Highways and Hearttrips

I have been on the road home for a while.  The distance from Bozeman to Polson, MT is around 300 miles; which does not sound extraordinarily long.  Yet when I anticipate hugs, soft hugs, and welcome homes, the curves become wider and longer, the hills steeper, and my Blazer engine grows weary. 

God and I have been working through some stuff the last couple years.  I have been learning slowly, how to accept His grace and forgiveness, learning how to back down, how to melt my stubborn heart, and turn my anger, frustration, and distrust into open-heartedly seeking the adventure He prepared for me.

I have been on this road a long time, and I am ready to be home.  The last miles are especially hard.  I reached Missoula, about an hour away from home, but the trip drags on.  My Blazer does not want to drive as quickly as usual.  The interstate once easy to navigate becomes a narrow highway through mountains; the speed limit decreases then increases; the curves narrow and I need to attentively drive.  Although I have driven this before, it does not seem to get shorter.  I don’t know why.  One would think that remembering the landmarks along the way would quicken the journey; that familiarity breeds comfortability, and roads becomes less strenuous.  But it doesn't seem so, and I long for home.

I am getting closer to God lately, too.  Last summer I ended a relationship with someone who was hurting me and dragging me from God.  I am developing a better sense of school and academics; what it means to practice healthy habits and find excellence, and what it means to be overly perfectionist.  I am seeing how excellence is doing best with what God gives me, and investing time into that which gives life.  Putting on hold those I love is not always best, even if it means getting an A.  Not all As mark high achievement.

The miles on my speedometer accumulate, but they go towards good goals.  This last stretch has been particularly hard.  I know home gets closer when the trip starts to get long. 

This last week was really, really hard.  I had a painful and disheartening encounter with an ex who's pastime is bringing me down (which I am learning I cannot fix), school accumulates a test and two large papers next week, only one of which I started.  Then, I got a parking ticket.  The projects and long-time list items I intended to complete over Spring Break didn’t occur, and my parents were weathering a storm together.  More difficult was leading worship for the Kalispell church campus.  Before the service, I had a hard, long fight with someone I love.  And although I was given the blessing of singing with the band, with it came the challenge of adjusting to unfamiliar equipment and team members while holding lingering turmoil.  I was wired up, hearing the talkback and different channels, the click tracks and sound booth directed into my ear, focusing on singing while standing on stage.  The lights shine brightly, my feet are tired, and I am thirsty.  Singing with the team was amazing, to worship God amidst the rainstorms and chaotic traffic in my life, but hard.  My timbre seemed to have lost its spark.

I know I am getting closer to God though, because things are getting hard, getting rough.  The Enemy sees my progress and wants to shut me down.  Right after I finished singing for the service, I accidentally clipped another driver with my Blazer.  It was rainy.  I didn’t even see her coming.  I am getting closer, because things in my life are getting darker and harder, like that final hour before arriving home.  It drags on, because you’re so close and suddenly everything becomes more meaningful, and you want those last miles to finish.  The Enemy sees his opportune moment to strike, using this time of anticipation to bring me down.  He thinks, I need to stop you, because you’re getting close to what I held you back from for so long, what you let me hold you back from. And now you’re pushing past, you’re realizing that my promises are empty. You’re realizing I have sold you more than I can deliver, and I have absolutely nothing to offer. 

Because one thing after another stacked up like dominoes to destroy my courage.  These last hours are real hard, but I know I am getting closer.  I know the Enemy is raining down hard because he intends to stop me from achieving a closer relationship with God.  From knowing God deeper, coming back to the relationship we had when I was fifteen, but this time so much greater and deeper because I experienced some hard, cold, times, and our relationship will be richer for them.

I’m close, but I have time to go.  More could jump out on either side of this road; who knows what the trip might hold.  Lord, give me grace for whatever trials lie ahead, as I push through to knowing You.  I feel myself nearing greater intimacy, greater wisdom in my relationship with You.  Whatever is left to surrender, let me release.  Whatever anger I hold, let me loose.  Getting home is also letting go. 

As I near home I can feel it.  I recognize these fir trees, these road signs.  God, bring me home safely.  I will drive on, as I discover what You long to give me, how You long to know me.  You never promise future highways won't arise, but You promise to accompany me always.  

"Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in the heavenly realms with every spiritual blessing in Christ. For he chose us in Him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in his sight. In love He predestined us for adoption through Jesus Christ, in accordance with His pleasure and will— to the praise of his glorious grace,which he has freely given us in the One he loves." ~Ephesians 1:3-6

Mishaps with Monsters

I made a mistake today.   

Well, it ended differently than “mistake” typically implies, so perhaps a “misstep” is more fitting.  I broke nutritious status quo.  I drank a Monster midway through my Tuesday school day. 

And it had quite the effect. 

Now, my mental state entering the Monster-drinking incident was already quite delicate.  Finals week looms on the calendar, an unmoving stress sentence which denies rescheduling.  I tread the slippery slope of apathy in my classes; fewer credits this semester enabled a too-occasional lackadaisical attitude towards academics and learning.  Furthermore, my attitude involved something of a general questioning-of-life, should I be at this school, what if this is all chance, am I wasting my life-type of attitude. 

Yep, just average thoughts on a Tuesday afternoon in November. 

And then I drank the drink.  As a coffee-regular, caffeine normally pumps through my well-conditioned adrenal glands without issue, but this particular can of Rehab had the perfect blend of B-vitamins, Taurine, and Caffeine to send my anxiety and re-thinking and analyzing and general freaking-out into overdrive.  And so, in the middle of Doug Down’s 3:05 p.m. Popular Science Writing for Non-Fiction class, my brain catapulted into:

What if straight out of high school I had pursued a scholarship at Stanford or Columbia or Harvard? If I had worked hard enough, I probably could have gotten one.  What if I should have pushed hard for a different career?  Computer programming, instead of English?  Why did my friend Aaron die?  Why can’t I seem to get over him?  What was it about his light and knowledge, his potential, that I somehow feel lacking without?  What I am wasting ME?  What if Montana State isn’t facilitating my mind in the best possible way?  I see my inner greatness; is it being fostered?  Life is this giant room with so many doors, and we get to choose one.  And what if we should have chosen another, a different route?  What if the engine that operates on an entirely new level with an alternative fuel will not be created because I did not pursue Mechanical Engineering?  Or the case that needed to be won, to change the future of women’s rights, will not be passed because I didn’t go to Law School?  What if I could have made it big in the music industry?  Am I getting the best education I could, here?  Am I empowering myself to the highest extent?  But then there’s also….

You understand, right?  And so my frenzy of thoughts went on.  Class ended at 4:20.  My nervous daydreams followed me out the door.  My anxious questions accompanied me across the courtyard of the English building.  The fearful second-guesses shadowed me through the brick arch, as disorienting and unsteadying as the icy concrete sidewalks.

And then, a friend was waiting to pick me up from school.  One who listened to my flow of fears and thoughts and worries and unanswered questions.  Here I sit now, at my dining room table.  I am coming off my hyper-induced anxiety attack, realizing some core truths of which I needed reminding:

1.      Where I am right now is not by chance.  How prideful I am to assume total control over the circumstances and happenings in my life, as if my current state were the sole work of my doing.  Also wrong is to assume my life is aimless.  There is One who shifts my life each way, with a specific purpose always.

2.      The greatness I seek, to take the world and shake it, is not bound to one career trajectory.  Greatness is a permeating light which can shine through numerous materials, proving extremely difficult to blocked.  If I know God calls me to greatness, I cannot simultaneously believe He can be hindered by any happening in my life.  One the contrary, each event and change must be leading to that greatness (if I give it to Him.)

3.      The facilitation of educational achievement is based less on environment than my personal choice.  Am I engaging my classes?  Am I inviting relationships which feed my intellect and emotional maturity? Am I blessing others, one of the greatest ways to learn?  Greatness is not contained by environment.  If seeking impact, I must first allow other things to impact me.  Namely, God’s truth and my relationship with Him, alongside educational opportunities.

It has been a long day.  It is still going.  There is reading and writing to be done. 

But!

My greatness is not hindered by environment.  It comes down to this: do I trust God, enough to surrender my “best ways” to Him, and accept the present as my opportunity to explore the greatness to be birthed from today?  I did make a mistake today.  I allowed myself to entertain the idea that success in life is on me; Anjeli versus the world.  As if this greatness within was somehow my own doing, or that God would leave in my inept hands.  

That was my Tuesday.

Intimate Communications

For literature class, we were encouraged to write a love letter to a favourite place.  Although love letters are hardly ever privy to the public, here's your sneak peek. (:

To my Beloved Mountain-Top,                                                                                                              September 7^th, 2013

I dearly hope you are well.  How I long to see you again; to experience your grandeur.  When we first met I was fourteen, insecure, and seeking purpose in life.  You paternally looked down upon the summer camp at which I volunteered.  I came to know your presence as authoritative and compelling respect.  Many evenings did I hike the steep slopes that skirted your peak, in search of answers and an atmosphere conducive to meditation.  The circuitous journey to your apex resulted in a wooden cross, faithfully standing amidst sun and storm.  Although the path was lined with shale, intense elevation rises, and the occasional rattle snake, the reward was always worth the effort.  I very often arrived sweaty, with skin darkened from constant beaming sunlight, but you never disappointed. 

Undemanding as you were, you challenged me to dwell on larger aspects of life.  The stark wind that tousled my hair and clothing offered a sense of solidarity, and solitude.  You compelled me to reflect on trust, purpose, my faith, relationships, and God.  Though I was small, you inspired and encouraged in me greatness.  Separate and secluded from others, I had opportunity to interpret the scenery around me.  The looming mountain ranges were my challenges and obstacles in life, the winding Clarkfork River my path through them.  The birds that sounded their voice were in harmony with the peace you emanated, and the quiet whispering of pine needle clusters hinted at the importance of soft-spoken words. 

Though our bond was intimate, you were conducive to additional guests.  The craggy cliffs and shared feeling of exertion facilitated meaningful conversation, conflict resolution, and compassion for the company I occasionally brought.  I once led a group of young girls to your heights; I was their counselor for the week.  They marveled at my knowledge of your paths, and that through crossing rock slides and traversing valleys, we were presented with a glorious view, and sense of accomplishment.  Through these experiences, I had opportunity to draw the connection to life that nearly every struggle and hard experience will result in an unforeseen good, if one has the courage and drive to push through.  The analogy inspired the hearts of a group of nine year old girls, and is still inspiring mine to this day.

Thank you for the grace, the patience, and putting up with my external processing as I talked aloud, and sometimes even released angry shouts atop your summit.  You have been, and always will be a dear friend of mine.  Hopefully once I am finished with school, we can rejoin and celebrate change in life, as well as recall goodness of the past.

Always yours and yours always,

Anjeli Carol D.

...Disguised as Decisions

I hate decisions.  Or perhaps I should say I hate making decisions.  They're stressful, easy to over-analyze, multi-faceted, relational, often money related, risky, and always include the fear of regret.  One must balance their needs and desires with advice from respected others, scripture, and how God is moving in their life.  Trying to reconcile hopes, dreams, and goals with reality, finances, and time factors often scare me away to a point of unhealthy complacency.  The swirling mix of thoughts inside my mind include, but are not limited to:

What if I make the wrong choice?  This could forever alter the completion of my life goals!  I know what I want; it seems so unattainable!  What if I end up broke?  How will I ever afford that?  But I'll miss that person too much!  I could fail that test!  Heaven forbid I get less than an A.  And so on, and so forth until I fall asleep or get lost in a song or find a distraction (read: Facebook.)

Yet, what a blessing it is to have choices.  Many people in my life are trapped, backed into corners and immovable because of circumstances in their life.  Perhaps its debt, or a strict loyalty; a contract, or a health issue.  The summation being, they are not free to make life changes.  What I've come to realize, is that decisions are indicative of freedom.  I have a choice.  Or many, to be precise.  So while I sit here moaning and groaning about how complicated and confusing life is, another may sit wishing that they could change aspects in their life, try something new, take risks and adventure, and be free to pursue their goals.

So, next time I'm bordering on an emotional breakdown over whether to buy the black Old Navy maxi dress at the thrift store that is significantly cheaper than retail price but is also kinda faded and is it just me or does it make me look fat but I also have really been wanting a maxi dress lately and it's sleeveless and I love sleeveless...I'm going to take a deep breath and say "this, is a side affect of this marvelous thing called freedom."    

Life is often likened to a story. I imagine you can recall saying or thinking along these lines. Yet, I have realized it is not a sound analogy. As I compared a standard volume with the life God created for me, I discovered our stories follow a unique and unprecedented writing process… 

The Authour, a talented and creative Fellow, has the story already in His head, like all experienced writers. Planned exact to every detail, every interaction, from the type of oatmeal in one’s breakfast bowl to the meaningful relationship sparked junior year. However, this book is not your ordinary novel, thriller, mystery, or romance. Not only is it a blend of nearly every genre imaginable, this script is written in such a fashion where the reader can only flip ahead to the next three or four pages. The rest remains blank. It does not lay white and unmarked by letters unintentionally or accidentally, but rather to hold the reader’s attention. To keep the reader focused on the Authour, dependent on His continued revelation of story. Still, there is another unique characteristic about this book. If one skips to the end, there they will find a completion of the story. The finale does not include details of the interim, nor of the adventures, trials, relationships, or happenings that are held in the middle pages. Rather, it ends with the character going on to live in a beautiful haven with the Authour, free from hardships, tears, and pain, "happily ever after." 

A country artist once sang a song that went, “Life is like a book with the end ripped out.” 

Life is certainly like a book, but only the middle is uncertain; only the middle requires trust and reliance upon the Authour. At any moment, you can be assured of how the story is going to end.