to think a mother had to be a certain way and for awhile I wanted her to be like other moms, you know, more boring ones. Now, I am so thankful. What I didn't realize is my mother was teaching me that it was ok for me to be unique. That I didn't have to conform to the mold, that I could be a good mom who didn't wear a string of pearls, unless I wanted to...

Ama & Grandma: Servitude

My grandmothers could not be more different. Where they are similar is they will do absolutely anything to serve their families, and especially their husbands. 

Grandpa: Faithfulness

My grandpa is the most faithful man I've met. He faithfully serves, gives, supports, and encourages. He does right when no one is watching. 

Apa: generosity 

My dear Apa who we lost a little over a year ago was a precious man. He was quiet and warm, but mostly he was extremely generous with his family and denied us nothing. 

Madi: Unconditional Love

Rob: Encouragement

Bella: Grace

I could go on and on, but you get the picture. My family has left a mark on me. I am who I am because of them and learn about who Jesus is through them. We each leave a legacy on those around us... What's yours?

This week: a portrait of my family.

Hey Blog friends,

I usually reserve my very rarely updated blog for the aha moments God gives me as I skip, jump, twirl, fall, and walk along this road with Him. However, my aha moment this week is not what he's showing me now, but what he's already shown me. I was reading Romans 16 this week, Paul's shout out to his peeps and realized the impact 

of people in my life. I am who I am because of the influence of others in my life. So this week I would like to share with you portraits of lives that have influenced me. Family members here and past who have shaped who I am. 

They aren't spiritual giants that will end up in text books. They aren't perfect. But they aspired to lead quiet lives that please the Lord and for that humble example I am eternally grateful. Hope you enjoy their inspiring stories as much as I do.

My love affair with Amos Lee

At first it was just a crush and I thought maybe it was just infatuation. But these feelings are real and go much deeper than I first expected. I am absolutely in LOVE with Amos Lee and I don't care who knows it. 

His sultry voice and soulful lyrics touch my soul and I'm just going to say it, unapologetically, because it's the truth, even though it is sappy. Though in my mind he is a very single, lovely man who loves Jesus and respects women, I realize that is most likely fantasy. However, I think he accidentally nailed the core struggle of walking in holiness with Christ. 

In his song "Seen it All Before" he has this lyric that has always haunted me. "Stuck between the depths of my fears and the peaks of my pride." And that is exactly it. He unintentionally nailed the daily struggle we experience to walk in step with Christ. Every time I fall, every time I choose something besides Christ it's because of one of those things. My fear or my pride. 

My pride tells me I don't need Him, that I got this. My fears tell me I can't trust Him. When I am emptied out before the Lord that is what gets exposed. My fears and my pride. And that is what they feel like! My pride is puffed up like a peak and I come crashing down off the top of it when the Lord in His grace humbles me before I'm too much of an idiot. And my fears.. they feel like depths. When I wallow there in my fears and insecurities, they are paralyzing and when I truly search them I realize the black hole-like spiral they send me into. 

Somewhere in between those places, of darkness and fleeting self sufficiency there is a sweet spot of dependency on Christ. This beautiful place that is much less dramatic and maybe even less exciting than bouncing back and forth through the extremes of emotion we experience when we ping pong back and forth between living in fear and living in pride. But the peace that we're longing for in the core of us is there, one that's beyond understanding.

Let yourself fall in love.... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=el74EUL1swQ

Let's Get Physical

I like people. A lot. The people in my life are important to me. Sometimes I will go to great lengths to show the people I care about how much I care about them. It's been about a month since I've seen my grandmother. I know that because the last time I saw her it was when we were shopping at TJ Maxx and in order to save an extra 20% that day I opened up an account with them. They have a 28 day billing cycle, and my bill was due today. When I realized that I figured I should see her, because I assume if I haven't spent quality time with a person in awhile, they probably think I don't care about them.

My grandmother is a very interesting woman. First of all, she doesn't look like a grandmother and she hates that word because that is a name for an old woman and she is not old. In our family, she is Ama. Much better. A little over a year ago, my grandfather passed away. For the first time in her adult life, she found herself alone. I mean she still has all of us, but we don't live with her and pay her bills. So, she did a very respectable thing and went on a job search. She interviewed and was hired to work the front desk at Sierra Racquet Club. Her duties include, scheduling courts, opening up the facilities, ringing up customers who are renewing their memberships and so forth. One of the perks of her job is that her family gets in free. 

When I realized I hadn't seen my Ama in a while, I called her, only to discover that she works on my day off. She insisted I come in to take one of the classes at the club and visit her. I was willing, both to see her and alleviate some of my guilt.

I got there and she immediately started introducing me to everyone. I finally understand where I get my obsessive need to try and know everyone from. She knew every person in the club, their family history, their story, and their normal workout regiment. When we finally made it to our class, I realized how out of place I was. I looked around and saw that everyone there, except for me and my teacher, would qualify for a senior special. The class consisted of mostly ladies and then the token two random guys in an aerobics class. In an aerobics class there are always a couple and they are always the same. The first is gay and/or foreign, and the second is straight, probably staring at your butt, and must make stupid jokes the entire class to prove to the class that he is not the gay/foreign one. But I digress...

Our teacher quickly instructed me to pick up five different instruments and apparatuses we were going to use for the class. Though she was relatively young, it became apparent, nothing about how this class was run had changed in the last 30 years. We even had those rubber band pully things with handles that I had only really seen on that Olivia Newton John video from years ago. 

As the work out began I realized something else. I am WAY out of shape and super competitive. Not a good combination. Here I am looking around at these old ladies and dudes and they were way better at this stuff than I am. It was very humbling to say the least. I couldn't wait for class to end. Our instructor bounced around a lot, you could tell she was trying to keep it fresh, but it was the same old thing. Was it working? Yes. I could feel the burn, so to speak, but Did I enjoy it? No. 

This experience got me thinking. Why wouldn't I go back to this class? Why didn't I enjoy it? Did I get a good workout? YES! I am so sore already. Did I not enjoy the people? Besides the creepy dude, which there is always one, yes. The ladies were sweet and funny and I enjoyed working out with them. Was it the music? Maybe sometimes. Then I realized what the fatal flaw of the class was... it wasn't innovative. It was boring, because it's been done, and overdone, about a thousand times. At work we talk a lot about wanting to innovate and push things farther, but there was something about seeing this pocket of irrelevance in a time where so many other options are available that made me realize how important innovation is and will become as I continue to age. What I know innately now, because of my youth, will become irrelevant and what we've done will become dated, sooner than we are ready to accept. There's just got to be a way to keep the effectiveness of the workout and the results it produced, without having it look exactly the same. 

Your thoughts?

The end before the beginning

I've never been happy with the physical art I've created. I always have this definite picture in my head of how I want it to look and the finished product is never even close to what I had imagined. I don't think real artists have that. I don't think they know the end before the beginning.  Most artists say that they let the picture take them where it leads or something vague and frustrating like that. I started to wonder, Is that indicative of my life? Do I have a picture of what I want the end to be? Am I disappointed when God does something else, even if it is better for me?

My mind never stops. I mean never. I dream every night and I don't listen to music in the car when I'm by myself because I usually forget to turn it on. My mind spins as I try to piece together the past to predict the future. Someone asked me recently why I do this and my response, though sincere at the time, wasn't complete. I told him I'm usually thinking about people, trying to figure out what they are doing and why they are doing it. True. However, that explains what I am thinking about, not why. When I honestly thought about it, I realized I was protecting myself. If I can figure out what is coming next I can prevent myself from being hurt or disappointed. Not true, but it feels true to me sometimes. The truth is, with life, much like art, it is pretty much impossible to figure out the end before the beginning. In the end you are left either with feeling disappointed about life or about your process, because one or both are bound to be wrong or unfair. 

So here's my challenge. To live in the present. Vulnerable. Terrified. And excited to see what the master will artfully put together. 

Epiphany

I had this Indian professor once. Indian like from India not Native American.  Anyway, her name was Uma, because when she was born her parents took her to the priest or priestess of their Hindu church.  Every new baby is taken there and they give a sound that their name will start with. "U' is what they got, it didn't leave them many options, so Uma it was. 

Uma was the very first college professor I ever had and that was the first thing she told us my freshman year at Fresno State. It's always stuck with me. As I've been trying to name my blog I've been thinking about it. Those priests or priestesses got a message from "god" and that was the vowel they would give. I'm pretty sure God is not so concerned with what I name a blog. Probably not even with what I name my children someday. So that's not the route that got me to Epiphany.

I started this blog for a couple reasons. 

First, I love to write. Always have. But the idea of actually letting people read what I write has always made me a bit nauseated. I figured it was time to grow up a bit, step out a bit, and let people into a part of me that has been somewhat hidden for a long time. 

It's turned out to be absolutely terrifying, but in an exciting away. Probably like sky diving or bungee jumping if I'd done either of those things.

Second, the only thing I write about are these little theories I develop about life and things God teaches me as I experience the life He's laid out for me and as I watch people. 

So, Thank you for your suggestions, but they kinda sucked. So I began searching and playing around in the dictionary. I stumbled upon this definition and it was love at first sight.

Here's the definition that sealed the deal: 

3. a sudden, intuitive perception of or insight into the reality or essential meaning of something, usually initiated by some simple, homely, or commonplace occurrence or experience. 

I don't have anything new or fancy to offer. I barely know how to work this blog thing. But I'm absolutely fascinated by the mysteries of life unfolded in simple, homely, & commonplace occurrences. If you are too, keep reading and enjoy my little epiphanies for whatever they are worth.

Boxes

When I was in Kindergarten we had these puzzles we worked on.  Mrs. Brammer would give us a sheet of paper with four pictures in a random order.  The pictures were a sequence that was out of order. So, it was our job to cut out the four drawings and put them in the order that they occurred. It was always the same sort of thing. Some guy named Jim picked up a bat and a ball. Then Jim went outside and his friend Tim pitched a ball to him.  Then Jim hit the baseball.  And finally, it went straight threw his mother's window. These cartoons were supposed to teach us to think about what our actions may produce.  

One day I was climbing on the counters in my parent's kitchen. I was hanging from the very top shelf trying to reach something I should never reach (for the life of me I can't remember what it is now). My mother walked in and she didn't yell and she didn't grab me.  She looked at me and said, "Cambria June, you know those sequence puzzles you do at school.  What do you think the next box will look like if you are hanging from the top shelf?" So I sat on the counter and thought about it.  Almost immediately I got this mental picture of me laying on the ground, my arm bent in half the wrong way like a cartoon character. So I climbed down, very carefully.

Lately I've been thinking a lot about consequences. I'm an idealist so I think about the future a lot, but not in a very tangible way. Like I think about what the future could and should be like, but not about what my actions today are producing for me in the future. This week I was reading in Ecclesiastics and came across a verse that struck me. Eccl. 8:11 says, "Because the sentence against an evil work is not executed speedily, therefore the heart of the sons of men is fully set in them to do evil." 

I started thinking about that and I realized, the next box is coming. Even if you can't see it right now. The sequence continues. Right now, my actions today, are storing up consequences for tomorrow. But because the sentence for evil, or the negative consequences of evil action or inaction are not executed speedily, I don't think about the next box. 

I think the opposite of this verse is the same.  Because the fruit of righteousness is not produced quickly, the hearts of the sons of men become faint and are not fully set on doing good. It's easy to lose faith if we forget about the next box, the consequence of our actions today.

The next box is always unknown and it drives me crazy. However, I do know the last box. And maybe that's it. The challenge for me is to live my life in light of the last box, without knowing the next.  Maybe, that's the secret to setting your heart on doing good. I don't know the next box. I don't know if the fruit of doing good will come in the next box or the ones after that. But I do know, I get Jesus. If I can just focus on that box and forget about the ones in between, if I can set my heart on Him. I think the doing good thing will come. 

Comfortably Numb

It's not just the naming of the blog that's been difficult for me. Lately I've just lacked inspiration. Typically, I don't have a hard time going deep, in fact, I usually spend too much time completely immersed in my own self deprecating thoughts. However, lately things have been comfortable. I have felt so comfortably numb in the past couple of weeks and all of the sudden it just occurred to me, things are good right now.  Life is good right now. I have so many incredible people and relationships in my life.  I'm not dating anyone and I don't even care. My family is amazing. I love my job and I'm good at it. Everyone is relatively healthy. My sister hasn't been shot lately.  I mean life is good. I don't know what to do with that. The last year of my life has been this awful series of one painful event after another and in some weird, upside down way I felt closer to God than I have ever felt. So now, my prayers are answered and my life is going really well and I'm scared because I don't know if I know how to stay as close to Him as I have been when things are good. 

Then I start to think maybe my life isn't good right now. Like it's good in an American sense, but maybe it's not good in a Jesus sense.  Maybe I have become too comfortable. Or maybe I have been shopping too much. But I really like shopping. Am I allowed to like Jesus and shopping? I mean if you gave me the choice Jesus or the clothes I just got on clearance there's no contest I pick Jesus, but is that enough? Maybe I have too many things around me and I can't feel him anymore.  Or maybe and this one really sucks if it's true, maybe I'm not supposed to be happy or comfortable. Maybe I don't feel content because I was never supposed to be here, in this place where life is comfortable. Because Christ has called me to come and die not to hit a good sale, put on a good event, and be a model citizen.  And dying seems pretty uncomfortable. I don't know if I died at all today and I'm supposed to be dying every day. But dying every day is so exhausting.  All I wanted while I was hurting and delving into these awful issues from my past and present was not to feel the pain anymore and now, I'm not sure what I want exactly. 

I don't think that God doesn't want me to be happy. He's blessed me too much, with too many incredible relationships and situations not to want me to enjoy them.  Maybe the problem isn't my situations, maybe it's me.  Maybe my relationship with God is a little high school.  You know in High School there was always that couple that had a ton of drama.  They were constantly fighting, breaking up and getting back together and you wondered, Why do they even stay together? Maybe my relationship with Jesus is sort of like that.  Maybe I don't know how to just be with Him without drama. I mean we aren't breaking up and getting back together, but I definitely wonder why He's stayed with me all of this time sometimes.  So, I guess it's time to grow up.  I don't want God to always have to teach me things the hard way, I'd actually really like to learn things without forcing His hand.  So, this is the new frontier for me... How to walk with God when things are good. 

name that blog...

There is nothing more intimidating than endless possibility. When faced with a decision I have a fairly easy time choosing between the options placed in front of me.  Like...  Regular or Decaf? Regular. (as if that's even a question.) Pepsi or Coke? Pepsi. The red shirt or the pink shirt? Both. When two clear paths are marked in front of me I can decide which one I'd like to traverse.  However, when there's like a million different roads and I could even make up my own road if I wanted to, I am absolutely overwhelmed. So here I am, staring at this dark, blank page trying to figure out what in the world I should name my little blog. A name is sort of a big deal for a blog. The tone will be set by it, the few people who click on the link will decide whether they want to read it or not, and since it's mine I feel like it should represent me, which is tough to do since I pack a whole lot of randomness and personality into this petite frame. 

So... my challenge to you my dear friends and hopefully my future readers is this:

Name that blog.