fear

Is it vain if sometimes I read back over my old blog posts? Because I definitely do. It's sort of like going back through your journal and seeing where you were. It's a little embarrassing, but eye-opening too - like you can't believe you were feeling that only a few months ago.

I went to an absolutely incredible concert last night and this song struck me:

There will come a time, you'll see with no more tears.
And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears.
Get over your hill and see what you find there
With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair.

[after the storm - mumford and sons]

One of my good friends came over for dinner last week and we talked about the stuff that scares us the most. Both of us look at our past and see brokenness, especially in our relationships. As we talked she said, "I'm just afraid of getting hurt again."

My reply (because I'm snarky sometimes) was, "No one wakes up in the morning and says, 'I hope I get my heart broken today.'" But we can't keep people at arm's length just in case they hurt us somewhere down the road. Because... let's be honest, none of us are perfect so we're going to hurt each other. The difference between a relationship that lasts and one that doesn't, is how you respond when you hurt or get hurt.

Love is high risk.
But it's also high reward.

year.

I didn't move at all when I was growing up. Well... except for the BIG move from South Korea (where I was born) to upstate New York, but... that wasn't really my choice (yay adoption!). The last 8 years? I've moved from a tiny town... to a town full of corn... to the city known for being the ghetto... to a city WAAAY north of anything I wanted to be a part of... to the suburbs.


Not much has stayed the same in the last 5 years.
Friends have come and gone.
I've had 3 different supervisors at my job and held 3 different titles.
Three tiny 6th grade girls grew into fifteen or more strong sophomore women.
An incredible group of men and women have walked through life leading a group of crazy and awesome middle school kids at my church.
Those closest to me have walked through some of the highest points in their life... and some of the lowest.
I got engaged... married... and then divorced. And survived.

Over the last year, the instability in my world has righted itself and I find myself here today with a community that I can't even begin to thank for the way they have shown up when I've needed them most.

I'm grateful for people who have given me a couch to sleep on when I've needed it.
Who've listen to me cry on the phone and felt helpless even though it was the thing I needed the most.
Who've sat with me for hours on my roof and just heard me.
Who've challenged me to follow Jesus better... and let me do the same for them.
Who've driven all the way downtown just for ice cream (the best ice cream ever, might I add).
Who've waited for hours for breakfast at my favorite breakfast place (what? I like food)
Who've learned more about radio than they've ever wanted to.
Who've run marathons, half marathons or just come to watch.

Who've done life with me.
"Who've" is a funny contraction.

exchange

"It's better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all."

I don't know who said that. Or why.
But I hate them.

I will even own up to having used that phrase myself, but I still hate it. Because I want it to be true, but I don't want the risk that goes with it.

Because sometimes, there are good things in my life, good people, good work being done...good, but if I would risk a little... it could be really great. Or... the pessimist in me realizes... it could be terrible. And I could lose what's good.

So my question is... is it worth giving up something really good...
... for the chance at something incredible?

Here's what I'm battling... God has an amazing, better-way for us to do life. I think He has a more-abundant life for us if we will follow Him and the things that He's calling us to do. But what if... the risk I'm thinking about taking isn't God... and it's just what I want?

Plus. Straight-up, I'm just scared.
Scared to give up what's familiar.
For something that is unknown territory. And has the potential to be fantastic. And also the potential to fail.

So is it?
Is it better to love and maybe lose?
Or never take the risk?

trust. part deux.

I'm naturally an open book. Stuff that normal people guard about themselves, I don't. I fail at things. At relationships. At ministry. At being a good Christ-follower. I'm not afraid to let you see what I'm not good at.

But it doesn't mean I trust you.

Trust for me is letting you see the person that's behind the character I want everyone else to see. The one that's beyond squeamish about slugs. The one that jumps a little bit at loud noises for  no good reason. It's when I call you to talk... or text you... just because I need to talk to someone, and I want it to be you. Trust is me letting you see that I might be a little... or a lot... needy. It's telling you how I feel about you when I really start to care about you beyond what I normally invest in people.

and I'm not always good at that.

At church this weekend our pastor said, "We spend a lot of time trying to figure out if we can trust people or not. And everyone else in the world... is doing that to you too."

I think we are built to find people that we can trust. It's fairly terrifying, but I read a surprisingly poignant article on a usually surfacey women's blog that struck me. Being vulnerable is really the smartest thing we can do, especially in relationships. Because if you are putting on a character for someone and they fall in love with your character then you spend the rest of your life being fake. Instead of being who you are. And doing life with someone who knows you... really knows you.

But it's a pretty scary ride to get there.
And no one ever wants to get hurt.
Is it worth it?

I hope so.

trust.

Sometimes I get calls I don't expect.
Sometimes they're from a student who moved away... who's world came crashing down.

I hate those calls.

Sometimes I feel really helpless. Because I can be there for her to talk her through small isolated times, but can't do life with her. I'm not around to pick her up on a random Friday and go for ice cream. I can't do coffee on a Sunday morning with her and hear what's going on in her heart. I can't celebrate the good with her and show her how much she's loved. And cared for. And valuable.

I can't tell her to guard her heart. To make good friends. To be a good friend.
I can't tell her how much Jesus loves her. And that He's big enough to handle her questions.

When she moved, I remember asking one of my friends, "Please.. just tell me someone in her new city is going to love her and tell her she's important."

And Someone is. 

Sometimes I'm really terrible at trusting God with people that I love. Which is ridiculous. He loves them more and more perfectly than I ever could. He'll take care of her. He wasn't surprised when she moved. He wasn't surprised when a phone call worse than she could have imagined came in. And He's there for her. Even if she doesn't know it yet.

I'm just not as important as I think I am.