I fear what is to come, and what will become of me...

It's been one of those semesters when I just feel like I'm always one step behind where I need to be. I'm so close, and then I just barely get a hold of that final foothold. It's like Frodo and Sam, you know? Except that my Sam isn't yelling, "Don't you let go. Reach!" ...or is he? Have I just been to deaf to listen?

For church this last Sunday, Claire and I went to the local E-Free church instead of going into Lincoln. Their regular pastor was gone this week so they had the associate speak. In general, the message was fairly repetitive...which bothered me then, but now I am thankful for it. These last two days I've had his words, the words of the psalmist ringing in my ears, "It is good to be near God." I've heard it said that repetition is the best way to learn...but now I truly believe it.

What does this have to do with my inability to listen? The pastor also mentioned that when we feel distant from the Lord it isn't because He has moved--He's waiting for us to come back to Him. We're the one's moving away. I'm the one that's been moving away, and that is why I have been falling behind in everything.

I've been filling out grad school apps and am just generally concerned about that whole process. What if I don't get in to the school I want to? What if I don't get in at all? It is good to be near God. I should stop worrying about these things and remember that regardless of where I end up, it will not be alone and it will not be without God.

These are things I am hearing tonight. So I'll reach out for that hand that never stopped wanting to hold me. It is good to be near God. It is good.

"Will You please hold me? And sing me a love song again, say the words that heal my heart. Sing me a love song and then, let Your words remind me who I am. You never failed me before..."

Were hearts made whole just to break?

Rejection. It's been the tune of my summer. And believe me when I say that this has nothing to do with romance, again. No, it's something a little more shallow, but still a bit painful.

I've been filling out job applications like no one's business. To no avail. Either I don't meet the requirements (how do I not make the requirements at a bookstore?) or they aren't hiring (even though they're handing out applications like cheap candy).

Now, I suspect the requirements I'm not making having something to do with going back to school in the Fall. Who would have thought that going to college would cost me job opportunities? Didn't think of that negative. 

Who would have a big sign when you walk into their store: "Pick up your application today!" if they weren't actually hiring? Talk about false hope...

As bitter as I am about this this morning, it has given me a lot to think about. How could the constant "no" be teaching me? What should I be learning from this experience?

Well, when I get to graduate school applications I probably (and by "probably" I mean "definitely wont") get into every school I apply to. And when I am in grad school not everyone will like my writing style or subject matters. When I get to the publishing world, not every agent will like my stuff. And when I have an agent, not every publisher will like my story. When I get a publisher, not every editor will be helpful. When I'm done editing and book is published, not every reader will enjoy my fantasy either. There will always be disappointments.

Perhaps this summer I am learning to handle those issues. I am preparing for my life. Why didn't anyone tell me the start pistol had fired?

I'm going to leave you with a short poem I wrote last night, when I was trying to work out the next seen in Morning Star. It's just a ditty, really, it needs work. But it's a start.


It is not for lack of paper,
That I do not write.
I have drawer upon drawer
Of books waiting to be written.

It is not for lack of heart,
That my voice is silent.
I have tear after tear,
Of love and pain to be heard.

It is for lack of courage,
That I shrivel in fear.

But stand up,
Silent poet,
Be strong.

Let the tears fall down... let them soften this ground

I fell on the ice today and apparently landed on my left side.

My left arm is in quite a lot of pain, and it makes me realize how much I use it.

I called my Daddy right after I got back to my room. And it was almost instant tears. I've never wanted to be home more than in that moment. Because home means knowing. And home means help. And home means being with my mommy, and my daddy, and the best little brother in the world. Home means that I can get out a cherry-pit pack from the freezer and not have to carry around a towel. Home means stronger pain killers than Advil. Home means not having to climb up into bed. Home means someone will kiss it better. Home means not having to walk (on the ice) to get supper. Home means comfort. And that is a beautiful thing.

By the way, today was definitely, "Stop blowing holes in my ship" kind of day.

"Get back up, get back up again." [TobyMac]