Day One Hundred and Ninety - I'm A Christian, Not A Masochist

I'm a Christian, not a masochist. Please stop confusing the two. It is really starting to bother me.

"Forgive and forget" is not a phrase to be found in the Bible. Google it. It's not there. Jesus never said it. Because it's really horrible advice. Forgiving is really good. Forgiveness is one of the defining characteristics of a Christian. Forgetting makes you an idiot. And a masochist. I am not a masochist.

I've been a bad friend in the past. I'll be a bad friend in the future. I'm prone to mistakes. And I seem to be a slow learner most times, so I'm prone to making them over and over again. And I'll need forgiveness. But at no point in time will I ask a friend to forget the times I've messed up. That would be bad for both of us.

If you forget the ways in which I fail, or turn a blind eye to them, then you will probably be hurt by them again, and will be unable to help me do them less. I need my friends to not forget my weaknesses so that they can help me be stronger.

We are to be patient, as Christians. To be loving. To be kind. To forgive over and over again. We are to forgive as many times as we are wronged. We are to forgive our enemies and bless those that curse us. But no where does it say to be intimate with our enemies, or to be friends with those who consistently treat us poorly. I will love those who hate me, but I will not invite them into my life to let them wreak havoc. God never called us to be masochists in our personal lives, in our emotional lives.

I have two friends that are guilty of being a Christian Masochist, and it comes from a severe misinterpretation of Christian love. Their boyfriend and girlfriend, respectively, are emotionally abusive. They lie, cheat, degrade, accuse, belittle, and ignore my dear friends. And in the name of love, both of them put up with it. "God wants me to love them." They say. Yes! Yes, He does. And the best way to love them is to love them from afar. To love them and pray for them far removed from them. Love isn't saying, "It's okay that you treat me like this," for that is teaching them that others will put up with their abuse as well. And that's certainly not what we're after, is it? Encouraging them in their abuse? No. God was never talking about your significant other. He was talking about REAL persecution. REAL enemies. People who would throw you in jail, people who had the power to kill you if you didn't recant your faith in Him.

So for all that is good and sugary in this world, please come to understand the difference. Please. I will not be a masochist in the name of Christ and I highly suggest you not as well. Do NOT misinterpret Christian for Punching Bag. Christians are allowed to have self respect too. And I'm going to use mine, and walk away from those I once called friends who no longer act like one. That doesn't make me a bad Christian. It just means I'm not a masochist.

Day One Hundred and Eighty Nine - Sacrifice

Not the good kind. The pre Columbus Meso American kind. We all think of human sacrifice, of ripping beating hearts from the chest, of an altar drenched in blood, as barbaric and disgusting. There is something about it that just screams darkness and oppression. Yet... I know I am guilty of it. I have been a victim to it as well. We all have. We are all victims as well as the priest that maims. Except my altar isn't to the name of a god I can't pronounce, it's pride. It's cowardice. It's stubbornness. It's laziness. It's fear. It's greed. It's lust. It's me. I cannot even begin to count the number of times I have laid a loved one down and hurt them because of my pride. Or my stubbornness. Or my fear. Or any of the altars I feed. 

I'm sorry. I should never sacrifice love and faith and obedience to fear and stubbornness and pride. I have often times been in ignorance of my own faults, but it doesn't excuse them. Nothing excuses human sacrifice. So I am sorry. 

I write this, you see, from the altar of another. I have been sacrificed to her pride. To her stubbornness. To her fear. This altar is familiar to me. It is not the first time I have been here. I have been bled dry here a few times. But I always considered it a sort of donation before. The truth of the matter is that we mistreat those we trust because we trust they will forgive us. But I've been at this altar too many times, this is my last. Sometimes, we all make donations to the altars of our loved ones. We'll let them yell and vent, we'll let them blow us off for a new love interest, we'll let them get away with a great many things because we know we do the same. Because we have the same altars. 

But this time, it's different. This is no nick, no mere cut. This is a severed artery, bleeding away what was left of our friendship for the sake of her pride. And I am done. I will not be her sacrifice anymore. Her pride has indeed won, I will no longer contest it. I no longer want to. She has fed it to gluttony; it will continue to devour anything that stands in it's way. But as for me, I am done. 

And humbled, for I know I have done the same. No one should ever have to be a victim to my altars. I shouldn't have any altars. For that is the root of the sin. Not the sacrifice, but the idolatry. If my only altar was to my only God, then no one would be sacrificed. For He sacrificed Himself once and for all. The pain we put each other through is the natural consequence of putting ourselves before Him. 

Join me, then, in sacrificing my pride, my selfishness, my arrogance, my fear, my stubbornness, my cowardice, and all the rest of my altars, to Him who is able to save us from ourselves. For He will teach us how to love, how to be humble, how to be brave, how to be courageous, how to be open, and how to be safe. I'm just saying, no one was ever sacrificed at the altar of humility. 

Day One Hundred and Eighty Eight - Natural Progression

How do you know if you really believe something? You act on it. I act on my belief in gravity every day. I believe my seat belt can save my from most vehicular harm and so wear it whenever I am in a car. I believe the world will still be there when I wake up, and so I go to sleep each night to get ready for it. None of those things are really guaranteed. Well, gravity is pretty much a given, but the seat belt thing and the world not ending in the zombie apocalypse while I sleep are two fairly big risks. Such is the nature of belief. If we truly believe something, it is nothing to hinge our entire life upon it.

Which leads us to today's subject. If God loves me, and truly cares about my suffering, then there is only one reason He allows it: it's purpose is greater than my pain. And that, dear friends, is something to grasp! Something to hope in! Something to rely on. God, being the ultimate multitasker that He is, does nothing, allows nothing, without a purpose. Though, often times, that purpose is far beyond our comprehension. And I'm not saying everything happens for a reason. I think that's total and complete bullshit and anyone that says it is an asshat. But I do believe that God can bring good out of suffering, light out of darkness, purpose out of pain. He didn't hurt you to make you stronger, but He made you stronger through the hurt. And that's a hell of a difference.

And what's more, I apparently am a horrible judge of what is good for me and what is not. I would have never thought losing a best friend, a dream, and a job in the same month would be fantastic but low and behold - it has freed me to truly pursue my One Love. To be pursued by Him. To start acting like a grown up, not tossed by wishful thinking and feelings, but firm in pursuing righteousness and acting on the faith I hold so dearly. So if I believe that God loves me, that He uses bad for good, knows what I need a lot better than I do, and daily surrender to His Will, then I have to embrace whatever comes. And praise Him for it. That... that is how I act on that belief.

If I don't... then I never really believed it in the first place. I only wanted to.

Day One Hundred and Eighty Seven - Acting My Age

You remember how I said I wanted to be like my buddy Colin when I grew up? Here's the nasty little secret about that... I am grown up. Granted, we never really stop learning and growing but... I am an adult. I should act like one. Sometimes, acting like an adult sucks. 

For instance, instead of just being rage-y at the world, I have to accept the fact that I am hurt and disappointed by a close friend and there is nothing I can do but say a prayer and let go because no one deserves to be treated like that. Instead of focusing on the uncertainties of my present and future, I ought to be doing all I can to live well in the moment. I need to really start prioritizing my life and worry less about stepping on people's toes and worry more about doing what's best for me. Twenty-Four is too old to be carried away by life. It is, however, the perfect age to start taking control of the life I am taking responsibility for. I am too old not to laugh more, to relax more, to do more. I am too old to watch as much TV as I do, too old to not know what my dream is and chase it. Too old to not be seeking out adventures and conquering them. Too old to not be taking care of my body. 

I am too old to still be acting like a pouty college kid who knows it all. So... here's a promise that I'm going to change my attitude from pouty to grateful. I'm going to change my time from wasted to well spent. I'm going to talk less and do more. 

Because I respect the friends of mine that are adults and act like it. I respect what they've taught me. And I refuse to be someone who still acts like a middle schooler in their mid twenties. And often times, I've been guilty of that. 

So to my friends that have had to put up with my pouting, with my over analyzing, with my childishness, I'm sorry. But thank you for putting up with me and teaching me how to be the type of person I can respect. Without you, I'd have never realized how much I could be, nor would I have been motivated to work for it. But to be more like you? That is motivation in and of itself. 

Day One Hundred and Eighty Six - Now That You're Gone For Good

There is no doubt that people change us. Each interaction has the ability to, and people who are sustained presences in our lives definitely change us. Sometimes subtly, sometimes in vast ways that echo throughout the rest of our lives. And sometimes, as soon as someone leaves our life, we snap right back to the way we were before them. And that's what I want to focus on today. Now that you're gone for good... what remains?

I still have the husker blanket, but that's because now it has different memories. Instead of soaking up my tears, it tells everyone where my loyalties lie and that hawkeye fans will have better luck elsewhere. I'm getting rid of the Dublin sweatshirt. That zipper hasn't worked in years and let's face it, I highly doubt you remember that I have it. Garbage. You did teach me to love Mark Driscoll, which will be a life long obsession, but you tried to get me into Piper and Chandler. I like Piper more now but still struggle with Chandler. I'm gonna throw away your book. It's good, and you should finish it, but me having it isn't going to help it get written. Some of the lessons you taught me have proved true, and so I will hold them close. Others, I realize you were making up as you went, and those have already faded.

Now that you're gone for good, 90% of you will fade from my life. And that makes me feel lighter. Now that you're gone for good, I don't have to worry about what you would think of my life or how you would disapprove of my friends. I don't have to worry about what you'd think of my walk. I just get to live it. I can find my own way, a way in which you have no part. A way which is not predetermined. A way in which I have no idea whats coming and am comforted by the unknown. Never in my life have I been so comforted by the unknown, by the freedom that not knowing gives.

I think that was the problem, from the beginning. You had an obsession with knowing, and I just fed it. We both should have been more obsessed with doing. I've grown weary of talking. Endlessly talking in a pursuit of things that can only be learned by doing through time. They call them life lessons for a reason. You have to live them. And I'm going to. Without you.

See, now that you're gone for good there is more room in my life for truth. For real love. For smiles. For adventures. For beauty. For good. For peace. Now that you're gone for good, I remain. Stronger. Better. More beautiful. I understand far more than I did when we were children.

I wish you well. I hope you're happy. I hope you do everything you thought you would and more. And I will never think of you again, now that you're gone... for good.

Day One Hundred and Eighty Five - Love On vs. Love

People seem to be easily confused by something that has a very clear distinction to me. Namely, Love On and Love. I can understand the confusion, they have the same word in them. But they're not the same thing.

To 'love on' someone is to show them affection. The method depends. Sometimes it's about service. Bringing them a coffee, running an errand for them, baking them a pie, anything that really goes out of your way to bring a smile to theirs. Sometimes it's about nothing more than attention. A good morning text, a joke during the day, answering an inconvenient phone call, or simply using a term of endearment. Sometimes it's about touch. A kiss on the forehead, a decent hug, even an innocent cuddle while watching a movie. Sometimes it's about talking, listening, laughing, crying, or any combination of them. To love on someone is to give of yourself whatever it is that they need.

To love someone is a completely different verb. I know, there are a lot of forms of love, and we've already discussed, I'm like the Greeks on steroids. But all loves, at their core, are made of the same stuff. And it's just not the same thing. To love on someone could mean that you love them, but doesn't have to. I can love on people I don't love.

The difference, for me at least, is calling. Sometimes I feel lead to 'love on' someone. And they come and go in my life and in a little while, I won't remember much of our experiences together. It doesn't make the experience any less genuine, or my loving on somehow unreal. But there is a difference.

For people I love, on the other hand, I cannot help but love on them. It comes naturally. I have to find a way to express how much I love them. Because to love on those I love takes no effort. It just is. It's like breathing. Granted, some cases are tricky. It's hard to love on someone when you don't know what they need, or what they want. But the love never gets tricky. Just how to show it.

Just... figured I'd clear that up.

Day One Hundred and Eighty Four - Up (I Am Free)

You know what I love about kids? They're blunt. And honest. When you ask them what they want they tell you. No pretense. No manipulation. Just the flat out truth. And even better, they honestly expect to get it - immediately. We teach them to be that way, especially when they're toddlers. We're so tired of being mind readers and trying to guess whether it's hunger, a poopy diaper, or a bad dream that has them screaming as they can't use their words yet. And when they're toddlers they use an extremely limited vocabulary to very effectively get their point across. "More." "Juice." "Mmmmm." "No." "Tinkle." "Oops." All fairly obvious. But my favorite has to be "up". When they reach those chubby little fingers into the air and fully expect you to pick them up and carry them wherever they want to go. Or just be held because that whole walking thing is just exhausting.

"Up." In that single word is wrapped so many expressions of desire and trust. Very few (in fact none I know, but I figure they exist somewhere) children will say 'up' to someone they don't know. They don't just want to be carried, they want to be carried by you. They trust you. They love you. "Up."

So often I feel like I do the same thing to God. "Up." I say and reach up with my arms completely outstretched. "I'm exhausted. This whole walking thing is exhausting. Please, pick me up. Hold me for a while." And lately, I feel as if He has just said 'no' over and over again. Which is heartbreaking and makes any toddler just sort of sit down and bawl until someone picks them up.

Until I realized that He was trying to pick me up, I just wasn't letting Him. I was so focused on what I thought was His will, I was clinging to it so tightly, that He couldn't lift me. I meant well, but that's not really how following Him is supposed to be.

See... He is the author of freedom. And following His will is freedom, the ultimate freedom. Freedom from fear, from death, from sin. Freedom to love, to forgive, to give. He gives all freedom. For years I've been begging Him for freedom... waiting to be released, waiting for some sort of conclusion for the never ending confusion. And then... it hit me.

I am already free. I am the only one holding me down. He is not. He longs to pick me up like His child and cuddle me and hold me close and move me to where He wants. I was the one clinging to the ground, I was the one fighting Him. In Him, I am free. I have been this entire time. I am free.

And now I am up, too.

Day One Hundred and Eighty Three - Moving

Soooo in case you haven't heard I have a new job. That requires me to get up at 5:00am. Which is not exactly the easiest thing to get used to. I pretty much just pour coffee down my throat in the morning because I need to be able to think, quickly and accurately, by 6:30. And need to continue to think, quickly and accurately, until 3pm. I wasn't entirely sure how this was going to go. After all, everyone knows my brain doesn't really kick in until 9am at the earliest. 

But then I discovered the power of movement. From 6:30am - 3:00pm (excepting lunch) there isn't any down time. I am constantly moving. There is always something to do. Something that needs to be done. Finish one job early? Start the next early because you never know how the day is going to go. There is no down time. And my day flies by. By the time I realize it's 9, it's bordering on 11. By the time I realize it's 1pm, it's 3 and it's time to go home. Movement makes the time fly. 

I think that's really what my life has been missing. Time has been doing funny things in my life for years now. For a very long time, it seemed to stop. And I couldn't move forward, I couldn't move backwards, I couldn't move at all. I was stuck. I can't explain it. Maybe it was me, maybe it was more. But I was stuck. And parts of me still seem to be that way. But slowly, I'm starting to move. One foot in front of the other.

Until I'm in a full out sprint. Movement is the key to forgetting everything else, to not looking back, to not worrying about the future, to just move. To do what needs to get done. To smile when you're ahead and bust ass when you're behind. To do what needs to get done and most importantly, to never stop moving. It is so much harder to start again once you've stopped.

I know a lot of awesome people, but there is one that has really shown me the truth of The Principle Of Movement. We'll call him Colin. I have watched him go through so much that would have broken me. We became friends as he was in the middle of getting a divorce. I have watched him work his ass off to make a livable wage and provide for his children. I have watched him take the time to make a friend feel special, close out the world, and just enjoy time with them, even when he was bleary eyed from exhaustion. I've watched him take blow after blow from life recently. I've watched him endure stress that would have me in inconsolable tears with a shrug and a smile. I've watched his kindness toward people who only brought him problems. It's fairly safe to say that I have watched him. 

And he's not perfect. By any stretch of the imagination. But I want to be like him when I grow up. Because through it all, he has never stopped moving. Life has never once made him stop. That simply amazes me. I want to have the strength of character, the strength of mind, the strength of will to never stop moving like that. I want to be able to bend when life requires it, to stand unshakable when I have to, to never give in, to never give up, to be so incredibly fluid as I define each moment of my life with my presence. The way he does. 

I want to be like him when I grow up.

Day One Hundred and Eighty Two - Because I Want You To Want To

Yesterday, if you read the blog, which I don't blame you if you didn't. It was a temper tantrum. And I needed to throw it. Granted, I didn't need to make it so public in order to feel better, but I needed to throw it none the less.

And that's often how I work. I don't bottle up my emotions well. I am a lot better at staying fairly even keeled if I am able to express my highs and my lows. That's the only way for me to quickly get over it.

I'm not sure if it's the healthiest way. But it is my way. Feeling invisible drives me insane. I did that for a long time. I was always on the fringe of groups. Sometimes I was the person everyone vented to because who was I going to tell? And who was I to judge? They didn't really know me and I didn't really know them. But I just stayed quiet because I figured no one wanted me to dump on them in return and for the most part I believe I was right.

But then I became part of a group and had people who genuinely wanted to know me, even the angry hurt parts. That was shocking, and amazing. I embraced my own worth. And won't go back. If you truly love me when I'm happy, then you'll love me when I'm not. I'm not saying it's pleasant or something you look forward to (unless you're Honky and then you like it when I'm mad because apparently I make really funny 'angry hand motions'). But you'll love me through it. You'll let me lean on you.

And if not... then you don't really love me. And that's okay. I never asked that you did, only that you not lie about it. I understand that not everyone that I love will love me back. I understand that there are people that love me that I don't love in return. I know that relationships, friendships, siblings (both blood and choice), are complicated. They grow, they change, they fade. It happens. Just don't lie about it to make me feel better.

I know that's one of the reasons I love my Sunday Funday friends so very much. Because no one is there for any other reason than because they want to be.

That's how I always want it to be. I know that I always want to be there for my friends. Okay, at the time, I may be rolling my eyes and thinking this is a pain in the ass, but deep down I wouldn't be anywhere else. I just want the same. And for those of you that have been and will be, there are no words for how much I appreciate it.

Day One Hundred and Eighty One - Exhilarating And Horrible

I want to scream. I want to beat the shit out of something. I want to run until I can't breathe. I want to do anything but sit here and feel like this. 

Another rejection. Another person who actually said, "Any man who truly gets to know you and doesn't try and make you his is insane." Except he was just trying to make me feel better about the fact that he'd kissed me out of curiosity. Not that I think he knew he was lying, exactly. He believes it. And thinks himself a little insane. 

I have this thing I say to my nieces and nephews. I train them. "How much do I love you?" I ask them. The first few times I ask they question they respond with, "I don't know." or "A lot." And then I hug them, and look them in the eye and say, "More than you could possible imagine." And then I ask them again. And then they blush and look down but they say it. "You love me more than I could possibly imagine." In time, they are no longer shy. They look me right in the eye and say it with a smile. 

I've known him for years. Loved him for years. I hugged him that night and did the same thing. "How much do I love you?" I asked. "A lot," He said. "More than you could possibly imagine." I said. Because it's true. The poor kid doesn't have a clue how much I love him. Few people do. But he really just doesn't get it. He can't see himself clearly.

He inspires me. Watching him grow in Christ and maturity over the past four years, watching him go from being someone I mentored to someone who mentored me has filled me with joy. I've watched him grow from a boy into a man. Watched him become someone I not only love but respect. I've yelled at him when he was being an idiot, whispered to him when he needed comfort, hugged him always. 

I know I love him more than he loves me. But that's usually true of most people I love. It's just the way I love. Even among the special he's always been... special to my heart. I love him in a way I don't love anyone else. 

And the shitty thing is... I wasn't lying. I do love him more than he could possibly imagine. And nothing he could ever say or do is ever going to change that. I will always love him and want to be his friend and do anything I can for him. Nothing will ever change that. Even giving me a false hope and sense of exhilaration... which is only horrible because there was never any hope. Because nothing could change. Because... even exhilaration can't change the fact that I can't seem to move forward. 

The only thing that will really make me feel better is change, is moving forward, is not being stuck. And it's out of my control. I tried, I really did. I went out on a limb with someone I love, I reached for more, and nothing changed. Other than now I have to work to put the lid back on, to kill the hope that someone like that could love, romantically, someone like me, to make everything neat and tidy again so I don't lose him as a friend. 

...When all I really want to do is cry and scream and make things muddy and keep them muddy because I know... I know that if I don't put our friendship back together, if I don't work for it, then it'll disappear because... because he won't. He won't fight for our friendship. I don't know why, just that it's true. And part of me is just so tired of always being the one to swallow my pride and fight for those I love. Just once, I want someone to fight for me. 

Day One Hundred and Eighty - Embrace The Unknown

You know what I continually learn? That I don't know nearly as much as I like to think I do. I've been slowly learning that for years. When I was a kid I thought I knew everything. When I was a teenager I really thought I knew everything. Now... what I think I know gets smaller every day.

My constantly shrinking knowledge used to scare me. Knowing so little made everything else seem really big. So incredibly unknown. And that was terrifying. So I tried to make my world as small as possible. I tried to make everything as small as I felt. Even my dreams. I made them smaller so they'd fit into what I knew I could do, into what I saw as 'possible'.

But recently... I've had just about enough of small. And scared. My dreams are so much bigger than I've been allowing them to be. Because I was afraid that I was too small to accomplish big dreams. Because I was afraid of failing. But I haven't been failing. I've been growing. I've been learning. I've figured out a lot of ways to not do things. But I haven't failed.

Well... except for not trying. That is failing, and I've done that so many times. Because I was afraid of failure. I know, looking at it now, it doesn't make any sense. No more. Failure doesn't scare me any more. Never even trying to get what I want does. Letting fear overtake me is the only thing that scares me now.

No more. I'll fail. I'll be rejected. I'll get burned. But I will not look back and wonder "What if I'd tried? What if I'd reached? What if I'd gone out on a limb? What if I'd taken a chance?".

Instead I'll look back and say, "At least I gave it my all. There was nothing more I could have done." Because only when I give it all I have will I be at peace with my life. Not knowing anything isn't going to stop me from trying anymore.

Day One Hundred and Seventy Nine - For No Reason Whatsoever

I got some amazing advice this weekend. I didn't really like hearing it at the time, in fact at first I thought it was a joke. But no... it was some really good advice.

Everything I do, other than Tuesday nights, has a purpose. In this 'down time' of being single, I've devoted myself to trying to become the best version of me that I could be. I learned how to cook, how to maintain a house (okay, I'm still working on this), trying to find a big girl job and take care of myself, trying to be the best friend I can be, trying to be the best Christian I can be, etc. I try to pour myself out for others, because I love them and want to serve them.

I was talking to my buddy Bruce about all of this, about how I really wasn't wasting my time while I was single. I wanted him to understand, I know how precious this time is and that I wasn't wasting any of it. I... I didn't want him to think I wasn't working hard, that I was wasting precious time. A pit formed in my stomach as I saw his eyebrows knit together in concern. I sighed internally, I knew what he was going to say. I should be working harder. I should be learning more. I should be further along in my Christian walk by now. I tried to stop him from saying it. I knew it was the truth, but I just couldn't listen to him say it. It would defeat me too much. And then he surprised me.

"What do you do for you?" He asked. "Just for fun."

I was rather taken aback. "Um... I write terrible fiction sometimes. That's entertaining. I play Zelda but feel bad when I do because there are other things I really ought to be doing instead."

"No," He said, "There aren't. Look at you. You're exhausted and empty. You're pushing yourself so much harder than anyone else. Honestly, Val, my counsel to you is this - find something that has no purpose but that you enjoy and do it 5-7 hours a week. You have to give yourself a break. God made this world full of wonderful things. It doesn't have to be edifying in order to be good. Enjoy."

And while it took me a while to process that... I realized how incredibly right he is. I'm not doing anyone any good by being constantly near empty. And it's wrong on my part to not love myself the way God does. From the beginning, God designed us to take time off from work, to just enjoy what we've been given, to simply delight. And I really need to do that.

And I know a few other people that need to too. So if you're one of those people, and let's face it, we know who we are, then realize I am sharing this so that you'll take a break too. I hate to see you so low on energy and joy. Do something that is just for you and don't feel a moment's guilt about it.

Day One Hundred and Seventy Eight - Muddy

I like things to be defined. Well defined. Clearly defined. Especially my relationships. I like to know exactly what each relationship is, what I should expect, what the other person should expect. I like them to stay clearly defined. If they must change, the changes must be clean, no mess. Especially my friendships with guys. I try to be upfront. I'm not interested in a relationship. I enjoy male friends, I enjoy their company, their humor, their crazy ideas of how to define the word 'fun'. I like having guy friends. But I don't like my relationships to get complicated. I like them clean cut. Just friends.

Most of the time it works, if I say that upfront. "Just friends". Usually, they start to see me as one of the guys and it's not a real problem from then on out. It's true. Getting out of the friend zone is damn near impossible. Without alcohol. But that's a given. The point is, so long as I maintained the lines, so long as they stayed clear, everything stayed clean. There was no fuss, no mess. Just friends.

Yesterday... one of those friends took all of my carefully maintained lines and took my pristine little lines and muddied the hell out of them. Everything that had been clear moments before was now murky and not a single damned thing was clearly defined. 

And I loved it. I was suddenly out of control. I was suddenly free to tell the truth about how I felt. I was free to see what might be rather than force my mind to focus on the lines. It was unclear. As unclear as I felt about it. It was liberating. I could finally think. I could finally feel more than tightly controlled emotions. It could grow. It could change. 

Of course, there is always the risk that it can become rotten and stagnant. When the clear becomes muddied nothing is certain. But the tight control... I can't do it anymore. It's motivated by fear and a tendency to micromanage. Let go. Let God. Let life. Let anything other than me point me in a new direction or back through an old one. 

I don't always know best. And when someone took a risk with me, I was suddenly inspired to take a risk back. I know I'll probably get hurt. But it was a worth a shot. It was worth a try. It was worth losing control over. Because that's the real truth about clear cut lines and mud. Everything worth having or doing is worth losing your control.

Day One Hundred and Seventy Seven - The Healthiest Thing

I saw a woman. She was crossing the street. She wasn't obese but she wasn't in shape. I'm not sure how old she is, perhaps mid thirties? Maybe as old as late 40's? She was wearing sweat pants and a shirt for a woman in her early twenties. Not... showing too much. Just the wrong generation. Her hair wasn't done, there was no make up. She was pushing a baby stroller, but there was no baby. It was full of koolaid and a week's worth of banquet frozen dinners for one. No fresh fruits and vegetables. No water. No herbs and spices. No fresh meat.  I know I was staring, but I don't think she noticed. She just walked ahead. And I started to wonder... how did she get there?

What happened to her? No one is born that way. No one is naturally listless. What stole her joy? What made her believe that trying to get up, that moving on, that living this life wasn't worth it anymore? What got her to the point of only doing what she has to in order to survive? I can see her with my own two eyes. Where are her friends? Did they abandon her so they wouldn't be sucked into her despair and apathy? Are they just as gone as she is? What about family? What happened?

In that moment, in that question, I realized something. It isn't about what happened. It's about what didn't happen. 

Just in case you're new, every other Sunday, a group of friends gets together for what has affectionately become known as Sunday Funday Dinner. We cook for each other. See, we all love to cook. But cooking for yourself gets old. Cooking for others does something wonderful for your heart. We eat together (really good food, too, because man my friends can cook), we tell stories, we blow off steam. We laugh so hard we pee a little. For those few hours, we don't take anyone or anything too seriously. We're there, present, in the moment. The world is carefully out of control. We're safe. We're together. And we're sworn to secrecy. 

And it's the healthiest thing I do. It's one of the healthiest things any of us do. Because as long as we have Sunday Funday, as long as we have that group of Sparkly Marshmallows that rally every time, no matter how tired we are (coffee will be brought to you), or how cranky (at which point you will be handed a beer and told to vent and get over it), or how sad or apathetic you feel (a demanding text message will be sent), nothing matters. Because we all want to be there far more than we want to be anywhere else. 

And that's... That's amazing. We have made a place where, in a few hours, the weight of two weeks can just slide right off our backs. We have made a place that constantly changes, the guest list is never the same twice, the food is radically different, the location is often up in the air, and yet always offers the same thing. Rest. Reprieve. We have made a place where it doesn't matter your background (I'm the crazy Christian virgin, there is a manager of a strip club, bouncers from a bar, delivery people from a downtown warehouse, a health care worker, a guy in the air force, and the list goes on), if you're there for Sunday Funday, you're one of us. That's amazing. That's the sort of thing people dream about, that's the sort of thing people want, it's the sort of thing that every church should be. This is exactly the thing that is in the movies and everyone says 'that's not real' but it is. It is. 

We'll never be able to recreate it, after it eventually breaks up. Or maybe it won't, even after us, maybe it'll go on with new people. But for now, for this moment, it's ours. It's amazing. It keeps us sane. It keeps us from apathy. It keeps us from defeat. It keeps us.

Day One Hundred and Seventy Six - Step One

Lies come at us all the time, every day. The worst ones are the ones we tell ourselves. Those annoying voices in our ears that lie to us, constantly, about who we are. Over time, I've learned that the only way to fight them (effectively) is with the truth, even if the truth hurts.

Like tonight for instance. I felt... small. Ashamed of how much I have leaned on my friends recently, especially leaned on their forgiveness and understanding. Even though we just talked about being equals with my friends rather than projects, tonight I felt very much as if I am kept around because of pity rather than genuine affection. But those are just fears, not truths. And there are two ways to deal with them.

1) I can continue the lie and try and tell myself that I don't care. That losing my friends, the ones I fear see me as project not a friend, wouldn't hurt. Much. That I could survive it. It wouldn't really affect me.

Or.

2) I can acknowledge that those are fears of mine, but that they are unfounded. I can acknowledge the truth (and thusly risk the pain) of knowing that I would be deeply hurt to lose those I love and cherish. And one truth leads to another. My feelings are simply unfounded.

I'm not saying the friends I have now will always be my close friends. I know for a fact that will not be true. There are a select few that have become blood, and so will forever be in my life. The closeness will ebb and flow, but they'll always be family. Another set, I know, are the people that in ten years I will really want to share a cup of coffee with and catch up. I will smile at them and want to hear about their life because while we may not have spoken in a few years, the love I have for them will not have faded. Another set, the majority, are people who are in my life for but a short time. They will go the same way they came, slowly, and without either of us much noticing. It will be very natural. Change is the only constant in this life.

And so I will enjoy the time I have with them now, not waste my time fearing how or when it will end. Relationships evolve. They change as we do. Trying to stop change is like clutching at sand, pointless and not exactly pleasant. The better response is to keep an open hand, to accept what was, what is, and what will be. Right now, my heart is full, cherishing what I have now because I know I won't have it forever.

And I won't take it for granted. So to the people in my life that have subtly, or not so subtly changed me, to the people who bring joy and peace to my life, to the people I love, to the people I share every other Sunday with, to the new friends to the old ones: thank you for being part of my life and letting me be part of yours.

Day One Hundred and Seventy Five - Whale Watching

I have a friend. Her name is Erica. And she gets the Sparkly Marshmallow of the year award. Sorry, OSM, today, she literally kicked your ass in the SM dept. She kicked it all the way to 2013. 

See, she's been a Sparkly Marshmallow since before the OSM and I came up with it a year ago on a bridge watching the stars during our very first hidden hours. But she calls it whale watching. She took me whale watching about two years ago. We went down the river and literally watched for whales. Since then, it has evolved. Whale watching has become a metaphor in the same way Sparkly Marshmallow has. We all know what being a Sparkly Marshmallow means by now. 

But whale watching takes it one step further. Whale watching is about chasing it. Whale watching is actively searching for the sparkle in life. It is actively seeking out the miracles. It is demanding the extraordinary in each day. Because it's already there. You just have to find it. You have to take the time to watch for whales. They only come to those who seek them out.

And for those who seek them out, sometimes... sometimes they can come in the hundreds in a single day. Sometimes it can rain whales. But when you start watching for whales, you realize that they will come. Every time you seek one out, you'll find one. Even in deepest despair, God'll send a whale. In the desert, He will send a whale. The mundane can be full of whales.

So here's my challenge to you. For one week, each day, watch for whales. Look for the small miracles, look for the big miracles, look for things that have no other explanation, look for the things that turn your day around, look for the things that stop you in your tracks, look for the things that take your breath away. 

Demand the extraordinary. It'll come. Just watch for it. Wait for it. Ask for it. And see what happens. You won't be disappointed. 

Day One Hundred and Seventy Four - The Beauty of Each Part

I once read a book, or tried to, by one of my favorite authors of all time and couldn't get through it because it... well it sucked. While still loving all of his other work, I could not, for the life of me, even bring myself to finish the book. But one part of it, for whatever reason, stuck with me. It was about a race of intelligent 'people' who looked very much like beavers and liked to sing very long songs and didn't have favorite anythings. Especially their very long songs. They never liked one part more than another because to them, each part was essential and brought something to the whole, creating it. To only prefer one part would be to ruin it in its entirety. I never once understood that concept until today. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6VAkOhXIsI0

In case you were wondering, that is the song that taught it to me. There are no words so don't wait for them. Immerse yourself int he music because each part is so clearly expressing an emotion, each one links into the next, each one absolutely essential to the whole. And each part is wonderfully beautiful; delightful to the ear. 

And then it sort of hit me, that's really exactly what life is about. The lesson that every moment has its beauty because every moment is relevant to the whole of your story. You wouldn't be who you are if it wasn't for those three years of continual shit that forged you into someone stronger. You wouldn't be who you were if you didn't eventually get the victory you needed to pull you through. You wouldn't be who you are without your first great love, and losing it. You wouldn't be who you are without the giant mistake and everything you learned from it. You wouldn't be who you are without learning to trust your instincts. Every moment is its own note, and we don't always decide how the tune will go. But we do decide whether or not we see it for what it is. We do decide whether we let each moment define us, or whether we define each moment by our presence in it. 

Looking back, I am so thankful for everything that sucked, for every wrecking ball that smashed to shit everything I had worked so hard for, for the great finds in unexpected places, for all the soul searching and all incredible injustice of it all. I can see the beauty in it now, I can listen to it like a beautiful song. The struggle is just as necessary as the triumph. Because now it has ceased, and I remain. Humbled by all that has been, and all that will be. Because if the crap can be this beautiful, holy heaven the dawn must be spectacular.

As a sort of final thought, I think it has a lot to do with learning to ride out the waves. When you're not gritting your teeth and fighting tooth and nail, but letting Someone Else do the work for you, and simply waiting for victory, it's a lot easier to be aware of what is going on around you during each wave. It is easier to see the bigger picture. It is easier to see where you've been, and where you are going. It's easier to keep sight of why you always knew it was worth it. It was easier to see some sort of plan in it all. 

And when you can see the beauty in each part, in the good and the bad alike, that is the moment hope becomes unshakable. 

Day One Hundred and Seventy Three - Forcing It

I've written out three different blogs tonight and scrapped them all. Because they were crap. Because I was trying to force a lesson, a tid bit, an anything out of an uneventful day. The only thing that made a real impact on me today were razor burn and my Lego HP game not working. Nothing of any real importance. And let's face it, these blogs more or less just come to me. I don't plan them out. I rarely know what I'm going to write before I write it. I sit down and it just... comes to me. And for 172 days, every day, it has just come to me. Today it didn't, and I can't force it.

And I'm totally okay with that. Because the blog is just like everything else in life that you can't force. Which, in case you were curious, is everything. Nothing, not one single thing, in life can be forced. Life does not cater to our sense of timing or our list of preferences.

The more you try to force things into how you want them, the more it sucks. Everything has it's time. Everything. When it just suddenly clicks, when your hard work finally pays off, when you find that person, whatever it may be that you want, when everything suddenly makes sense, for a brief moment you see clearly that what happened and when was better than what you had wanted originally.

So work hard, improve your character, love well, laugh often, live your life. But when something isn't going your way, rather than force it, try and understand that what is in store is better than what you're trying to force.

Day One Hundred and Seventy Two - Projects

What I am about to say has literally taken me years to grasp, and even now, it is only just a grasp. I still do not have a firm hold on this, but the grasp has completely changed how I see myself. 

For the longest time, I had no idea why people were friends with me. I think all of us have thought about that at one point or another. And I've spent my life having friends that were truly amazing people. Which often led me to the conclusion that I was a sort of project. That while yes, they were my friends, they saw me as a project, as someone to take under their wing. I never really felt as if I was their equal. 

Per usual, we'll use the OSM as an example. (Don't let this inflate your ego, read to the bottom.) When I first met the OSM, I'll openly admit I had him on a bit of a pedestal. He has an incredibly charismatic personality, he's fun to be around, he's deep and wise but doesn't preach, he speaks openly from experience. And for reasons beyond my comprehension (at the time) he wanted to spend his time with me. I figured I was a project, but wasn't about to argue. I didn't really care why he spent his time with me, only that he did. His presence in my life was (and still very much is) incredibly beneficial to me. 

It was only fairly recently, in the past few months, that I've begun to realize that I am not a project to my friends, but that they do indeed see me as an equal. They are my friends because of who I am, not because I need them. And realizing that was incredibly liberating. Because when you're a project, you're in their debt. When you're an equal, the give and take of a friendship isn't a ledger but a given. And only very recently has it become clear that although the OSM has helped me in so many ways, I have not graduated from project to friendship, I never was a project, and always was an equal. 

My friends are friends with me because I am worth being friends with. That very knowledge has allowed me to truly experience the friendships, and really the people, to be able to go with the flow. Because I'm no longer worried that their altruism might suddenly dry up, or that the red in the ledger might be too much. I am loved, and the friendship is earned, it is equal. It has allowed me to open my hand, to not try to hold onto people so tightly because I'm afraid they'll let go of me if I let them. It has allowed me to trust in their love, to lean on their understanding. 

In letting go, I have never felt more secure. The OSM was an example, but I could list ten off the top of my head. It's still a strange feeling, the realization that people actually want to be my friend. Even more shocking, it has recently been pointed out to me that some people desire a friendship with me, but are too intimidated to seek one out. That is just mind-boggling. 

I guess my point is this: it is much easier to let yourself be loved when you realize that you are worth loving. And based on the character of my closest friends, I must be pretty awesome myself. That and I am blessed to simply know some of the very best people in the world. Honky, I'm looking at you. 

Day One Hundred and Seventy One - Once Upon A Time Part 6

Arif had told him to be cautious, to not assume the intimacy of seven years ago. That things had changed that he couldn’t understand until he saw her. Arif had of course been right, Saturn had seen that immediately. She looked so different. And not just because she was in her Hauke form. Seven years had changed her from a girl to a woman. But who were the others? Were they the humans spoken of in the lore? Haukes?  She watched over them, paced over them, worried over them as they slept. She knew them, she loved them. So much so she had yet to even notice Saturn’s presence.

“Olivia.” He said quietly. Her head snapped up and relief flooded her face. She ran to him, jumping into his arms.

“Saturn.”

“You got big, little one.” He said, setting her down. She blushed. “And you’re Hauke. And have Hauke friends.”

She burst out laughing. “Oh Saturn. You’re the only one who could understand how horrible it was. They’re not Hauke. They’re human.” She saw his confusion. “Where did the portal send you?”

“Alta.” He said, his eyes going over them again. So these were the humans.

“But –“

“Alta hasn’t existed in a thousand years. I know. It will again. I was sent to the future, with Arif, to be trained. Where did it take you?”

“To a different world entirely. Earth. There is only one race there, human. And when I first got there, I about died. You see them, they look Hauke but they’re not. I thought I was on a world solely populated by Hauke to punish me. Instead, I found them. They’re my friends, Saturn. We have to find a way to get them home. I don’t know why they’re here.”

“I do.” He said quietly, pulling her close, into his arms again. She went willingly. “They’re here to help us. What is going on is bigger than us, little one. It’s about everyone. Every race. We need them if we’re going to succeed.”

“They’re not warriors,” she said, taking a step out of his arms to look him in the eye. “They’re not even part of this world. Humans are fairly useless. No abilities at all.”

“They’re being changed,” He said softly, wanting to draw her close again. He’d missed her more than he could express.

“Changed?” She took the few steps toward them. “Changed into what?”

“Us. Sort of. They’re being infused with our races. They’re going to help us.”

“They can’t! They don’t know anything of our world, of the war.”

Saturn moved to be near her again, “What are you talking about? How could they not?”

“I didn’t tell them.”

“What?”

“Well,” she chewed her lip, “I told one. Jonah. Before I left. I wanted him to know. I had to explain why I was suddenly leaving.”

“The others?”

“Have no idea. They were in a house, playing cards. And then they were here. Asleep.” She sighed, taking Jonah’s hand in her own. “How can I explain this? I’m sorry you were ripped away from your life, from your families, to come here to fight a war that isn’t yours and I can’t promise you’ll ever get home?”

Saturn thought. “We’ll have to explain it to them. I’ll do what I can to get the ambassadors to come to us. To help them transition.”

“We can’t ask them to fight a war that’s not their own.”

“No, that’s exactly what we’ll do. We’ll ask them.”

She couldn’t help but chuckle as she squeezed Jonah’s hand and then stepped back. “They’ll say yes. You couldn’t keep Jonah from a fight. Or Audrey. Temple is just curious about everything and Brock… well Brock might say no. Frankly I think Wallace may have known this whole time.”

“I don’t understand.”

She looked up at him, “What don’t you understand?”

“The way you talk about them.”

She sighed, beginning to understand. “You went to Alta, you were trained, just like we were before. I went away from all of it. There is war on earth, fairly constant from what I learned but where I was there was nothing but peace. It took me over a year to start talking to Jonah.”

He took her back in his arms, her back against him. “This one is Jonah?”

“Yes.”

“He’s special. To you.”

“He was my first friend.” She leaned her head against Saturn’s chest. “With his help, I learned how to love someone other than you. He taught me how to love people.”

“And the others?”

“In time.” She said closing her eyes. Now that she knew they were safe, even if it was only momentarily, she felt as if she could breathe again. “How long will this take?”

“I don’t know. It seems we’re suspended in the portal until they’re done.” He rested his chin on her head. “I’ve missed you.”

She put her hands on his arms, giving a gentle squeeze.  “Missed you too.”

Day One Hundred and Seventy - Once Upon A Time Part 5

She glared at him across the table, trying to make him laugh. Everyone could feel the tension in the air, and she was desperately trying to break it. She didn’t want it to end this way. She needed him to act normal. Instead, he jumped ten feet high every time she moved and his eyes never left her. She stood, laying her cards face down on the table. “You know, I think I need some air. Jonah?”

“Yea. Air. Yea.” He said, standing. He followed her outside; the others watched them leave and the whispers began immediately.

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“What the hell is going on with them?” Audrey asked.

“Maybe he finally asked her out.” Temple said.

“Doesn’t have the guts.” Wallace said, staring at the ceiling.

Brock laughed. “He doesn’t like her like that.”

Wallace looked down at him, “You’re just jealous because she’s his best friend and your bromance is on a back burner.” He winked. “You’ll get your chance when she turns him down.”

“You think she’d turn him down?” Audrey asked.

Wallace went back to looking at the ceiling, “She told him her secret.”

Audrey and Temple looked at him with an eyebrow raised. “What secret is that?”

“Hell if I know,” He shrugged, “But it’s fairly clear there has always been something she’s never told any of us. All of the sudden he changed and she’s trying to act like everything is normal. She told him.”

“Told him what?” Temple asked. “What sort of secret would make him act like that?”

Wallace shrugged again, “Told you. I don’t have the faintest clue. I bet it won’t stay a secret for long though.”

“What makes you say that?” Brock asked.

Wallace closed his eyes, “Just a feeling.” He felt a tremor go up through his toes to his head. “Did anyone else feel that?”

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“What the hell, Jonah? Everyone in there knows something is up.”

“I’m sorry, Liv. I’m trying. I’m freaking out. Any second and you’re going to just disappear?”

She sighed, “I didn’t want it to be like this.”

He tipped her chin up, forcing her to look at him. “You think I did? You think this is what I wanted? To have to disappear out of my life? To have to lie to all of our friends?”

She placed her hand over his, taking it in hers. “Jonah –“

“No, Liv. You don’t get to tell me I have to act normal. I know what you want but I can’t stop freaking out. I’ve tried. I can’t. Part of me still thinks you’re insane. Part of me wants to kidnap you because I’m convinced that if we leave here everything will change. Part of me wants to beg, to plead with you to stay, as if you somehow have control. As if I could convince you. Part of me wants to go with you, so I can bring you home.”

“Jonah, you have to –“

“I have to watch you every moment. I have to be fully aware of you every moment. Because any moment you could be gone.”

The first shockwave came, she felt her stomach knot. It was starting then. She had moments, maybe less. She couldn’t hide the fear from her eyes as she looked up at him.

“NO!” He screamed, embracing her. “No, please, Liv. Please don’t leave me.” The second shockwave gave her goosebumps.  Jonah’s skin tingled as well. “What the hell was that?”

Her head snapped around so fast she though she broke it. “What?”

“What was that?” He asked again.

“You felt that?”

“Of course I felt it,” he said, his eyes going over her, making sure she was okay. Whole. Here.

“No.” She murmured. “No, that’s not right.” The next wave hit, so intense they stumbled. She heard Audrey scream.

They both looked up. “Audrey.” He grabbed her hand and they ran, fighting the next wave as it tried to knock them down. When they finally got back into the house it was chaos. Audrey was still screaming, Wallace was sitting against the wall, quietly humming to himself, his eyes closed. Temple was frozen in her chair. Brock was screaming like a little girl. “What on earth?” She murmured again. The next wave threw her into a wall, pulling her from Jonah’s grip.

“We don’t have earthquakes here!” Brock screamed.

“Why can you all feel them?” Olivia asked, clinging to the wall.

Wallace’s eyes opened, and he looked at her very clearly, a small smile on his face. “The real question is why you know what they are and we don’t.”

And then she felt it, the pulling sensation. Like a hook was wrapped around her stomach, pulling her through the very fabric of reality. There was no fighting it. It was taking her away. Moments. She reached her arm out as the final tremor started, Jonah grabbed it. “Don’t let go,” She whispered as she felt her grip on this reality be wrenched away. “Please.”

Day One Hundred and Sixty Nine - Once Upon A Time Part 4

“I don’t like this, Saturn.” She said as they walked along the stone corridor.

“You’ve made that abundantly clear, Olivia.” He said, trying not to smile. She got so mad when he didn’t take her seriously.

“I can’t even run right.” She pouted, looking down at her feet. “Awkward.”

“Of course it’s awkward. You’ve refused to be a Hauke for more than a few minutes at a time your whole life. Once you get used to it, it feels just as normal as being a Tze’el.”

“Lies.” She hissed, squinting up at him. “Besides, you’re an ugly Hauke.”

“You think all Haukes are ugly.”

“You’re an especially ugly Hauke.” She insisted as they started up the stairs.

“You have to marry me anyway.”

She didn’t laugh at his joke. He looked down at her. She was frowning in concentration, her brow was wrinkled. “When, Saturn? Have they decided?”

“Probably when you turn nineteen. Can’t have an underage queen, can we?”

“How are we supposed to rule when we’ve never met any of our people? How is it just going to become magically safe for us? Even the Dael can’t seem to get us out into the open. We’ve been locked away here for fifteen years.” She glanced up at him, “Seventeen for you. And it’s still not any safer than it was the day we came. And I’m not marrying your ugly Hauke self.”

He smiled at her transition, stopping before the large wooden door, leaning against the wall. “Show Arif.”

He waited outside as she presented herself to Arif. He could hear their murmured conversation. He was being a little strict with her, but maybe she needed it. So long as Arif kept playing bad cop, he could continue to coddle her a little. She deserved that at least. She walked out, her head down. “Saturn?”

“Don’t worry about it, little one. Let’s go the caverns. We’ll practice your projection, then fly.” He put his arm around her shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “Don’t worry about Arif tonight.” He kissed her hair, pulling her along. He hesitated when he felt the tremor she couldn’t. The Tze’el were much more sensitive to small changes.

“What?” She asked, looking up at him. She may not be able to feel the small changes around her, but any small change in him caught her immediate attention.

“Nothing,” He said, “Probably just the guards blowing off some steam in the caverns again.” The second tremor sent them both into the ground. “Run!” He screamed, grabbing her hand and pulling her along.

“I can’t!” She stumbled again, falling. She wasn’t used to running as a Hauke. It was a completely different sensation then as a Tze’el. Her legs wouldn’t work. And she was panicking. She couldn’t change back, she couldn’t concentrate. He scooped her up in his arms, his wings not even feeling the extra weight. She clung to him, burying her face in her chest. He could feel the terror radiating off of her. This was her worst fear, being trapped as a Hauke. Defenseless. Powerless.

Within seconds there were six guards flanking them. Within a minute, there were twelve. They were all in agreement. The portal. They didn’t know how, but every entrance had been breached. They only had precious moments to get to safety. The very walls around them were crumbling. Two guards pulled open black doors, Saturn turning sideways to make it through the narrow gap. The portal glowed. It was ready.
Arif was standing in front of it. “Go. I’ll seal it.”

“Arif –“ Saturn said, for the first time feeling uncertain.

“NOW.” The old Dael shouted. Saturn flew into the glowing blue. He was immediately encased, but it was safe, not a prison. It was warm. Light. He breathed a sigh of relief. They were safe. He didn’t know what was coming, but they were safe. Together.

She started to move away from him, but he held her tighter. “No, little one.” He whispered.

The panic in her voice made his heart race, “Saturn!” He could feel it then, she was clinging to him.

Something was wrong. Something was pulling her away. He clenched his arms, holding her so tightly it hurt. It didn’t stop her, she was being pulled from his grasp. “Saturn!” She screamed.

“Olivia! I’ve got you! Don’t let go!” She was almost completely out of his grasp. “Hold on!”

“Saturn!” She screamed again and she was gone.

“Olivia!” But there was nothing. Silence. She was gone. "Olivia!"

When she opened up her eyes, her heart racing through her chest. All she could see was blue sky. White clouds. It was peaceful. She’d never seen the full sky. Except in pictures. But this was different. The shade of blue was off. The trees were wrong. Even the clouds were the wrong shape. Nothing about this was right. She realized she was floating in water. She immediately jerked her head up. “Saturn!” She shouted. “Saturn!” Nothing but silence, the echo of her own voice across the water. It too sounded wrong. She looked down and tears filled her eyes. Pale. Hauke. She swam toward shore, laying in the white sand as soon as she could. She felt exhausted. And scared. The last thing she remembered was being torn from Saturn. Now she had no idea where she was. Or how to get back to Saturn. There were no guards. No Arif. Nothing but this really strange lake. And this really strange sky. And these really strange trees. The tears kept flowing from her eyes. And this stupid Hauke body.

Day One Hundred and Sixty Eight - Once Upon A Time Part 3

*Note: There are now 6 races, not 5. Introducing the Morie. Forest. Woot! This is what happens when we change first drafts.

He felt bad for her, sitting alone as she stared at the walls surrounding them. Neither of them had been allowed to be away from the fortress since they were brought here as babies. It was too dangerous. Too many factions wanted them dead. So they stayed here. Hidden. Guarded. Imprisoned. But she was just a little girl. He stopped himself. She’d scream at him if she could hear his thoughts right now. She’d just turned fifteen. She was becoming the queen her people needed. But he couldn’t help but still see glimpses of the child he’d grown up with. Always clinging to his hand, hiding behind him. He could still remember those big silver eyes looking up at him and the thumb in her mouth.

Now she didn’t touch him, but her eyes followed him. Always making sure he was near. He’d never admit it, but he relied on her just as much. She was the only one who got it, who understood what it was like to be a half breed. She was his only friend.

He sighed, realizing that Arif was right, and that he was the only one who could talk to her about it. She was too old to still be doing this.

He walked over to her, leaning against the rock next to her. She jumped a little, but formed her face back into a frown. He bit his tongue to keep himself from smiling. “I know what you’re going to say, Saturn. You and Arif should save your breath.”

“Says the girl who is pouting to get out of class.”

“Hauke class.” She said, glaring at him.

“If you would just allow yourself to explore the Hauke in you then I wouldn’t have scared you. You would have known I was coming.”

She rolled her eyes, dropping the pretense of her frown. He bit his tongue again. She never could keep it up around him. And then just as quickly her brow furrowed. She turned toward him, her eyes going over him. “I hate the Hauke. You look so strange.”

He looked down at his skin. He was getting used to it. It was strange, to be tan. To have his eyes be white and blue. To walk around without his wings. But he could also hear the thoughts of the Hauke’s around him. He was strangely aware of his surroundings. He could communicate anything he wanted to with a simple thought.

He looked at her. Tze’el. Her skin was dark, but strangely translucent. Exactly like a shadow. As if she could disappear at any time. Her wings were tucked closely into her back, she couldn’t fly outside. Too dangerous. Only in the caverns beneath the fortress. Her eyes were black, with silver irises that seemed to glow. Her hair was silver, cropped short. She didn’t like it getting in her way. She thought it made her look like a Tze’el warrior. He bit his tongue again.

“You have to at least give it a try. We’re going to rule the Hauke as well as the Tze’el. We have to embrace both.” He reasoned.

“You can rule the Hauke and I’ll rule the Tze’el. I can’t give up my wings.”

“There is no need to fly right now. There is no danger.”

She rolled her eyes again, “There is always danger, Saturn.” She said using her best Arif impression. “You must never let your guard down.”

He couldn’t bite his tongue in time. “Fine, Liv. Embrace the Hauke, for a few hours. I won’t leave your side.”

She chewed her lip. “Promise?”

“Liv, we’re surrounded by guards. We’re guarded by walls. We have six emergency plans. And a magical portal from the Dael. You’re completely safe.”

She didn’t waver. “Promise?”

“Yes, I promise.”

“Then you be Tze’el. In order to be safe, one of us has to be.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Do it.” She insisted, staring him down. He did as she requested, watching her skin change as his did. She looked so different. So pale. He’d almost forgotten how green her Hauke eyes were. “This feels wrong.”

“If you’d let me be Hauke, you wouldn’t even have to talk.” He said.

She shook her head. “Not worth it.”

“Come on, let’s show Arif your progress so he’ll leave you alone for the rest of the day.”

Day One Hundred and Sixty Seven - Once Upon A Time Part 2

His brow furrowed even further. "What?"

"Do you remember that trip we took to Florida?" He nodded. "You remember that place we found by the ocean?" He nodded again. "So do I."

He looked at her face, nothing but panic racing through his brain. Nothing about this made any sense. She was speaking gibberish. An elaborate joke? It wasn't her sense of humor. And she'd never been able to keep a secret from him. What she was saying was impossible. He focused on her face, her eyes, trying to see the truth.  At first he didn't notice as the truck around him began to blur. But as the moon turned into the sun, as cornfields turned into a beach, and the truck became a white stone bench, he pulled back, his hand leaving hers as he looked around. He could hear the gentle roar of the ocean, the seagulls. He could smell the salt. "What on earth?"

"Hauke. Mind. I'm remembering, and sharing it with you."

"This isn't possible."

She shrugged, feeling the withdrawal of hand. "The details aren't important," The scene around them began to fade back into a cornfield, "All that matters is that you know when I leave, that I'm safe, that I'm..." Her eyes welled with tears, "on an adventure. And that I will always love you."

He shook his head, "No." He looked her in the eye, "No. You can't leave."

"I have to. The portal was made to function for seven years. I can feel it, Jonah, I can feel it pulling at me. It's time to go home, I have to finish what my parents started. This... this isn't my life."

"This is your life. Here. With Anne and Audrey and Temple."

"I can't stop this. The seven years is almost up. I couldn't stay if I wanted to. I'll just disappear. Anne has a story ready. Shortly after, she’ll leave. And people will assume and forget.”

He didn’t say anything. This wasn’t real. There wasn’t another world. She was sick. She needed to see a doctor. She’d get better and everything was going to be okay.

“If I’m sick then how did you see the ocean?” She asked quietly.

His head jerked up, “You can read it too?”

“No. I just know you. Jonah, what I need you to hear is goodbye.”

“No!” He shouted, surprising them both with the violence of the word.

She took his hand again, “Listen to me. I have to ask one last favor of you. I need to you help the others. I need you to help Anne, to carry on the story. They’ll listen to you, they’ll believe you.”

“Why me?” He asked, realizing that he was slowly starting to believe her. And if it was true… No. His mind blocked out that possibility, unwilling to go where it led.

“You’re my best friend.” She said, squeezing his hand. “I couldn’t just leave without saying goodbye. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. I don’t know how much time I have left, I can feel it, starting to pull me back. A few days at the most. I wanted to spend them with you and Temple and Audrey. Playing cards, sitting around bonfires.”

“You want me to act like you didn’t tell me any of this? Like you didn’t make a beach appear out of nowhere? Like you’re not going to up and disappear any moment?” He hadn’t meant to shout but her closed eyes were enough to know he was hurting her.

“Would you have rather I didn’t say anything?”

“I would have never stopped looking.”

“I know. That’s why I told you.”

“And there’s nothing I can do. Nothing but wait for you to disappear? And then lie?”

She nodded, “I never anticipated this. I never thought I’d make friends, I never thought you’d come to love me, I never thought I’d come to love you. Before you there was only Saturn. I put it off. I knew you’d think I was crazy. Try and get me to a doctor. I couldn’t have them taking tests because my DNA wouldn’t… let’s just say I’m fairly sure the military would get involved.” She smiled as he stubbornly refused to crack a smile at her joke. “I will never forget you.”

“Stop it,” he said, pulling his hand from her grasp again, “Stop saying goodbye. Stop acting like this is normal. Stop acting like I’ll – like any of us will just be able to pick up and move on.”

She unbuckled her seatbelt, and slid closer to him. She wrapped her arms around him. “I’m not gone yet.” 

He buried his face in her neck. There were no tears. He just squeezed her, determined that if he didn’t let go, she couldn’t leave. 

Day One Hundred and Sixty Six - Once Upon A Time

Once upon a time...

Olivia looked at her hands as he drove, her fingers intertwining. It was time, she knew that. The night was quiet, the stars bright. She looked through the window at this world that she had come to know and call home. In the beginning she had hated everything, from the single moon to the shortness of the trees. Now, it was all familiar. The other world was the foreign one. She chewed her lip, wondering whether she would feel relief or panic when she left, when she returned to what she once knew. She looked at his face out of the corner of her eye, trying to capture it. She'd miss him most of all. Her first true friend. How could she say goodbye? How could she explain?

"Jonah," She said quietly, not knowing how to start but knowing that time was short. She could feel the pull. It was slowly getting stronger. She might have weeks left. But no, no she knew that wasn't true. Days at most. It had to be tonight, she had to find a way to tell him.

He glanced at her, something in the sound of her voice was urgent. "Yea, Liv?"

"There's... things that I have to tell you."

He smiled. Sometimes she could be a real idiot. She got like this sometimes, thinking she needed to apologize for something she'd said in a moment of frustration, or something she'd forgotten to do. He'd known her since they were 15. He knew everything about her. There was nothing she could say that he didn't already know. But he'd let her anyway, it made her feel better. "I'm listening."

She took a deep breath, but nothing came out. She frowned in concentration, turning toward him, pulling one knee up onto the bench seat so she could face him. Another breath. Again nothing.

He chuckled, "Well spit it out already. The suspense is killing me."

One more big breath. "My entire life I've kept a secret. From you. From everyone. The only one who knows is Anne and she's gone to great lengths to cover it up. You remember the day that we met?" She didn't wait for him to answer, "It was my fifteenth birthday. I didn't want to talk to you. I didn't want to talk to anyone. Everyone thought it was because I was shy. It wasn't. It was because you all still looked so strange. I was frightened of you. Every time I closed my eyes I wanted to be home, I wanted to see Saturn. Anne thought it would help, if I made friends, if I socialized. It's why she moved, because then no one would question how I just showed up. Haven't you ever wondered why you've never seen any baby pictures, any pictures of me from childhood? Anything before I turned 15? I was always waiting for someone to question it but they never did. She was right. People just make assumptions. We were ready for it, in case anyone asked. We would have said that the pictures were lost in a fire. But they weren't. There wasn't any pictures, Jonah, because until I was 15 I didn't live here. I'm not... I'm not from this planet."

He burst out laughing as genuine concern flooded into relief. "I have no idea what that was but you genuinely had me going. I thought you were going to tell me you were dying or something."

"Not dying, no." She said, and the knot began to grow in the pit of his stomach again. She wasn't laughing. Her face hadn't changed. "But leaving, yes. I'm not sure when. Maybe tomorrow, maybe the next day. Soon."

His brow furrowed, the knot grew tighter. "What are you talking about? Leaving for where?"

"Home."

"You live five minutes from me!"

"Caton Amoeh." She said, feeling the strangeness of the words after not saying them for seven years. "My home. I'm not from this planet, Jonah, I'm not from Earth." She saw he was about to object again so she talked over him, needing him to listen. "The world I was born into is very different than this one. In my world there are five unique races. Tze'el, Aedofin, Hauke, Barun, Dael. The rough translation is Shadow, Fire, Mind, Sea, and Knowledge. I was born into a world at war. My world has not seen peace in a thousand years. I was born as a treaty. The Tze'el, Shadow, and the Hauke, Mind, signed a truce. The two races would combine, their royalty would intermarry. It was the only way. Saturn and I were born to fulfill the final part of the truce. Each being half Tze'el, half Hauke, we would marry and rule the two kingdoms together. We would bring peace to our people. It was hoped that the Aedofin and the Barun would follow our example, that they would find peace. But not everyone wanted peace. It was dangerous for Saturn and I. We were kept hidden, guarded at all times. But it wasn't enough. They found us. But the Dael had provided us a way out, a last resort. If there was no other choice, we were to enter the portal. But only, ever, as a last resort. What they didn't tell us is where it would take us. I have no idea what happened to Saturn. The next thing I knew I was here, floating in a lake. That's when Anne found me."

He slowed the truck down, pulling over to the side of the gravel road. He turned the ignition key, killing it. Slowly, he turned to her. "This isn't funny anymore."

"I'm not joking, Jonah. I'm not from here. I'm not even human." He put his hand on her forehead, but she took it between her own. "It's not a fever. I'm not sick. I'm not dying. I'm trying to find a way to tell you goodbye. After all you've done for me, I couldn't just disappear."

"We'll get you help for this. Maybe it's a tumor. It's okay, we'll get you help."

She sighed, still holding his hand between her own, "I can prove it."

Day One Hundred and Sixty Five - Jump Rope

It's strange. My Dad has been dead for over two years now, but some days I feel closer to him now than I ever did when he was alive. And even stranger, in a lot of ways, our relationship hasn't changed much. When he was alive, we only talked every few months. Now... I feel like every few months he talks to me. Not in a creepy way, but in that he'll have a message that I need to hear. Tonight was one of those nights.

It's been a teary weekend. I sobbed last night. I just... snapped. While I was driving. I was completely overcome with despair. I pulled over and sobbed in the parking lot of Staples for a solid hour. I screamed. Not anything coherent, just a guttural cry of absolute hopelessness. An expression of the fear that was too deep for words. The cliffnotes version is this: I'm terrified that I will always be alone. And it broke me down to nothing. In a half an hour my strength was gone, I couldn't fight the gripping despair.

The OSM gave me some solid advice that I'm just beginning to understand. "Don't fight it," he said. "Don't give in either, but don't fight it. Ride it out." But I'm a fighter, it's the only way I've ever known to conquer my demons. Grit my teeth and be stronger than the despair, than the addiction, than the sorrow, than the confusion, than the temptations. Completely out of energy and not understanding how to do what he was telling me, I just went to bed. I woke up in tears. It wasn't over. I barely moved until 3:30 when the OSM made sure I was on my way to his place to help prepare for Sunday Funday.

At this point in the story I have to give a huge shout out to Morgasma, who is making her first appearance in the blog. At 4:15pm she made me laugh so hard my gut hurt. It was the first real laugh I'd had since Thursday. It was the first time I'd smiled, genuinely, in over 36 hours. But the despair was still there, still sapping every ounce of the enjoyment of life my friends could offer from my grasp. And then, almost unbelievably, it got worse. A part of my past I've tried very hard to forget found its way to the surface.

It was a night I never wanted to remember. I have no desire to go into any sort of detail, that night needs to stay locked away. That night is between the two of us and needs to stay that way, even if a very small detail got out tonight. The rest... is ours. Twisted as it may be, it's a shared intimacy of two very fucked up people who were incredibly self destructively but desperate to be understood, to be seen by someone who might understand. And as fucked up as that night was, there was understanding. I was seen. He was seen. And in a very, very twisted way, part of my heart will always be in that night, falling in love with him.

And because God really does work in mysterious ways, Morgasma and the OSM started listening to the song 'jump rope' by Blue October. And it was like I snapped, again, but this time for the better. I swear, though I know my Dad couldn't sing a note to save his life, I could hear him singing this song to me. "Up down up down up down up down yea, it will get hard, remember, life's like a jump rope."

And suddenly the OSM's advice made all the sense in the world. Don't fight it. Ride it out. It is like a wave. It will come, and it will pass. And I will remain. I don't have to fight it to win, I just have to outlast it. And that... that doesn't take nearly as much effort. Not every victory has to be hard won. I don't have to be breathing hard, clinging to the victory with a shaking hand. Some victories are handed to you, when the victory is fought for you, when you the battle up to the One who is stronger. When you ride it out and leave the hard part to the Victor. It's okay to cry, and it's okay to feel it, and by riding the wave out, it loses it's strength as it tries to knock me down. It's life, and it's like a jump rope.

And somehow, in the memory of the night I wanted to forget, I was flooded with hope. If, when I was so broken, and so fucked up, someone could look me in the eye, know the worst of me, and love me, then there is still hope. If my Dad can speak to me in the lyrics of a song and make me feel so much better, long after he's gone, there is still hope. If God continues to work through the OSM (I must add, in almost the exact way He used to work through Jonah) in knowing when I need to stay and talk it out, and when I only think I need to when my real need is to spend some more time in my own head figuring it all out, there is hope. I have not been abandoned. He is still as close as my heartbeat; His hand is still guiding my every step.

If, at the end of this particular wave, I feel stronger than I ever have... there is still hope.

Day One Hundred and Sixty Four - When All Else Fails

When all else fails, run to Jesus. When all else fails, praise Jesus. When all else fails, cry to Jesus. That's it. That's all I've got tonight. Well, maybe I've got just a little more. See, when people used to tell me that sort of stuff, I smiled and nodded and thought, "You quaint son of a bitch, please escort thyself to hell." And then I listened to a lot of Mark Driscoll. And it makes a lot more sense now.

a) Running to Jesus also means looking outside of yourself, other people, or substances for your salvation from whatever it is you need saving from. It helps remove you from your own mind, at the very least giving you a better perspective of the situation. The ultimate bonus is that you ran to the one person who can do anything and loves you more than you can comprehend. BONUS POINTS.

b) Praising Jesus is a fantastic way to once again get a sense of perspective, but also to make all your fears and doubts shut the fuck up because of the goodness and omnipotence of the God you serve. It is also fairly handy to remind you all of the times He has helped you in the past. Remembering His goodness makes it easier to rely on His goodness. The ultimate bonus is that He is good. BONUS POINTS.

c) Crying to Jesus gets your own head on straight. Expression is utmost. God hates posturing. He says this repeatedly in the OT as well as the NT. If you're angry - scream. If you're hurt - cry. If you're confused... make a face. The point remains that in order to communicate with God you must communicate truthfully. And when you express your emotions truthfully, even if they change as quickly as the waves, you can slowly come to an understanding of what all you're feeling and why. Communicating with God makes it easier for you to know the truth yourself. The ultimate bonus comes because by crying to Jesus, you're both in the know. BONUS POINTS.

The toughest part about all of this is that while true, the help isn't always instant. Tonight it was enough to keep me from doing anything self destructive or anything to artificially numb the pain, but not a lot else. The hardest part is waiting, knowing that He is good and that I am powerless. So to buy some time, I'm going to try and collapse in my bed. 

God I hope this helps someone someday, because right now it's just me being way too honest with people I'd rather now show weakness around. 

Day One Hundred and Sixty Three - Trust

The OSM often corrects me. About a lot of things. But one recurring correction happens whenever I say, "But I know him." And he says, "Do you? Completely? You can't know all of anyone."

He's right. But there comes a point of knowing in which you take the rest on faith. We'll use the OSM as an example. I don't know all of him. I can't. That particular sparkly marshmallow has too many layers for me to ever know all of him. But from what I do know, I take the rest on faith. I trust him, because of what I do know. The OSM is one of the few people I trust completely. And I do that fully aware that I don't know all of him. What I don't know doesn't concern me because of what I do know.

I feel like it's the same with God. I'm rather frequently asked questions that I honestly don't have good answers to. "What about people who never had access to the gospel and thusly can't choose Jesus?" Not a clue. "If God is the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow, then why 'the ban' in the Old Testament and forgiveness and testimony in the New?" Not. A. Clue. Trust me, there are a lot more, things that I can't answer. I don't know, but none of those questions make me doubt in any way.

Because I know enough. Because He has proved Himself enough to have my undivided trust. I will never be able to know all of Him, to know the reaches of His mind or His decision making process. But I do know Him, enough to trust Him. Enough to know that I don't need to know all of Him, to have all the answers to know the person. I do know Him. I know His character. I know He loves me, I know He loves you, I know He works for our good, I know He does what is best even if it is not what is easiest, I know He'd never abandon me, I know He is wise, I know He is strong, I know He is gracious, I know He is truthful, I know He has a sense of humor, I know He loves and gives freedom, I know He fights for the underdog, I know He's just. I know lots about Him, but not all.

I don't need to. And I'd ask you to think about that. If what has kept you from Jesus is not having all the answers about Him... maybe you need to look at what you do know about Him and make a decision based on that. After all, it's a lot easier to get to know someone you have a relationship with rather than someone you just read about in a book.

Day One Hundred and Sixty Two - Prayer for the Third Tree

No, I'm not going to explain the title. Not entirely at least. You don't need to know where it came from, you only need to know what it means.

My prayer for the third tree is a prayer to look forward instead of back.
To reach out instead of withdraw.
To take chances instead of staying safe.
To laugh instead of cry.
To forgive instead of regret.
To hope instead of despair.
To live instead of dream of what might have been.
To be open instead of closed.
It is a prayer to trust, whatever comes. It is a plea for something more.

It is a prayer that God takes my hands, that I've made into fists, until my knuckles turned white, holding onto dreams long dead, and open them, and hold them, and give me a new dream instead.

It is a prayer for clarity, for vision, for togetherness.

It is a prayer to be free of what once was, of who I was once, and to see beyond.

It is my prayer tonight.

What's yours?