Love Just

A lot can change in a year. When I think back of this time last year, I was a mess and an absolute disaster. My mind was suppressed by the weight of the world and I could cry at the drop of a hat. Nothing was good. Everything was overwhelming. And in every moment of every day it felt like there was no way out.

People said, "this will change," or "it won't be like this forever." I wanted to believe them but when your pillow is wet with tears and your heart feels like it's been shredded into a million pieces, it's hard to imagine a life any different.

But here I am, a year later, and it is different. The things I never thought would change have. And some of the things I've dreamt of for years have finally come to fruition.

I told God a long time ago that I was done building character. After a lifetime of "character building" I felt like I had enough. Already it felt like I had more character than anyone in my immediate life. I figured if everyone else can get through life with minimal character building, then I could too.

God had different plans though. He still has a different plan for my life. I am through one of the most painful seasons of my life and finally on the other side, but I know there will be more. I know God still wants to teach and train and make me more like him. In my human nature and surplus of sin the only way to make that happen is by going through situations that build character and bring wisdom.

As the saying goes, "what goes around, comes around," life has a way of working itself out. Like I said, the things I never imagined actually happening have started happening, and it gives me hope for what's to come and the great plan God has for me.

I can't help but want to share this with others. I want to walk through life with people and give them hope when they are hopeless, cry when they cry, listen when they complain, and point it all back to Jesus. Not all just in my words, but in my actions and ability to love without reserve or judgement.

Like the title of this blog, I want to love just. Not in the ways I think are right or what the world tells me is normal. My God is just. He loves just. And I want to love just like him. I am learning how to do that. It's a learning curve, and one I will always be on, but in time I pray that I would love the way he loves my imperfect, cold, dark heart.

Here's to the story of Easter, the day when Jesus showed the ultimate action of love. No action I ever take will ever compare to what he did that day. Today I am thankful for the love, patience, and plan he has for me.

Thank you. 

Allison Elizabeth

Thank You

It's days like today when I have to thank God for his timing. For his provision and plan for my life. I do not know all the pieces, only the next step, and for now, that's enough. God is enough. His plan is more than I can imagine. I often doubt he is doing anything with me. That I was created and left aside to dry up like old clay, not worth the kiln, cracking all over from the drought that comes from within.

But I am his. I am useful and being used. I am loved despite my flaws. I am forgiven in my sin. I am imperfect and yet perfectly useful.

Thank you Lord, for using me. I am yours and yours alone. Thank you for this joy. Protect me from the evil one. May Satan flee every time I walk in a room, because of your magnificent power that lives in me. I am nothing without you. 

Finding My Voice

One thing I am realizing more and more is how much easier it is to learn from life in retrospect. The further away I get from a given situation, the better my perspective is on it, and the more likely I am to glean from what I went through. It's hard to put your finger on exactly what you're learning in the midst of it, but give it a few months or maybe even years, and chances are you can pinpoint at least one thing you walked away from the situation learning.

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Depression gave me a voice. For someone like myself who holds everything in, buries things in the deepest, most closed off parts of my soul, it's not always easy to vocalize things. I tend to be a stuffer. In my independence I think I should be able to do anything on my own, or at least figure out how to do things I don't already know how to do. In my pride I'm too poised to ask for help. In my shame I'm embarrassed I don't already know how to do the things laid before me.

But through depression all of those things came to a breaking point. Out of pure emotional, physical, and spiritual exhaustion I no longer had the ability nor the will to hold it together. In all honesty, I cried a lot. I cried in the shower, I cried in my bed. I cried in the closet and the kitchen at work. No place was immune to my tears, no person unsafe to let my emotions flow.

There is something very, very humanizing about tears. Although there are few out there in the world who might be able to cry on command, few humans actually delight in tears enough to share them unless totally, absolutely, utterly necessary. The beauty (and pain) of tears is that you can't control them. They are one of those things that just seem to happen. They are an outward manifestation of the inner state of your soul and intentionally invite others to join in your story, whether you intended for that or not.

In all my fear, shame, guilt, pride, and independence, depression broke down every one of those walls allowing rivers of tears to fall. In those tears I very unintentionally but necessarily invited others into my story. As you well know, when the tears fall, it's hard to hold back. Before you have a chance to wipe those first tears, you're spilling your soul and every honest emotion in it.

I'm so mad at God
Why is life so difficult 
I can't live like this anymore
I need help 
This isn't fair 
I am so scared 
My anxiety is overwhelming 
Why do I have to do this alone 
Why doesn't anyone notice me 
How can I fix my problems
Will life always be like this

I don't like to complain. We all do it sometimes, but I try not to overdo it or make small things out to be much bigger than they are. I hate to be the boy who cries wolf and I definitely don't want to be that annoying girl avoided by many and ignored by most because she always seems to be griping about something. However, by default of these things I often don't say or do anything. I don't ask for help. I don't invite others in or vocalize what I'm experiencing. While this may seem valiant to some, it also paralyzes me in a state of total anxiety and segregates me into a helpless world of my own where I drown in fear of life itself.

Depression has begun to change all that. Through depression I cried. Through tears I invited others in. Through the honesty of my tears and emotions I asked for help. I am no longer a prisoner of my independence. My soul has a voice. I may still be learning when and how to use it, but I know it's there, and like a young infant oohing and awing, I will one day have more words than you can count and they'll be my very best advocate.

The Other Side

It's amazing how quickly life can steal your joy. It can bring great pleasures you can't help but revel in, and then it can steal it away in the blink of an eye. As the old saying goes, "when life gives you lemons, make lemonade," but what happens when life goes ahead and spoils the lemonade with a gallon of gasoline?

I also find it fascinating how quickly things can turn. One minute you're celebrating and engagement or a new job, the next you're mourning the loss of all joy and putting all the energy you have towards just getting out of bed in the morning.

The thing is, there is often no good answer as to why things change so quickly. Or why they change at all. Sure there are the obvious answers...losing someone you love, getting let go from a job that's your only source of income, balancing a delicate friendship or breaking up with the person you thought was "the one." But more often than not, the tough seasons of life come out of nowhere with no real good reason and no great way of getting out of it.

Life takes time. As I get older I see this more and more. Even though time flies, somehow the days still manage to feel like weeks and the weeks like years. There is nothing longer than a bad day, and when those days start piling up, all of the sudden you feel stuck. Totally, utterly, stuck. With no end in sight, and the weight of the world on your shoulders.

I hate that it takes so long to get through these seasons. I hate that the "good" seasons fly by quicker than you can savor the moments.

I've been so plagued by bad days in the last few year's that I can't help but feel like the good days are fleeting...on the verge of being guillotined faster than King Henry VIII could find a new wife. It's a terrible way to live life and a mentality I'm trying to change.

It's a weird thing being on the other side...the good side I mean. Now that my good days finally outnumber the bad, I see myself in the place I once saw everyone else. Is it sad that it feels genuinely weird to be happy? Yes, probably a little sad, but a good thing nonetheless and a part of life everyone probably experiences at one point or another, but doesn't necessarily talk about.

One thing I can appreciate (I use this term loosely) about going through difficult seasons is that they prepare me for going through similar seasons with others around me. On my most difficult days I mostly just wanted someone to hear me out, let me cry, and validate my frustrations as best as possible. Sure, encouragement is a great thing and holds high value, but that's honestly the last thing I want to hear when I am plain ol' pissed at life. So, now, as I see others through difficult seasons, the least I can do is listen to a friend when she just needs to vent, console her when she cries, and be at least a little pissed at life if it makes her feel better. Because this is true friendship...meeting others exactly where they are at, engaging in their story, and doing life together.

Yes and No

Lazy mornings around this part are few and far between. I can't remember the last time I had an empty day, one where there was nothing to do, nowhere to go, and sips of coffee to fill every moment of it.

I often wish I was one of those people that thrived on busyness. It seems like most people in my life have full schedules and lives and they're eager to get to every minute of it. These people I envy, because I fall into the other category. My life is full, for which I am grateful because of what that represents (friends, a job, family, a home, etc.) but instead of craving just one more lunch date or a few more minutes talking with this person or that, I crave home. I crave time in my pajamas unwinding from hectic days. I crave moments in the kitchen making my own meal and minutes before bed where I can open a book forcing my eyes to close as the sun finds it's home beneath the ocean floor.

It's in those moments where I begin to feel human again. Sometimes all I want is nothing more than to turn my cell phone off, close my laptop, shut down the T.V., and just be. I don't do that very well. There is usually a list to be crossed off one monotonous task at a time, not to mention the daily tasks that don't quite make a list and are equally as unlikely to get done. In all honestly, I'm lucky if I even get to the list.

I'm not sure when all of this happened. Is it part of growing up? Is this how my parents felt when they were my age? Is this how everyone feels?

I don't want to be someone so absorbed in life that I miss out on the small things in life. I don't want to miss so many small things that I start missing out on moments that turn into days, that build into weeks that somehow turn into years where I don't know what I've done and can't remember where I've been.

I want to savor life. I want to enjoy the small things and the big things. I want to soak up the sun and taste every morsel of food that enters my mouth. I want to truly engage in conversation, prodding for more instead of being short with my words, hoping every last line closes the conversation allowing me to finally drive home in a fury of desperation to shut down my mind and become one with Netflix.

It recently came to my attention that I am pretty tightly wound. High strung. Overstimulated. All of the above if you will. Not only am I overstimulated, but I'm overwhelmed by all that life requires of me. It's time I start practicing my "no" so I can embrace my "yeses". Saying "no" to what drains me allows me to say "yes" to the things that energize and recharge me. Saying no means I can embrace the moments of my day and the people in it. Saying no means I let go of what society expects of me and do what brings me joy. After all, allowing joy to permeate my life is much more valuable to society than whatever task I might cross off the perpetual list that lives in my mind. I promise you.

Happiness vs. Joy

This morning I sat in a pseudo-staff meeting. I say "pseudo" because when working at a church your staff meetings tend to be a lethal combination of information, conversation, church service and spiritual boot camp all rolled into a nice little package that usually leaves you with more questions than you have answers.

One of the first things brought up in the meeting was "what's the difference between happiness and joy?". Numerous people offered their best answers, some taking a shot in the dark at what the real answer might be. I'm not sure if we landed on an official answer (this happens a lot in such meetings also), but the different answers I heard did get me thinking.

Happiness is circumstantial, joy is permanent.
Happiness is short-term, joy is long-term.
Happiness comes from outside circumstances, joy come from within.
Happiness is in the moment, joy is eternal.

These were some of the key responses that stood out to me. The running theme being that happiness is good, but joy is better.

My goal in 2013, my New Year's Resolution so to speak, was and still is to be happy this year. That's it. Simple enough in my mind. In year's past I've chosen a word or verse to live by, or even challenged myself with the typical watch-more-news, read-more, lose-weight type of resolutions that usually only stick for a few weeks at best. After a few crappy years where none of that seemed to work, I decided it was best to put aside the change-me, fix-me, grow-me, strengthen-me, build-more-character mottos of my former self aside. I decided it was time to just be happy.

I honestly don't know exactly what I've done to embrace this mentality, but we're 3 months in and I can actually see growth. For once in a long while my good days outnumber the bad and when friends text to ask how I am doing I can finally respond honestly with "good!" instead of fighting myself not to list off every complaint, frustration, and anxiety I feel.

What I am learning is that time heals. My mom always says that "nothing good or bad lasts forever" and it couldn't be more true. Some things take longer than others, but through both seasons there is potential for growth.

So while some may see happiness as the short-changed version of joy, I see it as a step towards joy. For someone who is wildly depressed, a happy day is no more realistic than unicorns dancing on the moon. I've been there. But after more tears than I can measure and enough hurt to fill the ocean, I see change. Eventually the happy days, spread too far apart, begin to inch closer and closer together until they merge and become one. Eventually those happy days bring light into the darkness and turn into joy. Happy days are like a flashlight in a dark room. They may not light up the whole room, but at least you can find the light switch.

My happy days are finally starting to merge and I am thankful. So very thankful.

Allison Elizabeth

My View

I've been going on a lot of walks lately. Sometimes I circle my neighborhood round and round, other times I venture to the hillsides of Orange County, the one gently wedged between the freeway and the Ocean. It's a beautiful thing really...seeing the freeway disappear into the distance as the hilly landscape consumes my view, eventually birthing an ocean that feels so close, and yet so far.

Walking has been the only form of exercise that has sounded even remotely appealing lately. My exercising seems to rotate in patterns, and right now I can't help but crave fresh air and the white noise that comes from both city life and nature's cry. Sometimes I bask in the silence, other times I drown out my thoughts with music. On occasion I am even joined by a friend to keep conversation afloat as my feet hit the pavement step after step. All experiences are welcome, and sometimes craved.

I guess you could say walking creates a fantastic opportunity for self-reflection as well. In the stillness of life as I leaves steps behind me, my brain has the chance to think (or not think) about whatever it wants. It's good to let the mind run free sometimes...it's good for the soul.

One of the key things I've noticed actually has to do with how I walk. I don't know if you've ever paid attention to how you walk, but it's worth considering. As I take each step I realize I am constantly looking at the step before me, head hung low, eyes on the ground. If it's pavement I'm hitting then cracks and splotches of gum are what catch my eye. And if their is earth beneath me, then you can be sure I'm looking for sticks and stones, cracks, grooves, and puddles of water. Like a child following the, "step on a crack, break your mama's back" motto, I avoid cracks like the plague and puddles as if I were the wicked witch of the south. I can't say for sure, but I'm guessing I have some sub-concious concern about tripping to my own death.

So why does this matter? It matters because it means that as I carefully watch each step occur and pass me by, I am missing out on the incredible view before me. If only I lift my head just a few inches, my view is filled with beauty and a greater perspective on all that lies before me. Each step I focus on, I miss out on the big picture.

I spend a lot of my life living this way. Today is all I have and all I am called to do anything with. Matthew 6:34 says, " Therefore do not worry about tomorrow for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own." Somehow I manage to worry about both today AND the future.  I question the future as much as I stress about the present, literally causing myself physical pain in some instances. In all my worry and stress, I forget to lift my head. I miss out on the beauty that surrounds me and the vastness of life. I forget what brought me here and why I have a life worth living.

Life is so much bigger than the steps before or behind me. It's bigger than the questions I have or the worries I face. Now is the time to lift my head and remember why I was put on this earth. I was created for so much more than worry.