To the Little House on Sequoia Street,

I’m writing you a letter because as of today, you are no longer some place I will go back to, or call home. And just typing that sentence already has tears coming out of my eyes. I am going to miss you. A lot of life has happened under your roof in the last almost five years. And I’m equal parts happy and heart broken about leaving. I’m attached to every 863 square foot of you. You’re tiny and you have little to no storage space, but I think tiny is really just another word for cozy in your case.

You are where so many big parts of my life started. Where I got to move out on my own and learn to support myself. You are where I got to live with my best friend for 3 years, a literal dream come true. You are where I had some of my worst nights mentally, and some of the best..nights. ever. You are where I slowly fell in love with my husband and kissed him for the first time while watching Armageddon on the couch. You’re where I decided I never wanted to experience another hangover again. You are where I’ve laughed with friends and family. Where I’ve curled up on the couch again and again to watch countless hours of football and Gilmore Girls. You are where I have built a life that is so full of happiness and joy.

You look the best when you’re dressed up in Christmas lights. You have THE greatest neighbors. You have made me feel safe and at home for a long time. The heater and the fireplace might be your best qualities but we both know that’s only because I’m never not cold. Your plumbing is your worst quality, and it’s very like you for the bathtub to magically stop draining for no reason just a couple weeks before we leave. I think painting your living room wall black was possibly the best decision I made the entire time I lived there, but it’s white again and I still think you’re cute.

I know that you’ve never been my own but I felt like you belonged to me for the past year and half. Or maybe based on how I’m feeling it was the other way around. I think a part of my heart actually belonged to you. You are where I wanted to start a family, and I did, but it’s a family of fur babies instead of real babies. One day though, you’re going to be the house I drive by with the real babies I hoped to bring home to you. I’ll point and say “look kids, here’s the house that Mommy loved so much. Where I fell in love with daddy. Where I lived with Auntie Silver and played games every weekend. Where we made friends with the neighbors and dreaded having to tell them we were going to move. Where I learned how to be a dog mom for the first time.” And then they’ll probably roll their eyes and think ok cool mom it’s just a house.

And you are just a house. I know that. But you have been the best first house I could have ever lived in. I hope I feel about every house that I live in, the way that I have felt about you. I will never forget you, and I will never stop being grateful that I was lucky enough to live there.

Love,

The tenant

I turn thirty years old this month. I’ve been thinking about it a lot. Up until this point, I never thought it would feel like a big deal.

At 28: Whatever, I’m almost thirty. How different could I possibly feel about just another birthday 2 years from now?

At 29, 10 days away from 30: Wait, are we sure, body? We’re doing this?  We’re moving into a new decade of life? Ok. 

I’m not gonna lie, my life looks a little different than younger me thought it might by the time I’d hit thirty. For starters, I thought I would be stylish and would have grown out of the “only ever wears hoodies and sweats phase” by now…so. I thought I would have a wildly successful wedding photography business, because I also thought that I would magically develop an outgoing personality and become an extrovert who manages to make it through at least one single conversation without being awkward. I thought I would always just have the same clear skin I had in high school. I thought that I’d have at least three kids. But to be fair, I also thought that I would start having kids by the time I was 22. Because you know, that’s just such an adult, practical age to start keeping tiny humans alive. And exactly right now I’m thinking by 40 I’ll probably be a stand up comedian because these are hilarious.

So yeah, it’s not exactly how I pictured it, but it’s turned out better than I could have ever thought or hoped for…minus maybe the whole still not being stylish thing. I’m happy, and my heart feels full and I’m grateful for the life I live and I know turning one year older changes nothing, but I’ve been in my 20’s for ten whole years and I’m just not sure I’m ready to move on yet. I’ve grown and changed and learned a lot and hurt a lot and laughed a lot. I’ve had a college graduation. I made great friends. I’ve built credit. I became strong, not just physically strong but mentally too. I found the best job with the best people. I’ve learned to navigate my way through OCD and feeling depressed sometimes. I fell in love and got married. I’ve watched both my nephew and my niece come into this world and grow and develop their unique little personalities. I’ve felt my heart harden and soften back to mush. I learned how to support myself and be independent. I’ve challenged my body, I’ve injured my body (unintentionally) and I’ve watched it recover and heal. I’ve adventured. I’ve competed. I’ve walked the streets of New York City all alone and I didn’t get lost. I realized I really, really like to write. There has been so, so, much good and a little bit of not good. Lots happened in these past ten years and I’m attached to them. I guess I just kind of feel borderline emotional about leaving them behind. And by borderline emotional I mean I’m crying right now.

Last night I had a lump in my throat as Ivo asked me what I wanted for my birthday. The lump was part emotions, and part anxiety cause what adult ever knows what they want for their birthday? It’s too much pressure. Just kidding. Kind of. I told him I didn’t know. And then I told him I felt a little weird, and I honestly think that’s the best way to describe what I’m feeling. A little weird. There’s some anticipation from experiencing so much in ten years, with a fresh set of ten ahead, knowing that way more can and will come. There’s some nostalgia. There’s what if’s and worries because hi I’m a human. And there’s a lot, a lot, of gratitude. And I think that’s all I have left to say about this, a little because I don’t know how much more I could possibly write about it, and mostly because I don’t know how you’ve even gotten this far reading about it. So, goodbye.

Love,

The almost 30 year old

You ever play those games in the car or in the pool as a kid…or maybe if you’re like me, even now as an adult? The games where when you drive up to a tunnel you suck in a huge deep breath and see if you can hold it until you reach the other end? Or how bout, who can swim under water the longest, holding their breath without coming up for air?

I like those games, as long as they’re played the smart way. You don’t hold your breath in the car while entering a tunnel that has no light at the end of it. You don’t submerge yourself under water, setting out to swim to the other side without seeing it first. You have to at least have some kind of measure or knowledge that you might succeed at the game.

---

I’ve always had this thing about angels. I think about them often and used to imagine them as a kid a lot. I have an over-active mind, and when I was fearful at night I would pray that God would send angels, with swords as big as our house to keep us safe. In retrospect it might’ve been a little bit of an intense ask, but I mean, I think intense asks are ok from time to time. As an adult, I can’t even fathom what angels might look like, but I’m fairly certain they don’t have white fluffy wings and a glowing halo. No, I’m guessing they probably look a little more bad ass than that. Maybe not house-sized-swords bad ass, but like..almost.

---

I love music. Sometimes for the beat, sometimes for the instrumentals, sometime for the voices, but most of the time because I’m a words person and get such big feelings about lyrics.

---

This past December for our special Christmas service, my church sang a song by Hillsong Worship. I loved it. I downloaded it on my phone and added it to my playlist and it’s been in rotation ever since. In the beginning I kind of felt guilty about playing a “Christmas” song when it’s not the holidays, but when I really sank into the words I realized it wasn’t actually a Christmas song at all.

---

The other day while walking around the neighborhood, that song came through my head phones and a specific verse practically knocked the air out my lungs and made my eyes extremely watery.

---

And the morning that you rose
All of heaven held its breath
‘Til that stone was moved for good
For the Lamb had conquered death
And the dead rose from their tombs
And the angels stood in awe
For the souls of all who’d come
To the Father are restored

---

You ever been told not to hold your breath over something? It means “not to expect something to happen for a very…long…time.” In other words, if you tried to hold your breath that long, you’d probably pass out or die or something.

---

Heaven held it’s breath. The bad ass, house-sized-sword wielding angles were holding their breath waiting for Jesus to crash through a boulder like the freaking Kool-Aid Man because they KNEW it was going happen. And then, when it did they were still mind blown about it because I’m sure it was just so much more epic than anything they could’ve anticipated.

Can you imagine? They’re all standing around waiting, anticipating, holding their breath knowing it’s gonna happen, knowing Jesus is going to walk out of his grave and defeat death…and then it does and they all let out a collective sigh and shouts of victory and start high fiving the other angels around them and maybe even chest bumping and then God’s like “Hold on you haven’t even seen anything yet.” And then dead people start rising, and being restored to Heaven and all the commotion and high fives and celebrating comes to a dead stop because they’re so in awe….I mean, again, I know my imagery might be little bit intense, but those song lyrics are just so so good.

---

This entire year is becoming a season of breath holding for me. I KNOW this year is not where hate wins. I KNOW this year is not where division gets the last word. I KNOW this year is not where the story ends. I KNOW Jesus is here and in it with us and I KNOW he can and will and has and does conquer all. But lately I feel like I am on my knees weak and shaking, because I don’t know how much longer I can hold my breath. I want to see Him come in and knock down hatred like the Kool-Aid Man knocks down walls, I want to be left in awe at the healing and the hope and the restoration and togetherness and love that fills the lives and hearts of people in this world.

---

I want it so bad. So I am holding my breath. And sure, maybe I’m holding it desperately and frantically, on the edge of panic and bordering doubt, but we’re not gonna lose this game. There’s a light at the end of the tunnel, there’s an edge of a pool across the water, and there’s an empty grave.

Love,

The breath holder

I’m an introvert. I don’t talk much. I don’t do much. I look forward to any alone time I can get. I love quiet, silent hours by myself with just my thoughts or a book. It’s not easy for me to feel lonely.

And yet…More and more often, this foreign feeling has been showing up like a dull ache in my chest, coming out in leaky eyes as I talk to my husband at the end of the day. What’s wrong is met with “I just feel lonely.” It sounds so lame to me, but it’s the only way I know how to put it.

Ivo had Saturday and Sunday off. A combination of days that rarely ever happens.

We slept past 7:00am. Exercise looked like playing sports we both enjoy together. There was borrowed loveseat lounging while sipping on a first and second cup of coffee. Dishes and hard wood floors were left uncleaned until Sunday evening. Little projects were completed. Beer pong was played with friends. Big breakfasts were consumed and my heart felt full and content.

The front door opened and shut at 6:30 this morning, starting a new week where I’ll spend the majority of it by myself. But also starting a new week where I’m feeling so, so grateful and loved and not so achy.

There’s a small part of my overthinking brain that feels guilty for claiming this out loud and on the internet right now during a time where others that I love and care about are facing the possibility of not having a home to return to after evacuation from the fires.

This year is weird, and heavy and burdensome and it can be easy to get lost in the ache. I’ve been thinking about it a lot and as challenging as it might be, I’m going to spend the rest of 2020 fighting to be grounded in the good.

Whether that looks like a FaceTime call with my niece, a Saturday and Sunday spent with my husband, a good book, an audit of the accounts I follow on social media, a wave from my best friend as we pass in town, or an evening of cool, clear air. I’m going to find the good things for the next 4 months and camp out in them. Usually, I’d probably want to camp with the smallest amount of friends and family possible, but this time I’m making an exception. You’re invited too.

Love,

The lonely girl who loves to be alone

I’m assuming most of the people who read this little blog of mine know by now that I’m engaged.  If not, hi, surprise! I’m getting married.

Ivo and I were supposed to get married on June 13th, 2020. (Please note the words “were” and “supposed to.”)

But for now, pay attention to the MOST fun facts below 😉

• I am a fan of the Seahawks.
• Ivo is a fan of the Niners.
• The first time we ever hung out on January 1st, 2017, we spontaneously went to a Niner vs. Seahawk game together.

• We started officially dating on May 30, 2017.
• We’ve been to two more Niner vs. Seahawks games since then.

• Our 4th game couldn’t be a Niner vs. Seahawk game because of a business trip I went on, so instead, on October 27th, 2019 we went to a Niner vs. Panthers game which I didn’t mind at all because…Cam Newton. Hello.

• At that game during halftime, we walked onto the field and Ivo asked me to be his wife using a message on the Jumbotron, wearing white cement 3 Justin Timberlake Spike Lee Jordans…It’s a mouth full but, the shoes are important, k?
• I said yes.
• We picked June 13th, 2020

When the shelter in place order was placed over Monterey County due to COVID-19, I had a feeling that our wedding may be affected, but we made the decision to move forward as planned.

However, once it was extended to May 31st, we felt like we might need to reconsider.

So last week, we called an audible. Can someone please be impressed that I worked this reference in here after talking about how significant football has been in our relationship? K Great, thanks!

Ivo and I have officially decided to get legally married on paper, May 30, 2020 on our dating anniversary…Yeah that’s 19 days from now.

THEN we are going to have a real (fake) ceremony and reception at a later date, with alllllllllll of the people we wanna celebrate with. We talked through a few options, and this is the one we landed on.  It might seem weird to some people, but I mean..the majority of 2020 has been weird so far, so we might as well just jump on board and go with it.

We haven’t officially picked a new date, we’re waiting until May 31st to see what happens, but I just thought for now, it might be helpful to get the information out somehow. Our wedding website isn’t really cool about accepting ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ as the new date, so once we know for sure we’ll update it.

Thank you for reading the most very important, very long winded, announcement.

The end.

Love,

Candace ALMOST Jimenez, like in 19 days

 

 

 

 

 

Wanna know what I recently discovered makes the list of things I like?

Sanding.

Staining.

Painting.

Wanna know what I recently discovered about myself?

I.

Am.

Impatient. 

Up until now I thought I had a pretty good amount patience. But I don’t actually think I do anymore.

Wanna know why?

Because I like sanding, staining, and painting.

If you’re assuming they have something in common, they do. And no, it’s not that every single one of them requires a trip to Home Depot.

They’re all instantly gratifying.  You can see the change in what you are sanding…immediately.  You can see the change in what you are staining and painting…immediately.

You wanna know what else is on the list of things I like?

Growing, challenging myself and becoming better.

Getting physically stronger.

Having a really amazing credit score..yeah maybe this one’s weird, but it’s true.

If you’re assuming they have something in common, they do. And no, it’s not that they’re instantly gratifying.

They.

Require.

Patience.

If you really want to get a sense of the kind of person I am…lemme just say this: I’m the girl who will do a whopping 10 curls each arm with a 15 pound dumbbell, and check the mirror the next day to see if my biceps showed up to the party yet.

I was thinking about this the other day while I was sanding a couch that Ivo and I built in the backyard last year.  Instead of sealing it when we first built it like my Dad told us to, we let the weather wreak havoc on it over the winter.

Last week…? Two weeks ago? Sometime during this whole shelter in place deal, we worked to get it back in good condition and treated the wood to protect it.  As I was choking to death on little couch particles that the sander blasted into my face, I was thinking Ah this is so satisfying.  Why can’t it just be this easy to become a better a person, to grow in the areas I know need work?  Why can’t becoming fit and strong be so instantaneous? etc. etc. etc. 

After thinking about this for a while and accepting that I now fall into the impatient category…here’s the conclusion I’ve come to.

The things that are fast and easy and instantly gratifying?  They’re great..but the feeling is fleeting. It’s like K, done. Now what?  What’s next?

The things that take years…that you work for and toward a little bit day by day, week by week, gaining traction and seeing little glimpses of improvement or change but KNOWING there’s more to come…those are what keep you going and working.

Sure, maybe there are points where it’s like come ONNNN how much longer is gonna take to reach the level I wanna be at? But I’ve found in the last few years that if you just put your head down and keep going, eventually you’ll look back and be shocked at how far you’ve come. And that…that isn’t a fleeting feeling at all.

Love,

The quarantine sander and stainer

I know I’m tiny. I’ve seen the “If the earth were a golf ball video.” But sometimes what I know and what I feel conflict.

Sometimes my worries and my problems feel so big that I forget no one could see them from an airplane.

And sometimes when I am reminded of how tiny I am, I forget that God could see my worries and my problems from an airplane…you know, if he were to ever be a passenger or whatever.

_________

_________

I took this picture at 6:00am back in September with a heart wrecked and heavy with worry. With a heart pleading to Jesus to just make the moves I so desperately wanted made, but had zero control over. I took this picture shouting in silence that I knew I was tiny but I needed to be seen.

One week later, the moves I had been begging for were made. I was punched in the face with a big “I see you. I have you. So stop. Worrying. So. Much.”

_________

There’s this song I love by Elevation Worship:

When I felt like the burden was more than I could hold

When the whispers of worry overwhelmed my soul

You never left me alone

You were there all along

You are faithful

Why should my heart be afraid?

You are faithful

I know You’re not  gonna change

_________

7 months later, I still worry. But when I do now, I can look at this picture.

Jesus is faithful. He knows the worries and hears the silent shouting that we need to be seen. And maybe soon He’s even gonna punch you in the face with those facts.  At least I hope so, cause it’s kind of awesome when it happens.

Love,

The tiny worrier

I’ve lived in my current home for just over 3 years now. The backyard is bigger than the house.

It’s green in the winter and spring and it’s the epicenter for little brown circle stickers in all of earth in the summer and fall.

It has a shed filled with spiders and things that don’t belong to me.

It has two apple trees that produce tiny, strange apples, and it has a little grapevine at the very back center of the fence.

It’s quirky and sometimes messy. It houses left over remnants of projects and big wooden targets. It’s home to what might be the dustiest ping pong table sitting on top of the dustiest rug.

I love it.

What I didn’t love, was the stump.

In the middle of the yard, there used to be a big pretty tree. Then I guess the tree died and sometime before Silver and I moved in, it was cut down. Whoever did the job though, left the stump behind. So there it sat..surrounded by a sad little uneven brick wall.

For three years every day, I looked into the yard and thought gosh I wish that stump wasn’t there. I also always thought how hard and time consuming it might be to get rid of it though, so there it sat..surrounded by a sad little uneven brick wall.

On Tuesday I planted a tiny little tree by the apple trees. All bets are off on if it’s gonna survive.

I was in the backyard. I looked at the stump, looked at the shovel in my hand, and just went for it without giving it any other thought.

It turned into a group effort when Ivo, Silver and Cesar joined in and you know what? It was gone completely within two hours. Other than a pit stop to buy an axe, It wasn’t hard or time consuming.

There’s no more stump surrounded by a sad little uneven brick wall, but there is a huge circle of raw dirt. I’m sure it will turn to grass soon and then later sometime in the fall contribute to producing the world’s largest amount of little brown circle stickers, and then turn green all over again but for now, it’s raw.

If you’re still with me after the longest rambling about a backyard you could ever read…cool thanks. Here’s the point.

The whole thing got me thinking. Why did I wait three years if I didn’t like it that whole time?

I think sometimes, we do this with the stumps in our life too. We look at or reflect on things or situations every day in our lives that we don’t like or aren’t happy with and think gosh I wish that (fill in the blank) wasn’t there.

My advice? Don’t wait anymore. You’re already holding the shovel. You are in control of the things in your life that you don’t like.

Want to quit that bad habit you’re not happy with?

Start digging.

Want to make more money than you do right now?

Start digging.

Want to change that living situation?

Start digging.

Want to have a better relationship with family members?

Start digging.

Want better skin?

Buy new skin care products.

..K, I’m out of control. But you kinda get it, right?

Maybe once you start you’ll realize how much easier and faster the process is than you thought it was going to be. Or maybe once you start you’ll realize you’re gonna need more than just a shovel to get the job done. You’re gonna need an axe. So buy an axe and keep going.

And maybe….maybe when you’re done there’s going to be a huge circle of dirt…maybe getting rid of your stump is going to leave you different and even a little hurt and raw. But if you hold on and make it through, the grass is gonna grow.

Love,

The girl who takes lessons from a stump.

I decided on Monday that if Monterey County was issued a Shelter In Place, I would try to write or blog as much as I could.  It’s taken me since Tuesday to finish writing this sooo, the plan is going great so far.

I am a very quiet person.  I’m extremely introverted, kind of shy, and awkward.  I’m content with silence, and speaking very little. In fact, I prefer it. I could sit in the same room as you all day long and not say a word. If you do 98% of all the talking, we could probably be really good friends.

The problem though, is that I have a very, very loud mind. My brain will latch onto even the smallest things and obsess and overthink…forever. In spite of my best efforts, it inevitably loops again and again and again about the same things.

I spend a lot of time trying and learning to control my thoughts, but most of the time it just feels like they’re stuck on a ferris wheel.

Want to know something embarrassing?  One of the many different constantly looping feelings and thoughts is an irrational insecurity about myself, and my relationship. I just want to be clear, there’s no reason for it. I am loved wholly and well by Ivo.  He does nothing to cause my insecurity, but it’s there regardless.

It’s kind of pathetic, but I used to think gosh maybe it will just get better and I’ll feel differently once we get engaged.  THEN I will REALLY know FOR SURE that he loves me.  THEN I won’t think any insecure thoughts because things will be even more OFFICIAL.

Yes, I thought a ring…a metal circle would fix my deeply rooted problems.

Guess what?

It did. Yay! Confetti!

..For like 2 hours.

After the initial excitement of “Oh em gee I get to be with the person I love forever” started to wear off, the insecurities just started circling even more.  What if I keep messing up over and over until he decides it’s not worth it?  I’m just a normal person, there’s not much I have that is unique or special, I don’t bring a lot to the table. What’s gonna make him think that I’m worth being with for the rest of our lives?  What if he gets bored?  Forever is such a long time….how is he going to feel after even just ten years?

In other news, I think I’m beginning to realize that getting married is an extremely vulnerable thing to do.

Two weeks ago on my way to the gym, I was thinking about my brother and how he’s doing.  He’s been gone this year in a program at Hume Lake Christian Camp where he works, takes classes and goes on a bunch of different mission trips.

From thinking of Matt, I started to think about all the trips I took to Mexico as a teenager  each Summer, all the mouth watering authentic tacos with the fat smear of the best guacamole, and then a verse popped into my head.

First of all, I just want to say I that I have like….three bible verses memorized.  Tops. Honestly three might be pushing it, but this one is burned into my brain.  It was our theme verse one year and I’m not sure why, but for some reason I was hell bent on memorizing it. I repeated it over and over and over again, until I NAILED it! And now I don’t think I’ll ever forget it.

The Lord your God is with you.  He is mighty to save.  He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, He will rejoice over you with singing. – Zephaniah 3:17

I thought about that verse for a few minutes..the different proclamations that are made, and then I moved on and went to the gym.

Hours later, I decided to watch a sermon online about relationships. Like five minutes until the end, the last point the speaker made was by reading that SAME VERSE. ON THE SAME DAY IT POPPED INTO MY HEAD…granted his point of using the verse was different than how I had been thinking about it but STILL!

I thought about it again.

Wanna know what I thought?  ok ok fine, here it is.

In my chaos and overthinking and insecurities and the never ending ferris wheel that I can’t escape, I desperately…desperately want to be quieted with love.  I want my brain to be QUIET.  But I mean, don’t we all, at least a little bit?

I know and realize that not everyone has loud, obsessive, looping minds. But even if you aren’t exactly like me, I think everyone has maybe one, tiny, small area of their life they feel insecure about and have thought about more than once.

Wouldn’t it just be nice to chill out, sit down and relax in the knowledge that you’re loved..deeply and unconditionally and in a way that will never ever feel threatened by boredom, bad moods, or mistakes? Ugh I want it.

Since that Wednesday I’ve been asking daily. Hourly.

“God please quiet my mind with your love…”

“God please quiet my mind with your love…”

“God please quiet my mind with your love…”

“God please quiet my mind with your love…”

Here’s what I’m realizing though..I already have the kind of quieting love I’m asking for.  I know without a doubt that I am loved, deeply and unconditionally. Not only by Jesus but by people here around me that demonstrate it often. I think, as weird as it sounds, maybe where I’m missing that quieting kind of love the most is from myself.

It’s very hard for me to be a fan of me.  I’ve just barely began to shift into the space of liking who I am and who I’m becoming in last year and a half or so. But even still, that space feels weird and like I shouldn’t be there.  It feels wrong or cocky to be proud of myself and any progress I’ve made. It’s an uphill battle. It’s a two steps forward one step back kind of deal. It’s learning to be patient with the slow pace of growing and learning to love the person I am.

Gag.  Even just typing “love the person I am” makes me cringe.

So I guess, maybe being quieted with love this week looks like whispering daily. Hourly.

“You’re doing great…”

“You look pretty today…”

“You’re smart…”

“You’re strong…”

I think if I can somehow get those quiet whispers to begin looping, maybe mayyybe the other louder ones will begin to fade.

Love,

Ferris wheel brain

I run a lot, like 270.7 miles in less than a year a lot. I mean actually who knows if it’s a lot or not, I’m sure there are plenty of people who run those kinds of miles in a matter of months..but to me it’s a lot.

In the past year running has become kind of like a mix between church, a challenge, and a re-charging type of deal. I pray when I run. I think about and work through a lot of things. I push myself to run harder and faster. And my brain usually feels better after I finish.

More often lately, I’ve been playing worship music in my headphones while I’m running. Don’t get me wrong, there’s still plenty of days when it’s Eminem and G-Eazy blasting my ear drums, but on December 30th it was worship.

————

Years ago, I heard someone sing a song that I felt like I could’ve written.

“When the pieces seem too shattered
To gather off the floor
And all that seems to matter
Is that I don’t feel You anymore
No I don’t feel You anymore
I need a reason to sing
I need a reason to sing
I need to know that You’re still holding
The whole world in Your hands
I need a reason to sing
When I’m overcome by fear
And I hate everything I know
If this waiting lasts forever
I’m afraid I might let go…”

There have been times where the pieces have seemed too shattered. There have been times where fear and hate have been the overwhelming emotions drowning the good. There have been times where I have felt like I needed a reason to sing.

————

At the end of the year on mile 5ish of an 8 mile run, this song had come through my headphones and a lump had formed in my throat. God I just feel broken sometimes. There’s something wrong with me, but can’t you still use me somehow?

I don’t know if I did it to myself, I don’t know if it was the actions of others, random circumstances or nothing at all, but somewhere in my 29 years I have become what feels like a mess that is too overwhelming to sweep up.

I think a lot of people are broken. In fact, I don’t think anyone makes it through life unscathed. In double fact, I think many people have “it” way worse than me. My life is good. My family and loved ones are safe and healthy. I am in love and get to marry the most incredible human on the planet. I am surrounded by great people and great circumstances every day. And I am grateful for every single bit of it. Nothing horrible has happened to me and that is my biggest struggle. I have so…so so many reasons to sing.

————

I struggle with feeling guilty…for feeling sad…for no reason. It’s caused me to belittle myself. To say and feel things about me that shouldn’t and wouldn’t ever be said out loud if I were talking to another person. It’s scary how easily and quickly our brains will accept what we tell them. It’s like a massive deep root has spread in there.

A few weeks ago I sat in church and leaked tears. There was this question asked: What enemies are you in the presence of, in your life?

But my question is: What do you do when your enemy is your own mind? I want to do better, to be better, to change my mindset so badly. And I’m far too impatient with my progress of uprooting the bad.

————

Recently I found out shoveling was bad for my back. The act of filling a shovel with dirt and twisting with something heavy in my hands to dump off to the side could make an existing physical issue worse.

This morning while on a run, I started to think that maybe shoveling is also bad for my soul. Maybe, instead of trying so hard to dig up the root on my own and getting mad at myself when I don’t succeed, I need to hand Jesus the shovel and sit back while he does the digging. Maybe I need to lean into and fully accept the grace, the healing and the filling truth that I am loved and worthy and whole exactly as I am.

So I guess that’s the game plan. To rest. Except I’m bad at resting…so I guess the real game plan is to hand over the shovel no matter how reluctantly, again and again until I’m cool with someone else doing all the work.

Love,

The girl with so many reasons to sing