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Grace and Words:

I don’t know why I say the things I say sometimes. It is as though I need to have words spill out of my mouth in order for the thoughts to solidify in my brain. Sometimes the things I say are hurtful and should have never been thought, let alone said. I think that this is one of my biggest struggles as a person. I need to really think about propriety and others before word-vomiting.

I say things that will hurt people I love. I say things that make absolutely no sense. I say things I do not, and would not ever mean to say. These thoughts are passing through. They should not be alive. They sho8uld not be spoken, but then, they are.

The words offer no grace. I would be offended if grace was not offered to me. I would not enjoy the treatment I sometimes give to others. I know that I those around me need grace just as much as I do. Grace is important to us, because without it where would we be? I would e dead (if not literally, than at least from sin).

There is a person in my life that I offer almost no grace to. I do not give this person the time of day, unless it is convenient for me. I cannot rationalize this accept by saying that I do not typically enjoy this person’s company. I wish I did enjoy it. I wish grace for them came naturally to me. I wish that wishes came true!

Self Disclosure:

How much do I know about you? How much do you know about me? What is it that you will never tell anyone? What is it that I will never tell you? There are things about me that only a handful of the closest people to me know. However, I never would have told one of those people this story, had it not been for proximity. I am not as close to one of those “in the know” as I am to the others. Two of those who know, I would consider my closest of friends.

It is a commonly accepted interpersonal communications factoid that people who you disclose to , you are closest to. The more you know about someone the more you tell, the closer you become. I am not so sure this is always true….

I disclose the most to those I am closest to. Makes sense…right? I am not so sure. Are there some things about me that I will not tell my closest of close friends? Yes. Probably. Why is that?

Fear of judgment? Fear of disclosing too much and ending the friendship? Fear of lessening trust? What?

On the other hand, some of the things I hold back are historical. They do not affect my life anymore. They do not have control over me. They may have at one time, but they do not now. Why am I afraid of those things?

Hmmmmmm……..

How can we describe the mind?

The thought processes we go through are intertwined and messy. My brain does not flow in a logical order. I go from one inkling of thought to a semi-related-but-really-rather-different topic in much less time than I can measure. How is this possible to describe. In the time it takes me to form the thoughts I am conveying to you through virtual paper, I am thinking of hundreds of other things: writing down my alphabet at the kitchen table, getting an English award, my brother getting an award that same year, at the same event, the pride of my family, my little sister, rap music, listening to 80’s rock with my father, Glee, my friend Kendra, the Fab Four, forensics, and so much more.

My mind goes from idea to idea without a breath in between, without putting the pencil down, or stretching the muscles in my wrists. My mind doesn’t require anymore of a break than sleeping, and even then I know my mind races. My friends tell me that I never stop thinking; even then because they hear my dreams played out in speech, or see them in my restless sleep walking.

My mind comprehends so much all at once. It wants me to communicate an abundance of material in such a short amount of time. The words tumble out of my mouth and land in an incoherent pile on the floor. Or, they tangle up and decide to stay safely in my mind, where they have a chance of rearranging themselves into an understandable array of sounds and syllabus.

My mind is not even complex as most. Not even by half. Others can memorize pages from books and scenes from their lives in perfect detail. They can relay those messages to the outside world without a slop, hiccup-p or umm. Those minds put mine to shame. They show me that in the scheme of life, in the world, my mind is humble, lowly. I am not stupid, but I am not great. There are some who can look at an equation and spout out an answer before I have even decided what formula I am supposed to use. Where does my mind land in comparison to those?

On another note:
What is the difference between our mind and soul and brain? How can we distinguish one from the next? Should we even try? God made us all with all of these things. I bet he knows what the differences are….

What is a question?

I am empty.Nothing to hold. I have no restrictions, yet I have no plans. I have no restrains, but I can’ t seem to move. I need to do, go, say, have, spend, share, embrace. Something. I need a verb. I need to scream, shriek, shout, yell, cause a ruckus. Something. I need to be. I need. There is nothing in me now.

Who am I? What defines me? What do people call me? What do they say that I am? Why do I care? Should I? Would it matter to anyone else if I do? How do I know what is right, what is true? How do I know how to question my life? How do I come up with such ridiculous questions?

There is power in a question. They demand answers. Written, verbalized, shown or imbedded for me, in me. For you, in you.

Some questions are rhetorical and call for nothing but thought. Nothing but internalization. Nothing you have to share or realize. Other questions are scary. They are frightening and vexing and rough. They rub you raw on the inside. They boil up from your spirit, eroding and creating a new thing within you. They change you, they change the path of the world. They fix. Mend. Destroy. Isolate. Incubate. Make. Form. Create a newness to this place, this imperfect place. They are drama and habit and peace and hope and revenge and acid all at once, and never all at once.

We are fallen. We are stupid. We are people. We are made in His image and then edited by a nasty fall. Broken. Warped. We are nothing. We have nothing, and still have so much.

We are still His.

Can you even READ??

Why do you need pictures? Why do we need a graph or a pie chart? Why do we need a video, blog or newscaster to tell us what is happening in our world? What is wrong with good, old fashioned words?

Can we, as a people, no longer interpret the English language?

Is writing a dead art?

Do America’s children read any more? Wait, I think I answered my own question! Yes, they can read! At least for the length of a status update or tweet!

With every good book being made into a movie, you don’t need to read to have intelligent conversation about popular fiction, watch it instead! Why are we too lazy to take a little time and find the meaning in words ourselves?

On another note:

I have heard my generation referred to as the Potter-generation. Is that how we want to be known? I often wonder how many of my friends have read anything considered a classic. If you have read it, have you read it of your own choosing, or were you forced to in high school or some college lit class?

Have you read the bible? I haven’t all the way through, I have tried. I have read Harry Potter and the Deathly Hollows at least five times. How come I can read that work of fiction some many times, but can’t get myself to read the word of God?

A Magic Penny...

Tonight I found myself thinking about a song I sang in second grade. I haven’t heard it since. I don’t think I have had this big a revelation since I realized Jesus is the savior… The lyrics of the song are something to the effect of:

Love is like a magic penny,
Hold it tight and you won’t have any,
Lend it, spend it, and you’ll have so many,
They’ll roll all over the floor.

This song hit me today because I realized that not all people have this philosophy on love. Some people keep it so close to themselves that they can’t let it out when they need to. Some people only lend it to one or two “special” people in their lives.Isn’t everyone in our lives a special person, deserving of the love we have been given by God? Shouldn’t we love those who are deemed “unlovable” by society even more than those who are easy to love? Why do some people reserve the right to cast judgment, and thus, withhold their love?

I know that I have seen someone and decided that they didn’t need my love, they couldn’t have my love. I am guilty of smothering the love that God has given me. One person in particular has not seen this love from me. That person was given hurtful news today, and for a moment I was happy.

Then, I was ashamed. I was not giving the love she deserves for being a person, for breathing. I had always argued that this person never respected me, but I never respected her either, because I denied my love.

I have realized this because of a second grader’s song.

On a less intense note, I would like to thank the academy (AKA Samari Houser) for giving me the inspiration to write this blog today!

Love&Peace!