It’s a vulnerable thing when we long to be the chosen when given a choice of whom to choose.

I think it’s also a vulnerable day when you realize you are not, and you will not be.  When you secretly have this little hope in your heart, but are expecting all along that he will not choose you.  And then you really want to kick yourself for hoping, because in that little hope you hurt a lot by the reality that hits you.

But why the HECK do I still hope?  I hate that I do.

I think in the chosen-ness there is spoken volumes of love and commitment and desire.

I just wanted to be chosen.

This week’s been tough, not gonna lie.  I’ve realized a few things and asked a few hard questions.  First of all, I really love the Lord.  Really.  Like don’t make me all perfect and stuff by the way that I say that, but somehow I know that when things don’t go the way I thought they would, I can still hold onto a safe place and be firm in Him.  That lap is a still safe place to be invited into.  I learned it traveling the world, I learned it in uncertainty, I learned it when I felt extremely alone, I learned it making decisions for the future, I learned it through break-ups.  I just really love Him and He’s GREAT.

Second, I love this other man.  Yep.  Pretty unashamedly.  There’s no other hand that fits mine quite the same, no other person I’d want by my side through life, no other running partner, try-new-things-together partner, you-name-it partner,  love of my life.  It’s just true.

Third, I have no clue what is going to happen in my life.  Really.  Like NO STINKIN’ CLUE.  Admittedly, I’m not a huge fan of that.  But here’s the thing.  I love the Lord.  Like a lot.  And even alone, everything is alright.  HE is alright.

So there ya have it folks.  Yes, I still get that sick-awful feeling and pain that goes from my heart all of the way down to the pit of my stomach.  But then there’s this peace that envelopes me.  Because in everything I choose to say that YOU ARE GOOD.

Anyway, over the course of the evening something happened that struck my heart and hasn’t left me since.  One of the little girls ran to me sobbing uncontrollably spewing out words that for the life of me I could not understand.  However, once I got her to calm down in the comfort of my protective arms, the story came out.  One other girl (keep in mind that the girls involved were probably around 6 years old) had said that the girl crying was ugly, not the most talented dancer, and certainly not the star of the show.. or something along those lines.  To a 6 year old, devastating words.

Curled up in my arms, I began to whisper to her as tears streamed down her face.  “Oh, sweetie, it doesn’t matter.  I think you’re BEAUTIFUL and very talented and it doesn’t matter what they say about you at all, because I think you are WONDERFUL.” Over and over again, until she stopped crying and calmed down, I repeated these words in various ways.

And I saw it.. THEN it hit me.  I pictured everything I ever felt about what someone said about me, I recognized my daily struggle with these things, my insecurities… this EXACT scenario (enter me in tears) … and then I pictured the Lord’s comfort and His words.  I saw His whispering Truth to me…. BAM.  Whoa.

“Oh, sweetie, it doesn’t matter.  I think you’re BEAUTIFUL and very talented and it doesn’t matter what they say about you at all, because I think you are WONDERFUL.”

Working with children, especially sensitive little girls, gives me many opportunities to see the Lord’s tender heart towards us… Oh. my. WORD.  I can’t tell you how many times I am near tears just because of His revelation of love through a simple exchange such as this one.

Time after time it becomes clear to me that You are still working on my heart, tenderizing me.

Last night, after a very full and somewhat discouraging day (although not completely – we had RA evaluations, so it was somewhat encouraging and somewhat discouraging – a mix of both) I came home and found this by my door….

… And I may have cried.  OK… I did cry.  And then at once I went and sought out the girl who got them for me and promptly hugged her.

Because what I do is meaningful.  Pouring my heart and life out for these girls means something.  It’s what I love, and what very few understand the depth of.

And because in that very moment I heard something from a Man that I do not hear often (and have trouble believing).  You are lovely.  Do you see these flowers?  They are for you.  Because you capture My Heart.

It is a message that I feel every time I receive flowers, which is possibly one of the reasons why I love them so much… the message that someone cares, someone sees beauty in me that somehow deserves those beautiful creations that He made.  And, sometimes, to look upon beauty is to feel beautiful.  To reflect it.  The simple wonderfulness of a mountain, a sunset, and, yes, a rose.

Sigh. How do You always slip in when I need it the most?  You are so good.

But the fact of the matter is that I adore surprises.  I love the revealing of anticipation and I love the thought and time put into these things and the consideration of another person — just the unexpectedness of it all.  I LOVE it.

.. And Christmas – Birthdays – come with surprises.  Or they are supposed to.. mostly.

To me, even if the surprise element usually comes in the form of GIVING it, I’m good.  I love seeing others surprised and surprising others, because, quite frankly, I am living through their surprise.

I will never forget my favorite birthday EVER – a surprise birthday party which must’ve happened around the time I was 7.  My dad had taken me to Six Flags (we had season passes) and upon arriving home after an incredible day, I found what awaited me were all of my close friends – SURPRISE!!  Bam.  Hands down best birthday.  I remember those candy dispensers (kind of like gum ball machines) were really popular and I got three of them – two skittles and one M&M.  I remember streamers and I think even balloons.  I remember what our kitchen looked like and can picture the people popping out from everywhere.  Funny how small details stick with you on a day like that.

And so.. here I am, 24 years old, Christmas Eve (Day, technically) .. realizing that surprises usually are not so practical or logical, but still longing with my 7 year old little girl heart for just one surprise.. but knowing that it will not come.

I remember another birthday a couple years after my surprise birthday very vividly, a birthday that I had begged and begged for a kitten.  My dad and I had poured over the newspaper ads looking for one.  We found a free one being offered and everything, and my dad promised to call.  I was for SURE I was getting my kitten, but for some reason or another, at the last minute, my parents decided that it would not be wise.  They bought me a stuffed animal kitten instead.  I’m not sure if I cried in front of them or held it in until I made it to my room, but my disappointment was deep.  I was crushed.

Surprises.

You know in the movies when the man shows up on the woman’s doorstep and she opens the door and gasps, “What are you DOING here?!”   I live for those scenes.  Logic is thrown to the wind, the man has driven through the night, and boy does that woman feel like she has WORTH.  Complete stupidity and inconvenience, but he did it for HER.  Because, suddenly, she is worth is because he made her worth it.

Surprises.  My favorite.  I delight in surprising people.  And, yes, there is a corner of my soft heart that wishes for it myself.  But therein again lies the inconvenience of it.  The drive that makes no sense (because what’s the practicality of just having to turn around the next day and drive back?) and the schedule that was already made..

If there is one thing that I learned on my stuffed-kitten birthday, it is that expecting a surprise and not getting it is crushing and painful.  I do not desire to relive that moment, and so I convince myself not to get my hopes up for anything.  (Sometimes that doesn’t always work and I have to relearn this lesson.. Ouch.)

And so maybe I will shed a few tears tonight… wishing.  Missing the man that I love, but not wanting to ruin the Christmas mood with tears.

There’s something about being separated from the one person you really just want to be with that makes Christmas … different.  Difficult.

But sometimes you just have to have a good long cry, take a deep breath, and try to enjoy where you are with the people you are with – and not say a word (apparently writing is OK) so as not to ruin anyone else’s magical Christmas.

Really.. it is good to be home!  If given the choice I would simply add one person to the mix… THAT would make it perfect.

Always…

I hate hurting people and I’m instantly in tears when I find that my words have done that.. but I wish I could take them back before they’re even said.

Silence is a MUCH better option in so many situations…

Seems kind of odd that I am writing that on here, huh?  Why would I write something like that?  After all, this is the INTERNET!  Secrets do not belong here.  The thing is, I have absolutely no intention of telling you, or anyone else for that matter, what this secret is.

I just wanted to get it off my chest.  That I have this secret that I cannot tell (like, REALLY, I can’t tell) that has changed the way I look at things since I found out said secret a few days ago.  It’s really only a secret for myself, about me.

But here’s the thing… it’s made me super insecure about some things.  So, really, it’s this awful inner turmoil that has had me wondering and asking questions to myself for the past few days.  Asking questions of others and waiting for their replies – probing more – listening – then thinking – and more silence.  Here we go again – my questions of honesty and truth.  This stupid secret, the one that I wish I did not know of, has me doubting everyone and anything they say … all because I got a glimpse of honesty in the form of a secret.  One that I was not supposed to stumble upon, and now hold within me.

It’s been a bit of torture.  But then again, it’s a secret.  Again, I can’t tell.

So because I can’t tell, I just hold it in.  There’s a lot going on in my head lately.  So if I seem quiet or ask strange questions, it may have something to do with the inner wonderings of my heart, and this secret that I have locked and hidden away.

If you’re reading this and thinking “I wonder if this has anything to do with me” … you can stop.  Breathe.  It most likely doesn’t.

Maybe it does … but probably it doesn’t.  All I know is that it’s got me all messed up and, to be quite honest, hurting.

But, again … I can’t tell.

“Taaaaaake 58,873!”  (Because that’s how many tries I need to get it right)

That is like my entire life wrapped up in an instant.  I am too honest sometimes.  I used to think that was a GOOD thing, but lately I have been wondering.

For example.  I have this wonderful boyfriend.  He deserves the best… seriously.  He is the most supportive, caring, loving man.  He pulls my dreams out of me and cherishes them with me.  I just really can’t convey in words how great he is.

But I have the wonderful gift of communicating way too much and being way too demanding and saying the wrong things and hurting him.  Jesus clearly hasn’t quite finished the sanctifying work in me and I have a lot to grow in.

This is frustrating me to no end.

Seriously.

GRRRR.

I dislike this about myself.  (Sigh.)

So here’s my question (and mostly this is just me writing in my thoughts because I don’t think anyone reads this) – does “considering someone better than yourself” mean  … to an extent … protecting them by not being fully truthful?  They don’t really NEED to know that I actually don’t like (fill in the blank here).  It delights them that they gave it, therefore it should delight me, and I will act like it delights me.

I feel like society, relationships, and people are telling me to smile and say nice things and make people always feel good and not to challenge or say anything bad.  Yet this is not always honesty.  Is it better to be always kind and considerate or always truthful?  Hmm.

I suck at lying, so this proves to be difficult.  But suddenly I understand why people fake loving Christmas gifts, why they tell others that that hideous fur coat looks lovely on them, and why no one EVER looks fat in those jeans.  I think I get this cycle now.  While I’m not overly excited about joining all those lying phonies out there, today I think I understand them a bit more.  I’m just a bit unsure of what to do now.

For the record, though… don’t you DARE lie to me.  Tell me you don’t like the gift so that next time I can get it right, give me your true opinion on the gross fur coat, and encourage me to go to the gym.  I want truth.

That is all.

Recently I’ve been thinking about this idea of giving more and more.  It is something that I have been mulling over a lot.  We are called to give, called to live in community and meet one another’s needs.

This is a very sensitive area for me right now, but something the Lord is stirring my heart in and an area of conviction.  See, I love to give.  I love discovering what people like and being able to get it for them.  I love, love, LOVE giving gifts.  I love the look on their face, the feeling that I did something that pleased His heart, meeting a need … everything about  it.

But there is a reality in my life right now… and that is … I don’t have much to give.

It has been the source of my tears this week, the dwelling of my thoughts, the drive in my work ethic.   I have been wrestling with this all week long.  Christmas is coming … and I want to have something to give!

A few nights ago I was laying in bed, bringing this whole thing to the Lord, and I remember picturing a table with but a few crumbs that remained.  No feast, no party, no big dinner… crumbs.

And I felt Him stir within my heart: If you would just bring Me what you have.

But, Lord, I only have a few crumbs.

Bring it to Me.

It’s not much.  It won’t make a difference.

I love your offering.

And there, in my bed, in my wrestling and in my tears, the Lord began to speak to me.  In this area of need, He touched my heart.  I was brought back to the widow who gave everything she had, so little… yet so much.

Giving.  It is so humbling to be on the receiving end of this idea.  Pride rears its ugly head as I have nothing to give in return, and I am overwhelmed by the needs He meets in my life, and I am trying to know what it is to accept graciously and very, very humbly.  I am mortified at the thought of not having something big and expensive and great to give in return…

.... But with everything, with my whole heart, I will give what I have.

So out comes the holiday mug.

And the Christmas Blanket.

And then begins the process of transformation… yes, all done while my lovely pandora Christmas playlist is filling the room.

And so the picture frames and fake flower decorations are cleared to make room for more lovely Christmas things.

And in the presence of a dear friend, the transforming begins.

Slowly...

The delicate ribbons are brought out.

And arranged "just so..."

Maybe by now you are getting the idea of how much I love Christmas…

Last of all, the star.

Beautiful.  Wonderful.  Peaceful.  Family.  Jesus.  Love.  Snow.  Romance.  Jesus.

The season has started, and I am embracing it with arms wide open.  One day I will have something more than a dorm to decorate.  I will have a family of my own to curl up with and decorate with.  Cookies and cinnamon rolls will be made, snowballs will be thrown, and maybe my clan will come in looking for hot cocoa, dripping wet and shivering, instead of this lone mug that sits next to me as I write.

Christmas … peace.  Wonderfulness.  Joy.

Sigh.  Ahhhhh Christmas.  Sigh.