Monday, December 27

And by what we have left undone...

Most merciful God, we confess that we have sinned against you in thought, word, and deed, by what we have done, and by what we have left undone. We have not loved you with our whole heart; we have not loved our neighbors as ourselves. We are truly sorry and we humbly repent, for the sake of your Son Jesus Christ, have mercy on us and forgive us; that we may delight in your will, and walk in your ways, to the glory of your Name. Amen.

I really hate to disappoint anyone who might think there is some sinister person underneath this ordinary-looking girl... because I promise... you'll be underwhelmed. But let me confess what I can.

- I am still thrilled when I wake up and I am here. Even if here is cold and windy and gray, I'm here. I'm so full of joy at every moment I think my heart will explode. You might think we're just getting drinks and sitting at a table and having a normal conversation, but I'm so happy I can hardly stand it. You might think I'm just walking down the street and that I've just read a very funny text message and that's why I'm smiling for no reason... but it's not.

- This experience has made me love my family in a way I never thought possible. I always thought I loved my family as much as one could love their family, but I've also always been so fiercely self-sufficient and stubborn that they were kept just a bit apart. I've learned through showing them my weakness that they really are my agape, no-matter-what support system. And they're amazing.

- I am still excited to use the metro - even as I grumble over their lateness and smelliness and over-brakeyness. I think it's one of the many things that I associate with DC and I'm still fascinated by the idea that I can go from place to place without worrying about my car. Bigger confession: I'm proud of myself for learning how to navigate it seamlessly. It took me long enough.

- Sometimes I think about the friends who have helped me survive here - Regina, Bethany, David, Sarah, Tabitha - and I cry. I cry because the love and grace and kindness they've shown me has allowed me to establish roots here. No matter how I look at it, without them it wouldn't have been possible. I aspire to be that kind of patient, giving person.

And I'm blogging about it. I blog the good and the bad, the struggles and the victories—and I do it because it hurts. But it's a good hurt; it's a growing hurt.

So if anyone seeks to expose me for what I really am, I ask: what do you think I'm doing with these words? I purposefully make myself vulnerable here every single time I update. Through supportive emails and rude ones, through childish google searches or legitimate ones. I am here and I'm not going away. And if that means someone thinks I'm too romantic or dramatic or ridiculous, then I don't want that friend. It really is this simple.