Endorphins: Pain & Pleasure

How Stuff Works

Read that article this morning and it inspired me to post some quick thoughts on the subject.

The lymbic system, hypothalamus, endorphins - my therapist is always bring out his app that shows the map of the brain to help me understand better why my mind often works the way it does. An enthralling article that shows a bit of why people have poor coping skills. Sex and self-harm can meet the exact same needs for people struggling with intense emotional pain. A lot has to do with the endorphins. And while I believe in miracles and that God can do ANYthing, that's not always how He works. We need to trust Him to help us through it His way and in His timing. And often that means reaching to others for help and finding healthy techniques to survive the pain.

You wonder why so many teen girls cut these days? I'd say a good 75% are suppressing emotions that our society shuns and mocks them for. Think about that next time you want to scoff at a girl for crying over a high school breakup. Do you remember the first time your heart broke? It Blows and young girls just don't know how to handle that new kind of intense pain. Ignoring them, or worse, mocking them for their pain. Telling them to suck it up or that they have no idea what "real" pain is. Pain is pain. It sucks and it hurts, to varying degrees for each individual - and dismissing someone's pain out of hand, instead of acknowledging that they hurt is incredibly unhealthy for both of you.

For many young girls in high school today, because they don't know how to handle emotional pain in a healthy manner...they turn to self-mutilation. It helps them survive and while endorphins may not be addictive, this habit conditions our minds. The subconscious understanding that physical pain is a way to keep the emotional pain at bay becomes a bad habit and our go to coping mechanism. And for many, emotional pain is incapacitating, which is unacceptable if you have a job or are in high school. Especially with the stigma towards mental illness in our society.

You don't want to see someone crying? Help them find a healthy outlet. Don't call them an attention whore and add to their pain. They will eventually stop reaching out and look for other solutions. People are crying out for help! Can't you hear it? They hurt. And the ones who aren't probably have scars(although perhaps not visible to the naked eye) somewhere that shows how they handle the pain. If you think you don't know someone like that, you don't know your friends and family as well as you should. They would rather just hide it from you than tell you the truth and be shunned as every person who does, is.

I'm so tired of hurting. And I'm even more tired of hiding that I do. Of hiding the scars, the bruises and the total anguish of each and every day. I can't keep doing this if I want to LIVE. And I do. Very much.

Memories

My memory blows. Like, really really blows. My short-term memory that is. My long-term memory is spot on if I can manage to get something in there. But when it comes to every day life - I'm very likely to offer you a cookie, even though you're amazing and will patiently remind me every time that you don't eat gluton. "Shit! The cookies!!!" is one of the most common phrases I've yelled since I've started baking again. Christmas was four days away and I thought I still had a couple weeks to prepare. In high school I have several recollections of calling Dad to ask him a question and then...Wait - where are you? San Francisco? I thought you promised to tell me when you went out of town! Oh - you did? Well, when will you be back? A week?! And then you head back out for where?......Dad! I really need to know in advance when you're going to be out of town for a month. No - you did not tell me three times!!

:D Dude - I'm not even kidding! People often get frustrated and think they're not important to me because of this flaw. They think that what they say doesn't matter and that's why I don't remember. But that's not true! I can't remember birthdays to save my life! I don't even know all my siblings birthdays or even my parents! And I LOVE Birthdays!!! It's not because they're not important or because I don't love you that I forget. My memory can be So Absolutely Atrocious and it has nothing to do with lack of love or importance or even slacking off. You have no idea the lengths I have gone through to remember something. And then...

...

I've always known this is a major struggle for me, and I've dedicated a lot of time into finding tools to compensate for this weakness. I write everything down when I take an order as a waitress. I set a timer when something's in the oven AND ask people present to remind me I'm cooking. I carry a planner in my purse. I write myself notes. I even label my morning alarm with WHY I have to get up and how long I have to get ready. The compensations help, but often I've realized, finding the right tools to help with a weakness, is easier if you know more about the struggle in question.

One of the reasons I have therapy every week is to figure out root issues, which in turn helps me know what tools I need to learn that will best equip me to handle life better. No one needs every tool and trick to life, and while some are helpful to me, they may not be helpful to you. In the case of my memory - the root issues are extensive, but I've been playing with this puzzle and I think I just put two pieces together. I'm extremely visual. Ok, ok - bear with me. Granted, I'd rather listen to music than watch a movie - it's not that I don't love my sense of hearing. And I actually have horrible eyesight and enjoy that immensely as well.

My memory though - I started noticing certain things recently and this morning I realized that I can't remember things said to me - verbally - like, ever. And I began to wonder why. I love my dreams. I love writing them down as soon as I wake. And I know there's talking in them and if I write down the dream quick enough I can even remember the gist of what someone said, but very rarely the exact words. But it gets kinda crazier. I can't remember sounds from my dreams. I can't remember noise of any kind - in dreams or ever.

Romantic books and movies often stay stuff like - I remembered the curve of her face and the lilt of her voice. Huh? Totally always thought that was just some sweet, sappy stuff they threw in there for effect. But people can remember stuff like that! It shocked me when I asked someone the other day if they could remember the smell of a their favorite flower. I can't. And I can't remember sound. I actually don't even think with sound. There's no music in my head, no memories of my mom's voice singing me to sleep. If I try really really hard, I can remember the sound of rain when it's not falling. It takes a lot of effort and concentration, but I can remember the sound of a snort when I've said something ridiculous.

The only sound in my head is my own voice trying to put into words the emotions that fill my mind and the images that accompany them. And that's a new skill. I used to just feel. Just get lost in a dream or daymare of my own devising. My head has always been filled to bursting, but rarely with actual words. And never with any sound. It's extremely chaotic in there, and extremely quiet. My mind is often like watching an intensely graphic and bloody horror film on mute. But it can also be a beautiful silent film. Kinda like a gif.

This is a good representation of my daydreams

I never knew this either. I know that verbal instruction, if it's really slowly said, I can visualize. But if I can't visualize it, I shut down. I've always gotten very frustrated with myself for not being able to follow teachers because of this. Often I just ignored the meanings of their words and wrote down every single thing they said and wrote on the board without thinking about it. Then I would study my notes and try to comprehend what the lesson was about. One of the reasons my handwriting is so bad - I used a lot of fast shorthand to do that. It was hard, but I got good at it. And it wasn't always that difficult. I had this history teacher who had the longest lectures - that I loved! And I loathed history - me remembering dates and names? Nope.

But he does things differently. His lectures always went with a slide-show. Every single one. Not a whole bunch of words, although he had slides with important information that he would pause his speech so we could write them down word-for-word. But most of his lecture slides were composed of pictures - he would put up photos, diagrams, maps(!) of what he was talking about. I loved his lectures so much that I took three different history classes of his!! And I remember more from his lectures - than ANY of my elementary, middle or high school history classes combined. 

Man - how did I not see this years ago? I've known for a couple months that I love photos because it helps spark the memory of things that I don't want to forget. I save conversations that I will re-read over and over because I won't remember otherwise. I email myself and star those and then regularly look back and read them. Words are not typically as easy for me to remember as a picture, even if I read them. Maybe that's most people. I don't know. But I find while people are all the same, we are all incredibly unique as well. I mean, I don't know if this happens to you, but for me, looking at a picture of myself can be pretty friggin intense. Lemme explain.

Photographs are not 2D for me. They're like a portal, a time machine to go back to the moment it was taken. When I see a picture, it's like a movie. I'm there all over again. This can be extremely painful, but also incredibly exhilarating. There are two that I particularly love to look at of myself, because I remember that afternoon with vivid clarity every time I see them. And it was one of the best experiences of my life. This is not an exaggeration and I rarely tell people, probably because I don't trust people enough to share a vulnerability like that. Trusting people with my emotions is not easy. I don't have good experiences with it. That doesn't just mean my sad emotions. It includes my happy ones. Those ones are actually even harder for me to trust people with. So, here goes nothing. Or everything.

We had gone camping and my friends wanted to go for a hike. I agreed because the goal was a waterfall and I have a soft spot for water in any form. But I didn't understand exactly how excited I would be when I saw it. I remember walking down the path, lots of stones and roots and enjoying the walk as it was downhill. I don't remember my feelings much until I first heard the rush of a stream in the distance. I perked up and lost track of the conversation. My feet followed the sound and I couldn't help speeding up until I was running down the path. I remember the excitement and eager anticipation. I remember that getting there and seeing it wasn't enough. I took off my shoes and stepped into an oasis outside of time. I remember climbing up the rocks and exploring the crisp mountain stream. Wanting to go further and the adrenaline pumping though my veins. I remember forcing myself to turn back even though I didn't want to leave. Wishing I could stay there all day, but also not wanting my friends to get bored. I remember saying goodbye to the waterfall and relaying that we could go home. I felt sad to leave, but incredibly content with life.

And that moment when they told me there was another waterfall - a bigger one! I remember the overwhelming gratitude I felt that they didn't mind taking the time to let me see another. And I seem to remember their smiles at my hard-to-contain eagerness to see it, but my mind rejects that memory. I remember what seems like entirely too many stone steps that I couldn't get down fast enough and finally reaching the bluff and seeing the waterfall for the first time. The overwhelming desire to get closer - as close as possible was my top priority. I remember a man telling me the path I chose to go explore was dangerous and to be careful. I remember standing there, debating the best way down. Trying so hard not to rush, so as not to fall and sprain something that would hinder my journey to get to the water.

And I remember the pride as I made it down without falling flat on my face. Eagerly turning the corner around a wall of rock and finding a half-cave with a small hidden waterfall. I was filled to the brim with wonder and excitement. I was in the moment, not the past or the future. And the intensity of my joy would simply not allow me to hide behind a mask of normalcy. I still had a mask of neutrality on, but my euphoria was seeping through. The waterfalls are a popular location and although I didn't want people to see how much the place effected me - I didn't want to suppress it either. And so I ignored the people around me.  I leaned into the water, put my cheek against the stone and just felt. Emotionally and physically, I felt everything.

Many people know touch is one of my languages. But it's even more than that. Touch is extremely healing for me. Whether it be a hug from a trusted friend or the feel of rain on my face. I don't love waterfalls because of the way they look, although they are beautiful. What I love is how my bare feet feel standing on the coarse rock. That silky touch as I drag my fingers through it veil of water. The drops of water getting caught in my eyelashes. I remember thousands of physical and emotional sensations as I explored that day. As I sat at the top of that last waterfall - my mind soared. And the culmination of them all as I stood beneath that final, great waterfall and let it cascade over my head, soaking me completely through. It felt as if God Himself was enfolding me in an embrace.

Thank You

I'm Going to Love You Like I'm Going to Lose You

"What scares me the most about it, isn't the fact that people are yelling out at you. It's the fact that it can escalate."

"It's a type of aggression that you feel like you can't do anything about because you don't know what else they're capable of."

"There's this still from the movie Alien. Where, the woman is looking forward and the alien is in profile. And just sort of like a slimy, ugly thing that's just like at her ear. I feel like catcalling is like that...but everywhere you walk."

People often laugh at my fears. They see them as silly paranoias that come from watching too much Law & Order SVU. And granted, I won't watch criminal shows anymore because they wig me out too much these days. But, crazy as it might seem, that's not just because my imagination is so great. It's also because my experiences add a much more graphic element to these fears.

Do you know that I get honked out every time I go on a walk? No matter what time of day or what I'm wearing. Mostly by men with trucks and work-vehicles. The guys with nice cars are too cool for that of course. They rev their engines instead and peel out at lights. And while this isn't particularly terrifying - Gabby said it well: "it makes me feel insecure, cause I wonder what I did to invite it." And even if I know that I did nothing, there's still that doubt that curls up in my stomach, causing me to not want to take off my sweatshirt, even when I'm overheated from an hour of walking.

And then there's catcalling. It's scary because there's no formula for your response. A smartass reply can encourage or anger a guy. So can a nod of greeting. Eye contact. Any sign of acknowledgement really. Course, most people think it's just a simple thing - ignore them, they say. But that's just as risky. Men who catcall, guys who hit on you in a bar - these guys are often harmless. But there is always a wolf hiding among the sheep, if not a whole pack of them. Looking scared or vulnerable can be an open invitation to those predatory types.

And this isn't just in big cities like NYC or LA. This happens here in Cary too. I rarely walk on the sidewalk in the same direction as traffic, because it cuts back on strange men asking me if I need a lift. I dislike the sun going down early because that means there are streets I would no longer be smart to walk down. Not by myself. One of the reasons it's so nice to have a dog as a woman. You'd be surprised by how often a sweet dog like Jade can deter guys from approaching me. Also one of the reasons a gorgeous girl will own a pitbull. That breed is crazy sweet, and they also appear terrifying and are incredibly loyal.

It's not easy being a single woman. We don't get to be as independent as a man. I can't go to the pub to enjoy a burger and the game by myself. In the eyes of society, a girl by herself at a bar wants to be hit on. And if she's foolish enough to reject that...well, let's just say I won't be going anywhere that serves alcohol by myself again, be it a pool hall or even Red Robin.

There are a lot of perks to being a woman, and a lot of downsides as well. I'm not the type who wants to get all hyped about feminism. I mean, every gender, race and religion has it's inequality. Some far worse than others. But if you think they don't exist, then you're not looking around you. Even white males can have disadvantages in life. And that just blows. Life isn't fair and that can be hard to comprehend. I used to use that phrase often, "Life's not fair". If you had a nickel every time I said that, yeah?

But, you know what I find bothers me far more than life not being fair? People who don't get that. Ignorance. Lack of empathy. People who only see their view of the world and no more. The world is a sphere. You may be able to see part of it incredibly clearly, but it is simply not possible to see every angle of a sphere with human limitation. It is communication between people that allows us to see the entire planet. That and Google Earth, which I seriously doubt was created and implemented by a single person anyways.

But do you see what I'm saying yet? Do you see that although you're view of the world may be crystal clear, it's only a piece of it. The United State of America is not the only country in the world. And until you find a way to see Japan, to learn about their culture, you'll never know how different their view of the world is. And how amazing! I find Germany enthralling lately. It's so different and exciting! It's hardly perfect(like every country on our planet), but there are definitely things I've begun to implement in my life that I learned from their culture.

And that's something I wish everyone would do. And not just with other countries! With people in our daily lives! You'd be surprised how much you can learn from people so dissimilar to yourself. And, honestly, you'd be more surprised with how much you have in common. I know I have been shocked, over and over again. In the end, we're all the same. Fucked up people in need of Grace. And although people argue with me about this, I still believe that the more messed up you are, the easier time you have understanding this concept.

People rarely understand exactly how deep in sin they are; don't understand they deserve to go to hell. Deserve. And I'm not talking about non-Christians. I'm talking about you - sitting in the pew at church, singing from the choir, even preaching the sermon. You did not become a Christian and suddenly you're perfect. Every day we sin, every hour, every minute even - I have no doubt. We ALL deserve to rot in hell for all eternity. Graphic and so incredibly true.

You with your 1.5 kids and white picket fence are just as undeserving of Grace as the crack-whore working at the local strip club. And it truly pisses me off when people think otherwise. We don't deserve Grace. NONE of us. We didn't earn it. It's in the friggin definition. We all deserve to Die. I know that. The crack-whore knows that. Believe me. The scum of the earth, the refuse of the world know they're going to hell. Why do you think there are so many jokes about it? Look up "I'm going to hell quotes" in Google. Then go to images and just scan the page. I have no doubt you'll see exactly what I mean. Here's the saying that has popped up the most in my feed though.

My Study asked a question once. Why do Christians have such a hard time sharing the idea of judgement? Why are we reluctant to tell someone they're going to hell? I'll tell you why I won't. Cause people in the world I live in already believe that. They already know exactly where they're going and they think there is no possible way out. They've given up on a happy ending. They know they're going to die and go straight to hell, and they're now resigned. So resigned they turn it into a boast to better cope with that concept. And I would say that's the church's fault. You should really consider looking at that link I posted of Google. You'll find another common theme:

You want to to go on crusades and tell every alcoholic, every stripper, every whore that they are sinners who need Jesus? You fool. You have less understanding of Grace than they do. They are already half way there and you are miles away. They will probably just laugh at you're warnings, curse you out and walk away with their head held high - because they already know they deserve death. They cling to their mask like you and every other person in this world. The mask that says "everything's alright" and even more often "I don't care what you think of me". Because all they understand is half. They understand deep down that they deserve hell. They understand that better than most every Christian I've ever gotten to know. It shows in everything they do. Everything they say shows the pain they feel. Sex, drugs, alcohol - those are just symptoms for a deep self-loathing that comes with this understanding. And understanding with no solution.

That's why I say people who suffer have a greater opportunity to understand Grace than any other. When you're consumed by pain, when it controls you're every thought, every action, every move - you're mind does not think clearly. You just want the pain to STOP. That's all you can think. Stop the Pain. Make it go away. Please - I can't take any more! I can't do this. It HURTS. Make it End. Take it Away. I can't DO THIS. I'm not strong enough. Just shoot me! Put Me Out Of My Misery!!! That's why torture is so effective. You'll do anything to end the Pain. Stop. Please stop. Don't hurt me. I'll do ANYthing! For Christ's Sake - End this Agony!

Yes - that's a play on words. It's not for Christ's sake that our torture ends. It's for our own. Christ was born to save us from this world and hell itself. We are offered an end to an eternity of pain far worse than any pain we feel now, or could even imagine feeling. And the cool thing about suffering in this world today, like me and the refuse of society? We don't have to think to grab for God. We can't. We are in too much pain already. Anything to end the torture. The problem can often be that we don't see Him there. We're flailing, trying to get free of our bonds. We want out from our cameo in "Hostel". And often we can't tell who's friend or foe. That can be very difficult when you're blindfolded and can't see.

~John Piper

Desiring God: Open My Eyes That I May See

And although I finally trust that God is not my torturer, although I blamed Him a good portion of my life for the pain. No, I realize He saved me from the hands of Evil. And even now He tends the wounds inflicted by others and myself. But my wounds are deep and I still cannot go an entire day without pain. I cannot even go a week without hurting so bad it actually incapacitates me. I can't walk, I can't think, I can't function. I find the nearest coping mechanism, and I struggle to remain alive. I would not call it normal, nor would I call it unique. People are in an incredible amount of pain. You need to understand this. The world and the people in it are hurting something fierce and it is our job to love them and show them the only way to ease the suffering.

And when the day comes that my Hero rides in to take away the pain of this world. When me and those I Love are completely healed. I will dance with joy. Yeah. Not that hippie dance. It will be more Step Up 2 style:

1:03 - that's where it's at

That day will come. I have no doubt. By Grace we are Saved. Through Faith. And this is Not from ourselves. It is a Gift from God. Not by works, so no one can boast. No one deserves this Gift. You don't earn it by going to church or tithing. You also don't earn it by praying and reading the Bible. No amount of good deeds, even ones that are Truly Good, will earn you redemption. It is not for sale. Salvation is a Gift. One that Inspires Love. And God is Love. If you know one, than you know the other. And if you are constantly proving to have a lack of love for your neighbor, a lack of empathy for mankind. If you would never consider being friends with someone who's opinions and ideals differ from your own - you might want to consider where your root sin truly lies.

It is not about you. It is not about me. There is more to the world than that. There is a bigger picture, a beautiful one. God has a Plan and I want to be apart of it more than ANYthing else. I want to follow Him to the very end of creation and into the Eternity. I will be there and I will be dragging you and everyone I can get my hands on with me. I can not bear to leave you behind. I Love you ALL too much.

A Ramble Through My Mind: The Sequel

"I never doubted you. It was just my silly common sense."

Miracle on 34th Street has always been one of my favorite black & white movies. The idea of faith...That crazy idea of believing in things you are unable to see, or maybe cannot even understand quite yet(that's a major struggle for me) - is a concept that extends far beyond Christmas, but is symbolized through Kris Kringle quite wonderfully.

Faith like a child.

People wonder why I don't want to "grow up". But I've never understood why people think I should. It's true. If I grew up the way most people do - I might have a job. A house. A family. I could probably be a therapist or psychiatrist! I have enough understanding in that arena ;) . Or maybe I would be psychologist like Sawyer from this movie. The antagonist who is all grown up - with all that that entails, and loses it in a blink of an eye. And although he was an incompetent dolt, the ultimate cost of his life as he knew it, was his his inability to Believe.

I may look quite crazy jumping in leaves or sitting on the counter covered in flour. And yes, I still love making snow angels and singing carols as I make my way around downtown. Sometimes I eat pizza for breakfast, and I love My Little Pony. I can never pass up an opportunity to get flour or paint on my friends when they help me with a project. I get crazy excited about surprises, and I wish Christmas came more than once a year! I could continue, but many of these things I like to let people figure out themselves.

I'm "grown up" in many ways. Most of them are ways I would not wish on ANYone. Growing up...it's not always a good thing. Losing your childhood wonder...excitement and joy over things like, like Christmas Eve! Or even on the first snowflake to fall in winter - I love to catch them on my tongue still :) . The sight of a new babe. A game of DnD with my favorite men. Watching the Eagles win! I look forward to these moments - as hard as it is to show how deeply it effects me.

I have never, in all my life, been alright with crying. Not even happy tears. And I have many. I struggle with showing people this vulnerability. Mostly I just smile and stare blindly ahead until I can find a quiet place to lean against a wall, or a tree and put my head on my knees and sob. God has always been with me during these times, carrying me through the pain and the joy. And lately, He's given me even more than I would have ever hoped for.

I no longer have to get through every emotional overload alone. I've curled into a ball and lain my head in many a friends' lap as I screamed silently from the pain. I've had two friends allow me to actually scream my pain, out-loud, in their car - and one of them even joined me for moral support! And sometimes it's just enough to have them there. I no longer hide in my room when I'm having a rough day. My roommates understand - they have many themselves. When one of us is upset, we stand together through it. And that doesn't typically involve a whole lot of talking.

I've noticed that people, not just guys, are very eager to hurry the process of grief. Emotions are very awkward to be around and people don't always know what to do. Mostly, they just want them to go away. This is one of the reasons I suppress them so well. Tears are not acceptable in society. And when you allow them to surface, people are quick to ask what's wrong and offer advice with how to fix it. Don't do that. Go watch Inside Out. Grief is a necessary part of this world. Without it, we would not understand Grace.

Grace

Now that's a Big Word. A word used more flippantly than any other phrase in my opinion. Even more than "I love you". I truly believe that. If you understand Grace the way I do, you will cry a hell of a lot more, pun intended. When I first began to understand Grace, I cried in such sorrow. Sorrow that a Man gave His life for a piece of shit like me. I don't deserve ANYthing I have today - and I believe that with All my Heart as well. But I'm here, and not dead, because of Grace Alone. Despite all those years of playing Russian Roulette with a fully-loaded gun, I'm somehow alive.

He Saved Me

And now I am forever His. The only Guy who is strong enough carry me down the beach with the burdens I bear and not fall flat on his face. The men I've done that too - I am truly sorry. I never should have asked that of you and I may never get to apologize to some of you, but I regret that I ever encouraged the idea that you could rescue me. Although I do believe in super heroes, and I would totally call many of the people in my life just that, they are only as great as Daredevil - who is Awesome!

One of my heroes answered my call at 3am last month and immediately came to get me when I was losing it. Another of my heroes held my hand as I contemplated playing Froggy on the streets of Raleigh last year. I've had heroes organize my room so I could feel like my house was a home. I have a hero who takes me for a burger when I'm miraculously hungry. I don't even know some of my heroes personally, but there are many of them. And they show up in amazing ways - like, by making room for me in the back of sanctuary, at the very end of the row, so I could listen to the sermon without everyone watching me breakdown; or even explaining how to handle the Women's Retreat as an introvert.

These people are my heroes. Them and so many others. We are charged with Saving the World. We are all heroes. But...we are not the Ultimate Badass Himself. The one that makes Superman and Batman look like pussies. Not even Hercules can save a soul from hell. I don't care what Disney says. He may be strong - but only one Man has been to Hell and come back alive and He's my Super Hero. He's the guy I go to when all else fails. And it will.

Friends and family will leave you. Your health will as well. You will lose your job at some point. You will lose everything. Because, eventually, we're all going to die. And I'm not of the ancient Egyptian belief where you are able to take stuff with you. Sure you could try to leave a legacy behind - but, in my opinion that's even harder to do than making something go viral. You'd have to go like, full on Hitler or something. Even celebrities names eventually die down. I'm sure many people still know Cary Grant, but how many of your kids do?

A legacy - it's not enough. People will forget you, even your family will after a couple generations. I couldn't tell you all my great-grandmothers' names if my life depended on it. But we take pride in these things for some reason - when they disappear so quickly. Even in the span of our own lifetime. There is such a thing as good pride, but pride in your own strength - well, that's not something I find particularly attractive in a person. I'll tell you what I do - and it brings us right back, full circle.

I find child-likeness attractive. Not immaturity or even the same enthusiasm for life I have. But Faith like a Child. The simple and pure understanding that everything's going to be ok...because Daddy's here. My Superhero has me in His arms and nothing can go wrong. That idea I'm only beginning to grasp, but it's one that would be unbearable to lose. I like being independent for the first time in my life. And I find, the reason I can be, is because He's with me. Seems like a contradiction, but it's really just another enthralling complexity of life. And those are So Cool!

It's 3am and this is another ramble through my mind. It jumps quite fast you can see. But, that's me. Hope you get something out of it. I know I do.

Merry Christmas Boys!

One of my roommates performed in a Living Christmas Tree Concert - which was Magnificent! And me and my other roomie went to enjoy it last night. Afterwards, we were just leaving the church when a young boy said something silly to his friends. I teased him in passing as me and my roommate walked out the door. But suddenly we were surrounded by a pack of young boys! All using various lines to get my number and/or come back to my place! They were not very good lines - and with how young they were, I had a hard time not finding it immensely amusing(pretty sure I failed at that actually).


I mean, I realize it's incredibly sad that these boys are already beginning to grow into something that terrifies me on a regular basis with older boys - but what could I do? What can you say to 10-year-old boys that could have any lasting impact at all? Yelling at them would accomplish nothing. They get enough of that. So as I walked away I turned around and allowed myself to laugh and said that "some girls like nice guys." I left them behind as me and my roommate chuckled under our breaths. But I hesitated a bit down the way. It wasn't enough. I needed them to know they brought me joy this Christmas, even though they were growing up entirely too fast. So I called to them - and boy did they came running.

I instructed them to climb on the wall and got my phone out for a picture. But...they started backing away - asking if I was going to the cops. They thought I wanted to take a photo because of how they had acted. It was so painful watching their faces go from childish excitement, to a hardness that is brought on by knowing the realities of the world far too early. I put my phone down and said as sincerely as I could that - No, it was not a picture for the cops. It was a photo to remember that they made me smile on this night. And I won't take it unless they allow it and I will not be asking for names. I don't know if they all believed me, but four of them clustered together and posed in their toughest, macho way. I laughed and said - And I will only be taking this picture if I get Big Smiles! They did their best I know - and this is what I got:

Afterwards I showed them the picture - I know how much children love to see pictures of themselves :) . And then they all said thank you and went to greet a grandmother as she made her way out of the church. I told her Merry Christmas and that they are good boys. She chuckled as one of them hugged me. If I would pitch a guess I would say he doesn't get many hugs, and many children desperately need them. So I smiled down at him and patted his head. I heard one of his friends say he was copping a feel, but there was nothing in that hug that suggested he was doing so. Course, then he grinned super big and so I laughed and swatted him away and said Merry Christmas to the lot before we, again, headed home. I don't know if I said or did anything right that night. But maybe God can use a piece of it in one of their lives. I doubt I will ever know - and that's ok. I do know that these boys were just children, and this Christmas I wanted to give them, just a moment, to act it. I hope to see them one day in Eternity. Merry Christmas Boys!