Update: April 2023

I haven’t blogged here in a long time. Things change. Life changes.

For some reason I thought of this little platform again, and decided to log in. And in scrolling back through some of my posts I realized, this was my safe space. In many ways this was where I came to process and just dump whatever I was feeling. Albeit in a fairly vague manner.

There’s a safety in anonymity. Yet how does that pair with the desire to be known?

A lot has changed over the past few years, and a lot is also the same. Once Covid hit and lock downs began, I entered into a new phase of healing and creativity. I felt alive again in ways I hadn’t in years. Doors were opened to things I’ve desired for awhile, though I thought they’d be further off than they turned out to be. Although challenging at times, I felt, saw, and experienced God’s grace in a way I never have before.

The end of 2019 and beginning of 2020 were some of the hardest times of my life. And yet, God met me there. He gave me this little bubble, a little cocoon where I could branch off from the world and heal in a new way. He strengthened me through it.

Last year was hard again. As I’ve spoken to more people it seems that 2022 was an extremely painful and difficult year for many. There was so much loss, so much pain, so much uncertainty. Maybe it was in part because many of us were emerging from our isolation. And transition periods, even when good, can still be painful and challenging.

I grieve the life I thought I’d live, and I step with hope into a future I didn’t plan.

This month has changed things again. Almost every day there’s something new. Something unexpected, but in such a beautiful, good, and healing way. There’s such a deep sense of peace and wonder.

And in the midst of it, I feel fear rising up in me. I’m afraid that this bubble of joy will be burst. I’m afraid because when things have felt safe like this before, something terrible has happened and threatened to tear my life apart.

In truth, I’ve only experienced this feeling once before in the past decade. This past summer. It was a beautiful time of hope and redemption, and I saw God working in me, and allowing me to feel things I haven’t been able to feel since I was a child. The trauma felt far away and peace hung in its place.

Then it was torn apart again… A feeling of anguish took over. Panic. Uncertainty. Dread. Anger.

Yet God used this too. He’s been showing me my own role, my own sin. But gently. And He’s opened doors here that have needed to be opened for years. I see him working, though there’s still pain and uncertainty. He’s comforted me too. He’s met me in the grief, the anxiety, and the fear.

In some ways my life feels dismantled, scattered everywhere in a million pieces. In others, it feels as though God is bringing the pieces together that needed to be there all along. In the breaking there is healing. But it’s still a process. There are still waves to ride.

So for me, the future is still uncertain, maybe it is for all of us. I’m still battling and wrestling with challenging things that I’d rather not face. And in the middle of it all, I’m still seeing and experiencing God’s grace.

My life isn’t what I thought it would look like, it’s not what I thought it would be. But He is with me. And I’m learning that sometimes that’s enough.

P.S. The editor has changed too and I’m not quite sure how to use it. Is it worth trying to maintain the same format I used to use, or just try something new?

Life

Life passes so quickly. This year has flown by, yet so much has happened and changed.

My internal landscape is different than it was. Some days I feel more hopeless, others more hopeful. Hills and valleys, ups and downs.

We don’t know where life is going to take us. But our stories are already written. How much easier would it be if we could just trust the Author? If we could just trust that He knows what He’s doing. And He knows how this story ends.

Navigating a new life isn’t always easy. Sometimes we don’t even recognize when a new one begins.

We can get so caught up in all the things we have to do, that we forget the things we need to do.

Our lives aren’t just for us.

I don’t want to live selfishly, but I do want to live protected. God is the only one with the strength to fight these battles.

Death

I just found out that my high school best friend’s mom died a couple days ago. An overwhelming feeling of sadness and heaviness has weighed on me the past few days. Now I’m wondering if this is why. If somehow my intuition knew. If somehow we’re still connected.

It’s been 3-4 years since my friend and I last spoke. We didn’t end on bad terms, our relationship just kind of drifted off with going different directions and living in different states.

And I’m not sure what to do. I’m thinking I’ll still send a card, and let her know that I’m here if she needs to talk.

But I don’t want to be trite.

I’m not sure how to handle death, how to process it. For much of my life I’ve seen death as an oddly beautiful thing. We have the hope of heaven, and ultimate peace that passes anything we could imagine.

And yet, there’s still the human side of things. I haven’t ever lost anyone really close to be before. Great grandparents. A few people from church who made an impact, but who I wasn’t truly close to.

Sometimes I wonder what’s wrong with me. I don’t know how I should feel, or even what I do feel. I just feel so disconnected from myself, and it’s hard to make it feel real.

I can feel the feelings of others so strongly, but I’m so blind to my own. Maybe this is why INFJs can make bad relationship decisions, we fuse too easily.

I feel other people’s feelings so much stronger than my own sometimes. And I know if I actually spoke to her, I’d probably break.

This also makes me question how I’m living. Is my life fully sold out for God? And am I isolating in ways that I never should?

I want to live a life that matters as I’m living it. And I want to be there for others, to love and understand them. I want to give the mental and emotional support I so often feel I need. I want to encourage, and bless.

And I don’t want to be silent in the midst of pain. I don’t want to pretend that struggles and heartache don’t exist. I want others to know that it’s okay to process, and feel, and grieve. Whether it’s the loss of a loved one, or the loss of a life they thought they’d have.

We don’t know how our stories will unfold. We don’t know what will happen next. But whether we live or die, we can hope in Christ, because He is our life. And He already knows the answers.

And through the darkness of death, God can breathe new life.

Gaining New Perspective

It’s a sunny day. I sit in the warmth, longing for a glass of tea. I’m doing some planning, some rearranging. Life feels different now, though I’m not sure how I could put it into words.

We plan and schedule. Hope and dream.

Awhile ago I went through old notebooks. I’ve done this before, and I do it again from time to time, but it was interesting to see the difference of where I was to where I am.

In so many ways I feel like I haven’t changed, and yet, in so many others, it’s hard to believe I’m even the same person… It feels like a different life.

Maybe this is one of the blessings God gives us, He allows us to live many different lives all in one go.

This isn’t over yet, and I’m not sure of the person I will become next. We’re all in a process of growth, change, evolution. If we don’t change, if we don’t grow, then what becomes of the lessons we’ve learned?

I hope to always look back and find a different person. I’ve at times been bothered by this. The INFJ question, a question that might be core to us all: who am I?

Maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe it’s always changing.

And maybe that’s a good thing. Because it means that we’ve learned, we’ve grown. Our mistakes were not for nothing. And we’re able to emerge new and revived, gaining fresh perspective as we go.

Unknown

We head into the unknown. A future, white as snow. Washed clean from all the things we’ve been holding back.

We don’t need to know exactly what’s on the other side. We just need to trust enough to take that leap, to take the step and try.

I’ve never been very certain about my life. I thought I was, as a teen, but those years are gone and new ones have come.

Turmoil and uncertainty have taken a toll on me, they’ve changed me in ways I never could have imagined. And now, I stand waiting to find what comes next.

I’m okay with it. I’m feeling peace. It’s a new type of peace, feeling a weight lifted, feeling some freedom.

I don’t know what’s next. And maybe I never will. I’m learning that it’s okay.

I don’t need to know what my future holds to have hope for better days ahead. I just need to remember that time is not as fluid as we might like to believe, and everything will always change.

Nothing stays the same forever. Guilt, grief, or gladness, who’s to say what happens next?

This time, I step into the unknown without fear for the future, because in this moment I know, my future is already held. Unknown to me, but deeply known by my Father.

Letting Go

I’ve held on so tightly for so long. Now that I’m entering a new phase and new era, I’m not sure what to make of it.

I know that God holds my future, whatever my future holds. And I will trust Him. I will hope in Him again. He was faithful before, He’ll be faithful again.

Nothing is lost that is given to Him. He is faithful to redeem and restore. Not because of us, but because of Him.

We don’t have to hold so tightly to our own lives. We never had the control we thought we had in the first place. But we can trust the One who does. He holds us so close, so secure, so safe in His loving arms.

We are never alone. Never forsaken. Never abandoned. But we are held, forever loved, in the arms of a loving Father.

From The Desert

I walk from the desert, seeing the light of sun again. Day has dawned, and I’m no longer surrounded by the dark.

My life lies before me. Empty. Yet with so much possibility of being full. I don’t know what the future holds, but I’ll chase it, knowing that fear is uncertain, and God always has a plan.

Into The Waves

I step into the waves, this time unafraid. I know that there’s great power in the water, but there is greater power in my God.

The storms have not overtaken me, they haven’t yet, and they won’t be able to. They have not been given that authority.

My fate rests in the hands of the One who created me. And it is in Him, I will trust. If He asks me to enter the waves, then that’s what I will do, trusting that He will lead me through the storm, over the water, and into a boat, safely to shore.

Over The Ledge

Life doesn’t often take the turns we think it will. One day blends into the next, and before we know it, we’re standing on the ledge of something we never could have imagined. Good or bad? That all depends.

Where is our perspective? Where are we looking? Do we look straight down to the giant drop, or do we look out over the horizon to the beauty of God’s creation?

Faith or fall? Doubt and fear, or awe and wonder?

We don’t always choose where we end up, but we get to decide how we respond. Do we want to dare dream for greater things, or do we imagine the worst possible scenario?

Whatever comes in this life, I want to always remember that God is faithful. And He blesses us far beyond anything we could possibly imagine.

Figuring Forward

New hopes light the horizon. I don’t know where my life is going, I haven’t for a long time now, but I’m finally feeling (again) that I’m starting to get a grasp on some of the things it might be.

I’m a planner. I hate not having a plan. And yet, my life has deviated so far from my plans that I haven’t been able to see a way forward. I’ve felt so destabilized, so lost. And yet, there’s been some measure of comfort.

If my life had followed my plans, I wouldn’t have realized my absolute need for and dependence on God. I’ve had so much pride, so much security in things that I couldn’t control, thinking that somehow I could. But I can’t.

I still don’t know what the future holds, and I’m apprehensive of making plans, afraid they’ll fall apart again. Maybe I haven’t realized that until now. I’ve been drifting, but still so incredibly controlled my fear.

Maybe this is when it requires a step of faith. Looking out to the horizon, uncertain of the future, or where I’ll end up, but still moving forward, moving in a direction toward the light.