Who Can't be Helped

This morning I called Mom with a question about a kid we know with severe mental illness. Lots of people had relatively negative experiences with him, but I always felt privileged that he was nice to me and liked me. Maybe it's because he could tell I care? Whatever the case, recently he's done some really drastic things. And he's in a mental health facility.

I asked Mom if she thinks that incurable mental illness exists; she said yes. My instinctive response was to question, "Why?" Why would God let that be a thing; let some of His precious ones live forever trapped in fear or despair, let them live alienated from other people, let them be so sick they can't even understand Him, can't understand love?

Of course, no one has an answer, not even my mother.

She did say something very interesting though, and to me it was compelling: "We try to make 'them' be like 'us' when they can't. Instead we should realize that they can't be like us, and instead of making things harder we should be making their world a safer place."

AMEN.

I just have this huge privilege and burden called compassion. At least, that's what my therapist says.

But the thing is, people are people. I mean, obviously. But the people who will always live in an alternate universe, the ones who don't see the world "normally" are still people too. They still need love even though they quite possibly can't reciprocate, or even understand, it.

They're still people.

And because institutions identify people by their diagnosis(es), because the average person has no idea, because society itself stifles vulnerable honesty, someone needs to speak up. Someone needs to say, "You are a person, a valuable human being and I love you." Someone needs to say, "This person that you discount and malign? This person is my friend and I will fight for them." Someone needs to shout, "We are people! Don't overlook us!" And we all need to say, "I see you. You are priceless."

On the flip side though, everyone has the right to remove themselves from hurt/danger. When dealing with dramatic behavior, no one can afford to be naive. Everyone absolutely deserves safety. Everyone deserves to be treated as the precious, beloved, little one signed by God, that they are.

He loves everyone.

So should I.

Now I'm just waiting to see where this mission from God leads me.

May you all find your mission from God, that one cause that gets your pulse racing and your eyes watering, the single thing that you would fight for with your dying breath. And may you be radically victorious.

~Dolly

Loved

I am loved.

Sometimes I just need a reminder.

But maybe not from a random guy on the sidewalk.

I mean, there I was, walking along with a group of friends. I'd dropped back to pull my hoodie on, and Kass had dropped back to join me.

Suddenly I felt arms around me, and saw a sleeve I didn't recognize. Everyone I knew was ahead of us, so. . . what the. . . ? I looked back. Straight into the face of a random guy who smelled like he was on. . . something. I thought it was realization that flickered across his face, realization that I wasn't who he thought I was. But then, as I kept walking he came around in front of us, looked me straight in the eyes and said, "I just. . . I love you," then walked off.

We kept walking.

"Did you know him?"

"Nope."

"Hey guys! Some random guy just hugged Dolly."

It was an unusual start to our hang-out time, to say the least.

But at least I knew I was loved! 😉😊😝

It felt strange, I guess, but not that strange. I 'm kinda used to it because random people have always walked up to me like they know me. Except, it was better when I was younger and still cute because then they handed me $20s. Ah, I miss the good old days. 😛

Yes, I'll admit it, I was spoiled. 😁 But honestly, I think it may have helped me be more susceptible to danger. Because, I think my only reaction to that stranger dude was to say "thank you" as he disappeared. #selfdefense ftw!

Thank goodness for Kassidy!!!

But this whole thing does raise a weird question. Why can I accept love from a random stranger better than from myself, or even God sometimes? Why would I totally be fine with some dude saying he loves me (bad idea, I know, but he just walked away), but I can't believe God, the only really safe One, when He says, "I love you, child"?

I mean, I could cite the reason that God's love doesn't always feel present. But it's not like that guy's around all the time to prove himself.

I could argue that circumstances seem to show that God's love isn't real. But is hugging a relatively helpless girl really showing love? (More like sexual assault, right?)

I think that it's because I can be totally fine knowing that dude doesn't really love me. But my whole life hangs on whether or not God loves me, so I have to keep making sure, testing the limits of His love to see if He's true.

I'd love to say He's never failed me, and it's probably true. But honestly, I can't say that with certainty right now. I'm under fire, and having to count on Him, and if I make it through this, then I will say,

"My God hasn't failed me yet. I'll face another day. His love for me is true and He is honest. I trust."

Until that day, I keep hanging on to Him because I have to. 

On that day, I will hang on to Him because He carried me.

Until I'm under fire again. . . Huh, humans, am I right?

~Dolly

The Best Kind of Friend

My heart is full right now.

My closest friend just let me call off our plans for tomorrow and agreed to come over and do homework with me because this week has stunk and I'm kinda behind.

Who does that, right?

Hannah's just one of those people though. She's loyal and fun and totally practical when I need her. She's up for girls' days out, and she's also cool with just hanging out at her college or one of our houses watching TV or swapping pics of cute guys. (Damian McGinty, anyone?)

We've had so many laughs together, but I know that if I need someone, she'll be ready to cry with me too.

I remember this summer, when we were hanging out almost every day. Seriously, her lovely German Shepherd wasn't even getting hyper when I came over, I was there so much! Anyway, I think we both got to a point of thinking 'Is she getting tired of seeing me all the time?' and were each relieved to find that the other person felt the same as we did and wanted to hang out again. Tomorrow. :)

Through this summer, we moved past a lot of insecurities with each other, insecurities in our friendship.

That's why our friendship is still just as strong even though she's in college and I'm stuck at home feeling terrible a lot. We know that both of us wanna make things work out. We're both committed.

So, Hannah! Thank you for being awesome. 😉 Thank you for messaging me randomly on Facebook to ask about hanging out. Thanks for not being scared away by my problems. Thanks for being so selfless. Thanks for being able to talk about anything from crushes to trusting God in pain.

Especially, thank you for being a fantastic baker and lovely-tea maker. 💖

Love you, dear!

~Dolly

Tea Memories

I haven't always been a tea drinker, at least, not a sophisticated one. My mom's always been a coffee person, so I grew up appreciating lattes, breves, normal coffee with (lots of) cream, etc. My Dad kept a stash of mint teas, and Mom occasionally made us drink chamomile (ugh) or sleepytime blends when we were having particular insomnia, but I'd never had experience beyond that.

All that changed when I was at Brownsville Mennonite's Girl's Club, and we had a tea party. The ladies in my cousin Jenny's (here's her creative blog. she writes her own poetry!) family are all avid tea drinkers, to the best of my knowledge, and Auntie Dorcas (her very insightful blog is here) brought an array of teas, including some fancy loose-leaf black tea from Kenya. Honestly, it wasn't my favorite. Kind of bitter and dark and strong, so not the ideal tea to start out with, but it broadened my horizons.

Later, after I (finally!) passed Driver's Ed (That's a story for another time, if ya'll wanna hear. . . read? . . . it.), Mom and I stopped by Auntie Dorcas's to tell them the good news, especially since it's a house full of empathetic listeners. When she heard the news, my cousin Emily (her blog is here, and it's pretty awesome. She's pretty adventurous.) literally jumped in the air, then ran upstairs to grab a celebratory pot of tea she'd been brewing in her room. (I told you they were avid tea drinkers.) That's when tea started to become a sign of happy memories and hospitality: something warm and comforting.

Then about a year ago, one of my favoritest people started broadening her own tea horizons, and I was invited along for the ride. This past school year and summer vacation especially, Hannah and I hung out a lot. And tea was quite often involved. We would sit around, listening to a new favorite song, talking about her latest Ted Dekker book, and catching up on each other's lives. And drinking tea. My personal favorite was Meyer Lemon (which we can only find at Fred Meyer's, which amuses us), and Hannah tried something different each time. She's more of a tea-adventurer than I am. During this time, my appreciation of tea deepened and became a sign of connections and friendships and shared enjoyment and peaceful. . . just abiding together. To me, abiding is being so comfortable with someone that you can totally rest in their presence without feeling threatened, and bare your heart without fear of rejection. That's what tea started to represent to me.

During this summer vacation (I think), Hannah made us a London fog. I pretended to be helpful and tried to stay out of the way. More recently, we experimented together on Early Grey Shortbread Cookies for a tea party. That's when tea, specifically Earl Grey, came to represent teamwork and warm fuzzy feelings, like the wonderful smells of cookies and tea mingled together and filling the kitchen, or the companionable feeling of making a drink together and then getting to appreciate your efforts. In short, I'm sitting by an empty jar that used to hold a London Fog I made this morning, and remembering how I got to this point. A year ago, I maybe would've had an idea of what Earl Grey was. Maybe. Now I have an entire (though short) tea history to look back over!

I'm grateful for the people that helped me get here. Auntie Dorcas, who introduced me to black tea, Emily, who introduced me to the celebration of tea, and Hannah, who introduced me to the companionship of tea. You have truly filed my life with good things. I'm grateful for our shared tea memories, and the new tea moments we'll hopefully share together.

~Dolly