The Surprising Thing about Being in Love

I thought I’d remember your freckles. That’s what I thought love would be like; I’d become a GPS of the little marks of you, a homing pigeon navigating by birthmarks like stars. I thought the warm, brown shapes on your skin would be familiar to me like the tree I’d climbed every day, or the kitten I’d raised.

But I can’t remember them. I shut my eyes when you’re not here, and I can’t find them anymore. So I navigate by scars.

Leaving the airport, I trace that mark on your hand from when you were a baby, touch the score in your dimple from the dog you forgave for biting your face. In the drivers’ seat of your car, I trace the line on your collar bone from when you helped someone move, the web of scarring on your lower back from carrying too much too far.

I find myself at cash registers touching the mark on the back of your heel from that awful pair of boots, or the cut on your shoulder from a box of rifles. I go over your shoulders, your abdomen, the bottom of your foot; like it’s a prayer I go over you. And when your face seems like something I made up, when even my photographs seem blurry and there’s no way you could exist for real and love me, I reach out and find your scars.

When you step off the plane with new white nicks on your knuckles, another mark on your back and the same smile in your eyes, I hold your arm and wait for my heart to come back from apart. And when you’re away again, for a day, for an hour, I close my eyes and trace our journey in your scars.

So You Lost All Your Money- an exercise in self-talk

Okay. So things kind of suck for you right now.

You'd just saved up the money for the thing- the really big thing- and then it happened. It happened and it is taking all the money away. And you are a responsible adult who should be happy to have this money saved so it can fly through your fingers, but you're not. It's not fun to have money fly away. You are not a rapper, and throwing money at car mechanics or medical agencies is not fun. It feels like throwing all the time you spent working away.

This is, what? the fourth time this has happened. The fourth time you got close to The Big Thing. You were kind of wondering if maybe you should spend the money on something other than The Big Thing, something more adult, when something more adult came smashing through the window.

Last time you were angry. Last time you felt like maybe God had it in for you. Now you just feel a little hollow.

It's okay to cry. You worked really hard. You were just working on something different than you thought. You thought it was The Big Thing, and instead it was this needed thing. You feel a little cheated, huh? Maybe if you stopped making plans and hoping and wanting, this couldn't happen anymore. You could just work and pay the disaster, work and pay the disaster. But when you stop dreaming it gets really heavy to work hard.

Maybe you could dream smaller. Maybe you don't need The Big Thing.

Crap, did your heart just break? It just broke a little. Crap, come here. Just...hug and rock for a second. No, it's not permanent; your heart's broken lots of times. It'll heal up, just...eat right, okay? Eat right and rest a second. Breathe.

What's hurting you isn't having to wait again for The Big Thing. You've had that disappointment so many times it's almost a phantom ache, like hope is an amputated limb you don't remember reaching with. What hurts is the feeling that you're not getting anywhere. What hurts is the idea that all the hours and days and weeks you've poured in were...

Whoa, don't break on me. When you veer off course, I- you're right.

What hurts isn't the idea that those hours were wasted. It's not even the idea that you haven't made any progress. You know that's not true. You know you made a difference in people's lives. You know you're learning and getting stronger. You can look down at your body, your soul, and see the difference. You are becoming more the person you want to be, and I'm grateful for you.

What hurts is the idea that somehow wanting was wrong, hoping was wrong, and the punishment for wanting something is having all the money ripped out of your grasp. Have you been evil squirreling money away? Have you been foolish to avoid spending money on sodas, to pick up pennies on the sidewalks and cry out "For the house!" Was God displeased that you wanted something? That you hoped?

Did you somehow get away from God's plan by trying hard?

I don't have the answers. I'm you, and my heart's breaking.

Scratch that; I do have answers.

Trying hard isn't wrong. Killing yourself trying hard is. God said not to chase after wealth, because it just flies away. It feels like that, doesn't it? But wanting to accomplish things isn't bad. Your wanting seemed so small and so right. Good tools to do good. A hidey-hole to make a home. You shouldn't have spent $8 on that shirt. It's that kind of wastefulness that gets us into these situations. ...Joy, we couldn't buy a transmission with $8. You only spent $8. You haven't bought clothes in like a year. You spent $8. You won't do it again. Crap, don't cry, that was supposed to be empowering. You won't do it again, and you'll have $8 instead of a shirt.

Wait, wait, finish that verse. God said not to exhaust yourself trying to get money, because while they slept He provided for those He loves.

You're someone He loves.

Right now it feels like everything is flying apart, but Joy? Your job isn't the money. Your job is serving the King who does supply your needs, even for Big Things, at just the right time.

I still believe in you. Even when you need the same blog post you wrote 7 months ago 7 months later. So perk up, cry when you need to, but start thanking the God who has this under control.

And when it happens again 7 months from now, because dreams are big and life is hard, you can read this blog again. I won't hold it against you.