More late-night rambling.

What a year I've had. What a year, indeed. Forgive me for not having posted nearly as often as I was planning; sometimes the words are hard to pull out. In mid-February, one of my classmates, Christina, passed away suddenly. I've experienced loss of someone in my life so young before, but never so physically near that there was a visible hole left behind. She was in my section at school, and our schedule was structured so that all our classes were with the same people. Your section becomes like a family, and our family had an empty seat in each room, each day. I knew her, but not well. I was looking forward to getting to know her that semester, and was purposefully trying to earn her trust so she would talk to me more. :) She was a strong young woman with a strong wall up, but every now and then in class I would be given glimpses of the beautiful, tender heart behind that wall. Sometimes I still see her face on the street, and for a moment I forget.

Christina's passing helped me to realize just how much I have a heart for the students at my school. I am lucky in that, because now that I've graduated, I have been given the position as a staff member down in the costume shop. I earnestly desire to see these kids grow into mature adulthood, and I am glad that I get to be a part, however small, of their journey. I am trying to purposefully be more open--less introverted. I want people to feel like they can come talk to me, because they can. Always.

Just a few weeks ago, I got back from Kenya. Our church took a team of 19 people to run a free summer camp for orphaned/vulnerable children living in a slum outside Nairobi. None of the poverty shocked me too bad, as our team had prepared me adequatly for what to expect, and God had certainly been working on my heart in that. My heart was free from dealing with that pain so that I could be there to love on the kids, and not feel overwhelmed by their circumstances. Praise Him for that. I don't have any major stories of life-changing awesomeness as many may expect, rather just a simple understanding of obedience. Two years ago, the 2009 team gave their presentation in front of the church, the Holy Spirit said "you're going on that trip," and I took that as a given. I felt this year was the appointed time, and I went. The second week of camp, I felt very strongly from God that I was supposed to share my testimony, so I did. I have no idea of the impact any of my words or actions had in those two weeks, and I may never know. I'm ok with that, because I know that I know that I know that I was there because I was supposed to be there, and I trust God to even use my flubs.

Since I've been back, I've felt different. I even look different, I'm told. Color in my face, more confidence. I have no specific idea as to what that stems from, but I do feel that during the trip I turned a corner in my learning to trust God and hand things over to him (relinquishing control is always the huge impossible goal). That, and the fact that I have officially beat cancer has finally hit home. I think I'm finally overcoming the shock, or maybe I just need therapy. I sometimes kind of want to grab people and shake them and say in tears "I had f*&%ing cancer! But its GONE!" But Hollywood has enough crazy already, thankyouverymuch. This summer I was sick for a month while I was preparing for the test that would determine if the cancer had come back, and in the midst of that, the doctor realized that the test didn't even need to be performed, I was so in the clear. I woulda been radioactive for 3 days if they went through with it; instead, I only lost about half of my hair. Only my hairdresser and I can tell, though. To everyone else, my hair just looks dry, destroyed and thin. I had a lot of anxiety before that test, partly because of the scary what-the-hell-is-wrong-with-me symptoms from the prep (off my thyroid medicine). Once I was in the clear, I had too much Kenya to think about. Now that I'm home, I'm wavering on this weird emotional tight-rope. I maintain my balance when I remember how God has been taking care of me, and how I have nothing apart from him (which is a hard fact to swallow for me). Home, job, food, clothes, cancer-free body, amazing church community, the list goes on. God is an incredible provider to me. But then I start to lose my balance when I worry about the future: moving soon (will I get the apt?), needing more work (but my car was stolen in Feb and my bike in Aug), student loans due soon (when is that money gonna go thru?), and the list goes on in this direction, too. Church was incredible today. It's a series about maturity, and to be honest, I'm thinking that I'm in an ok place. Sometimes I think my level of trust with God is borderline delusion, but then he always, always meets me. Obviously I need to grow, because I still struggle with so much anxiety that could easily be erased if I just let go. But to hear that some of what I'm experiencing might be considered "maturity," is a self-confidence boost that, quite frankly, I need (me and self-confidence? we're not friends). When I lack self-confidence, I lack the ability to share my experiences and understandings, which means that people miss out on my unique contributions as a human being created in the image of God. I love hearing what others have to say, and what they believe, why should I prevent them from hearing what I have to say? Because I feel that most of what I have to say, most of the way I see and love and experience God, is silly or wrong. Why is speaking up in homegroup so hard for me? Shouldn't be, but is.

Going back to anxiety, this evening I was working on a sewing project, listening to Brave Saint Saturn's album "The Light of Things Hoped For," one of my favorites in college. The last song on the album, "Daylight," came on and I couldn't continue sewing. I felt this weird emotion rising in me, like I wanted to cry--sob, even--but I ended up crying and also laughing (some sobbing, too). I completely lost it at the lyric "a heart of flesh you gave me...," because only just this year have I felt my heart not made of stone anymore. Lately I've been so emtionally on this tight-rope, that its been hard for me to sit down and spend some quiet time with Jesus, because I am so afraid of what seems like everything in my life, and I'm afraid I'll just cry (and why do I think Jesus wouldn't like that?). This song let me do that finally, but what came out instead was this mix of fear of the future (in the face of all the abundant assurance from Christ I am too weak to embrace), joy to see how far I've come (this song used to be a beacon of hope for me), and just plain bewilderment that after all these years, he still cares for me and is only beginning to reveal his love to me. I thought I was so afraid, but I don't think I'm nearly as fearful as I think.

I found this video on youtube to share, and despite the cheesy montage, I cried again. Soo good. Also... from this post, it seems like I cry a lot. I do now, and I'm proud of that fact. I am proud of the fact that I no longer feel like I can't cry, or that I'm incapable of it. It used to be hard for me to get to the point of tears, simply because there was such a strong wall up in front of my own heart. I think it's finally coming down.

"Daylight," Brave Saint Saturn