Storms! (Excited?)

It's amazing how I can ask God for something, he gives it to me, and it isn't until I'm in the middle of the trial that I realize I asked for a storm. Not that I wanted anything bad, but kind of like the saying goes: "You ask for patience, and God will provide you opportunities to be patient." So the things I'd been asking God to help me with, primarily pride, self, and minimal other things...they all got wham-slammied down on me in the form of school and time and money.
To be straightforward, I hate UAA right now. I hate the institution, I hate the people who say you need a piece of paper to be qualified, etc. etc.
And I already know God has a plan to change my heart about that too, it just hasn't been implemented yet.
There's nothing like going through the valleys to help me get closer to God. The phrase 'draw near' really is literal. I mean, if he's going to stick me smack dab in the middle of a three-month-long storm/valley/trial, I'm going to be stepping all over his feet trying to stay close to him. I'll be like a monkey. Who wants to walk through a valley all by themselves???
So I'm wanting to allow the Holy Spirit to live with me. Praying in the Spirit has become a daily routine (I love praying [and singing] in the car) and I want it to become my lifestyle to be constantly praying, constantly listening, attentive, sensitive, open to what he has for me.
If I'm truly going to make it through the next few months he's going to have to guide and direct my steps because without him I'll fall off the boat, wander off the path, etc. etc.
I have a track record of getting myself into dark pits of despair and disappointment and fear and all manner of yuck when I try doing things by my own strength.
So as the song goes,
"I will praise you in this storm, and I will lift my hands, for you are who you are, no matter where I am. And every tear I cry, you hold in your hands, you never leave my side, and though my heart is torn, I will praise you in this storm."
Praise is a powerful, powerful thing. It can lift the deepest despair, deepest fear, deepest depression in a heartbeat. Beautiful. Beautiful.
Jesus, my Jesus.

--MovingGirl 
It's amazing how you ask God for something, he gives it to you, and you realize that you've asked him for a storm. Nothing like the valleys to help us get closer to God. Who wants to walk through one alone? I mean if he's going to stick me right in the middle of a three-month long trial, I'm going to walk on his feet staying close to him. Jesus, my Jesus.

The Valley

There's too much to say and I'm too upset to say it all.
So I wanted to withdraw from two classes but I paid with a scholarship and since I've passed the drop deadline I'd have to pay it back. So my only option is to stay with the institution.
My heart is hurt, and I guess my belief in the goodness of people extended to institutions as well because my little bubble burst when I got slapped in the face with the realization that all they want is my money.
I knew that, but still, you try to ignore it.
So now I'm on a walk with God that is going to rattle my world and try my faith. Make it grow, I believe, but the stretching isn't comfortable.
I'm really sore right now. I know I'm not going to run from God and this is providing the perfect opportunity for me to rely on him in a way I've never had to before, but I'm so confused and all mixed up right now that I can' really write about it. Words are kind of insufficient right now.
So I hope by the end of this (only three more months, thank God) I'll be able to look back and write...(I just burst into tears.)
God's good to me, though, he's given me a sister and mom that have the gift of words of knowledge, encouragement, and wisdom.
My dad took my request to withdraw a lot better than I thought he would. (At least what I saw of it.)
And then God gave me these words from Come Away My Beloved 'by' Frances Roberts:

Keep Thy Face Toward the Sunrise

"Behold, I have sent thee out alone,
but I have gone before to prepare thy way;
yea, through the darkness to bear a light.
I ask thee only to follow Me,
for I will surely lead thee in a safe path
though dangers lurk on every hand.
Yea, I will be thy protection:
I will be thy comfort.
I will be thy joy.
I will turn the bitter tear to sweet perfume.
By My Spirit, I will mend the broken heart.
I will pour warm, fragrant oil into the deep wound.
For Mine heart is fused with thy heart,
and in thy grief, I am one with thee.
Yea, I will fill the vacant place.
Mine arms shall hold thee, and thou shalt not fall.
My grace shall sustain thee, and thou shalt not faint.
My joy shall fortify thy spirit
even as a broken body is rejuvenated by a blood transfusion.
My smile shall dispel the shadows,
and My voice shall speak courage.
Yea, I will surely keep thee, and thou shalt not know fear.
Thou shalt rest thy foot upon the threshold of heaven.
I shall hid thee in My pavilion.
Thou shalt have My constant care.
I will not leave thee for a moment.
I will keep thee from despair:
I will deliver thee from confusion.
When thou art perplexed,
I will guide thee in wisdom and in judgment.
By thy light shall others be led out of the valley.
By thy courage shall the weak be lifted up.
By thy steadfastness shall he that wavereth be stabilized.
Lo, the hour is upon thee.
Look not back.
Keep thy face toward the sunrise,
for He shall rise fresh daily in thy soul
with healing in His wings."

It spoke to every part of my feelings and emotions, my heart, my mind, my soul.
I'm in pain and more than a little disillusioned with things, but if one thing is true, it's God.

--MovingGirl

To Sing

Ever since I was a little kid, I mean little, I've wanted to be able to fly, not quite like Superman, but more like PeterPan. I LOVED PeterPan for that reason alone. I always answered that question of "if you could have one wish" with I would want to fly. Then I grew up and realized how selfish that was and wished I could be wise enough like Solomon, to ask God for something good and useful...not something for me alone.

So I started changing my question.

"If I could have any selfish wish..."

And it was still flying.

But a couple years ago something struck me pretty hard. I was singing in church and I got embarrassed. No particular reason, I mean nobody turned around and looked at me or anything, but suddenly I felt incredibly awkward and I stopped singing. For a couple weeks I wouldn't open my mouth to sing. I finally got over it and returned to singing without a problem. For a while. But there was always a thought in the back of my mind...maybe I'm singing too loud, maybe I should quiet down, maybe I should move seats, maybe I should not sing this song that goes way too far out of my very minimal range...

And it was like that for a long time. See, my voice is great for yelling at people, for being loud without even having to yell. I can pitch my voice so that I can be heard from far without raising my voice. My dad gave me that. But when it comes to singing, those genes somehow never made it into our family.

And I absolutely love to sing. That becomes a problem.

So my selfish wish changed. If I could have anything, it would be to have a singing voice. It didn't even have to be great, just good. Something to sing praises to my God with. Something worthy.

And then it hit me. I was SO consumed with myself. Worship isn't for me, it isn't for the people around me (though there's good in that too) but it is for God.

And to Him, my voice is sweet and my face is lovely. To Him, your voice is sweet and your face is lovely. You don't have to make it on American Idol to have a good voice. That's the judging of man, but to God, our praise is heavenly.

I still would wish to be able to sing with a decent voice, but I'm okay with what I have.

For all I know, God has a reason for the voice that I have.

This is a word that God spoke to me on my thirteenth birthday through my Uncle:
"I take pleasure in your voice that bears to me precious song. For to me your voice is sweet and your face is lovely."
I believe it. I trust it. 

My name is Mariah. Depending on who you talk to there are several translations. If it is coming from the root name of Mary, then it means bitter. Another translation is "My Teacher is Jehovah."

My favorite, though, would have to be a variation of Moriah. As in Mount Moriah. It means "Chosen by Jehovah."

I am Chosen. You are Chosen. And He loves our voices. 

I told him I'd love to be part of Heaven's choir or something when I get there. Let's sing together on that choir.

I also said I'd love to work in his library and sit on his lap. Who wants to sit on a throne? I can't wait to sit on Jesus' lap. To be hugged by the Father. 

Singing to him in a quiet place. Just the two of us. I know he listens. Worship.

So let him hear your voice, deep, high, heavenly and humble, for to him your voice is sweet and your face is lovely.

--MovingGirl

Quisling

Hey Chris,
The first time I saw the term
was flipping through that enormous dictionary
that we asked for as a Christmas present.
I even chose it as the title
for a poem I wrote about a traitor.
It still remains one of my favorites.
Never thought that I would have
a chance to use that term in life.
So you, my quisling, how did it come to this?
Where did you learn the fine art
of betrayal?
There was a point six years ago
when we realized what we were destined for.
But did your career teach you
or was it the company you kept?
Each month stretches longer as I wait
for some form of apology from you
but I never seem to get it.
Do you? Get it? Is there any hope
for my quisling? Too many days
went dashing to the ground
as I counted the hours, the minutes,
yet the phone never rang. The inbox never filled.
I was surprised. You always liked emails.
Now not even a text. That much fame can't give.
See, I hold tight to that pinky promise we made.
The one that declared friends for life, no matter
the paths we walk. You told me you would
invite me to your first party. Let me visit your first
house in Beverly Hills. Never saw it. Still waiting.
I'm missing you much. Truly.
Pinky promises. They're binding. Or so I thought.
I'll be seeing you on the glare of my TV screen.

Your bestest of friends.


--MovingGirl

Brother

Brother

There was a small earth shaking last week. It reminded me
of '94, or maybe it was '95. Yeah, '95. It was January,
my fourth winter the day in Kobe when 6400 died.
The tower rocked like a crib, but the bars felt more like a jail.
I remember you saying that the ninth floor never felt so high
until that day when we could almost touch the ground. The first
tremor hit. Then the second. I remember staring up at you in wonder
as you came flying into my room like a knight
in brilliant armour. Only you were wearing your Mickey Mouse pajamas.
I thought the world of you, the day the world fell apart. Curling up around me
the day 6400 died. They say it lasted twenty seconds, but I knew
when I looked in your eyes that we both died and were resurrected that day.
And I know that took a lifetime.
Then fourteen years later we sat on our porch. And you mentioned to me
out of all the goodness of your selfless heart that you wanted to travel.
I smiled. Nodded.
And it is another January. Another earth shaking.
When I heard the news from Haiti, I fell.
I was four again, in Kobe, with the earth quaking like Jello around me;
my ears hearing once more your soft whispered prayers
that tickled my neck and sounded like a chorus of angels
singing the choir of Hellsong. A quarter million this time. And I was safe
in the most dangerous place. And yet you died in paradise. I thought perhaps
that moving to Alaska was tempting fate, almost as if asking for another earth shaking
like that one. This time with no tower to rock me, no knight
to save me. But no, instead the shaking followed you. With your
compassionate heart and selfless giving. Damn you. You just had
to travel. Just had to help. Then last year you left me to face
all the quaking alone. No one to guard, no one to rock, no on to sing
lullabies. Now I sit quietly on my porch alone. Humming a prayer
that sounds like one's doom, the choir of Hellsong once more.
Because I haven't forgiven myself for your death. I shouldn't have smiled.
I shouldn't have nodded. And every day is Kobe again.

-Mariah

--MovingGirl

Finally Back to Moving

6 months and counting.
We leave sooner and sooner with each passing day.
It's weird.

I was talking to someone at work yesterday who really encouraged me by reminding my family and I to keep it straight. That well-meaning friends could confuse us, perhaps bring us to a point where we are completely overwhelmed and have no idea what we are doing. But she said to remember the reason we are going. To not forget exactly what it was that we heard from the Lord concerning our move. That original purpose, that original word that the Lord spoke to us about our departure.
Like Noah, we may face people who don't understand our act of faith.
Like Job, we may face accusation and ridicule.
Like Abraham, we are being called to a different land.

She mentioned that perhaps right at that moment, someone was praying for our family, an organization, a ministry, a church, a family, a person in need. Praying and asking God for a family, our family, to come for some purpose. When she said that I got shivers. I knew. I knew that there was someone down there in TN/KY praying for us right at that moment. It was incredibly encouraging. Incredibly warming. Kind of like being able to take a deep breath and breath for the first time. It's true. He's preparing the way. And not only is he blessing us in this move, but he's calling us down as an answer to someone's prayer. How cool is that?!

It's reassuring. Knowing that you are destined for something. A plan. A purpose. A time such as this.


--MovingGirl

Spices

"They're like spices."

"What are?"

"The books."

"Books?"

"You walk in here and take a deep breath, and the perfume of the worlds unknown, half-named greet you like spices in a spice shop."

"What does that one smell like?"

"That one. Let me see it. Ah. That one smells of roughbark with a dash of cayenne pepper. This is a book for adults. A heady mixture of romantic language, epic adventures, and enthralling characters. This is a book you'd read a sip at a time, letting the flavors seep into you slowly."

"And this one?"

"Hm. This one is beautiful. A little sage with the smallest hint of cinnamon. Relaxing, a lavender story that is smooth and silky. With a touch of refreshing character to it. An easy read. Warm."

"This is probably the newest book here, what of this one?"

"That one? Let me see. Mmmm....pepper. Spicy. Must be the new ink. This one is exhilarating. Like a dab of wasabi with your red and black pepper blend. This story is new, told in a way that it never has been before. A bit risky in its flavor, but completely exciting."

"This one doesn't have a smell."

"They all have a smell, you just have to breath it in."

"Ah. This one is much more subtle than the rest. Here, flip it like this. Do you smell it? honey and lemon. Simple, but sweet, the lemon here isn't tart. This is like a cough drop, not candy. Something to sooth the soul, not treat it. Oh, and there is a touch of ginger in it! Livens things up a bit, but the purpose remains the same. This is a book for rainy days, sick days, and a day in isolation."

"This one is explosive. It's much older than the others and requires a bit more care in the handling of it. Mmm...let's see. Rosemary. And....safflower. With an enormous amount of wintergreen. Wouldn't eat it, but the smell is heavenly when savored a little at a time. This book was controversial. It probably holds a title that remains to this day part of a coined phrase, or perhaps a comedic reference. But it is hearty. Fulfilling."

"You do know this is a library, right?"

"Oh, no. No. No. No. Not a library at all. It's a kitchen. Full of ingredients just waiting for the right dish, the right mind to come along and try them all out. You never know what combination you can make. Until you try that is. Come, sample the thyme, sassafras, mahleb. A library. Hmph. These are the spices of life."

Conversation about the Bible

"Why are you doing this?"

"I'm doing this because I fell in love. With the characters, the story. It gave me a world outside myself; a desire for something bigger than me...just, something outside myself. It's like no matter how many deep breaths you take, you are never fully satisfied, you never have enough air. There is a hunger, a desire in your heart that cannot be quenched. You find this feeling with a lot of the grand epics. Why do we all fall in love with Tolkein, Narnia, Gladiator? It's this feeling that you get. That same longing comes with reading the Bible."

"But what has Christianity done for you?"

"Look where it's gotten me. Your raised eyebrows indicate a certain doubt. Listen to this. You know, some may go through life living on the streets. With abuse, poverty, strife, loneliness...a horrid life. Then they find God. Or rather, God finds them. And yet they may still be living on the streets, with hunger, abuse, poverty, strife...no loneliness...but you ask them the same question, and they'll answer the same way: 'Look where it's gotten me.' Because we're looking into the face of eternity, no longer living for this world.
"We've found something bigger than ourselves. We're satisfied even before we take a breath. It's fulfilling. It quenches those longings, desires, aches of our heart. It makes us richer than any other on earth."

"So you find a crutch to get through life."

"You know, that's the secret. We have nothing to offer him. We cannot give him anything. We're weak, helpless, lost, alone, hungry, thirsty, blind, dead. No, instead he offers us strength. And even though we have nothing to offer him, he loves us anyway."

"Yet he lets some of you live a horrid life?"

"It's not that we are given grand lives once we enter a relationship with him. And we don't 'settle' either, rather we live with peace, grace, mercy, and forgiveness. Our circumstances cease to matter as they used to, because we live knowing God goes beyond our situation."

"Some love."

"There's a verse that says 'no greater love has a man than this: to lay down his life for his friends.' But see, it's even better than that. Jesus gave us his life while we were still sinners. While we were still enemies..."

"Huh."

"And Jesus...well, he's not a crutch." Smile. "He's our life support."


--MovingGirl

Recovering

Kissing the floor at his feet.
I want this year to be the best.
And then for it to get better.
I want to be closer to him.
More than ever before.
I want to learn humility.
The real thing, not the fake.
I want to mature in my life.
Both spiritually and otherwise.
I want to become that force.
That moves only because of him.
I want to be ready.
For the storms to come.
I want my understanding to grow.
Of his works and his ways.
I want to not fall prey.
Fall prey to sins that cause such stumbling.
I want rejoice and glory in his love.
For in the days to come.
I will see that which I have not yet seen.
And hear that which I have not yet heard.
I want to hear his voice.
I know I will hear his voice.
I want to know his will.
I know I will know his will.
I want to walk in his love and tenderness.
All the days of my life.
I shall be still.
And know him as GOD.

--MovingGirl

Satellites

I'm in the middle of a melting winterland
Watching the satellites as they fly by
Each shining spot of light less
Hopeful than a shooting star
I'm breathing in the tropic air
That comes each year so faithfully
And gives us early spring before
Plunging us into February
I'm searching for that wonder castle
East of the sun and West of the moon
Wandering rainbow roads and
Glistening Roman paths
I'm climbing Mount Everest
Breath so hard to come by
As I watch the satellites less
Hopeful with each burdened step
I'm travelling a grey-domed world
With an albatross round my neck
And fair warning from the Fool who
Played many a minstrel's duel
I'm in the middle of a melting winterland
Exposing the darkened earth beneath snow
That resembles Persephone's tomb during
The dark months of hibernation


--MovingGirl

Sick

I can't really fail lightly. I fail, and I fail hard.
And I've discovered that whenever I share something that God is doing in my life or that I want to do I always fail. So how to know when to stay quiet and when to share? I have no clue.
Started off the New Year horribly, pretty much sucking my way through the weekend. Fail big time.
So what now? I want to change, I want to be joyful and happy again because I'm walking beside God all the way. Bah. I'm depressed, lazy, selfish, too proud to take advice. I have WAY too many faults that need to be addressed.
I miss you. God. I haven't seen you in a while. Haven't talked with you. Let myself ignore you and ran away from every conversation you wanted to have with me. I rebelled like a child against all the good you have stored up for me. I was scared. I was scared and ran away instead of running to you.
Now how to get back?
How to be with you again...
God, I hate my pride.
Please break me.
Break me so that I can come to you
With nothing.
Please.

Forgive Me, Choir of Hellsong

I really think the Choir of Hellsong is Hate. No other emotion for me summons such a need to express itself, that tempts me past my control to the point where a scream wells up within me till breaking. No other emotion invites me to write, to compose, to vomit onto paper all the yuck inside of me.

Hate really is a nasty thing.

Anger. Anger can be a result of fear, right?

But hate is different. It's not at all the opposite of love. That's apathy. The opposite of like isn't 'dislike', it's indifference. 

Hate is the Choir of Hellsong. 

It's quenches joy, it limits the boundaries of patience, peace, and rest. It doesn't allow you any outlets that are not harmful, but requires so much pain and heartache and irritation to maintain.

Yet it holds on, and you can't let it go because bitterness is at the root and it's a very strong root. Of course pride is manifested as well but for some reason it's really not the pride that scares me.

Hate has its own grief.

Causes its own grief.

And at the same time it feeds on it, growing bigger, larger, stronger until the wolf inside nearly consumes you.

And then when everything good has been eaten, apathy sets in.

That pit is impossible to get out of.

The Choir of Hellsong is Hate.

--MovingGirl