Morphed & Mindy.

Lately, I have been doing a really bad thing.

It is the thing of equating my future spouse with Jesus.

Note: I know that it is not guaranteed that I will have a spouse. I’m okay with that. I have, though, been feeling more and more called to marriage lately. Not like I need to get hitched tomorrow, but like God is preparing me to grow with and submit to the man of His choosing, and like I could use a strong spiritual leader in this life-o-mine. All that to say that for the sake of this blog post I am going to speak as though there is an actual husband in my future.

ANYWAY, this man that I will marry, well, he won’t be Jesus. It’s one of those things about humanity. He’s not going to be that.

And that is where my issue is.

My thinking has become so morphed, and just blatantly wrong. I’ve begun to think of him as Jesus.

I expect him to forgive me,

I expect him to accept me,

I expect him to make me feel valued,

I expect him to redeem me,

To lead me,

To make me grow,

To teach me,

To rebuke me,

To change me,

To fix me.

And while, yes, I want my future husband to forgive me, accept me, rebuke me, etc, I cannot expect that I will one day get married and suddenly all of these needs will be provided for.

I cannot expect another human being, no matter how much he may love me, to fix all of the issues that come together to be me.

I think I expect him to be some sort of priest. Like, when I’m married, I’ll be able to confess all my sins I’ve ever done to him and then I will be free from guilt, but the truth is that I am already free from guilt. The Lord has taken all my sin, and though I am an awful, awful person, he has forgiven me, and I no longer have to feel the weight of my guilt. I don’t know why I let myself forget that.

I know this must sound ridiculous, because explicitly stated, it just sounds dumb, but my hope for a partner has somehow gotten so deeply embedded in my psyche that this good gift has been perverted into a ridiculous expectation.

Here’s the truth:

A husband cannot forgive me,

A husband cannot accept me,

A husband cannot make me feel valued,

A husband cannot redeem me,

He can’t lead me,

He can’t make me grow,

He can’t teach me,

He can’t rebuke me,

He can’t change me,

He can’t fix me.

Not without Christ.

And that’s probably not a startling new insight, but I just needed to say it, I just needed to say it out loud (or rather, type it on my computer) that my thinking is broken. And it’s taking over.

This makes me think of a story my pastor told once.

One day his wife sat up in bed and just said, “Dave, you’re not Jesus.”

And it was a turning point in their marriage. She realized that she couldn’t expect him to save her, that he couldn’t be the greatest thing she lived for. He realized the same.

And I think about that all the time.

And this Advent, I don’t want to be focused on waiting for a human husband to fix me, but on waiting on the return of a divine Savior who has already fixed me, and at the same time is in the process of doing so, who knew my flaws and chose me anyway, who has forgiven me, accepted me, valued me, redeemed me, led me, grown me, taught me, rebuked me, changed me, fixed me.

I want to wait on that Guy.

Cheers.

Also, on an unrelated note, I made a Freaky Friday Soundtrack YouTube playlist tonight. Keepin it classy, keepin it real. Link to the Magic.

Ephemeral.

I got a lot of things on my brain.
Just none that want to be blogged.
Sorry I got all dicey on ya.
Apparently "archipelago" is pronounced ark-ih-pehl-ih-go. Talk about a paradigm shift.

College.

Fruition.

This summer was a blast and a half. I was so surrounded by such spiritually encouraging people. Spending every day with the other counselors on the Orange Team has focused my heart so much on Christ. Their devotion to glorifying God and loving well has made my heart strong.

This is Kristin. I will not see her for a year as she will be in Ireland.
My heart is sick, but she is doing God's things.

God has been moving and shaking this summer, and I'm having a hard time leaving it behind. I feel so used by God in the summer, and not so much during the school year. I'm preparing myself for it not to be that way this year. I need to be glorifying God every moment. That's my purpose, you know. Just ask my campers. One of my favorite things this summer was asking the room at large, "Why are we here?" and hearing, "TO GLORIFY GOD!" Good stuff.
Right now I'm getting my heart ready for a move. Here is something I read on my pal Mary Palmer's blog that I am quite considering for the coming moments:

Soon shall close the earthly mission,
Swift shall pass thy pilgrim days,
Hope soon change to glad fruition,
Faith to sight, and prayer to praise.

It reminds me of my reason. Hallelujah.

Thanks for being my friend. Here's a special treat. Alaska Moose Head.

I Somehow See What's Beautiful In Things That Are Ephemeral.

Every time I get happy someplace, I have to leave.
It's okay, but it's a workout.

Completely Spontaneous Blog Post.

Jane Roommate.

So, we didn't rush. Obviously.

Also, I will make these for my possible one-day children. Or for someone's children. Anyone's children.

Rivers & Roads.

Have you ever noticed how much harder it is to be rational and friendly and kind when you are in pain? I don't want this to be a complaining time. Because, as we all know, complaining sucks. For everyone involved. But, that said, my stomach hurts. All the time. Every time I eat. This is a bad thing. And, most importantly, it is taking a growing effect on my personality. Ick. There is lots of laying down involved. I have even, dare I say it, been a bit snarky at times. (Can you imagine?)
What I'm saying is: sorry'boutit. But actually, I'm sorry about it.

FACT: One of my favorite things about Emily Snyder, one of my top dudes, is that when we are listening to music she has never heard before, she sings along. It gives me confidence in my soul when she does this. You're probably jealous of me just for knowing her.
So help me, she is the finest thing since packaged fruit.

Heavy & Many.

There are a lot of trials today.
I have so many people on my heart.
I'm reminded of the heaviness of so many people's burdens, so many of my people's burdens.
Trials are heavy and many.

And also, I am reminded of the heaviness of my failures.
So many times I have chosen to hurt people when I could have chosen to love.
So many times I have chosen to break people when I could have built them up.
So many times I have chosen uncleanness over purity, cruelty over love, rebellion over submission.
My failures are heavy and many.

Today, my grandpa is moving. He is moving to the nursing care part of the retirement home he lives in. When he moves to nursing care, he can no longer live with my grandma, his wife of sixty-odd years.
They love each other. A lot of the the time, they suck at showing each other that, but they love each other with a love beyond what I can say. They have been married for three times as long as I have been alive. They depend on each other, but they've gotten to the point where they can't support their own selves anymore, much less one another.
They are tired.
But today, my mom and dad have to move my grandpa from the hospital where he has been staying since something happened last week that caused his health and awareness to decline immensely. I don't know how my parents do it.
They have been so faithful to Meemaw and Peepaw.
My mother takes care of them so well. She cares so well. She is a person who gives so much of herself, but she doesn't even realize how much she gives. She doesn't really think about it. The natural response for her is to care, and to give of herself, and to serve. She doesn't realize how beautifully sacrificial she is.
My dad has been there for them so much. He has had to make decisions for them, uncomfortable decisions that have upset them. He has been willing to do what is best for them even when it hurt, even when they weren't happy about it, even when it felt too heavy to bear. He has loved them in one of the hardest ways to love.
My grandpa, needless to say, is not happy about moving. But this is something else that my parents will do for his good. Because their love is so strong.

I have them on my heart today. And so many other people, too.
I want to do something, to lift them, to be there. For all of them.
But I'm not. So I'm here, blogging.

And We'll Talk in Present Tenses.

I've been thinking about that one Joni Mitchell song, Chelsea Morning a lot lately. Particularly because of the line that is also the title of this here blog.
Here's another bit of that song that tells me how I feel.
"Oh, won't you stay? We'll put on the day, and we'll wear it til the night comes."


So, subject change.
I'm watching a television program called Sister Wives. It is making me want to be physically sick. It is about four women who are married to the same man. They sit there and talk about their problems and their insecurities. They fault themselves on their jealousy issues. They are all married to one man. The jealousy issues are not the problem, perhaps the sanity issues. I just don't understand these people. There's no way to deepen your insecurities like, oh, I don't know, letting your husband marry three other women.
Wait--this just in. The man just said it would be vulgar were the first wife to have another husband.

Also:
There was a commercial for a metal detector. The man said, "My wife always said I should get a hobby. She's proud of the weight I've lost, but she's really proud of this." He then proceeded to display a totally awesome ring that he was sweet enough to dig out of the ground for his almost certainly lovely wife. Cool. Weight loss and love. All in one. Score.

Maybe this is how I feel: