Brilliant Art; Beautiful Tension

(Apologies in advance for another longish post.)


So, there is a song that speaks to my heart.  Deeply.

Actually, there are a lot of songs that do that.  I like music.  It’s something I thrive on and often identify with on numerous levels.  Some music speaks to my place in life, some to my views on life, some to my views on my place in life, some to what my views on my place in life should be, and more (If you followed that, kudos).  I listen to a lot of different music, and I get hooked on artists pretty easily.  Right now, I’m hooked on NEEDTOBREATHE.  They’re amazing, and their music is wonderfully thought-provoking, among other things.  As you've probably guessed, I’m a lyrics person.  I can listen to almost any genre as long as it has good lyrics.  So I’d like to share with you some of my recent pondering over the lyrics of, what else?, a NEEDTOBREATHE song that happens to build and break my heart.

It’s called Streets of Gold, and it’s from the album, The Heat.  Highly recommended.  Here are the lyrics, although it would be much better if you just looked it up on YouTube and listened to it or something...

“I want you to know
I'm leaving to let you go
One day we'll walk upon
Streets of gold

I don't remember seeing fear in your eyes
When you were fading
The day we said our goodbyes
It's easy to say that there's a reason for this
Much harder to know
That what we say is true

Everything we hold could someday slip away

I want you to know
I'm leaving to let you go
And someday we'll walk upon
The streets of gold

Running through your veins was a slow-ticking clock
Counting down the days
And no one could make it stop
All of the time that it takes to figure it out
Could be the moments
That you can't live without

Everything we hold could someday slip away

I want you to know
I'm leaving to let you go
And someday we'll walk upon
The streets of gold

The trouble with love is that it comes to an end
I've got a feeling I'm gonna find you again
Just in a place where love can't die”


I’ll admit now that I’m not exactly sure what the writers were really thinking about when they wrote this song.  I can’t guess and I won’t try.  But I’m going to talk about what it means to me, which likely has nothing to do with what it meant to them.

To me, this song speaks of a relationship between a young man and woman, full of young love and wild dreams, being surrendered for the following of Christ’s call.  He’s saying that he’s leaving her so that she can follow Christ better, and promising that one day they will meet again after death.  He’s giving her up to pursue God, knowing that he won’t get another chance to be with her in this life.  Every word in this song resonates with me when I listen to it through that filter.  Because that’s exactly where I’m at.

I want to get married SO BAD.  I long for a husband, a leader, a partner, a teammate to do life with.  I have a dream in my head of marrying my hero, living in the country together, raising a family to love Christ, and being part of a Church body that’s passionate about loving God and serving others (that last bit is way more complicated than I make it sound, but that’s the super super simplified version.  Sort of).  That’s my dream.  But lately God has been showing me that the dreams of people don’t always come true.  He’s shown me a lot of young women who have had to sacrifice the dream of marriage to answer His call to service - in Africa, in Mexico, in Guatemala, even right at home.  He’s shown me that if I want to love Him with all my heart, I’m going to have to follow Him wherever He wants me to go.  And I’m not sure of anything, but I feel Him calling me.  Maybe to Africa, maybe to Haiti, maybe to a church right in my home state that needs reviving (I’ve been thinking a lot about that lately, too).  One thing I do know, though, is that God will not give me a husband unless I have learned to set aside the husband-dream and make Him my priority.  Because God wants my whole heart, not part of it.  Part isn't enough.

A portion of the draw this song has for me is this:  In my mind, he is promising that one day they will see each other again, and things will be better then anyway.  But the unsaid truth is that things will be better because they will be out of the brokenness of the world, not because they are together.  They will be in a place where everything has been put in its rightful place - and that means God will be number one, and nothing else will matter compared to Him.  Their surrendered relationship will mean nothing, because God will be their complete and utter focus.  The promise he gives is not that they will be able to get back together, but that the loss of their relationship will mean nothing in comparison to the relationship they will have gained with God.

“I’m leavin' to let you go,” he says, explaining that if either of them hold on, then God will not be their priority like He should be.  “Someday we’ll walk upon the streets of gold,” is his reassurance that even though the leaving now is hard, it will be worth the struggle because of God.

But it’s the final lines that get me:  “The trouble with love is that it comes to an end; I've got a feeling I’m gonna find you again, just in a place where love can’t die.”  This, to me, is longing.  His longing to be with her again, believing that he will, in a place where their love can be better than it ever could have been before.  But then what about God?  He wants her love, but His is still better and greater.  And he knows that, and he’s saying that too, but the longing in this is real, and the purpose behind this line is, in my mind, twofold.  There’s the tension.

Despite my longing to have a husband and be a wife, there is a much deeper, much greater longing inside me.  It is the longing to be God’s beloved child.  It is the longing to take part in His Greater Story, which means, eventually, a place where love can’t die.  Which means perfection.  No more brokenness.  But it’s so, so easy to just think about marriage.  My earthly desire - which is good, and is healthy - overshadows my desire for God - which is when it gets messy.  When I think of those lines, I have trouble knowing if I’m thinking of the perfection of God’s presence, or the idea of being with my human love.  Earlier in the song, that struggle is pinpointed rather aptly:

“It’s easy to say that there’s a reason for this, much harder to know that what we say is true.”

Boom!  What a beautiful, terrible, tense, and amazing struggle.  What a grueling battle.  What a snapshot of reality.

It’s so, so easy for me to say that I will follow God with all my heart, and love Him more than any other person.  It’s easy for me to say I will take a year off of dating to “fall more in love with God”, to say that I want to love God most.  It’s so much harder to actually follow, to actually love Him most, to take that year and actually make it about Him.  God is number one!  Why is it so hard for me to keep Him there?

But at the same time, He made men and women for each other.  We do not feel complete without each other because, well, in a lot of ways we aren’t.  And a truly God-honoring relationship is one in which man and wife continually point each other back to Him.  Together, they reach for Him, they fall more in love with Him, they strive for Him.  For that place where love can’t die because they know that their love for each other will never be enough.  They know they need His love, and they’re reaching for that together.  I want that, so badly.

So I face the tension of my desire for a husband and my desire for God.  Both are good and healthy, to say the least, but it’s easy to distort the former.  It’s easy to make a man my god.  That’s why this song resonates with me.  Because it is my knowledge that God could make me let go of men in order to love Him most.  But it’s my hope, my prayer, that He will give me a man to pursue Him alongside.  This song is my life, and yet my death.  Dying to the idea of marriage so that I can come to life in God, all the while hoping, so deeply, that I’ll get lost in Him enough that He’ll decide to give me a husband.  But it’s not a bargaining chip.  It’s a relationship.  There’s no perfect point that I will reach in loving God that He’ll say, “okay, you love me this much, so I guess I can give you a man.”  No.  There’s only love.  He won’t let me get married until it no longer matters to me whether I do or don’t.  Until I’m so in love with Him that I really know that He is all I need.  It’s easy to say He’s all I need.  Much harder to know it as true, to really know it in my heart.

So my heart sings this song for God.  I’m not dating anyone, so it’s not like I’m breaking up with someone for this.  But the principle is similar.  My heart sings this song because it’s what I need.  He’s who I need.  And maybe one day I will believe that so deeply that I don’t even want to get married.  And right now, that thought scares me.  But that’s the point.  If I ever get there, then it won’t scare me any more.  That would be fine with me.

Real-Life Neverland . . . or is that an oxymoron?

The rediculously long post about an adventure, mid-processing.


Sorry for the posting delay, but my mind has been racing since I got home yesterday.  I don't think posting a day late makes a huge difference, though.  In any case, I'm not even close to finished processing the events of the past few days, but I have lots to say.  Maybe I can get some of my thoughts hashed out on here.

Here's a bit of preamble:  I have a really awesome friend who moved several hours away a few months ago.  He's come back quite a bit this summer, so I've gotten to see him, but when he's at home I miss him a lot.  I have a feeling he misses all his friends, too.  This week, some of our other awesome friends and I took a road trip to his house to surprise him and spend a few days there visiting before the summer ended.  There were five of us; three guys and two girls.  This trip is what caused my posting delay and what inspires the points I'm about to attempt to cover.


First of all, I'd like to talk about group dynamics.

It takes a very unique group of people to come together like this and share the experiences that we did.  I was constantly baffled by the maturity and general amazingness of the people I was surrounded by.  What I experienced there was something I value highly and am so, so thankful for.

Throughout the trip, neither me nor the other girl had to open our own car doors more than a few times, because the guys would beat us to it.  They held doors for us, let us borrow their towels at the beach, did favors for us, and were absolute gentlemen the whole time.  I pointed this out at one point, and they all expressed disappointment that us girls didn't experience such treatment more often.  This is just another reason that I appreciate them so much.  Their kind of behavior is what I believe distinguishes boys from men.  All three of them I consider to be good and Godly men - and that is a high compliment coming from me.  I wish I saw that more often, but I am so, so thankful that I know these people.

Though we spent a lot of time going places and doing things, being active and exciting, we also spent a lot of time just talking.  And the things we talked about were extremely impressive to me as well.  All five of us continually carried on conversations that whispered of depth and passion that doesn't usually come out in casual discussion.  We didn't all know each other very well before the trip, but we never once struggled for common ground.  Our conversations were refreshingly mature and never seemed to be destructive.  Instead there was pursuit of understanding coming from everyone, and genuine care expressed toward everyone in almost every interaction.  I don't know of many groups of people who are so consistently honoring to each other.

There's so much more I could say about this, but I'll settle with one last point.  Remembering my post, The Greatest of These, I'd like to say that these four friends of mine are probably the most loving people that I am blessed to be friends with.  They make conscious efforts to build each other up instead of tearing each other down, and though there is friendly banter, it is nearly always done with an undertone of care and respect and followed by confirmation that the banter is born of love.  I so, so appreciate seeing that in them, and I can only hope that the way I acted toward them was similar.


Second, I'm bringing back up the talk on adventure.

We had so much fun that I have trouble knowing where to begin.  It comes from the fact that I was with people I enjoy, experiencing life, instead of sitting around writing about it.  So much fun was had, crazy things done, laughs shared, and life enjoyed.  But the number one greatest part of it, to me, was that it was an adventure.  This is not to say that we were always in danger and always discovering, but there were many great and beautiful moments.  In A Heart for Adventure, I gave a list of sorts full of reasons that I love adventure.  Let's look at that list in juxtaposition with some of the things we did.

I said I wanted to be in danger, to be scared.
When we went to the beach, we swing danced in the water.  I did a flip and ended up with my face in the water, and inhaled quite a bit of it.  I came up coughing and gasping, and I was pretty scared.  But I was surrounded by gentlemen who held me up and made sure that I was all right.  They didn't move until I had recovered.  So I felt safe.
When a huge thunderstorm rolled in on our last evening, we all sat on the back porch to feel the wind and watch the amazing lightning.  I am scared of thunderstorms, so it was scary but breathtakingly beautiful.  When the rain came, we decided to swing dance in the storm.  I ran out to my car, alone, in the pouring rain and darkness to get my shoes.  I was absolutely terrified.  When I was a few feet from the car, the sky and the earth lit up brighter than the daytime with a huge, long blast of fork lightning.  I stood frozen for a moment in fear and awe, and I will remember that image forever.  In that moment I breathed a quiet prayer, and then hurried to grab my shoes and get back inside.  When I got back to the house and my friends, the thrill of the fear and safety of the house made me praise God so passionately for protecting me even as He showed me His amazing power.
Those few minutes gave me the boldness to pull on my shoes and go out into the backyard to dance with my friends in the middle of the rain and the storm.  I was overflowing with a mix of fear and excitement - knowing I was in danger but trusting in God's protection.  It was absolutely beautiful, and an experience I will always, always treasure.
Feeling scared makes feeling safe so much more valuable.

I said I wanted to be surrounded by unrest and uncertainty.
Not necessarily on this trip, but in my life there are a lot of stresses and worries coming at me at almost all times.  My grandmother has cancer and is on her deathbed.  I'm starting college next week and I'm not at all prepared.  My brother almost failed the summer class he was taking, which would have made him very upset, and he got his wisdom teeth removed on Tuesday, so he's been in a lot of pain.  The list goes on.
But when I was on this trip, I was filled with beautiful, wonderful peace.  The first night, we stayed outside under the stars for hours.  We talked, laughed, jumped and laid on a trampoline, watching the sun set and the stars come out.  It was so encouraging, so wonderful to relax and just be, with my friends around me.  Several times the next day, I found myself lying on the floor in the living room surrounded by people singing and playing wonderful music.  At one point we all gathered there and sang worship songs together.  The relaxation that brought me, to be worshiping God together, was stunning.
Feeling unrest makes feeling peaceful so much deeper.

I said I wanted to be surrounded by noise.
The friend we were visiting has three younger brothers, who all enjoyed nothing more than following me around the house showing me things, telling me jokes and stories, and asking me question after question.  I enjoyed this so much, because they're all amazingly unique, fun, and talented, but it sometimes wore me out more than I expected it to.
One night when the boys had all gone to bed hours before, and my friends and I had decided to turn in for the night, I went up to the guest room to find the other girl already fast asleep.  Wide awake, I sat at the window for twenty minutes - maybe more - soaking in the silence of the night.  The wind blew the summer air through the room, the full moon shone in the sky, and I watched four red lights blink out of sync on the horizon.  I rested my chin on my forearm along the windowsill and thanked God for the life that he had so graciously blessed me with.  The quiet was so refreshing.
Being surrounded by noise makes the quiet so much stronger.

I also said that I wanted to be scared because it makes me feel alive.  Oh, how I felt the life inside me when I held the hands of my friends to dance, the rain soaked my skin, and the lightning flashed across the whole sky.

I said I wanted to discover because it opened my eyes wider.  The beautiful country, the beach, the sky - they opened my eyes so wide that I never wanted to look away.

I said I wanted to get dirty because it teaches and toughens me.  The rocky yard and the hot sand toughened my tender feet and covered them with dirt.  The sticky ice cream all over my hands made me happy to lick my fingers and feel crazy messy.

I said I wanted to experience the world because it gives me reverence for God's creation.  Words cannot describe the immenseness of the beautiful things I saw and felt.  This world is amazing and God gets all the credit for making it so wonderful.


Finally, I'm going to look at the phrase, "falling in love."

I've never believed in "falling in love."  At least, not the kind that pop culture would like me to believe in.  Pop culture says that "falling in love" is something purely emotional that you can't control and shouldn't want to control because it's always good all the time.  This is wrong for a lot of reasons, but most importantly, because it completely misses the definition of the word love.  What it's really defining is infatuation; and it's only good until it burns out - then it can be terrible.  I don't think that's a very good thing to base my life decisions on, so I don't believe in pop-culture falling in love.

I have recently been provoked to think of a more real, Christian definition for the phrase.  I can understand that love in that sense would be more real and more true to its original definition, but I continue to trip up on the word "fall."  Love, in the realer sense, is not something you fall into.  That implies that what you are doing is a mistake, an accident, and with unintended consequence.  That is not what I believe love to be.  I believe that love is a choice.  Love is something you decide to do, decide to be to someone because you care more about them than you do yourself.  The consequence of that is something you walk willingly into.

But this week, God showed me that I can, in fact, fall in love.  No, not with a person.  That’s another talk entirely.  With a place.  The first night we were there, completely unwillingly, without any intention, suddenly I realized that I loved the country.  My friend lives very close to town, but far enough away that his house has suburbs just down the road but country beyond its road.  The field in his backyard is beautiful.  The trees are amazing.  The sunsets are flawless.  The wind off the lake is wonderful.  I was constantly in awe of the quietness, the space that his home was surrounded by.  Two of the three mornings, I went out to the trampoline and just sat there, soaking up the wonders surrounding me and basking in the glory of God's creation.  I couldn't help but worship, nearly every time I really looked around me.  God is so good!

I have known for a while that I want to live in the country one day, but I had never really been in the country to confirm this.  By the time I realized what it was about the place that made me love it so much (the space, the expanse of God-creation instead of houses or businesses), I was so lost in the beauty that I didn't want to leave it.  I know I'm probably saying the same thing over and over again now, but I'm so in love!  Maybe it isn't the kind of love that I tried to put into the phrase "falling in love" earlier, but oh, is it love.  I'm lost in the beauty.  God taught me this week that I could fall in love with His creation, by giving me creation to fall in love with.  I didn't decide it was beautiful.  I just, suddenly, knew that it was.  And it makes me want to live in the country all the more.

I guess I would call that a controlled fall.  It wasn't recklessly born or handled, but it so wasn't what I expected.  God gave me something beautiful though, and I fully intend to appreciate the greatness and beauty of His creation.



Now, I know this was probably big enough to be three separate posts, but they all fall under the category of thoughts and ideas and ramblings and in-betweens that came from my trip this week.  I don't really feel the need to separate them.  This is just a small taste of what came as a result of those days with my friends, and there's still so, so much more that I am processing.  Maybe I will write more about that later, maybe not.  Either way, it's been amazing.  Coming home felt like losing a part of myself.  But it was worth every second I spent there.

The Greatest of These . . .

Often when I’m spending time with people, especially my friends, I tend to forget about one of the biggest reasons that I have chosen to be with them:  Love.

In my friend group, we know each other fairly well.  And our care for each other is often assumed, and not actively communicated.  So instead we say and do the things that will more likely encourage laughter and entertainment than anything else.  Sarcasm takes the place of encouragement.  Harassment becomes the norm.  We think we do it to laugh, to just be having fun with friends.  But it becomes all we do - laugh at each others' expense - all the time.  And we think we're building lasting relationships?  What we think is endearing turns out to be demeaning.  And I'm sick of it.

I love my friends so much, and I want them to know that I do.  I think sometimes that truth gets lost in the chaos of us all just messing around and teasing each other all the time.  So I've decided to spend more time affirming my friends.  I spend time with them because I think they're great people, and when they say or do things that I particularly appreciate, I want them to know it.

A lot of my friends have younger siblings who I really respect and appreciate. They're smart, fun, hilarious, and just plain cool.  I love talking, joking, interacting with them, because they are interesting - and I love affirming them because they deserve to know how cool they are.  Something in me is desperate to communicate to my friends' younger brothers/sisters that they are appreciated - maybe because in my family, I AM the younger and I know how it feels to live in a shadow, feeling unappreciated.  Whatever the motivation, I enjoy affirming them.  And I don't think that's a bad thing.  But I don't just affirm them because they are children of God and I want them to feel loved (though that is definitely reason enough) - I do so also because I really DO think they're cool.  I really do respect them, and I do find them interesting.  Just as I do their older siblings, those in my actual friend group.  Yet I almost never compliment or affirm my friends, and I definitely actively hide how much I appreciate and care about them.  Why?  To protect myself?  Am I worried I'll be judged for caring?

Or am I worried I'll end up caring too much, and not be able to take anything back?

It doesn't matter.  It's not about me.  These people are amazing and unique and blessed individuals.  I love them and respect them and appreciate their presence in my life so much.  And they deserve to know it.

1 Corinthians 13 is packed with descriptors of the word love, and verse 13 says, “And now these three remain:  faith, hope, and love.  But the greatest of these is love.”

The greatest is love, right?  I want people to know I love them.  Yes, maybe that can be inferred when I'm just teasing them, but I'd rather there be no room for doubt.  If I care about someone, I want them to know it.  And I want to make a greater effort to make it known.  It starts here, with me.  I'm going to love my friends actively, not passively.  They need to know how much I care just as much as their siblings do.  They deserve to know.  And I need to stop trying to protect myself, and just TELL them.  If I think their t shirt is cool.  If I like their singing voice.  If I enjoy their company.  If I admire their witty joke.  Whatever it may be.  I want those I love to know that I love them.  There should never be a question about how much I care about someone in my life.  And I pray that I can make my feelings known to those around me, enough that there never is a doubt.  Because however unusual it is in our culture to compliment someone I’m not romantically interested in, it’s always worth saying.  My friends are awesome, for so many reasons.  I truly love them.  And I want them to know it.

I want to actively love.

Friends, if you see this, please hold me to it.

Homecoming

No, not the football game.

So there's this really awesome thing I know of, that has been brewing in the back of my mind for a very, very long time. I'm not sure when it started, but a long time ago, I watched a cheesy tear-jerker video on YouTube, a compilation of videos of American soldiers returning home to their families after serving who-knows-how-long overseas.  Predictably, I bawled while watching.  And then I found another one, watched it, and cried again.  And then I found another one.  I don’t know how many I watched, but I know I cried quite a lot that day.  And then, several years later, a similar video was shown at a retreat I went on with my youth group.  And I remembered the day that I watched those videos, over and over again, and I cried again.  And I started thinking about why.  It helped that the speaker used it as an illustration in his talk, so I started to understand the meaning behind it.

But I didn’t keep thinking about it.  I buried the thoughts and the tears and forgot again.

And then a few months ago I got thinking about something else.

"I just finished reading one of the most amazing books I have ever read.  And you can bet that that means I cried while reading it at least twice.  But the second time - the last page - was much more intense than the first time.  Because a boy who had almost never been shown true love and recognition for his extraordinary talents, a boy who had never felt the care of a parent or mentor who loved him unconditionally, was finally brought home.  To his real parents.  And they loved him.  I wept."

The day I wrote that was the day I finally got it.

Because there’s something inherently beautiful about “coming home.”  And not only beautiful, but longed for.  In all of us.  Who doesn’t want, at some point in their life, to enter into a place where they are welcomed with open arms, unconditional love, and genuine appreciation?  Because what is “home” after all?  “Where the heart is”?  Maybe so, but it’s deeper than that.  “Home,” to me, is where I am safe.  Where I am loved.  Where I can go and know that no one else will attack me, no one will cause me to doubt my own value.  Home is where I feel that I belong.  And maybe that's what "where the heart is" is really supposed to mean.

But, you see, as beautiful as it is to watch those soldiers receive their tearful flying-hugs, as amazing as it is to read about the boy who found his parents, that isn’t really home either.

Because those homes, they are broken.  Not they “can be” broken.  But they are broken.  Inherently.  Because of sin.  No “home” on this earth can or will ever be perfect.  As safe, as loved, as valuable as I feel in my home, something or someone can always enter in and break that image.  My “home” is imperfect.  So is yours.

Sad, isn’t it?

But there is one home that is perfect.  It’s called Heaven (or New Heaven New Earth, but that's another topic.  For this post I'm just going to refer to the "good afterlife" of sorts as Heaven).  And that’s relieving.  That’s exciting.  That’s beautiful.

This inherent desire in me, to be safe, to be loved, to be valued and cared for and every other longing that I place under the title of “feeling at home” - it can all be found there.  And so much more (i.e. "Adventure").

Because of God.  Because it is His perfect and wonderful creation, existing untouched by sin, unaltered by brokenness.  This is where I may one day stand - or kneel or lie with my face to the ground - in front of God to hear Him welcome me into His presence by name.  Because He loves me.  And His love is greater than any I will ever feel.  Than any I could ever know aside from Him.

That is beautiful.

That is what I want.

I want to come home.  Home to God's presence, where life is real and perfect.  Where sin is nonexistent, where I know I belong, with the One I belong to.

My Father's house is the only homecoming I need.  It is the ultimate homecoming.

And while I am committed to living my life out on earth for as long as God wants me here doing His work, I’m so excited to go to Heaven.  I don’t know anything about it, but I know it will be amazing.  And that's All I Need To Know.

A Heart for Adventure

Thoughts from a teenage girl about voyaging, post-voyage . . .


I just re-read The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, by C. S. Lewis.  If you've read it in the last year, you may understand what I'm about to address.  If you've never read it, please do so now.  It is a very good book.  If you have read it but not in the last year, by all means, read it again.  Anyway, when I had gotten to about the last quarter of the book, something occurred to me.  The characters of this book are on an adventure.  And that may seem like an obvious point if you've read the book, but let's let that sink in for a moment all the same.  They are not just on some little escapade during which they might stop at home for a lunch break.  They are not in their basement with a video game controller in each of their hands staring at a television.  They are really, truly, on an adventure.  Let’s look up the definition of that word for a moment...

1. an exciting or very unusual experience.
2. participation in exciting undertakings or enterprises: the spirit of adventure.
3. a bold, usually risky undertaking; hazardous action of uncertain outcome.

Well, the first two points are rather predictable, but re-read number three: a bold, usually risky undertaking; hazardous action of uncertain outcome.  Wow!  I'd say that's a pretty accurate definition of what's going on here.  And in the midst of reading about this real adventure, and realizing that it is in fact an adventure, I learned something about myself:

I want to go on an adventure.

What's that?  A teenage girl who's unhealthy scared of spiders, who couldn't stand up to a well-rested six-year-old, who happens to specialize in crumpling to the ground when she feels her space has been invaded, wants to go on an ADVENTURE?

Yup.  You got that right.

I often hear people talk about how a thirst for adventure is very near to the heart of every man and boy.  In essence, that males wish to be challenged, and to face that challenge and overcome it.  They wish to conquer, to discover, to claim, to win.  And I believe that all of that is true.  It's one of the things I really like about males.  Y’know, cause I’m a female and I like males.  Pretty crazy, I know.  But something I almost never hear is talk about a thirst for adventure near to the heart of every woman.  And that makes me sad, because it's something that I believe to be very important.

I think a common misconception is that women don't want to go on adventures because adventures are uncertain and unsafe.  People often think that women prefer to be safe, to be looked after and protected, to be peaceful, to be quiet, to be constant.  And to some extent I think they are right.  I do enjoy those things.  But there's more to it than that:

Why would I desire safety if there was nothing dangerous to be safe from?
Why would I desire peace if my life did not also include unrest?
Why would I desire quiet if there wasn't also noise?

I want to go on an adventure because I long for these things.
I want to be in danger, to be scared - to be terrified - because being protected, being looked after will mean so much more.
I want to see unrest, to be stuck in the middle of wild, untamable uncertainty - because then, finding peace will feel so much deeper.
I want to hear everything, noise upon noise coming at me all at once, overwhelming me with volume - because when it ends, quiet will be so much more real.

One cannot truly be appreciated without the other.

But that all said, there are more reasons that I want adventure!

I want to be scared because it makes me feel alive.
I want to discover because seeing new things opens my eyes wider.
I want to get dirty because it teaches me and toughens me.
I want to experience the world because it gives me reverence for God’s beautiful creation.

The list goes on.

The point is, I am a girl, and I want to go on an adventure.  I want to be swept off my feet and taken somewhere new.  Right now, the one who does that is God.  And that will never, ever change.  But I believe that one day He will give me a man who will make my adventures exciting in a new way.  One day the man I love will knock on my door, sweep me off my feet, and take me somewhere new.  Maybe somewhere loud and scary and dangerous and unpredictable, so that he can protect me and lead me.  Maybe not.  But wherever I go, whatever I do, however my life unfolds, I believe that it will be an adventure.  With high points and low points, noise and silence, fear and safety, uncertainty and peace.  And that variety will be exciting.

Liftoff

Up goes the landing gear, and across the ocean flies the Boeing 777 . . .


Mechanic flight aside, let me explain my title.  Every once in a while, a human being will use the phrase, "for the record," usually followed by a statement of self-promotion or otherwise noteworthy something that whoever is listening likely didn't know.  Examples: "For the record, I scored the winning goal."  "For the record, I knew you were going to react that way when I told you."  "For the record, he gave us the assignment three weeks ago."

Now, the interesting part of the phrase is that it is not only followed by a statement.  Often there is either a spoken or an implied "therefore" following the statement.  "I scored the winning goal (therefore I get the credit, not my teammate)."  "I knew you were going to react that way when I told you (therefore your reactions are pretty predictable and I know you pretty well)."  "He gave us the assignment three weeks ago, therefore we had no reason to blame him for our poor grade."

Do you sense the pattern here?  In all of these examples, at least, the "therefore" applies the "for the record" directly to the person who is saying, "for the record."  And what is the record, anyway?  My best guess:  Memory.  Specific people's memory, definitely.  Primarily the memory of the person speaking the phrase, secondarily whomever they are speaking to.  So the funny thing, I think, is this: there is no record at all.  There is only an abundance of recordERs (anyone with the ability to remember (basically, humans. Although there are a few exceptions I suppose)).  So when someone says, "for the record," my best conclusion is that what they really mean to say is, "for those who want to remember."

This blog is a record.  I admit this and embrace it.  "Published" means out there for people to read, and those people are not really in my control.  "Saved" means it has been recorded and it's not going away.  I will write anything and everything that I write with such knowledge.  This blog records, remembers for me.

But more importantly, this blog is for me.  For my remembering.  I want to say things that I think, but often I don't, and very often I think things that I don't want to say - so I write.  And then it will end up here.  This blog is for me.  To spit fire, to breathe ice.  To learn myself, inside-out and upside-down, and then remake myself, inside-in and upside-up, via an amazing little thing called introversion.  Writing and introversion often go hand-in-hand.

But that's beside the point.

The point is, I'm writing so that what I believe can be organized into words, what I feel can be vomited into rants, what I know can be jotted into lists, what I think can be transformed into coherency.  Well - near coherency, at least.  This blog is, by all means, here to entertain you.  But don't think for a second that its about you, what you agree or disagree with, or what you do and don't think I should be saying.  I'm anything but politically correct.

But it's really not about me, either.  That's the irony of it.

It's about remembering.

This blog, in my opinion, is a vessel for remembering.  And that is all that matters.

Like I said, welcome.  And good luck.

Note:  Material that is written and published on this blog is all written by me, unless I say differently.  Therefore you must understand that everything I publish is UN-edited unless I say differently as well, because I don't share this stuff before I publish it.  Everything has been read over anywhere from 2 to 10 times, possibly only as it was being written.  Incompleteness or discrepancies, or even just typos, can be expected and accepted.  For the record.  NOT for 10/10s in quality.  Thanks for taking that into account.