You know what I want more than anything right now? To believe that God can save me.
I'm falling, and the only direction, it seems, for me to go is to keep falling. You'll hear me tell countless people to not give up, don't give up on God, keep believing. You read my words that say we are never too far from God's grace. Heck, I just wrote something for my youth group's blog talking about forgiveness and what not. That should be up by the end of the year. And you know what? I believe every word I typed for that blog. I just cannot believe it for me. For the people I pass everyday on the streets, I believe any one of them can be "rescued", "saved", "forgiven". I believe with all my heart that anyone can begin again. Anyone, but I have a hard time counting myself in that.
And it sucks. By now, several people who always thought I was a strong Christian, realize now that I'm not so much. But I've still got my youth pastor... He asked me to go on a mission trip this summer to South Africa. I accepted. But maybe I shouldn't have. Maybe it would have been smart to stay home a year. And he looks at me and still sees that strong Christian girl. I don't want to, I can't let him see otherwise. I feel so fake. But...
I don't know anymore. I really don't.
I don't know who I am. I don't know what I believe. Or who I believe in.
Other than this god I've made for myself. A god that leaves scars and bruises on my skin but brings me relief I can't seem to find anywhere else.
Please Lord, don't look the other way.
kadi.
Saturday, December 29, 2007
Thursday, December 20, 2007
The Holidays.
The holidays always seem to have something about them. They can be the happiest time of year. Home from school for a little bit, time to slow down and enjoy what's around. Or they can be the crappiest time of the year. Either extreme.
Coming into this season, I knew it'd be a hard one. Not only for me, but for a friend of mine. And tonight. Tonight... I had two friends come up to me in tears. They feel like God's left them to fend for themselves, thrusting them into the hands of someone else who doesn't care at all. And these two, they're two girls you'd see smiling and laughing in the halls. And they always have something good to say about other people, always wanting to help out. They don't deserve what they have, they don't deserve what they're experiencing.
Holidays, especially Christmas it seems, have a way of making you stop and take time to count all of the hidden skeletons in the closet. They force you to stop and take inventory of what you do and don't have. Trust, love, relationships. Shame, guilt, regret.
I didn't know what to say tonight. It wasn't what I was expecting. I'm just trying to make it through the next two weeks with my own problems. And it hits you hard to hear your friend tell you what's been happening when you thought they had it out good. I've been on both sides. Neither is fun.
So with Christmas coming up, I have to believe my life can be something more. I have to believe this isn't all I'm meant to be. Addicted, needy, lost. I have to believe. I have to hope. No one is meant to be like this.
kadi.
I know an amazing guy, Jamie Tworkowski. He posted a blog last New Year's. And something he said has stuck with me through 2007:
You are brighter than the fireworks that paint the sky at midnight.
Coming into this season, I knew it'd be a hard one. Not only for me, but for a friend of mine. And tonight. Tonight... I had two friends come up to me in tears. They feel like God's left them to fend for themselves, thrusting them into the hands of someone else who doesn't care at all. And these two, they're two girls you'd see smiling and laughing in the halls. And they always have something good to say about other people, always wanting to help out. They don't deserve what they have, they don't deserve what they're experiencing.
Holidays, especially Christmas it seems, have a way of making you stop and take time to count all of the hidden skeletons in the closet. They force you to stop and take inventory of what you do and don't have. Trust, love, relationships. Shame, guilt, regret.
I didn't know what to say tonight. It wasn't what I was expecting. I'm just trying to make it through the next two weeks with my own problems. And it hits you hard to hear your friend tell you what's been happening when you thought they had it out good. I've been on both sides. Neither is fun.
So with Christmas coming up, I have to believe my life can be something more. I have to believe this isn't all I'm meant to be. Addicted, needy, lost. I have to believe. I have to hope. No one is meant to be like this.
kadi.
I know an amazing guy, Jamie Tworkowski. He posted a blog last New Year's. And something he said has stuck with me through 2007:
You are brighter than the fireworks that paint the sky at midnight.
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Scared. Confused. Sick. Regretful.
The speaker this past Sunday closed after speaking on the parable about the Lost Son. He told a couple real life stories as well, hoping to convey that we can ignore God, but never evade Him. In other words, God won't leave us. He's always near, even if it seems a lot like the opposite. I hear it a lot. But most times when I hear it, it becomes real to me again. Most times.
The speaker ended. Music started. And I began to think about all of it.
"God, I know it's You. You want me back, back in Your arms. But I can't. Everytime I'm on my knees, bowing at Your feet, it always ends in failure. This time won't be any different. And I can't take it anymore. Leave me alone. I don't want this. I'm tired of fighting, and in the end, always losing. I can't do this."
And now, thinking about it, I'm scared like you wouldn't believe. I'm confused and fed up. I'm so sick of this and want it to be all over. I regret everything, regret the first bruise, scratch, and cut. I regret ever giving up on my God. I regret all of it. It's gotten me no where, and I can't see at all how the end can possibly justify any of this. It's not worth it.
I don't want it to be like this. I want to believe in God and give Him everything I have and everything I am, even though it isn't much by now. I don't want to give up. But I don't know what I'm doing anymore.
kadi.
The speaker ended. Music started. And I began to think about all of it.
"God, I know it's You. You want me back, back in Your arms. But I can't. Everytime I'm on my knees, bowing at Your feet, it always ends in failure. This time won't be any different. And I can't take it anymore. Leave me alone. I don't want this. I'm tired of fighting, and in the end, always losing. I can't do this."
And now, thinking about it, I'm scared like you wouldn't believe. I'm confused and fed up. I'm so sick of this and want it to be all over. I regret everything, regret the first bruise, scratch, and cut. I regret ever giving up on my God. I regret all of it. It's gotten me no where, and I can't see at all how the end can possibly justify any of this. It's not worth it.
I don't want it to be like this. I want to believe in God and give Him everything I have and everything I am, even though it isn't much by now. I don't want to give up. But I don't know what I'm doing anymore.
kadi.
Saturday, December 15, 2007
Resolutions.
"The folksinger said his friend was performing a covert operation, freeing hostages from a building in some dark part of the world. His friend's team flew in by helicopter, made their way to the compound and stormed into the room where the hostages had been imprisoned for months. The room, the folksinger said, was filthy and dark. The hostages were curled up in a corner, terrified. When the Navy SEALs entered the room, they heard the gasps of the hostages. They stood at the door and called to the prisoners, telling them they were Americans. The SEALs asked the hostages to follow them, but the hostages wouldn't. They sat there on the floor and hid their eyes in hear. They were not of healthy mind and didn't believe their rescuers were really Americans.
The SEALs stood there, not knowing what to do. They couldn't possibly carry everybody out. One of the SEALs, the folksinger's friend, got an idea. He put down his weapon, took off his helmet, and curled up tightly next to the other hostages, getting so close his body was touching some of theirs. He softened the look on his face and put his arms around them. He was trying to show them he was one of them. None of the prison guards would have done this. He stayed there for a little while until some of the hostages started to look at him, finally meeting his eyes. The Navy SEAL whispered that they were Americans and were there to rescue them. Will you follow us? he said. The hero stood to his feet and one of the hostages did the same, then another, until all of them were willing to go. The story ends with all the hostages safe on an American aircraft carrier."
-Donald Miller, Blue Like Jazz.
As he his telling this story in his book, Donald Miller is explaining one of his epiphanies about why a story is structured like it is- setting, conflict, climax, and resolution. This story made a point about resolution.
If a story and its elements come from reality and our experiences, then resolution must be part of that as well.
We all want an ending. Most of us a good one- to end our story being successful with a family and enough money to care for them. Others, though, don't care, just that it ends. But either way, we look for resolution, for the loose ends to be tied up, however neatly, and the lights to dim as the curtain slowly closes.
We look for a resolution. We look for reassurance and a nod signifying everything will be just fine. We look for peace, a lot of times, maybe, in our own lives. We look for comfort, and sometimes, just for the world to stop spinning for a moment so we can catch our breath.
But we find ourselves in that filthy and dark room. But it all seems normal, like that's how the world is supposed to spin. And when Someone finally steps in, down from their throne, we're caught off guard and aren't sure what to do with what they're offering us. It's grace and forgiveness and a love that no one else could give, but we've never seen anything like it and quickly retreat back to what we know. But you see, He, the one who decided to step into our reality, just as quickly becomes what we are, human, and shows us that He can relate to us. As a light is shone on everything we've built our lives on, we realize that what we've believed in was never worth it.
He shows up, in the midst of the most painful faces, in some of the stangest places, hoping to offer us a resolution that is true and honest among something masked over as real and right.
kadi.
Skillet - Looking For Angels.
The SEALs stood there, not knowing what to do. They couldn't possibly carry everybody out. One of the SEALs, the folksinger's friend, got an idea. He put down his weapon, took off his helmet, and curled up tightly next to the other hostages, getting so close his body was touching some of theirs. He softened the look on his face and put his arms around them. He was trying to show them he was one of them. None of the prison guards would have done this. He stayed there for a little while until some of the hostages started to look at him, finally meeting his eyes. The Navy SEAL whispered that they were Americans and were there to rescue them. Will you follow us? he said. The hero stood to his feet and one of the hostages did the same, then another, until all of them were willing to go. The story ends with all the hostages safe on an American aircraft carrier."
-Donald Miller, Blue Like Jazz.
As he his telling this story in his book, Donald Miller is explaining one of his epiphanies about why a story is structured like it is- setting, conflict, climax, and resolution. This story made a point about resolution.
If a story and its elements come from reality and our experiences, then resolution must be part of that as well.
We all want an ending. Most of us a good one- to end our story being successful with a family and enough money to care for them. Others, though, don't care, just that it ends. But either way, we look for resolution, for the loose ends to be tied up, however neatly, and the lights to dim as the curtain slowly closes.
We look for a resolution. We look for reassurance and a nod signifying everything will be just fine. We look for peace, a lot of times, maybe, in our own lives. We look for comfort, and sometimes, just for the world to stop spinning for a moment so we can catch our breath.
But we find ourselves in that filthy and dark room. But it all seems normal, like that's how the world is supposed to spin. And when Someone finally steps in, down from their throne, we're caught off guard and aren't sure what to do with what they're offering us. It's grace and forgiveness and a love that no one else could give, but we've never seen anything like it and quickly retreat back to what we know. But you see, He, the one who decided to step into our reality, just as quickly becomes what we are, human, and shows us that He can relate to us. As a light is shone on everything we've built our lives on, we realize that what we've believed in was never worth it.
He shows up, in the midst of the most painful faces, in some of the stangest places, hoping to offer us a resolution that is true and honest among something masked over as real and right.
kadi.
Skillet - Looking For Angels.
Something Real.
I've really needed to write today, but nothing has been right in my face, getting my attention as something worth writing about. But, I'm still going to go for it.
I've grown up in the church. As kids, they teach us early to always be the same outside of the church as we are in. Now, we hear more about that, but branching out. Make sure you aren't wearing any masks. Don't be fake. Be something real and honest and true.
I never thought I had a mask on. I'm a pretty good Christian at church, school, and home. And I'm generally the same person everywhere I am.
But what if having a mask on meant more than just that?
Eventually, the more layered of a mask you get, the harder it is to recognize who you are, and maybe even that you are hanging on to one of those masks.
It started October '06. Walls were put up between me and God, but I began to tear them down thinking everything would be fine. And it was for awhile. But soon, I screwed up. First layer of a new mask.
It continued until New Years. I went to church and left feeling like I had really changed. And I did. For a week. Quickly I fell again, harder this time. Second layer.
Layer upon layer, I grew accustomed to my life as it was. People talked about being happy with life and enjoying it. I didn't understand that anymore. I had become so used to who and what I was, that I couldn't imagine anything else.
End of May was the first time I hurt myself. It was only a simple bruise from a rubber band, but it was a start. By this time my mask had grown hard, modeling after my heart. My eyes began to close as I wasn't aware of what was going on around me.
It continued. The bruising. Soon, this past October, I cut. And I loved it. It scared me, this wasn't right, it never did feel right, but it was all I had. By this time, I had given on a God who created everything I see. My mask had completely remodeled my life, into something no one could recognize. I didn't let anyone in, until a month before. Even then, at that time, it didn't help. I just wanted to be left alone.
But then I told my parents. And my friend learned more about what was going on. The mask is cracking down the middle. I try to stop, retreat back to what I know, but nothing works. Nothing can save this life. A little bit of light is shining through. And I'm pleading for everything to stop and pretend I'm not here.
I normally try to say I would never take anything back, it makes us who we are. And some of this, I can see know, has helped me. But the first time I ever did anything to cause harm- I would take that moment back in a heartbeat. But this is what I have in my hands now, it's what I'm left with.
It never made sense- any of it.
"It's not right when you find comfort in harming God's temple."
kadi.
I've grown up in the church. As kids, they teach us early to always be the same outside of the church as we are in. Now, we hear more about that, but branching out. Make sure you aren't wearing any masks. Don't be fake. Be something real and honest and true.
I never thought I had a mask on. I'm a pretty good Christian at church, school, and home. And I'm generally the same person everywhere I am.
But what if having a mask on meant more than just that?
Eventually, the more layered of a mask you get, the harder it is to recognize who you are, and maybe even that you are hanging on to one of those masks.
It started October '06. Walls were put up between me and God, but I began to tear them down thinking everything would be fine. And it was for awhile. But soon, I screwed up. First layer of a new mask.
It continued until New Years. I went to church and left feeling like I had really changed. And I did. For a week. Quickly I fell again, harder this time. Second layer.
Layer upon layer, I grew accustomed to my life as it was. People talked about being happy with life and enjoying it. I didn't understand that anymore. I had become so used to who and what I was, that I couldn't imagine anything else.
End of May was the first time I hurt myself. It was only a simple bruise from a rubber band, but it was a start. By this time my mask had grown hard, modeling after my heart. My eyes began to close as I wasn't aware of what was going on around me.
It continued. The bruising. Soon, this past October, I cut. And I loved it. It scared me, this wasn't right, it never did feel right, but it was all I had. By this time, I had given on a God who created everything I see. My mask had completely remodeled my life, into something no one could recognize. I didn't let anyone in, until a month before. Even then, at that time, it didn't help. I just wanted to be left alone.
But then I told my parents. And my friend learned more about what was going on. The mask is cracking down the middle. I try to stop, retreat back to what I know, but nothing works. Nothing can save this life. A little bit of light is shining through. And I'm pleading for everything to stop and pretend I'm not here.
I normally try to say I would never take anything back, it makes us who we are. And some of this, I can see know, has helped me. But the first time I ever did anything to cause harm- I would take that moment back in a heartbeat. But this is what I have in my hands now, it's what I'm left with.
It never made sense- any of it.
"It's not right when you find comfort in harming God's temple."
kadi.
Monday, December 10, 2007
Addictions.
Addictions hurt. Everyone. I used to think I only affected myself. I used to think what happened to me was my own problem and no one else had to be brought in on it. In the last couple months, that thinking has been destroyed.
I bruise. I scratch. I cut. And I thought it only hurt me.
A couple weeks ago, my mom cried as she pulled up my sleeves. She didn't want to do anything the rest of the day. Even go to church. I felt like I had ruined her life. It was my fault. All of my pain, regrets, shame from these past 14 months felt like they were suddenly thrust upon her, with me scrambling to pick up the pieces and try to keep them to myself. I don't want anyone to know what I know.
Last Thursday, I was on the bus with my school, making the eight hour trip home from North Carolina. A week with my school, and I didn't care that I had made it almost 40 days without doing anything, I didn't care. I had a few rubber bands on my wrist, and by the end of the night, I had a bruise running down the middle. My friend knows what I do. He sat down next to me, pleading with me to stop. He cried. Something I'd never seen from him, emotions I knew he had, and knew how strong, but it became real right then. I'm hurting him.
And I hurt God. My God.
"And I wonder what You think when You're staring down at me."
I never meant for it to be like this
I never wanted her to blame You
I never wanted her to be so angry
I saw her tears and knew right then
I knew my burden was placed on her
I promise, I never meant for her to feel this pain
I'm sorry I hurt you so bad
Just know, none of it was ever your fault
None of it was ever because of you.
kadi.
I bruise. I scratch. I cut. And I thought it only hurt me.
A couple weeks ago, my mom cried as she pulled up my sleeves. She didn't want to do anything the rest of the day. Even go to church. I felt like I had ruined her life. It was my fault. All of my pain, regrets, shame from these past 14 months felt like they were suddenly thrust upon her, with me scrambling to pick up the pieces and try to keep them to myself. I don't want anyone to know what I know.
Last Thursday, I was on the bus with my school, making the eight hour trip home from North Carolina. A week with my school, and I didn't care that I had made it almost 40 days without doing anything, I didn't care. I had a few rubber bands on my wrist, and by the end of the night, I had a bruise running down the middle. My friend knows what I do. He sat down next to me, pleading with me to stop. He cried. Something I'd never seen from him, emotions I knew he had, and knew how strong, but it became real right then. I'm hurting him.
And I hurt God. My God.
"And I wonder what You think when You're staring down at me."
I never meant for it to be like this
I never wanted her to blame You
I never wanted her to be so angry
I saw her tears and knew right then
I knew my burden was placed on her
I promise, I never meant for her to feel this pain
I'm sorry I hurt you so bad
Just know, none of it was ever your fault
None of it was ever because of you.
kadi.
Sunday, December 2, 2007
Honesty and Truth and Love.
I'm a teenage girl, 15. Glance at me and you'll see a normal kid, probably rude and doesn't care about others. Probably one of those teenyboppers that drool over every guy and doesn't have a brain that you know of.
That's what most people think. That's how most people would view us. Like this guy I met today.
I went with my mom to Hallmark to get Christmas ornaments. We go every year, she gets us (me and my brothers) an ornament and when we move out, we'll take them with us. But this year, I was hoping to make mine mean a bit more.
I support some amazing organizations. One of the newer ones being (Product)RED. I heard that they were working with Hallmark and to carry some stuff in the store. I was hoping one of the ornaments would be a (Product)RED. Sure enough, there was one. Red heart that says (inspi)RED.
This guy that worked there had talked to me and my mom while we were looking at the stuff. Cool guy, funny. He scanned in our items when we were checking out.
"Why did you choose this ornament? Was it because it's a heart?"
You see, he saw me. Figured that since I'm a teenage girl, I must like anything pink or red and a heart.
Nope. Not exactly.
"No. I actually support Product(RED) and heard that you guys were working with them."
"Oh. Most people come in and don't even know about that."
Sad. People "support" organizations and don't even know what they are about. I know a few people that see me wearing To Write Love on Her Arms shirts and ask me how to buy them, without even knowing the story behind it and what they believe in. But they see the shirt. And learn you can get the same one in purple. It looks cute. They have to get it...
I don't act like a lot of people I come in contact with. I ask why. How. I see someone on the side of the street and want to run up and hug them, let them know people still know how to love. I'll be out with my dad when he makes fun of someone. I want to sit down with that person and explain that not everyone is like that. Not everyone is blind and uncaring.
I love people and truly want them to know that. I don't go around and throw that word about. Love. But, instead, I believe that love is really the movement. Love changes things. It gives hope and freedom. It forgives. Love is always there, never changing, never failing. True love doesn't give up on you just when you need someone.
That's who I am. Not some crazy girl that is obessessed with pink and hearts and name brand purses and doesn't see anything else but that. It's great to like pink and hearts and purses, but when that's all you see, there's a problem. When you only see a celebrity and want to be just like them. When you only see that cute guy and don't care that he bullies the new kid or someone who can't connect with anyone else. Like those purses. Like the anything pink. Like all of that. But also work to see change in yourself and in others. Don't be what the world expects you to be. Prove them wrong and show them that you know how to think and act and live and go against everything this world teaches us. Show them that you believe in so much more. Show them that you care about the person who doesn't shop at American Eagle and get a new car for their sixteenth birthday. Be the change everyone wants to see, but few know how to carry out.
Don't let them stereotype you. Let them know there is still honesty and truth and love in this life we find ourselves in.
kadi.
That's what most people think. That's how most people would view us. Like this guy I met today.
I went with my mom to Hallmark to get Christmas ornaments. We go every year, she gets us (me and my brothers) an ornament and when we move out, we'll take them with us. But this year, I was hoping to make mine mean a bit more.
I support some amazing organizations. One of the newer ones being (Product)RED. I heard that they were working with Hallmark and to carry some stuff in the store. I was hoping one of the ornaments would be a (Product)RED. Sure enough, there was one. Red heart that says (inspi)RED.
This guy that worked there had talked to me and my mom while we were looking at the stuff. Cool guy, funny. He scanned in our items when we were checking out.
"Why did you choose this ornament? Was it because it's a heart?"
You see, he saw me. Figured that since I'm a teenage girl, I must like anything pink or red and a heart.
Nope. Not exactly.
"No. I actually support Product(RED) and heard that you guys were working with them."
"Oh. Most people come in and don't even know about that."
Sad. People "support" organizations and don't even know what they are about. I know a few people that see me wearing To Write Love on Her Arms shirts and ask me how to buy them, without even knowing the story behind it and what they believe in. But they see the shirt. And learn you can get the same one in purple. It looks cute. They have to get it...
I don't act like a lot of people I come in contact with. I ask why. How. I see someone on the side of the street and want to run up and hug them, let them know people still know how to love. I'll be out with my dad when he makes fun of someone. I want to sit down with that person and explain that not everyone is like that. Not everyone is blind and uncaring.
I love people and truly want them to know that. I don't go around and throw that word about. Love. But, instead, I believe that love is really the movement. Love changes things. It gives hope and freedom. It forgives. Love is always there, never changing, never failing. True love doesn't give up on you just when you need someone.
That's who I am. Not some crazy girl that is obessessed with pink and hearts and name brand purses and doesn't see anything else but that. It's great to like pink and hearts and purses, but when that's all you see, there's a problem. When you only see a celebrity and want to be just like them. When you only see that cute guy and don't care that he bullies the new kid or someone who can't connect with anyone else. Like those purses. Like the anything pink. Like all of that. But also work to see change in yourself and in others. Don't be what the world expects you to be. Prove them wrong and show them that you know how to think and act and live and go against everything this world teaches us. Show them that you believe in so much more. Show them that you care about the person who doesn't shop at American Eagle and get a new car for their sixteenth birthday. Be the change everyone wants to see, but few know how to carry out.
Don't let them stereotype you. Let them know there is still honesty and truth and love in this life we find ourselves in.
kadi.
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