Meet the Author's Author

Meet the Author's Author
Live for Jesus! That's what matters! That you see the light in me and come along! :)

Thursday, July 24, 2014

Questioning the Rebelution

Hobbling along a couple of steps, I grimaced as a sharp, small stone cut into my bare foot.

Forget it. Think I'll stick to the high heels and ignore the blisters.

Pulling them back on over my hot and somewhat swollen feet, I stalked stylishly off up the hill...the sun pelting's funny how much of your thought process can shut down when you're drained and focused on one thing...just getting home.

Well, that's what I am now...a fashion girl. Trying to hold down a job and stick to an everyday life. What became of the passion and the excitement of life when I was a teen? The promise of doing great things for God?
I knew great things were often small things, but it shrunk down to humdrum. One step in front of another. Dragging feet. Harder to get beyond the concentration of just keeping breathing...another step.
Battling memories of him and our six years of friendship gone and my four years of loving him and the plans I dreamed and the things I believed the Lord had in store for my life has sunk to simply battling the desire to freak out and/or self-harm at every seeming threat. Too tired for memories.

Wondering how to tell my OYAN siblings I will never see them again, more loudly than I already have. Trying to forgive the bitchy backbiters that tore my safe haven to rid a big sister I respected and loved to remove me from her life...nope...just trying to outlive the wounds they left.

Watching the safe havens disappear one by one...hey, don't mourn the ones you haven't never have to lose them. Watching the one I have left and just wondering when it will disappear too much for everyone else...

Learning to live with the shell and the wounds and the permanent negative self-image, driven into consciousness by the abandonment of the closest losses.

Thinking about blogging this and being totally flat about it...I usually write when I'm passionate or believe in or am excited about something but that doesn't, never happens any more.

An extraordinary beginning, my friend, never means you will not have an ordinary end. The hardest thing is learning how to cope with your extraordinary beginning in an ordinary life.

When the amount of people who reject you, complain about you or hate you are such a large amount, you end up believing that heck no, you aren't beautiful. Loveable. Godly? Don't make me laugh.

And then the faç girl. Make up. Make people laugh. Try to brokenly love. Smile. Just the little things.
Forget serving God. Just try to keep praying, keep reading the Word.
Walking up the hill listening to Christian music, music that echoes emptily but I keep listening because I want to believe...I want God...the only thing left I want God...I just want to reach His feet at the end of the journey...

"While I'm waiting, I will serve You while I'm waiting, I will serve You..." Waiting? For what?

The worst thing, and the best thing, about being raised as a Christian homeschooler is the dreaming. The believing you're unique and special and you will do an incredible thing that will impact your world. You will make a difference in a way that no one else has. Through following Christ, loving like Christ, living like Christ...

Then the world and reality hits you hard. Everything you do, you get kicked back down.
People? Two-faced, openly or secretly.
Career? Hated for what you believe in.
Friends? Rejected for being a sinner.
Love? Rejected because of not being good enough. Or enough.
Family? Think you're a crabby, selfish, hypocritical, self-righteous snob. Maybe I am. I see it sometimes and it drives me to despair.
Talents? Mediocre that no one likes...can't develop...the ones you can get crushed by the weight of the rest...

Yep, that's making a difference...

From the old age of 22 as I plan to send a gift of flowers for the marriage of an old best friend who barely tolerates me now, I look at the sparkling enthusiasm of 16 as we were best buddies and fighting for "emotional purity". That hell-stuff. Before I betrayed her.

Get home.

Oh my goodness! There's the card that Lindi sent me for my birthday - a month ago tomorrow. I open it eagerly.

"...Girl, I truly, from the bottom of my "<3", pray that this is an amazing year for you."
(Insert wry smile as I recall that in the past eight months, I lost the man I love, my American family and almost my career.)
"May the Father strengthen you and place you where you may walk in the ministry He has for your life, and be prosperous."
(Jaw slightly agape as I recall that one of the very clear positives and negatives of the last few days has been the regaining of freedom-of-money and loss-of-time-and-energy...wondering if this life is where God wants me for the remainder of however many months I have left and where I went so drastically wrong to be wandering lost as this now)
"I believe that all you've been through; this is the 'rising season' where God is going to show you how to use it to reach others and encourage them on their walk."
(Slightly hysterical laughter ensues, to my mother's surprise, as I realise that seconds before I'd been thinking that "an extraordinary beginning does not exclude an ordinary end.")
"The time of living in the shadow is over, and the Lord is going to begin to show you His purposes. I love you, Lady of the King.
...Keep those eyes on the Father of Lights, and He will use you to speak for Him....What a treasure you are, unique and lovely as God formed you to be. See yourself through heavenly eyes. Find your identity in the Saviour's face. Love always, 'Lindi'"

Lindi, I hope that is prophetic. Truly.
And I swear that everything I wrote above this I was thinking and planning on blogging for the entirety of at least an hour before I came home to find your card.

Know that today, today was the perfect day for that card to arrive...not to tear down the walls, for tomorrow the lies will deafen me again, but to throw another arrow of truth to pierce the darkness surrounding.

Love in Him,
A Rock Climber