Who do I belong to? It isn’t me. It’s by blood I was purchased and to dust I will return. Who is the Author my life as well as its Great Love? Only Jesus. Jesus alone.

And who am I? Can anyone even tell? I’ve been reading a book about the empowerment of the Holy Spirit and while doing so it was mentioned that when Elijah did battle with the prophets of Baal and called down fire from Heaven, the prophets of Baal all resounded with cries that Elijah’s God was Lord. Can anyone tell that my God is Lord?

The point of the excerpt was that we Christians should pray outrageous prayers, like, for example, God, please shoot down fire from Heaven. But I think to myself that it isn’t the prayers that are missing, it’s me. I haven’t shown up to demonstrate what God has done for me. I’ve forgotten the beautiful and loving and radical and severe ways of my Master. And I haven’t been loving anyone very well at all.

And so, this radical prayer that I’ve been called to contemplate? Seems to lead me to a simple phrase: Pour me out of myself and You take up all the room. I’m Yours. And what purpose could I possibly have that is more valuable than Yours? How can I be so arrogant as to think that what it is I’m doing supercedes what You can do?

I am arrogant, and dishonest, and selfish and unmoving. And I believe with weeping hope that He will heal me from these things. I believe that if I truly ask, He will bless me by bestowing His manner in me. I believe He will give me the ability and the energy and the sustanence and the power to doggedly pursue Truth in all things.

So pray for me, friends, if you think of it. I have a long way to go.

Excuse me? Excuse-yes? Yes, I’m ready to order. I’d like a cholesterol free life experience, you know what I mean? I don’t want to have heart troubles or feel sluggish. I need to be in peak shape so that I can run the good race, can’t have any heavy stuff weighing me down. So, if you don’t mind, could I have my life made with No Yokes, please?

If you’ve ever placed an order like this, I can relate. Recently at work there was a cafaffle about a locked door. The fact that the printer was behind it was most of the trouble, the reasons of which are largely inconsequential, and I needed to use that printer. Imagine having to waste the time it takes to unlock a door, purposelessly, a hundred times a day to get anything off the printer when you’re doing casework and have to get things off the printer all the time, constantly, ad nauseum, ad infinitim. Doesn’t sound like a big deal, does it? Probably isn’t; Not the point. The point IS that come Monday morning this week, after doing this for about two months, I had Had Enough. I was livid and decided to act like a child. I purposely went in and UNlocked the door at every opportunity hoping that it would stay that way, and when that didn’t work, I just left it standing open. I figured  two could play that whole Drive-Someone-Crazy-About-Something-As-Inane-As-A-Locked-Door Game (What? You’ve never played that one?). I fumed and complained and made a real jerk of myself.

But then something happened. A coworker of mine who was the dumping ground for my vitriol did something that absolutely changed my perspective and my attitude: She prayed for me. I didn’t know it at the time. I had gone outside for a minute to take a break from my rage with a book that just happened to be in my purse called Forgotten God, which is about being guided by the Holy Spirit. Ouch, by the way. And as I read, I thought, Is this Love I’m acting with? Or Selfishness?

And it occurred to me that I was angry because I didn’t have a choice about the way things were being run in my office, but I was being offered a choice about how I was going to run things in my heart and how that heart was reflected in my actions. And I decided I was going to submit to God and run it right, in a way that would please Him and make me, as His representative, be honorable to the great gifts I’d been given, like having the Holy Spirit to dwell within me and guide me. Like having a job, like having the capabilities to work it, like having the income it provides me to support myself, like having all the luxuries in life that make it not only possible but to seem even justifiable to complain. I realized that I couldn’t do anything about the yoke, but I could carry it with dignity and the grace befitting someone who professes Jesus as Lord.

So as I was saying earlier, if you want a life with No Yokes? Good luck finding anyplace that can fill that particular order. But if you care about your heart really, you will (as I am still continuing to) learn to bear them with courage, humilty, and above all else, Love.

Rain is a blessing in Price Hill. It’s the one thing that makes everyone head indoors instead of sitting stooped on porch steps, with a twist of burning weeds between their fingers with the volume turned up five hundred decibels. It makes the streets slick with perspiration on a summer night, shimmering slick with streetlights. And quiet, blessedly quiet, those few who venture out seem to breath a little deeper with some uncomprehensible reverence.

Such a night is tonight.

Poor Erik. And what a wonder. To deal with all my crazy and still here he sits, hunched over on the edge of my bed, dipping artichoke leaves into peppered butter, somehow content even after my earlier torrent of complaints and stresses and feelings of being overwhelmed. I told him last night when I was acting like a petulant brat and wanted to go to bed while he was still fixing the electric pro bono in the wee hours (I know-I’m a jerk.), that it was no fun dating someone who’s perfect. But I guess it isn’t so bad. He comes through in these moments and still loves with determination even when I know I must be driving him crazy. I can tell because I’m driving myself a little crazy too.

I’m not quite sure why everything seems to be so much right now. Certainly the battles I’m currently in training for are nothing in comparison to what God has brought me through already. But at that time I had armor. I was fortified through God’s great grace to bring me wisdom enough to seek Him, and in joy and humility. But as I am so apt to do, I’ve drifted off to sleep on the battlefeild with the cannons overhead as a lullaby. I’m disappointed in myself, but there it is.

But God is good and merciful and praise to Him that He is. It isn’t so much that the struggles are insurmountable, but I’ve lost my eagles wings. God will provide. And I call Him a liar when I refuse to believe that. And God’s will shall prevail, no matter what I think it should have been or how my perfect end translates. Sometimes it seems the most reckless thing of all to trust Him implicitly. But He is granting me the courage to do so.

Ok, ok, so I was whining last night. Well, early this morning. It’s unbecoming and also it’s fairly useless. So I don’t have what I think I want-there is always Purpose, God is always Soveriegn, and He was gracious enough to remind me this afternoon of all the things that I have been ignoring that are so valuable.

I read a newsletter from Nightlight wherein I learned that four new women are now working there instead of selling their bodies on the street, thanks to the prayers and support and ministry of Ron’s aunt and uncle’s organization. And then I came across an email from Freedom Church praising God for a boy who has been healed. And it seems to obvious, doesn’t it? That wanting for myself is even smaller than I thought, and that the reason I am here is for a much bigger purpose. As in, bringing glory to the most high God.

I was reading last night, ironically enough after moaning about some version of relationship that I term “love”, in Corinthians 13. As will surprise no one since it’s pretty well known, especially if you’ve been to a wedding in the past decade, it’s all about True love, real love, the love that is inspired by the Holy Spirit. And I realized that . . . I need to work on it. I do need to learn to love people better and in the Truth. I can be so lazy when it comes to that. I can “do no harm” for my own part, but still not do any good at all.

So pray for me, folks. I need it. I need a lot of things, but the deepest and truest of them all is the alignment between myself and the character of God. And lucky for me, He is faithful. Luckily for me, He is the Great Physician who can heal heart troubles as much as anything else.

I was thinking of making some excuses. I will not make any. This is What Is.

So it seems that I’m the only one of my friends who’s single these days. What is it about this stupid season? All that crap about birds and bees and flower blossoms is apparently at least somewhat true. No wonder Ricki Lake was able to have all those shows about Summer Fling Reunions. No wonder the VD clinics get such a boost at this time of year.

Not that I envy Ricki Lake guests or clinic patients . . .

Anyhow, the truth of the matter is that this is all a hopeless, hopeless case. That’s the real disappointment. As I was telling my brother when I was going through the submissions on an online dating site I was a fool to let my ex set me up with: all I want is a gigantic Christian. Is that so much to ask? Apparently. All the giant people aren’t down with Jesus and all the Christian boys are small. Who knew fulfilling two characteristics would be such a big freaking deal? Well, even if not a big freaking deal then at least seemingly impossible.

Sigh.

The trouble is what the trouble always is, and it’s that I want something specific. I can’t be satisfied to take up with just anyone anymore. It’s the worst possible idea to take a time when the sources are drying up and become even more picky than you’ve ever been before. But that’s the way of it. Especially when you’ve decided to quit trying to run your own life and instead look to what the Lord wants more than what you do. Because what hope do you have if you don’t?

What I am inclined to is usually not at all what I need. I’m headstrong. I’m distracted and misguided. I get bored with being on my own sometimes. And then I watch the scourge of the screen, Anne of Green Gables, and it’s enough to make me want to mope till the morning light. Still, it’s better for this kind of mood than Persuasion. What I don’t understand is . . . why I should even care. This isn’t the time, right? If it were, wouldn’t it just happen?

We should pray in faith. But what to do if what you have faith in isn’t panning out? Do you continue to lament to the Lord of hosts that you don’t have what you’re pretty sure you should? Like this:

Me: “God, I want this.”

God: “Not right now.”

Me: “Maybe I forgot to mention it, but I want this.”

God: “That’s not what I have for you at the moment.”

Me: “Ok, uhh, maybe I didn’t make myself clear: This is what I want!”

God: “What are you? Daft?! You can’t have IT!”

Embarassingly enough, this scenario has played out more often than I care to admit.

The truth of the matter is that this is another of those little things. This is the little thing that nags until it seems much bigger than it is. I’m not saying I’m one of those desperately lonely spinter ladies who just sit around sighing for a man-friend. That’s not really it. There were and will be and for all I know, are, possible man-friends around. But how to find the right one? When your ideas seem so specific?

It is enough to be with myself. Really, it is. And perhaps still my wounds are mending and my heart is getting itself back in working order. Maybe it’s just not the moment. I can’t deny that there have been tragedies. There have been heavy blows. There have been aches brought to me that still twist sometimes when I least expect it. There are still moments when what has transpired in and of itself seems like far too much. And perhaps even now being in relationship with another person could be too much of a burden or too much of a crutch. I can’t say. And I must admit also that I don’t want to say it. It seems all so silly. But it is what I’m feeling in this single moment.

I could do it right this time. I’ve been taught how. Only now there is no one else on the other side of the plus sign.

Not to be a “woman” here, but after a lot of spastic emotional trouble yesterday, I’ve decided to re-persue my Comparative Governments class. Which is actually really great because I can’t get my money back now if I drop it. I am so thankful for the goodness and comfort of good counsel and encouragement. Way to be, y’all. Way to be.

And I’m really grateful that this morning when I called One Stop at UC (the registrar’s office or something-what a hip cool name!) and found out there’s a procedure for un-dropping a class! Huzzah! Even my professor seemed pretty cool about trying to get it all sorted back to the way it was before. And, wonder of all wonders (or should I say, Grace of all graces?), the class lobbied for a push back of the midterm until Monday instead of tomorrow, so I can actually study and get some sleep tonight.

God. Is. Good.

Not that He wouldn’t have been just as good if I had had to keep my class dropped, or if my exam really had been tomorrow, or even if I hadn’t gotten counsel and encouragement. And I would like to think that I would be grateful to Him regardless of circumstances. He seemed to impress on me last night in prayer that no matter what happened today, He would be sovriegn over it and I should be grateful. And I should. Because there’s always something to be grateful for. I don’t even just mean the important and oft forgot things like the fact that I live in a safe place, that I have my needs provided for, that I’m blessed with compatriots and freedoms inherent to my country, that Natalie is, that my mother was part of the body of Christ and is therefore enjoying the joys of being reunited with her creator as are others I’ve known who are no more in physical form. All these are wonderful things to be thankful for, and more besides. But there is something to be thankful for even when things go so terribly wrong in my estimation. If those things are because of my actions, I can be grateful for the lesson. If those things are things I have no part in, there is an opportunity to be grateful for learning about the sovriegnty and sustainence of God.

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Somehow I went to bed last night and actually fell asleep before the sun came up. That was Super Duper Hooray Item #1. Then I woke up early this morning and went to church with my dad, which was S.D. H.I. #2. While I was at church, I ran into my old boss from Sacramento that I nannied for, S.D. H. I. #3, and got to see my former charges, Bran and the Bug. S.D.H.I. #s 4 and 5. And after that, my dad and I went to breakfast: no crowds, a delicious omelet, and my dad was pleased to note that there was no banana cream pie in stock, S.D.H.I. #6. Then I came back to my place and hung out with my sister and brother and dad and then I went to go study French, but instead I took a nap, the eighth S.D.H.I.  Also, I finished a good book. All in all, it’s been a good day.

And I have to say I feel fresher. No, no, this isn’t turning into a Calgon commercial. And yet . . . No! This will not turn into a Calgon commercial.

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I have A Problem.

Okay, okay, so I have many problems. In fact, my biggest problem sometimes is trying to catalog and address all my problems. Especially the cataloging part. I have problems like a bargain hunter after a liquidation sale. My problems are varied and voluminous, oddly sized and awkwardly shaped. But they are all exacerbated by The Problem I drew attention to previously, which is this: I love the short road.

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So I’ve been blue and mopey. I’ve been whiny and inconsolable. And, I’ve been desperate and unhappy.

I am SO lame.

Understandable? Sure. Justified? Debatable. But righteous? I doubt it.

This morning I had breakfast with my grandparents. And with my grandfather ill, my gramma explained to me that she’s had about all she can handle. And I thought to myself, I can be of some use to her. I can minister to her as I’m waiting. I’m so daft sometimes, thinking that ministry and missions have to always be Over There Somewhere, when there are people with needs not only right down the street but in my own family. And there is a peace in that because there is direction in it. So maybe I don’t flee the country sometime soon. Maybe for the moment I’m needed here.

God’s plan is not always (read: ever) what I think it will be. But that doesn’t change the fact that it is absolutely Good. Not necessarily what I think would be good, not always what I would ask for myself. Not even what is “good” for me in this moment, but the Ultimate Good. There is something so comforting in that, and it is in comfort that I learn more and more to trust Him. There is something so humbling in that, and it is in humility that I learn how better to praise the God who was and is and is to come.

I am happy. For now. But more importantly, I feel joy.

Yes, in this case, the Walrus is me. And the time has come, as I mentioned before by proxy as my current animal incarnation, to speak of other things. And work on them, which is the more difficult part.

I’ve been reading my way through Romans and last night I was up to chapters 12 and 13. I’ve been feeling not so great recently about picking up my old bad habit of smoking and what do I find as soon as I read the first verse, but: Therefore I urge you, brethren, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies a living and holy sacrifice, acceptable to God, which is your spiritual service of worship. Ouch. I’ve been zinged. But, I must say, deservedly so.

The truth is that I’ve been lax and I’m not to pleased to share it, but it is what is, so I must proclaim it I suppose. It isn’t only a matter of smoking either really. I’ve been lax in many things. I was talking to Ron about this last night. Last year at this time, I was, perhaps not a different person, but full of God in a much different measure. The things that I haven’t been able to understand yet, like those particular losses that I mention again and again, have blocked something valuable from entering.

The losses aren’t important; The gifts were. And though in some cases, I still don’t understand, the important thing is Job 1:21  The LORD gave and the LORD has taken away. Blessed be the name of the LORD.

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