and don't worry.

Recently things have been.

There's a lot going on and a lot to do, but I feel as though I am just sitting here watching everything happen instead of being an active part in life right.

I know God is present. He's around. He's doing things. He's good. He's good. He's good.

Leslie said that listening to Coldplay puts her into really weird moods, and that's all I've been listening to the past five days, so maybe that's the reason.

But it's soooooo good.

Of the two major break ups I have experienced in my lifetime, in the days/months that followed, when I knew I was TOTALLY over it, drastic measures were inflicted upon my hair. One consisted of a dye job and the other resulted in my hair becoming the same height of my ears.

I haven't dated anyone and I haven't broken up with anyone at this point, so perhaps this trend of breakup/hair change is inconsistent.

How do you tell someone you're sorry for, basically, being a bitch and then invite them to coffee or something? You know it's gonna be awkward. You know it might not be the best decision, But you still feel like you need to do it...?

If I had an iPad, I could write a blog upside down while running on a tredmill and eating pizza at the same time.

Confidence is the key.

I want to be creative like this.

Chance.

A lot of the time, I think about God.

A lot of the time, I think about other people.

Sometimes I feel like I think about God and other people a lot more than I think about myself.

However, I'd almost consider this lying to myself.


Sunday morning I skipped Sunday school. I got up and got ready to go to the worship service at 11. It was raining. Not too hard, but still enough to make my perfect hair damp and smudge my mascara on the walk from my front porch to my car. Upon fixing my makeup and adjusting the volume on the tunes, I put my car in reverse and backed out of the driveway. Put the car in drive. Turned right on to St. John. Drove until it turned into Weston. Turned right on to Sweeten Creek. Driving on Sweeten Creek. In the rain. I see someone walking in the same direction as I am, only on the other side of the road. I come to the realization it's Wade, and African American man who attends my church that lives in the apartment buildings within walking distance of my church.

It was raining.

Wade doesn't own a car.

We were going in the same direction. To the same place. To worship and give thanks to the same God. And it isn't like Wade is someone I don't know. He traveled to PC with us over the summer, where he shared his testimony about how love can break down the barriers put up by race. Wade was the only black guy on the trip.

Wade sits in the back of the church and I sit in the front. Not that that signifies anything significant. It's just a fact. People have their pews they sit in every week. I get that. I didn't even go to the back of the church. I didn't even look back. I cried when the choir sang "The Power of the Cross". P-Hud spoke on suffering and hope. I went up during the Alter call and asked for my Pastor to pray for me. For these internal things that are just so messed up with me.

All because I can't get over me.

It's so difficult knowing that I am made for something bigger, but still I grasp onto whatever wordly false hope I can find.

Jesus would have offered Wade a ride in his car. Or on his donkey. Or whatever. And He would have taken them to the North Pole and back if thats where they needed to go. Why can't I be willing to ride 100 yards with someone who has to walk in the rain to church? How can I expect love when I'm not even capable of showing it to someone like Jesus would?

I need to BE like Jesus and I need to LOVE like Jesus.


"and we,
who with unvieled faces,
all reflect the Lord's glory
are bring transformed
into his likeness with
ever-increasing glory,
which comes from the Lord,
who is the Spirit."
2 corinthians 3:18

Muzak.

I have the tendency to embed a particular song into every situation.
Every person.
Every event.
Every memory.
Every emotion.
Every feeling.

Music is easy to associate people to.

There are some songs that hit the nail on the head so much.

I listen to them over. And over. And over. Every note and word is precisely how I think and feel and AM. How I AM.

These words and cords become so ingrained into every fiber of my being, so that upon every listening of them I still feel every sting and tear and shout and happy. It's almost enough to make the blood in my veins run cold because of the eerieness of how intensely music can make me feel.

I will forever be indebted to Conor Oberst for soundtracking my life's events and feelings with every album Saddle Creek produced.

You might hate this but it describes a lot about my existance during high school. Even the skateboard footage. Hearing it now makes me want to puke.
I think I am going to buy the whole album off iTunes.
Remember, God judges, not you.