Chrysalis

Look how unappealing and downright ugly this chrysalis is, to the layman's eye. Possibly it is a thing of beauty to the nature enthusiast, or even to a person like me, who is being persuaded to love the process as much as the outcome presently. But to most passerby's, it looks like a big, funky bug, dead with enfolded legs. Like nothing. Like it has lived it's life and is now worthless. Perhaps it even feels that itself...

But....inside, a marvelous and intriguing transformation occurs! Most people would pass by a thing like this without raising an eyebrow, or even knowing what it was, or caring what it was. Maybe a year ago I would have. Not now though. No way. It symbolizes to me the dark, stunted-seeming world we sometimes find ourselves in, and we wonder why, and there seem to be absolutely no answers forth-coming. And so we dwell in this limited world of black and loneliness, not seeing what is to come, maybe even completely hopeless....thinking we might even have only this for the rest of our lives; this seeming abandonment, no fresh air to breathe or beauty to take in with the eyes.

But let me start from the beginning. We started as the crawling, munching and crunching caterpillar: big, fat, wandering around the earth on leaves and earth's floor, our purpose "fine".  Maybe we had a passing thought that life would be much finer if we could soar like the birds overhead, I think we all have had that thought. Flight equals freedom and so forth. Because it does seem from a higher perspective that things come together  with more clarity. Bird's eye view means more power. But then we somehow found ourselves instinctively building a house away from the unseen eye, behind a leaf, on a branch no one comes often to, for safety, to go and hide inside for awhile. Before we knew it, we were in this dark, claustrophobic "refuge" but then we began to wonder why. Why were we the only ones in there and why for so long, and other why's we never had the time to figure out before, we now wrestled with inside this place, and we didn't know now if we liked this process at all. This sucked...immensely. No one has probably ever gone through this exact process before EVER, and all such loneliness thoughts we are suddenly bombarded with in waves of self-pity and sadness. (Maybe this is a little too introspective for a caterpillar, but bear with me..if I was the caterpillar, this is perhaps what I would be thinking.)  The time in here is for reflections, but then the reflections of how we used to be a fat, happy caterpillar that was well-fed, and green with goodness, and that sunlight shone upon our backs constantly bring us to depression because we know...we can never go back, for look at how we are changing in here! No one would love us now...look how disgusting we have become. Body covered in layers of God-knows what, and not beautiful at all even to one's self! The whole thing seems to be going so slow and there is way too much time to think and mind-screw ones self in here. Alone. Right?

But behold an eye that CAN see all that is going on inside that dark place of drought and questioning. A hand that is at work, a love that sees what the one inside the mess cannot see. Who knows perfectly, has done this time, and time again, with the most elegant of outcomes, the Potter, so to speak, with the lump of unfinished clay on his wheel. And now, it is time to emerge. After so long a time, will we even have any friends? Most probably we will be completely lonesome still. But the emergence is difficult, and we wrestle, and struggle with the almost impossibility of our freedom from this cocoon of darkness. But alas, finally, we crawl out, exhausted, but triumphant, and a little unsure of our place, or even what happened, kind of like a drunk person who has passed out in some strange place and must regain some memory of the night before, but the details are totally shady. We stumble onto the branch above us and realize the transformation that occurred in that place, gave us, magically, majestically, wings! So we try them out, and the view is amazing, and the beauty of spring surrounds on every side with flourishing life and verdant green all about, and suddenly! There are others. Others like you, flying above you, below you, beside you, happy, free, beautiful. You realize you could not have had these wings, this freedom, this spectacular feeling of perfect position, without that ugly, distant, challenging and AWFUL time of solitude. Here is an excerpt from a book called Celebration of Discipline, on the Dark Night of the Soul: "The dark night to which he calls us is not something  bad or destructive. On the contrary, it is an experience to be welcomed much as a sick person might welcome a surgery that promises health and well-being. The purpose of the darkness is not to punish or to afflict us. It is to set us free. It is a divine appointment, a privileged opportunity to draw close to the divine center. St.John calls it "sheer grace", adding: 

O guiding night!

O night more lovely than the dawn!

O night that has united

The Lover with His beloved,

Transforming the beloved in her Lover.

What does the dark night of the soul involve? We may have a sense of dryness, aloneness, even lostness. Any over-dependence on the emotional life is stripped away. The notion, often heard today, that such experiences should be avoided and that we should live in peace and comfort, joy, and celebration only betrays the fact that much contemporary experience is surface slush. The dark night is one of the ways God brings us into a hush, a stillness so that he may work inner transformation upon the soul."

And so we LOVE the process (even if we hate it) as much as the outcome. We love the caterpillar stage in us, the chrysalis stage, and the butterfly stage equally. You could not possibly have any one of them without the other. Change is necessary and essential to life. Transformation does not look pretty when it is in the pupal stage. But we can respect the ugly mess that is represented as much as the beauty it will incur. It is vital.

Summertime and the livin is easy (right)

The sky is beautifully cornflower blue and the sun beats down like the shade of sunset on a peach: warming, endearing, consuming. The children play rambunctiously and non-stop inside and out, with no reprieve on my behalf, which can wear and tear on the patience. Chris had taken off the week of our 9 year anniversary, and unknown to me, also the next two weeks after that for some much-needed vacation time. We have been together every day, and still have one week left of endless summer days, which can be good and enriching and also the anti of the much used credo: "Absence makes the heart grow fonder." ha..but we are handling it well and learning to have grace and soak in the quality time. It is ironic since the past few months had been so dry with this exact factor. Chris has been completely wrapped up in the recording of his 3rd album, and with having to work 40-hours a week on top of that, we rarely saw each other. Now it is a marathon of time together.
We began our time by cruising to the Oregon Coast to celebrate the victory of keeping our marriage together and doing it pretty well (I mean, we're still completely in love with each other and for the most part "get" each other, so that seems a triumph in it's self:) ) for nine years of hardship and bliss. There have been up's and down's, but such is life. Valleys and peaks, high's and low's, love and hate, joy and sorrow. It is the true anthem of life and anyone who tells you that life should only be happy and good all of the time has never been married, or is completely delusional. The goodness of marriage is seeing all of the wreckage that two people can unwillingly or willingly bring into a union, and making a garden out of the mess that works, and is somewhat beautiful and aesthetically pleasing. God plays such a huge part in this design...His fingerprints are all over our lives, whether seen or unseen. The fact that you can accept and tolerate a person that can be so perfectly opposite you and still be ridiculously in love with them is the stuff miracles are made of.
The Coast was magnificent and depressing and green and stony and cavernous and foggy all at once. I will never forget the fish and chips...I crave them daily now that we're back. The seafood is truly glorious there, especially the crab, and the halibut. On the wharf, fishing boats with colorful sails dot the shore like a tiny rainbow of toy boats seen from the bridge arching above it. We drove to Depoe Bay and went down a random street to these cliffs that overlooked the caverns in an enclave that were some of the most beautiful things I have ever seen. Green and mossy and black rock, with the grayest blue water engulfing the sides of the stone. Gorgeous! And we left the computer so we communicated freely (it was a little rough at first...but we soon slipped into the ease our friendship has always had) and had great one-on-one time.
Road trips have always been one of my favorite things to do when I'm with peaceful enjoyable company, and Chris truly is the best person to go on a road trip with because he let's me be silly and dorky and sing loudly to all the radio songs, and chat like a songbird, or just be silent for half hours at a time. We harmonize on songs, and hold hands and gush over each other like newlyweds. Fun fun!
When we arrived back in Bend, there was a steady stream of family visitors for the Fourth of July and on, which was wonderful as well.
We are full-steam into organizing this upcoming move back to California, and should be busy having garage sales and doing research on jobs etc, but have been delaying these things for the sake of "vacation". 
Anyhoo....happy summer to all of my readers (all 3 of you, wink wink) and my parting advice: Go enjoy the ones you love, in beautiful (or not) weather, let the sunshine fill you with hope of tomorrow and pleasure for today, and above all, know that God created all of this beauty for us to enjoy and share and to especially acknowledge His love and greatness. Peace and joy to you! xoxo

Cease Striving (Psalm 46:10)

Battling. Striving. Wrestling. 
I thought it was in the name of prayer and in God's great interest that I have been weeping and interceding the way I have been. Until last night. I was again broken and frustrated and torn over some things that are going on in my life, and I was tossing and turning in my bed. Finally, because I didn't want to wake my sleeping husband with all of my inner turmoil and tears, I went out into the living room and flung my pitiful self on the carpet, weeping and beating my fists on the ground. "I know You want me to have Your peace and to trust You, BUT I don't know HOW God!!" I cried out repeatedly. The frustration has been pulsating through my entire being, and I am sure, evident to many, especially my husband, how distressed I have been lately. "I need Your peace and I have NO idea HOW to get it. You make it sound so simple, why is it so complicated, God? WHY?" My rant and tears continued for quite a while. "Cease striving Annie." A still small voice within me came. "I don't know how God." "I will teach you. Be still." I closed my eyes, and I saw in my mind, an eye. It was not scary or weird, but I kept focusing on the middle, the pupil. "I will keep you as the apple of my eye. You are safe. You can trust Me." His gentle words kept pouring over my heart. Why is it so hard to be still? This world is so noisy, we humans so busy, and it becomes the hardest thing in the world to simply quiet every part of your body, and then your mind, which is the hardest part, I think. The Lord kept telling me, "Take every thought captive unto My obedience, and I will cause you to have rest and to think upon things that are lovely and pure and true." Yes, Lord. I am so tired of meditating on things I cannot change, over and over and over again, and supposedly laying them down and then taking them back up again like a worry stone that I cannot seem to throw into the sea and forget.
When I let go, finally, and that is all I can explain it as..letting go, just falling into His arms at last, coming to the end of myself, was the best place I could be..He poured into me with the deepest form of tranquility I have ever experienced. Every part of me was still and focused on Him, but perfectly quiet, waiting. "This is how I want you." He said. "But I seem so useless, Lord. What do You want me to DO?" Isn't that the human way? We think He can't do the job well enough, so we step in with our futile ways and attempt to "fix" what looks broken. "I've GOT this Annie. This is all I want from you..Your complete stillness. Then I can work." Oh.....when we take ourselves out of the equation and TRULY trust that God can complete what He has begun..How He can work. We get in the way with our pride and our worries and frets and unbelief.
So, I'm sitting there like a meditating monk, head lifted a bit, gentle smile playing upon my lips..So this is joy. Joy isn't some ridiculous elation of the body and soul always, although at times, the dancing and giddiness that the Spirit brings is fun, it's true joy that I want. True joy comes when we release ourselves into God's presence FULLY, completely captivated by His love and goodness towards us, and we settle into the peace only He can bestow. Total tranquility of the soul; total clarity of Him + you...being ALL that you need.
And as I am sitting there on my floor, as still and joyful and peaceful as I have ever been in my life, I hear the sound of waves, gentle at first, fluid, continual. "What is that, Lord?" I ask.  "That is the ocean. I am the waves, you are the sand. I am in motion. You are still. I come over you and comb you clean, perfectly. Your job is to wait and be still. Cease striving and KNOW I am God, that I can be trusted with the smallest trials and the biggest circumstances of your life. Then you experience true peace and are transformed in My likeness."
It dawned on me that all of this time I thought I had been praying and leaving my concerns with God, I hadn't trusted Him to take care of me, or the ones I love most, at all. I still thought I had to do it..that I had to somehow control the situation. Oh the peace that ensues when we truly let go and allow Him to come into the position of leader in our lives. 
How simple...I just make myself be still, press into Him, and seek His presence..and He'll do ALL the rest? How can this be? But it is. 
I feel with every fiber of my being the truth of this encounter. I know it to be true because I am changed today. My worries? Gone. My fretting and the nervous stomachache I have had since January? Vanished. And in their place: A gentle, freeing tranquility. A simple trust. A knowledge that my God, the Redeemer of my life, has full-control, and will not allow me to fall. He upholds me. So the verse comes to mind, and with it, the song.
"I lift up my eyes to the hills- where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth. He will not let your foot slip- he who watches over you will not slumber nor sleep. The Lord watches over you- the Lord is your shade at your right hand; the sun will not harm you by day, nor the moon by night. The Lord will KEEP you from all harm- he will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore." Psalm 121

Home

Lately I have been very forlorn. I go along on my way, and the day seems to be alright, and then the night falls and the sadness creeps in. Heavily. With large sobs and the feeling of night settling in to my very core.
My lovely Grandmother Marion, the one we tenderly docked 'Poppa', passed away this last week, and though it was not sudden and I had the extreme luck of saying one last goodbye to her in California, which was joyful, if not tinged with the shadow of what was soon to come, I am still grieving quite heavily.
 Tears have become my drink of choice it seems.. I feel like the Psalmist David, when he lamented, "My tears have been my food day and night, while they continually say to me, "Where is your God?" Not only am I grieving her death (as well as celebrating her inevitable new life), but things have been tense on the home front as well. Conversations have been strained and I am exhausted with back pain as well. So when I awoke this morning late, hurriedly got the children ready for their school day, and returned home, I sighed, and loaded the washer with number one out of possibly 8 loads that needs to be washed today, and went to my room to read the devotional I haven't picked up since April 2nd.... and God met me in such a powerful way. Sometimes this happens, where the lines of this book, Streams in the Desert, are God's spoken words to my very soul. He uses it to speak hope and life to the hopeless and lifelessness in me, awakening the deadened slumbering places in my heart. And the stone of my heart is transformed into soft, mushy clay. I needed this more than words could say today. It spoke of  keeping faith in the path God was taking me on, and re-iterated the promises and words that have been a great encouragement in this hard season we've been traversing through.
The main thing is that moving to Bend has been equal parts the best thing and worst thing to occur in our marriage. Best because we had to "leave and cleave" in every single way. It worked into our relationship a oneness that I don't think could have happened in California surrounded by so many family members and familiar faces. We knew not one person when we sojourned here. Worst because I feel we have lost everything we began with. The most important things have become distant and foggy. We have church-hopped to no end, which is exhausting. I can't be completely honest about all the things I feel here on this page because it would be too hurtful to some who might stumble upon these words and take it the wrong way, but I am so so tired. When I returned home to California to visit my ailing Grandmother, I was able to spend a lot of time outdoors and with old friends, and my soul was so refreshed and restored with life that I had forgotten existed. Fellowship with people burning with the love of God, worship that I have rarely experienced living in Bend, a warm-hearted zeal that resides there for me, that I had put to sleep because the lack of it had become too taunting and depressing. I drank in the green of the hills and the moss of the oaks and the salt of the ocean, the brilliance of the wildflowers, the hum of life, as if I was a starving person who hadn't seen color in years. I realized my heart had wilted here in Bend.
My children were filled with joy and my son was more happy than I have seen him in years. I want so badly to return there and it was spoken that we would, but then the old demons of despair crept in, telling me there was no way we could survive there now. It is too expensive, it is too out of reach....
So when I opened this book this morning, and this is what poured forth from it, it was like God was opening up my eyes of faith to fix them on this spot that He was pointing out, that I had missed in my futile vision, since I was looking from a limited and fleshly perspective, restoring my hope:

By faith  Abraham, when called to go to a place he would later receive by his inheritance, obeyed and went, even though he did not know where he was going. (Hebrews 11:8)

Abraham "did not know where he was going" - it simply was enough for him to know he went with God. He did not lean as much on the promises as he did on the Promiser. And he did not look at the difficulties  of his circumstances but looked to His King - the eternal, limitless, invisible, wise, and only God - who had reached down from His throne to direct his path and who would certainly prove Himself.

O glorious faith! Your works and possibilities are these: contentment to set sail with the orders still sealed, due to unwavering confidence in the wisdom of the Lord High Admiral; and a willingness to get up, leave everything, and follow Christ, because of the joyful assurance that earth's best does not compare with heaven's least.

In no way is it enough to set out cheerfully with God on any venture of faith. You must be wiling to take your ideas of what the journey will be like and tear them into tiny pieces, for nothing on the itinerary will happen as you expect.

Your guide will not keep to any beaten path. He will lead you through ways you never would have dreamed your eyes would see. He knows no fear, and He expects you to fear nothing while He is with you (He's always with you).

a poem:

The day had gone; alone and weak

I groped my way within a bleak

And sunless land.

The path that led into the light

I could not find! In that dark night

God took my hand.

He led me that I might not stray,

And brought me by a safe, new way

I had not known.

By waters still, through pastures green

I followed Him -  the path was clean

Of briar and stone.

The heavy darkness lost its strength,

My waiting eyes beheld at length

The streaking dawn. On, safely on, through sunrise glow

I walked, my hand in His, and lo,

The night had gone.

Annie Porter Johnson

Childish

So, I know, it's pretty obvious only my mom and mother-in-law read my blog, and they are kind with their praise of my "work"..(which actually gives me great joy to do, hence why I continue to plug on in the face of a scant audience.) I do this mainly for therapy, because I promised a few friends (and my moms..haha) that I would never never never give up on the things I am passionate about. In this case, it is writing, especially about things that my heart is fixated upon currently.

So, today, it is a couple of things, but mainly I have been meditating on childlike faith & simplicity.

Last night, my husband and I were laying in bed talking (well, mostly I was talking and he was listening) and we came to the topic of being a child. I told him that sometimes, when I was with him, it reminded me of when I was a small girl in the safety of my father and mother's house. Awaking on a Saturday morning to a storm outside, with wind shaking the window panes and rain making grey slashes of musical drumming on the glass and side of the house, and then snuggling down deep into the covers and daydreaming contentedly, knowing you couldn't run and play outside, but it was okay because there you were, in bed. Feeling as though you had no responsibilities, if even just for a moment, feeling free and comforted by the thought that no one could bring you harm as long as you were hidden there in that room tucked away in your father's house. And then I concluded that I felt this way because I knew God was the caretaker of my soul, so I could feel this way again and know it to be true. Which brought me to the subject of truly trusting God like a child. The simplicity of knowing Him to be not a myth but truth down in your core and the peace that follows that belief.

I remember being young as if it was yesterday, running with total abandon through green fields of high grass and wildflowers, collapsing on the field of green under the never-ending expanse of blue sky and watching the clouds roll by and take familiar shapes. Yet I am no longer a child. Sometimes I long for the freedom that youth brought in it's short-lived arms. Not having any pain in my body when I did the least bit of exertion, riding horses, running until my lungs hurt but in the best possible way, hearing my own thoughts and daydreaming for hours, writing and not comparing my work to other peoples' words, the sun flushing my cheeks pink as I laid with my hands behind my head hidden by the tall weeds and grass and not concerned with anything except dinnertime and the sound of mom's voice calling me in. And I know that even though I cannot have those days of freedom back, I can live as if I can. Live with childlike faith. Live with my heart innocent as it's purified and refined by God's radiant love and light. And I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that Heaven will be like being an eternal child. Free, alive, happy, loved, and most of all, SAFE. Enjoy your day, and grasp the faith that cannot be reined in today. Live your life and be free.

Day of Hearts

Tomorrow is Valentine's Day, and I unabashedly adore this holiday. Even if it IS made up by Hallmark, which I hear from Valentines haters every year upon their realization of my said adoration. I revel in the making of heart slathered cards and pink frosted cookies, heart-shaped ice cubes, pizzas and cakes, soft warm blankets in shades of pink and red, expecting and knowing my husband will spoil me because he loves me and knows I love this day!
I fully expect roses to be delivered by him in red, white or pink, a cheesy lovey-dovey card pouring praise on me in his messy left-hand writing, and to top it off, a hot date with him on my arm the night of. Why do I know all of this? Because almost 9 years ago, when our green-rooted friendship was quickly altering into full-blown love, our first official date was on Valentine's day night. I will never forget it because it began completely imperfectly. He picked me up in Los Olivos where I lived in a 3-story Victorian style house that I had lived in since I was 7 and a half, and drove me to a little beach town 45 minutes North called Pismo. We went to the wharf and fully expected to be able to get into this semi-fancy seafood restaurant there, only to find reservations had been made months ahead of time if you wanted to get in. I looked at him, 'was he the type of guy who had gone to that kind of trouble, at least yesterday?' The expression on his face told me no. So we turned around and strolled away, a little miffed, but not much, after all, fresh love fueled our steps, it was an adventure we were on! FIVE more restaurant rejections later, we were miffed. "Soooo.....want to go to Splash Cafe and get a chowder bowl and take it somewhere?" He asked, feeling deflated. "Sure!" So, we went and got our chowder bowls to go, took it to Lake Lopez, and sat on a bench eating them and then singing by the stillness of the lake.(Back then Chris brought his guitar EVERYWHERE with us, it was his default, and I loved it!) The moon was perfectly reflected on the softly ebbing water like a mirror, and the clouds were majestically spelling out our fate. It sounds weird, but the clouds were in the shape of a dove. We were taken aback by this, it was so peaceful and we knew the night was mapped out for us by something higher than our own messy plans. It was the night I fell deeper in love with my husband to be, and the night I decided I really knew this guy was the one I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. And that, friends, is my Valentine's Day love story. What's yours?

Seasons

Gorge: chasm, divide, canyon, void, abyss, crevice, fissure, break, gulf, opening, schism, breach, falling-out.

The reason I put the definition for the word gorge above is because I have felt it often in life. In friendships mostly. It seems a friendship should be a never-ending ring of promise, kind of like what marriage is supposed to be like, but as marriages end bitterly or in a divorce caused by "Irreconcilable Differences", so do friendships sometimes.

Legal definition:

Differences between spouses that are considered sufficiently severe to make married life together more or less impossible. In a number of states, irreconcilable differences is the accepted ground for a no-fault divorce. As a practical matter, courts seldom, if ever, inquire into what the differences actually are, and routinely grant a divorce as long as the party seeking the divorce says the couple has irreconcilable differences. Compare incompatibility; irremediable breakdown...

Translation: We once were crazy about each other, enough to get hitched for "life", but now, we just cannot find the bridge that once joined my country to yours emotionally or physically.

Sometimes friendships also feel as if (or actually do end up) they come to the fork in the road as well. It has happened in my life. For example, when I was in high school, there was this girl and we were inseparable, no joke. We spent the night at each others houses incessantly, did every thing imaginable together, etc. But suddenly her true colors came out and she was this jealous, bitter person if I branched out and made other friends (which I did), and it came to the point where I felt I had to decide between HER and being a normal person who held more than one relationship. Hence the big breakup. It was hard, but such a relief. Like a breath of fresh air, a clean start. I did this many times thereafter, mostly with boys though. Jealous friends are way freakier somehow than a jealous boyfriend. It's just...awkward and somehow very Single White Female-ish. You have to make the break. For health reasons of course. Mental health. Ha.

So I come to my point. Sometimes..inevitably, your country no longer joins to the other person's country at no fault of your own, or theirs for that matter, it's just seems to be a natural occurrence in life. You drift apart, or you move, or you get married and have nothing in common with that person anymore. It is a mournful event, and pictures taunt you, making you sorry it had to happen, but nonetheless it is natural. Sad, but natural. What do you do with all of the memories you made together? Disneyland trips? Shared confidences? Crushes? Wedding pictures? Hopes, dreams, all the rest? Count it as lost and wasted hours that you could have been doing...what? Something more productive than practicing at being a good friend, throwing caution to the wind in order to make alliances? I think not. Every friendship, whether it has stood the test of time (which is very much a fire that tests the precious metals of our very fiber), or one that ended up crumbling until you no longer call, write, visit, care, is worth the investment if at the time we feel it is worth investing in.

I have many friendships in my life that I feel were much better at one point. And then I start to wonder, worriedly, if I could have somehow done things differently to keep the momentum it once had. The intrigue may be gone, and just like in some marriages, you let down your guard so much that you simply "fell out of love" (which, for the record, is a statement I honestly despise for it's obvious cliche' and shallow connotations) with your friend. Simply, friendships on any level take work. They, just like marriages, are not unlike a garden which must be weeded, watered and tended carefully and thoughtfully. There are times when we decide, whether consciously or not, that that particular friendship is no longer worth the emotional effort. They don't respond the way they once did or whatever. We just lost interest maybe, or our insecurities get the better of us and we think they are "over us". Maybe they've changed, maybe we have, maybe something, who knows? The blue sky just no longer shines on our friendship. Do we give up? Throw in the towel? Move on discreetly, or make some big, confrontational deal out of it where there is no hope but to leave hurt, battered and confused? I come to my conclusion. I USED to be a person who would do this. I would sidle away, whistling nonchalantly, making my exit, taking my final bow, or take them to coffee and say Goodbye, this is no longer working out, it's been real... Okay, maybe not so easily, but still. NOW, I do not feel I have this option, and rather than being a restraint to my come and go easily, gypsy friend approach, it is satisfying to know that if Jesus was not a person Who would cast off Judas (JUDAS!! betrayer, back-stabber, fool!) from his friend list, than I no longer have that option either. I am His, and if He wants me to invest in every person He has lovingly placed in my realm of relational scope, than invest I will. If they choose to leave me in the dust, will I shake the dust off of my feet and move on in the opposite direction, giving furtive guilt-laden glances in their general path whenever we find ourselves in the uncomfortable position of being in the same place, same time, accidentally? Or will I avoid altogether that role of breaker-upper... I am rambling. Yes, this is what I do. I get this crazy idea for a blog finally, and I thought I knew exactly what I was going to say, that when a friendship seems to be ending, you politely excuse yourself, you call it a night, a season has come to an end, and you go. But as I am writing this, I find that Jesus, even through my rantings, has commandeered this so-called conversation into a more pleasing way for His glory. Just as I would never willingly cast off my marriage as hopeless, I would not allow a friendship that I have poured myself into to dwindle. You do not let go, you do not look for release, when it comes to friends, they have become FAMILY, especially when they too are believers. You hold on for dear life, you ask God to breathe fresh life into that entity, and you pour every ounce of LOVE into that person, because that, my friends, is what God would want from us. That is what He would do. So there's that.