I Am NOT Strong

You sense it.  I sense it.  We all sense it.  It's that pressure from society that tells us we have to be strong.  It's that pressure from society that tells us we have to have it all together, that tells us we have to look our best, be our best, outperform everyone else, and just generally be awesome in every possible way. 

And if society isn't telling us to be strong, then we're telling ourselves that we have to be strong.  We believe we have to be the best parent, the best spouse, the best friend, the best worker, the best whatever, and there is absolutely no room for error. 

And if for some reason we can't be this perfectly strong person, we buckle down and give into depression, despair, and guilt.  We trick ourselves into believing we live in a world made up of people who have it all together, and if we can't have it all together, too, then we're failures.  We either stop trying and succumb to mediocrity--or worse, or we put on a bold face, try harder, and proclaim to the world that we are STRONG.

Sometimes these proclamations don't come in words.  Sometimes we proclaim our strength by putting on our best clothes and make up, trying to look the part that we're playing.  Sometimes we proclaim it by doing things to attract attention.  Sometimes we proclaim it by trying to make others look weaker than us.  Sometimes we proclaim it by attacking anything that threatens our facades of strength, or anything that even suggests that we're not like all those imaginary people who have it all together.

It's not fun being weak.  It means we can't save ourselves.  It means that we have to rely on others--when it often so much more pleasant to be the person upon which others rely.  It means we have to face the ugliness in the mirror as being our own.  It means that we are broken, and it means that we can't do a blasted thing to fix our own brokenness.

When we reach that place of brokenness, it's often easier to pretend it isn't there.  It's often easier to proclaim, however it is we proclaim it, that WE ARE NOT WEAK; WE ARE STRONG.  It's comforting to hear ourselves proclaim this, but after a while, our own voice sounds pretty unconvincing.  There's no truth to it. 

We aren't strong.  We are weak. 

Paul was a pretty awesome guy.  He spoke eloquently; he was a good leader.  He knew what he believed and knew how to speak and write about it.  He was a Law-abiding Jew, one who had studied the Law and upheld it, one who had been through much persecution and prevailed.  Yet, Paul knew that he was weak, and he did not run away from it.

"...there was given me a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me. Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong." 2 Corinthians 12:7-10 (emphasis mine)


I think sometimes we'd like to rewrite what Paul said there.  I think we'd like to say, "...I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me, and immediately He did.  He said to me, "Because you belong to Me, I'm going to give you strength so you can be strong and never have to deal with weakness again."  Therefore, I will boast that I am STRONG, because power rests on me.  That is why, for my own sake, I delight in being strong.  For I. AM. STRONG."

Sounds great...but that's not what Paul said. 

I've been spared from a lot of hardship that other people have had to face, but I've suffered some rejection in my life.  I've been rejected, and that rejection has become part of my identity.  When I look in the mirror, part of what I see is named "Rejected."  It would be comfortable to deny this part of myself, but I won't deny it, and I don't believe Christ denies it. 

"Rejected" isn't the only name I have, nor is it the most important name I have.  The most important name I have is "Beloved Child of God."  When I look in the mirror, that identity overwhelms everything else that I see.  It's just that when God claimed me as His child, He didn't remove the rejection.  He doesn't deny what I've been through or the pain it has caused me.  He hasn't fixed that broken part of me and made it all shiny and new so that everyone who sees me sees something perfect and strong.

See, one of the things that I find the most confusing about God is that He doesn't love us in spite of our weakness.  He just loves us.  He loves us as we are.  He doesn't give us His strength and just banish all the pain of our past, present, and future.  He gives us His strength daily to live for Him within the contexts of our weaknesses.  I can be "Rejected" and "Beloved" all at the same time, just as Paul could be "Weak" and "Strong" at the same time. 

"Rejected" isn't my only name, my only weakness.  I'm far too easily discouraged.  I'm overly sensitive.  I have no tact.  I don't speak well--especially not in situations where I'm uncomfortable.  I have a short fuse.  I get emotional too easily.  I freak out when I don't know what's expected of me or if I don't know how to behave.  I have no gumption.  I use the word awesome too much.  I make poor decisions and let people walk all over me.  I AM WEAK.

God is using me--not in spite of all these things.  He's working through them, using me as I am, using even my weaknesses for His glory.  I have no gumption, and I'm easily discouraged, but I still believe that I'm going to get my writing published someday.  When I do, I won't be able to praise myself for my talent or myself for the process of getting published.  I'm weak, but I serve a God who uses the weak and foolish to shame the strong and wise (1 Corinthians 1:27).  That's my only hope, yet that is a great hope.

I believe that God can and does receive glory through all of the things that He's allowed me to walk through, both the good and the bad.  If I were perfect, if I'd never been hurt, if I was able to do everything right and never mess up, if I just had a holy dose of strength that never allowed me to be exposed to weakness or pain again, then I would think that I have no need for Christ's daily provision.  And I don't think Christ would be glorified in a pious people continually walking in perfect strength.  Rather, I think Christ is more glorified through a group of needy individuals who reach and strive daily for Him and His grace.

I'm not strong.  I am weak.  And I can boast about that, not because there's anything amazing about me--but because my God is amazing.  He redeems my weaknesses and gives me strength in the midst of them. 

I'd like to share a video by a guy named Jason Gray.  Jason Gray is a pretty cool guy, from what I've seen and heard.  He's got so much better guitar skills than I'll ever have, and he's got an amazing voice.  At least, he's got an amazing voice when he sings.  Jason Gray has a speech impediment.  He stutters uncontrollably while he's speaking, but the impediment does not affect his singing at all.  In a world that shuns weakness and embraces strength, it might be easier for Jason Gray to keep the talking to a minimum and just sing.  But he does speak about his stuttering--he stutters about his stuttering.  He proclaims his weakness, boasts in His weakness, knowing that God can use his example to encourage others and to give Himself glory.  And God is using Jason Gray, not because he is strong, but because he's a weak person who can only be strong in Christ. 

...and he has a really awesome purple plaid shirt.  I also have an awesome purple plaid shirt.  I think everyone should have an awesome plaid purple shirt...


So what are your weaknesses?  What are some ways that God has worked through your weaknesses to reveal His perfect power?

Sunday Update: Enough

Yesterday, I was an absolute moron.

Last week was a brutally long week.  Then Friday, I donated blood after working 2 jobs.  I gobbled up a pack of crackers and went grocery shopping afterwards.  I didn't get to bed until midnight, and I still needed to get some things done to prepare for my long Saturday filled with jogging and work and then rushing straight to a babysitting gig.

Then I had this brilliant moronic idea.  I figured I'd get up even earlier than usual to go jog.  I'm with a group (http://www.thesecondwind.net/) that usually meets up at on Sat. morning at 7:30 to talk and pray, and then we go run/waddlejog/walk.  Well, I figured I'd just go there at 6:30 and do my jogging, then I could meet with the people and go home to get some stuff done before work.  Except, I didn't get there at 6:30 because I was tired and didn't want to get out of bed.  But I forced myself to get up, scarfed down some trail mix, sloshed some water down my throat, and started jogging at 6:45.

I planned on doing 4 miles.  It was insanely humid.  I hadn't eaten or hydrated well.  I HAD GIVEN BLOOD THE NIGHT BEFORE.  After a valiant pathetic effort, I only managed to run about 2 3/4 miles before I almost puked my guts out and almost passed out.  Neither of these things happened because I finally had common sense enough to stop trying to run, and I dragged myself back to my car.

I met with my group, went home, and showered.  I did a few things that needed to be done.  I went to work.  Rush rush rush.  My body was SCREAMING at me to rest, but I didn't listen until it was almost too late.  I started feeling slightly nauseated as I turned the lights on at work.  I knew I wasn't sick (and in danger of infecting anyone).   I was just so exhausted my body was rebelling.  The nausea got a little worse as I unlocked the front door and turned on the OPEN sign.  Then I sat down at the computer, waiting for the first child to come to the drop-in center, and suddenly I was so overwhelmed by nausea that I thought I was going to toss my trail mix all over the keyboard. 

I picked up the trash can and lowered my head over it, just in case I was going to 1) hurl, 2) faint, 3) both at the same time.  All the while I was intently praying that no parents/kids would walk through the door until the nausea passed.

Thankfully, no kids came.  The nausea did pass in just a few minutes.  But the weirdest thing happened as I lowered my head over that trash can. 

The word "enough" is something I've been thinking about a lot lately.  Earlier this week, I somehow found time to finish reading Quitter by Jon Acuff (http://www.jonacuff.com/), and he wrote about how before you can be successful with your dreams, you have to define your "enough."  And I hadn't really sat down to define it, but I'd been thinking about it all week. 

So then, when I was sitting in an office chair praying for the sweet release of death that I wasn't so tired that I would have to scramble to find someone to cover my shift, contentedness snuck up on me.  Now, I wasn't happy, because honestly, happiness and being on the verge of puking aren't really things that typically go together.  But all of the sudden I just came to the realization that while I'm broke all the time and life isn't perfect and there are still things for which I hope and dream, the life I have RIGHT NOW is enough.  If I had to live the rest of my life with things being just as they are right now, I would be content.  The jobs I have, the friends I know, my family, my church, the kids I have the AMAZING opportunity to love--these things are so much more than I deserve, and they enrich my life so much beyond what I absolutely need. 

Though I was insanely tired, yesterday ended well with babysitting four fantastic kids who made me feel awesome (and chatting afterwards with their incredible parents who also made me feel awesome).

Today, I've had a little time to think this through.  I'm probably still going to be thinking it through, but here's where my thoughts are headed at the moment.

There's a reason I am content, and that reason is not so I can sit basking in my contentedness.  About a year ago, God brought me out of an insanely long season of Spiritual winter.  The spring and summer have gone by quickly, and I really do believe that I'm at the beginning of autumn.  Autumn means harvest.  The spring that followed that winter was an amazing time of growth.  I don't know if others have seen it, but I know that God has radically changed my heart over the past year.  If there was that much growth, I know the harvest is probably going to be something pretty big.

I've been anticipating some big changes to come in my life, and I sense the arrival of these changes even more clearly right now.  Some of the changes are starting to take form, and I'm a little bit afraid because I still don't know what to do with them.  In a very small way, I feel like Moses.  I need an Aaron.  I can't do this myself.  I need to ask for help, and that's not my forte.

Also, I am typically just not one who likes change, even if it's good change.  I feel like I finally got to the point where I'm not looking for anything else to fulfill me.  What I have is enough--more than enough.  Now that I've reached that point, I am afraid that through change, I'm going to lose something that has taken a long time to be gained. 

I'm reminded that when we are faithful in small things, God is faithful to give us charge over bigger things.  That requires more work and effort and responsibility.  I'm afraid that I'm not going to be able to handle the tasks that God's given me to do.

But yesterday, in the midst of everything else He showed me, God reminded me of my weakness.  I was hovering over a trash can, completely at the mercy of my own exhausted body. 

'Cause see, I'm a moron.  In fact, I'm a weak moron.  But if God is giving me something to do, then He's going to work through me, and He has more than enough strength and wisdom.  One of my favorite passages of Scripture is 1 Corinthians 1:27: "...but God has chosen the foolish things of the world to shame the wise, and God has chosen the weak things of the world to shame the things which are strong...."

There's only One in whom I can boast.  He will provide for what I need when I need it, and I have to trust that.  I have to trust Him. 

I have a strong suspicion that will be enough.

Sunday Update: Wrestling

I'm not going to talk much about last week.  It was disappointing on so many levels.  I wasted a lot of time and energy on stupid stuff that doesn't really matter.  I could have used that time and energy for things that built up God's Kingdom instead of bulding up my own. That's all I have to say about that.

But church was very good today.  I almost didn't go.  I was having some wardrobe malfunctions (have you ever had an epic battle with a zipper?  I have.  Me-1, Zipper-0!).  I was running horribly late.  But every time I thought, "I might as well just go back to sleep," I had this inkling that Satan was trying to keep me from going to church today.  I'm not sure if that's the case (though I really have to wonder if there's ever a time when Satan doesn't want to discourage people from going to church--if it's a God-honoring, Christ-centered church and not just a glorified social club).  But I defeated the zipper and made it to church twenty minutes late.

We're going through 2 Kings right now in Sunday School Adult Bible Study, and today we talked about Elisha and different ways God provided for different people.  One of the women we talked about was wealthy, respected, and generous, but she had no children.  Elisha prophesied that she would have a son.  The woman's reaction revealed that she was afraid to even hope for this--which leads me to believe she had hoped for it for quite some time.  She desperately wanted children, but she had been hoping for so long that she had come to the point where she was afraid to hope anymore. 

I understand this.  I think my apathy is centered around this idea of being afraid to hope.

The thing is, this woman did have a child.  And a few years later, the child died.  The woman's reaction was pretty remarkable.  She put the boy's body in a closed room, and without telling anyone what had happened, she immediately made preparations to journey to Elisha.  She acted as if all was well.  When she was coming near, Elisha sent a servant to meet her, but she remained calm until she actually reached Elisha's side.  Only after coming to Elisha did she show her desperation, her need.  Elisha sent his servant to the boy, but the woman would not leave Elisha's side.  She knew that her child had not been given to her just to be taken away again, and she knew that Elisha was the man of God who would bring her son back to her.

When her child was only a promise, she was afraid to hope.  After her child had been given to her, she fought for him...because she knew there was a reason he had been promised. 

While studying this, I was reminded of Abraham and Isaac.  God had promised this child.  Then God commanded Abraham to sacrifice the promised child.  Abraham obeyed, believing that God would provide in one way or another.  He believed that if Isaac died, God would be able to bring him back to life.  Because God had made the promise that Isaac would be the first of Abraham's many, many, many, many (etc. etc. etc.) descendants.

I'm sensitive to stories about promised children because, while I've never been promised children at all, I have wanted to be a mom for many years now.  It's not happened.  It might never happen.  And if it doesn't, I'm okay with that.  I have a lot of borrowed children, so I'm good.  In a weird way, God has given me a lot of kids, just like I asked Him.  So it's okay.  Better than okay.  I have far more than I deserve.

But there are things that I desire besides children.  I don't know if I can really say that I have been promised these things.  God has never sent me a lightning bolt or shining angel to tell me that one day I'll be a published author.  But I can't help but believe that He's given me my passions and gifts for writing for a reason--or for many reasons.  I can't help but believe that He's given me the stories that live in my brain (some of which even live on paper).  It's not a promise, really, but it's a hope.

Lately...I think I've gotten tired or fearful of hoping. 

A lot of good little Christians probably don't like the fact that I think that it's a good thing to wrestle with God sometimes.  I really like the story in Genesis of Jacob wrestling with the angel.  Scripture says that Jacob wrestled with God and man and overcame.  But do I think for one minute that Jacob, a mere man, could overcome God?  Well, there's only one way that could ever be possible, and that's if God let him win.  God could strike Jacob down in a heartbeat, with just a thought.  He didn't have to wrench Jacob's hip out of place in a feeble attempt to make Jacob release Him.  He could have wiped Jacob out with no effort at all.  But there was something God was doing in the midst of that wrestling match.  And I think it showed a lot about Jacob's character that he held out and held on for that blessing. 

Jacob was a deceiver, a grasper.  He hadn't rightfully earned anything he'd gained.  He still had the nerve to wrestle with God and say, "I'm not letting go until you bless me." 

Now, if we didn't know what happened, the good little Christian would probably assume that God would react to Jacob's audacity with lots of good ol' fashioned smiting.  But God didn't smite Jacob.  God blessed Jacob. 

Why?  Why would God grant Jacob what he wanted?  I think the answer is pretty simple.  Jacob had faith.  Just like Abraham had faith.  And that faith was credited to him as righteousness.

And while we all need to surrender to God, I truly believe there are times when God calls us to wrestle with Him.  There are times when all we have is a faint, frail hope.  In these times, it's easy to get discouraged and just stop trying.  But it takes far more faith to hold on to that hope, holding on to God, wrestling while waiting for that blessing.

I'm at this place now.  Well, I've been here for a while.  I've been waiting and working for some things, but I've gotten to that place where I'm just so afraid to hope.  I'm so afraid of getting my hopes crushed, so I don't want to risk believing.  But the Lord has reminded me...again (I need lots of reminders)...that He is faithful.  And I need to be more like that woman who knew everything was going to be all right, even when all hope seemed lost.  She rushed to Elisha, wouldn't leave his side, until she had what she believed she was meant to have.  Abraham was willing to sacrifice his beloved child, knowing God would not go back on His promise.  Jacob had the faith and boldness to actually wrestle with the God, demanding a blessing, though he had no natural right to it.

And I need to get back to the point where I'm working towards my goals.  I need to get back to the point where I'm working as if I actually believe I'm going to have what I believe I'm meant to have.  I need to wrestle with God as strongly as I wrestled with that blasted zipper this morning.  God's made me stubborn for a reason, and I need to rediscover that stubbornness.  I need to audaciously wrestle with God, holding on to Him until I get my blessing.

...and I really don't have to fear hope, because the truth of the matter is, His hold on me is even stronger.

Characters Welcome

I really like those USA television promos with the little "Characters Welcome" slogan. USA gets it. Good television shows don't do well because every single script is perfect. Even the best shows have bad episodes (except maybe Psych. Never saw a bad episode of Psych--but even that is because Shawn and Gus make me snortle). While good plots are very important, what really keeps people watching is the characters.

Plots are important, but I think characters are even more important. If you have a wonderful plot with amazing twists and turns, I'm probably not going to care too much about it unless you also have some amazing characters to experience that plot. I'm not going to relate to anything in the story unless I can relate to the characters. That relating can mean I understand where they're coming from and what they're dealing with because I've been there, or it can mean I want to know WHY they're acting the way they do in a certain situation, or it can mean I want to be more like them. However I relate to a character, I'm going to keep reading to figure out what's going to happen because I've made an emotional investment in the characters.

I'm looking back on some of my favorite fictional characters. At the top of the list is Meg Murray from "A Wrinkle in Time" and the other books in that series. I get her. In a lot of ways, I am her. I'm that awkward kid who gets frustrated with herself and others way too easily. I'm constantly struggling with the idea that I am not good enough, trying to balance it with the idea that I've been made in the image of God. Madeleine L'Engle struck gold when she found Meg. I know a lot of people who have said that they're just like her. If she can overcome the odds she had to face, then so can we. That's good writing.

Then there's my second favorite fictional character, Samwise Gamgee from LOTR. To me, this little hobbit is the embodiment of loyalty. He wouldn't leave Frodo. When he couldn't carry Frodo's burden, he carried him. I relate to Sam because I think I am a lot like him, but I want to be even more like him. I want to be that fiercely loyal friend. My emotional investment to him caused me to weep like a baby when I got to the end of the books and realized he would have to be separated from Frodo. It makes me a little teary eyed to think of it even now.

My third favorite fictional character is also someone I wish I could be more like. Lucy Pevensie from "The Chronicles of Narnia." I wish I could be as childlike as she is. Every time she has to leave Aslan, especially at the end of "Voyage of the Dawn Treader," I also get weepy.

Another of my favorite characters is Taran from "The Chronicles of Prydain." He's a boy and he's a little harder to understand than some of the other characters I love. I do understand him some. I do want to be like him in some ways (good characterization is usually pretty multifaceted). I also wonder what he's going to do next because I don't always understand why he acts the way he does. I want to see if he attains his dreams. I want to see if he gets the girl. I want to see what he learns through his journies.

It's the same sort of feeling I get when I read Harry Potter. I don't get why Harry acts the way he does. I don't know why he gets himself into certain predicaments, but it's interesting to see how he gets out of them. I want to see what happens to him. J. K. Rowling is very good at weaving elements through stories. Something that seems insignificant somewhere might be the very thing that ties everything else together. I like her writing, but it wouldn't be very good if she didn't also have all these amazing and interesting characters.

I've been thinking about my own characters. There's a few that are very much like me, and these have been the easiest for me to write. But right now I'm starting a new story and I think the main character is a lot like me, only I'm having a lot of trouble with her. I think the reason is because she's a lot like who I was when I was a teenager, only perhaps a little more down to earth (she has had more disappointment in life than I had ever had at that point in my life). She's closed. She doesn't let people in easily. I'm trying to write her, but she doesn't want to let me in enough to let me see how to write her. She has the potential to be someone amazing, and I want to show her that. Right now, though, she's uncomfortably awkward (I've finally become very comfortable with my awkwardness--read my socially awkward blog). She has one friend. She doesn't trust people. She's angry and bitter and extremely moody. She has a lot of good qualities, too, of course, but it's harder to see them because she doesn't like to show them.

I adore her, but she doesn't want to let me write her.

I know that sounds weird. I can't help the way I relate to my characters. Ever since a character named "Rain" entered my life and demanded that I write her the way she IS instead of the way I wanted her to be, I've been treating my characters with a lot more respect. If I expect them to live, then they're more likely to live.

But Rain didn't take over (and quite literally possess me for two weeks) immediately. I dreamt her up and thought she was someone quite weak and unimportant until one day she just spoke up and proclaimed her strength and vitality. Maybe it's the same thing with this other character. Maybe I need to give her some time.

I hope it doesn't take too long. I've got a plot (weak as it is at the moment), but without her and another character (who I am also having just a little bit of trouble with), the plot is pretty much useless. I want people to invest in her and my other characters. I want to make people care about what happens to her. At the moment, I don't think she WANTS other people to care. So that's where the conflict is. Sigh.

I think it's time to write letters to my characters again.

Be Strong and Courageous

Last week, God did that thing where He keeps making the same message just pop up over and over in my daily life. That hasn't happened to me for a long time, but I know that whenever it does happen, it's probably a pretty good idea to pay attention. The theme this time is "be strong and courageous."

It came up in three of my friends' facebook posts. Then it came up again in worship at my preschool. It came up again in my MOPPETS lesson (I wasn't even planning on teaching that lesson--it was the one provided when I got there that morning). Then it came up again in a scripture passage I was reading. It came up AGAIN in this movie I was watching. Over and over again, God's kind of thrown "BE STRONG AND COURAGEOUS" in my face. And I kinda sorta figured there was probably a reason for that.

And I think it's time to take a risk. I've had an opportunity to get published through a small publishing company for a few months now. I've talked to the guy who owns it, and he would be thrilled to help me out. The thing is, he also said stuff like, "But your work deserves to be handled by a bigger publishing company." (What a nice thing to say!)

I don't know how good my work is. I mean, I love it, but I'm just a little bit biased. I've had these characters and these stories in my head for almost a decade. I think I'd love to have my stuff represented by an agent and sold to a major publishing company. I think I'd love to be as well-known as J. K. Rowling or Stephenie Meyer. I think I'd love to have my books made into a wildly popular movie series (with John Williams writing the main theme). But these are just things I *think* I'd love. The truth is, I really don't know what being a famous writer would look like. I am not sure I'm ready for all of it. I'm incredibly ignorant to the publishing process, and I am very sure that will be evident to any agent or editor--or pretty much anyone else.

I have only queried a few agents. I know there are others I could query. Given enough time, I might be able to snag an agent. But even that is no guarantee that I'll get published. I don't want to be impatient. I don't want to do anything because I am looking for an easy way out.

But the way I'm starting to see it is, I really don't have anything to lose. Christopher Paolini self-published Eragon, and it was later picked up by a bigger publishing company. It's very well-known now. They've even made a movie out of it (even if it WAS horrible and left no room to include the sequels). If I do get it published under the small company that's just starting out, that's not necessarily the end of my project. Who knows what might happen to it and to me if I just take this risk?

I know it will mean a lot of work in marketing (thank God for Twitter and Facebook!). I don't know exactly how hard that's going to be, but this is all part of the learning process. I'm learning more and more every time I step out in faith.

I have not made any decisions yet. This week, I'm just trying to pray through this decision and see what the Lord would have me to do. If you want to pray for me, too, that would be awesome(but I'm not looking for advice at this time, thanks!). I could use all the prayer I could get (can't we all?). If I still think this is where the Lord is leading me by the end of the week (or a little longer--we'll see what happens), then I'm just going to talk to the guy who owns the small company. There's a lot of things to consider before deciding anything.

What I find hilarious and wonderful is that the Lord has really been stretching me this week. It's only Tuesday, and already I've had to take my car to the shop b/c it decided it was tired of being a Ford Taurus and decided to be a recalled Toyota instead (it was accelerating by itself for no good reason--thank God for good brakes and a fantastic mechanic who only charged me $80), I lost my cell phone (hopefully it's in my friend's car), and I got home from a hectic day at work (who knew that 1 yr. olds and firetrucks don't really mix that well??) to find out that termites have been snacking on the 100+ year old hard wood flooring in my 100+ year old apartment. Jerks. Go eat new wood.

It's already been a CRAZY week and it's only TUESDAY. I'm wondering what else is going to happen. But I just look at all the stuff that's going on and I have to say, "Lord, thanks for all these opportunities to trust You."

My car was in the shop and I was expecting my mechanic to tell me a) Your car has the plague and is going to die--time to get a new car; or b) Sure I can fix it. That'll be $700 or your firstborn child. But instead, it was a minor thing that cost less than $100 to fix. I had amazing friends who drove me to work and to the mechanic. My car didn't kill me or anyone else (always a good thing, right?) when I drove it, riding the brake all the way, to the mechanic. I had no idea how it was going to turn out, but I knew it would turn out. And it did.

I don't know if my cell phone is in my friend's car or not. If it's not, then it's lost. And if it's lost, then that will stink, but it's not the end of the world. I'll be okay. I need a good excuse to get off my parent's phone plan anyway...

There's a guy here currently using some sort of machine that sounds like it's tearing up my living room floor (probably because it is some sort of machine that's tearing up my living room floor). But I'm not going to die to death because of termites or weird guys/noises in my living room.

It's all going to be all right. There's all sorts of reasons to "be strong and courageous." As I told my MOPPETS kids about a gazbillion times on Friday morning, "When we're scared, we can remember all the things that God did in the Bible and all the things God does in our lives, and we can remember that He is powerful. We don't have to be afraid." I don't know exactly why God's giving me all this stuff right now in the midst of this decision I'm trying to make, but I'm pretty sure He knows what He's doing.

So thanks for your prayers. I'm not sure what I'm going to do with what I've been given at this point, but I am confident that I'm going to get published one day. Whether it's sooner or later, God is still God and God is still good.

EDIT: MY PHONE WAS IN MY FRIEND'S CAR!!! WOOOOOOOOOT!