". . . Your Kingdom come, Your will be done on earth like it is in Heaven."
This is where things start to get confusing. I mean, God's Kingdom is never explained completely in the Bible. And how am I supposed to know what His will is?
I'm not a theologian- at least, not formally trained or anything. But even I can see that this is surrender.
I think praying for God's Kingdom to come is kinda like praying for His big-picture plan. You know, where He comes to rule over the nations and where everyone admits that He's God. I tend to get in a rut really easily, expecting each day to be the same, letting the world go by. But God's got big stuff planned. Huge! Trumpets,-lights-earthquakes-bodies-rising kind of huge! Things aren't just fine the way they are. Change is coming! And I should be praying for it, looking forward to whatever God's got planned, instead of sitting around letting things be.
The other part of God Kingdom, though, is already happening. We as a church represent the current Earth sector of it. So, I see praying for the church to be ready, to be getting her warrior game on, as also praying for God's Kingdom to come. (I.e. Be present here, Be active here.) There are plenty of hopeless, hurting people just looking for some good news. And, like the apostle Paul said, how can they hear if no one goes and tells them about it? That's why the church needs to be constantly energized and empowered by God's Spirit. We're in a battle, fighting for what was stolen from our King forever ago in the Garden of Eden. We need help.
And then there's the matter of God's will. What does He want? Sometimes I have such a hard time with this! But there are some things that are always true, and always God's will, just because they're part of who He is! I often start there, and as I'm praying, if God wants me to pray something specific, He'll tell me. Sometimes really bold things have come out of my mouth and kinda shocked me, because I used to be pretty timid with God. But they always came true, which served to grow my faith a little bigger, help me be a little bolder, and proved God's power to myself and others.
Back to my earlier point, these things are always true:
God wants relationship with people. He wants to save them from their miserableness and teach them what love means.
God wants the church to grow. Not just in numbers, God also wants us to grow up, in a way. He wants leaders with integrity, workers with dependability, and people of faithful passion to work together in unity, with Him in charge.
God wants us to learn, individually. We're all on a journey, cliche as that is, and we need to go to Him for help finding our way. Whatever you know you're getting lax on in your relationship with God, talk to Him about it. I know I tend to have trouble making time or investing energy to actually participate in devotions. I tend to just read a chapter in my Bible, maybe read in a devotional book a bit, and call it good. I don't always try to actually understand what's going on. That's honestly why I'm doing this Lord's Prayer thing: to recalibrate, start a habit of intentionally hanging out with God and listening to, not just talking at, Him.
Often as I pray about the things I am certain of, God will add to them. As I'm praying for people to accept Him as the Great God that He is, names will come to mind out of the blue. Or I'll suddenly realize the true importance of a community issue, and pray for the church's effective involvement. Or I'll have a random epiphany that the Lord's Prayer would be perfect for a week-long personal study! 😁
Obviously, not everyone is wired the way I am! But I would suggest that if you're having trouble deciphering God's will on something, start with what You know. Once your heart is open and surrendered, it's a LOT easier to hear what He's saying.
I hope this makes sense! May we all be able to come to God with surrendered confidence.
~Dolly
Our Father...
"Our Father, Who is in Heaven, holy is Your Name."
The beginning of this prayer is about acknowledging what is true.
First of all, God is Father. Daddy. Papa. He is mine.
We have this crazy close bond because, for some reason, He adopted me! With my faults and insecurities and mistakes and fears, He has accepted me; body, soul and spirit. I am wholly, entirely, completely loved. No matter what I do or say.
I was a sinner.
I am a child.
The next phrase is about where home is: it's where my Daddy is, and where I long to be.
Sometimes I just get such an intense empti-full-ness, because honestly, life stinks. It's miserable and draining and utterly discouraging sometimes. I feel like a wanderer here, and I just want to go home! To curl up in my Daddy's arms and cry out all the hurt and sorrow I collected on this broken little rock, and when I'm all done, He will wipe away my tears and say, "You did well, little one. Come into my joy, and just rest."
In apparent contrast with this image of our Daddy, is the reminder that He is holy.
Although He has accepted us as children, He is still perfect. He's completely beyond. Outside. Separate.
Beyond anything we can imagine or will ever experience here. Outside any boundaries that we little humans try to set. Separate from the sin that pervades the atmosphere here on Earth. In summary, God is more. More big. More powerful. More glorious. More brilliant. More everything. Holy.
So, today I run to my Daddy's arms. And I talk, like a little kid, about how big He is; and I recognize the ridiculous privilege I have by being His.
He is great. I am small.
Despite the contrast, we fit.
I am His.
And that's where everything starts. This small set of phrases is the great perspective-shifter.
Without this, I can super easily get everything all out of whack. I can forget my rights as a child, and come cowering, begging for forgiveness. Or I can forget that God actually has power to make sure His will is done here like it is in Heaven. Or I can take everything for granted, forgetting that if mercy wasn't a thing, God's holiness would demand that sin be entirely wiped out, and I would be obliterated since I am (was?) a sinner.
There's a reason Jesus started His prayer this way. It's because these truths are the beginning of everything. They're like glasses lenses: without them things kinda start to lose focus.
"Our Father, Who is in Heaven, holy is Your Name."
"Thank You that I can come to You like a little kid; thank You that You are my Daddy. I can't wait to see You completely someday, all wrapped up in glory in the big Heaven You live in. I can't even imagine what I'll see there- what You'll be like. I mean, You're completely beyond my little sphere of experience. You're perfect! I don't always get why You love me, but I'm thankful that it's true, and that nothing can ever change this fact. I love You too."
~Dolly
The beginning of this prayer is about acknowledging what is true.
First of all, God is Father. Daddy. Papa. He is mine.
We have this crazy close bond because, for some reason, He adopted me! With my faults and insecurities and mistakes and fears, He has accepted me; body, soul and spirit. I am wholly, entirely, completely loved. No matter what I do or say.
I was a sinner.
I am a child.
The next phrase is about where home is: it's where my Daddy is, and where I long to be.
Sometimes I just get such an intense empti-full-ness, because honestly, life stinks. It's miserable and draining and utterly discouraging sometimes. I feel like a wanderer here, and I just want to go home! To curl up in my Daddy's arms and cry out all the hurt and sorrow I collected on this broken little rock, and when I'm all done, He will wipe away my tears and say, "You did well, little one. Come into my joy, and just rest."
In apparent contrast with this image of our Daddy, is the reminder that He is holy.
Although He has accepted us as children, He is still perfect. He's completely beyond. Outside. Separate.
Beyond anything we can imagine or will ever experience here. Outside any boundaries that we little humans try to set. Separate from the sin that pervades the atmosphere here on Earth. In summary, God is more. More big. More powerful. More glorious. More brilliant. More everything. Holy.
So, today I run to my Daddy's arms. And I talk, like a little kid, about how big He is; and I recognize the ridiculous privilege I have by being His.
He is great. I am small.
Despite the contrast, we fit.
I am His.
And that's where everything starts. This small set of phrases is the great perspective-shifter.
Without this, I can super easily get everything all out of whack. I can forget my rights as a child, and come cowering, begging for forgiveness. Or I can forget that God actually has power to make sure His will is done here like it is in Heaven. Or I can take everything for granted, forgetting that if mercy wasn't a thing, God's holiness would demand that sin be entirely wiped out, and I would be obliterated since I am (was?) a sinner.
There's a reason Jesus started His prayer this way. It's because these truths are the beginning of everything. They're like glasses lenses: without them things kinda start to lose focus.
"Our Father, Who is in Heaven, holy is Your Name."
"Thank You that I can come to You like a little kid; thank You that You are my Daddy. I can't wait to see You completely someday, all wrapped up in glory in the big Heaven You live in. I can't even imagine what I'll see there- what You'll be like. I mean, You're completely beyond my little sphere of experience. You're perfect! I don't always get why You love me, but I'm thankful that it's true, and that nothing can ever change this fact. I love You too."
~Dolly
Challenged!
Last night I was at a Bible study, and we talked about the importance of 'The Lord's Prayer'. I was reminded of when I was younger, and I used to use it as a very direct guide for my praying. I would recite the prayer line by line, and after each line I would add my own take on it, kind of. For instance, when saying, "give us today our daily bread," I would continue by telling God about my needs. Or, when asking God to "forgive our sins as we forgive those who sin toward us," I would bring up my own sins, and the ways that other people had hurt me.
Last night while at the Bible study, or maybe soon afterwards, I had another thought. You know, the Lord's Prayer is broken up into seven pieces. More or less. And I just had a thought, that maybe I could sort of recalibrate my prayer life, by taking a day to focus on each of the seven points. Sort of like a week-long devotional. That I write as I go along.
In conjunction with the idea, as I thought about it more, I started thinking about how I honestly don't post on this blog very much. I have trouble disciplining myself, especially in things that run more on inspiration rather than calculated thinking. So, why not document my thoughts as I go through the Lord's Prayer, and just upload them, one piece or two at a time? So that's what I'm going to be doing. If you want, you can check back each day to see where I'm at, or you can come back at the end of the week and read through all of the posts in order. When I'm done, I will post them in chronological order on the sidebar.
However this thing goes down, I appreciate you guys taking this journey with me! Thanks for supporting me even though I don't post on here that much.
With love to you all,
~Dolly.
Last night while at the Bible study, or maybe soon afterwards, I had another thought. You know, the Lord's Prayer is broken up into seven pieces. More or less. And I just had a thought, that maybe I could sort of recalibrate my prayer life, by taking a day to focus on each of the seven points. Sort of like a week-long devotional. That I write as I go along.
In conjunction with the idea, as I thought about it more, I started thinking about how I honestly don't post on this blog very much. I have trouble disciplining myself, especially in things that run more on inspiration rather than calculated thinking. So, why not document my thoughts as I go through the Lord's Prayer, and just upload them, one piece or two at a time? So that's what I'm going to be doing. If you want, you can check back each day to see where I'm at, or you can come back at the end of the week and read through all of the posts in order. When I'm done, I will post them in chronological order on the sidebar.
However this thing goes down, I appreciate you guys taking this journey with me! Thanks for supporting me even though I don't post on here that much.
With love to you all,
~Dolly.
"I Hate You"
We hear it often enough. From pouting Toddlers and angry teens. From flashing eyes and flying fists. From pieces of cardboard held up on sticks. Even, sometimes, from somewhere deep within us- somewhere dark and dirty and slightly foreign.
I've written before about my thoughts on Nathaniel Hawthorne, and I do think he's a great author, but I don't necessarily agree with his ideas. For instance, at the end of his most well-known book, The Scarlet Letter, he suggests that maybe, deep down, love and hate are the same thing.
Way to be literary and mysterious and philosophical, Nathaniel, but nope!
I know because I've experienced both.
There was a time when I fantasized a bit about hurting someone. They still deserve it, actually. They deserve to be publicly disgraced, to go to jail, maybe. To be utterly beaten to a pulp.
And they probably never will.
In writing this, I can almost feel it again. That pressure building up inside me.
But you know what this person doesn't deserve, yet desperately needs? Jesus.
And Jesus is love. Aka, the hardest possible thing to offer an extra-evil person.
So: I think our country has a hate problem. Obviously.
And since I can't change the country for another seventeen years (and even then, how much can a vp change a culture that's been building for decades on centuries?) I'll forgive that mystery person I've been talking about.
I'll forgive every time I feel that tight, hot anger building up again. Thankfully, it hasn't done that for a long time. But, like grief, hatred likes to just pop out every so often. Just to remind you that it's there if you ever want it back.
I don't.
Some might say that if we just stop hating each other, the cycle will stop. I think we also need to stop being so hateful to each other though.
Decent people, loving people, spread love and decency. Jesus people spread Jesus.
Jerks foster hate, and hateful people capitalize on it.
Bottom line: don't be a hateful jerk!
~Dolly
I've written before about my thoughts on Nathaniel Hawthorne, and I do think he's a great author, but I don't necessarily agree with his ideas. For instance, at the end of his most well-known book, The Scarlet Letter, he suggests that maybe, deep down, love and hate are the same thing.
Way to be literary and mysterious and philosophical, Nathaniel, but nope!
I know because I've experienced both.
There was a time when I fantasized a bit about hurting someone. They still deserve it, actually. They deserve to be publicly disgraced, to go to jail, maybe. To be utterly beaten to a pulp.
And they probably never will.
In writing this, I can almost feel it again. That pressure building up inside me.
But you know what this person doesn't deserve, yet desperately needs? Jesus.
And Jesus is love. Aka, the hardest possible thing to offer an extra-evil person.
So: I think our country has a hate problem. Obviously.
And since I can't change the country for another seventeen years (and even then, how much can a vp change a culture that's been building for decades on centuries?) I'll forgive that mystery person I've been talking about.
I'll forgive every time I feel that tight, hot anger building up again. Thankfully, it hasn't done that for a long time. But, like grief, hatred likes to just pop out every so often. Just to remind you that it's there if you ever want it back.
I don't.
Some might say that if we just stop hating each other, the cycle will stop. I think we also need to stop being so hateful to each other though.
Decent people, loving people, spread love and decency. Jesus people spread Jesus.
Jerks foster hate, and hateful people capitalize on it.
Bottom line: don't be a hateful jerk!
- Can you handle that? 😉
~Dolly
To Save Someone
I was stressed this morning. So, I climbed into my bed, and while I lay there with a Chihuahua curled up by my head, I realized that I'm tired quite often.
I think it's because I have a strong desire, something probably hardwired into me, to save the world. Well, not the world, exactly, but people. People who don't think they need saving. People who are struggling through life, just like I am.
Maybe my world is small, but I will defend it fiercely. Because my world is made of people, and people are worth it. Worth my time and energy and slowly-falling-apart heart. They're worth all those things to Jesus. Worth His effort and pain, His position, even His life. They're worth it, period.
So, I try. I text someone, message someone, invite them somewhere they probably can't go, just so they know I'm thinking of them. I try to tell my world of people that they're worth it. Worth it to me, worth it to Jesus. Worth it, period.
Obviously I can't save everyone in my world, even if it is small. But I can remind someone that they matter, matter to me, and matter in the world.
That's the extent of my abilities.
I want to save each person I love; from themself, from their fears, their circumstances, their past and their future.
However, I can't save people, not really.
But maybe I can give them the confidence, remind them that they are worth the effort of saving themselves.
Because you are.
From the core of a heart that will never not be breaking for someone,
~Dolly
I think it's because I have a strong desire, something probably hardwired into me, to save the world. Well, not the world, exactly, but people. People who don't think they need saving. People who are struggling through life, just like I am.
Maybe my world is small, but I will defend it fiercely. Because my world is made of people, and people are worth it. Worth my time and energy and slowly-falling-apart heart. They're worth all those things to Jesus. Worth His effort and pain, His position, even His life. They're worth it, period.
So, I try. I text someone, message someone, invite them somewhere they probably can't go, just so they know I'm thinking of them. I try to tell my world of people that they're worth it. Worth it to me, worth it to Jesus. Worth it, period.
Obviously I can't save everyone in my world, even if it is small. But I can remind someone that they matter, matter to me, and matter in the world.
That's the extent of my abilities.
I want to save each person I love; from themself, from their fears, their circumstances, their past and their future.
However, I can't save people, not really.
But maybe I can give them the confidence, remind them that they are worth the effort of saving themselves.
Because you are.
From the core of a heart that will never not be breaking for someone,
~Dolly
Grieving Me
I've been ridiculously tired lately. The kind of tired and that makes me stay in bed all day, and still sleep through the night. The kind of tired that means my apartment is a wreck, and my dishes haven't been washed for at least a week.
It's humiliating.
I've been so ashamed of myself. I have no job, my apartment is a mess, and I still haven't finished my GED test. I feel like a failure.
But honestly, I've felt like a failure for a long time. It mostly started in high school, when due to a combination of hard subjects, bad materials, and clueless teachers, I ended up dropping out of some classes.
Through all of that, I still held on to my dream. I'd love to be a counselor in Eugene, listening to people's stories, getting to know them, and maybe even being able to help some people.
But if High School was hard, life afterwards has been much more difficult. Every time someone asks me what I'm up to, all I can respond with is, "I live in an apartment on our property, with a chihuahua." And every time I wither a bit inside.
My friends are going to college, making friends, getting jobs... and I sit and pile up dirty dishes.
Humiliating.
Discouraging.
Shameful.
I am, every day, defeated.
A friend and I are working on starting a cupcake business that does events. Perfect for me, since I can usually focus on something for a couple of days, even when I'm low.
And that excites me, I guess. Planning is fun.
But I've been completely drained since we started actually planning and brainstorming. It's ridiculous, I mean, I finally have a reason to maybe not call myself a failure. If we can pull it off, I mean.
But mom and I were talking today, and she brought up a good point.
I'm grieving.
Grieving for my future, for my self that feels destroyed.
For the dreams, and even plans that should be so feasible, but are so completely impossible.
For a life I thought I could have, but probably never will.
It stings.
I'm grieving.
Shame helps nothing.
Right now I'm waiting it out, and getting ready for a new future. A future that's hopefully feasible.
Asking God for a reason, a destiny to follow.
Thanks for taking the time and energy to read. I don't have answers today, but they will come. I hope!
~Dolly
It's humiliating.
I've been so ashamed of myself. I have no job, my apartment is a mess, and I still haven't finished my GED test. I feel like a failure.
But honestly, I've felt like a failure for a long time. It mostly started in high school, when due to a combination of hard subjects, bad materials, and clueless teachers, I ended up dropping out of some classes.
Through all of that, I still held on to my dream. I'd love to be a counselor in Eugene, listening to people's stories, getting to know them, and maybe even being able to help some people.
But if High School was hard, life afterwards has been much more difficult. Every time someone asks me what I'm up to, all I can respond with is, "I live in an apartment on our property, with a chihuahua." And every time I wither a bit inside.
My friends are going to college, making friends, getting jobs... and I sit and pile up dirty dishes.
Humiliating.
Discouraging.
Shameful.
I am, every day, defeated.
A friend and I are working on starting a cupcake business that does events. Perfect for me, since I can usually focus on something for a couple of days, even when I'm low.
And that excites me, I guess. Planning is fun.
But I've been completely drained since we started actually planning and brainstorming. It's ridiculous, I mean, I finally have a reason to maybe not call myself a failure. If we can pull it off, I mean.
But mom and I were talking today, and she brought up a good point.
I'm grieving.
Grieving for my future, for my self that feels destroyed.
For the dreams, and even plans that should be so feasible, but are so completely impossible.
For a life I thought I could have, but probably never will.
It stings.
I'm grieving.
Shame helps nothing.
Right now I'm waiting it out, and getting ready for a new future. A future that's hopefully feasible.
Asking God for a reason, a destiny to follow.
Thanks for taking the time and energy to read. I don't have answers today, but they will come. I hope!
~Dolly
Rebel
I recently hung out with someone, and afterwards was trying to figure out why we didn't connect as we have in the past. We couldn't find things to talk about for the most part, and we didn't particularly agree on what to do. Our time together wasn't necessarily awful, it was just exhausting.
In going over it with one of my confidants later, I realized that before, we connected over our mutual rebellion against some of the same subjects. For instance, we both disagreed with strict Church or parental rules, and we both got that ridiculous teenager joy of knowing we had gotten away with something.
I also realized that though I feel passionately about many things, and stand up against some things very strongly, I'm no longer a rebel.
I haven't given up, I've overcome.
I don't have to fight to try to get out of a box, because I'm not being shoved in one. I'm still in a box, because I'm a finite human, but I made this box and it's comfortable and it has enough space for me to turn around in. I don't have to fight: there's nothing to push against.
It's interesting that such a large part of my previous identity has faded away.
But, it makes sense. I don't go to a Mennonite church anymore- therefore I follow the rules that I create for myself, not the rules that the church makes me follow. (Nothing against Mennonites, this is just from my personal experiences/feelings.)
I live in an apartment, and while I still respect my parents standards and wishes, they're not here to tell me what to do.
I used to say that I was doing these things because I believed in them. Wearing the head covering, wearing skirts, speaking and acting with decorum, these things were foisted upon me as a child. I defended them, but I still mostly did them because I had to. Now I am doing them because they are mine; it is my choice to speak, act, dress, live a certain way.
I don't need to rebel anymore.
I hope you don't have to, either.
~Dolly
In going over it with one of my confidants later, I realized that before, we connected over our mutual rebellion against some of the same subjects. For instance, we both disagreed with strict Church or parental rules, and we both got that ridiculous teenager joy of knowing we had gotten away with something.
I also realized that though I feel passionately about many things, and stand up against some things very strongly, I'm no longer a rebel.
I haven't given up, I've overcome.
I don't have to fight to try to get out of a box, because I'm not being shoved in one. I'm still in a box, because I'm a finite human, but I made this box and it's comfortable and it has enough space for me to turn around in. I don't have to fight: there's nothing to push against.
It's interesting that such a large part of my previous identity has faded away.
But, it makes sense. I don't go to a Mennonite church anymore- therefore I follow the rules that I create for myself, not the rules that the church makes me follow. (Nothing against Mennonites, this is just from my personal experiences/feelings.)
I live in an apartment, and while I still respect my parents standards and wishes, they're not here to tell me what to do.
I used to say that I was doing these things because I believed in them. Wearing the head covering, wearing skirts, speaking and acting with decorum, these things were foisted upon me as a child. I defended them, but I still mostly did them because I had to. Now I am doing them because they are mine; it is my choice to speak, act, dress, live a certain way.
I don't need to rebel anymore.
I hope you don't have to, either.
~Dolly
A Creative God
A couple weeks ago or so, one of my cousins got married in Spokane, Washington. Since all the Aunts, Uncle and Cousins came out for the first Smucker cousin wedding, we had a reunion too, but that was up in Bonners Ferry, Idaho, and it was afterwards.
While we were there, the fuel pump on our truck went out, so we got to stay an extra day with my uncle's family up there. I decided to have a mini-adventure, and went to school with my younger cousins.
It wasn't nearly as awkward as I thought it'd be.
Anyway, (I'm actually approaching my point here!)
The high school teacher gave a mini-lecture on writing, which fired me up. I grabbed my cousin's notebook and a pencil and started scribbling. And when I reread it, I thought, "Ya know, this could be a blog post!"
And then our truck got fixed and we went home the next day and I left it behind!
Fortunately, I have an awesome Aunt Twila, who mailed a couple of ratty notebook papers to me with a little note on the envelope saying that these were "good words". Now they are in my hand, so I can type them up and you can read them, if you want.
While we were there, the fuel pump on our truck went out, so we got to stay an extra day with my uncle's family up there. I decided to have a mini-adventure, and went to school with my younger cousins.
It wasn't nearly as awkward as I thought it'd be.
Anyway, (I'm actually approaching my point here!)
The high school teacher gave a mini-lecture on writing, which fired me up. I grabbed my cousin's notebook and a pencil and started scribbling. And when I reread it, I thought, "Ya know, this could be a blog post!"
And then our truck got fixed and we went home the next day and I left it behind!
Fortunately, I have an awesome Aunt Twila, who mailed a couple of ratty notebook papers to me with a little note on the envelope saying that these were "good words". Now they are in my hand, so I can type them up and you can read them, if you want.
Spiritual gifts fascinate me. They're a sort of Heavenly psychology- instead of personality types and traits, they're these divinely - appointed abilities, custom - fit to each of god's dear ones. Each of us has a unique place, a unique combination of supernatural characteristics that give us a specific spot in God's story. It's awesome!
But, I think even more interestingly, each gift represents an aspect of God's character. My gift of mercy can help me see people through God's eyes, while someone else's gift of knowledge can give them a much clearer view of truth than I may ever have. That's why church is so important- none of us can fully represent God's character alone. We're too small. But with all of us standing together and operating in our understanding of God's individual traits, we can better represent Him as a whole.
To be honest, this gets me kind of hyped up. There's something about realizing what a small part you play, but that it's intrinsic to a much larger whole. And by "larger" I mean intergalactic. Because our God's that big.
Moving on, though, (because I can't think of a better transition) one of God's traits that absolutely intrigues me is His creativity. The study of His mind is very personal to me, because it seems to be a tad bit overlooked. I guess that's understandable. God's creativity, in the sense that I mean, isn't really the thing that we base major doctrines off of. But knowing that God thinks the same way I do, (just. . . to the nth, because, you know, He's God) makes Him so much more relatable! And no doctrine, no matter how true, can match the thrill of getting to know a Being so beyond human grasp.
Now, hang on for a moment. This is the good stuff. This is why I love having a creative God. Here goes:
This fantastical. . . Being, Who's always been, Who has more power than I could ever dream of, Who literally is the only thing keeping our little Earth-rock from spinning out of control, this God had an eternity to wait until He made everything. I would get bored. But, of course, God didn't. He was busy.
For a whole forever, God planned. Sort of a holy drawing-board. He sat and decided to stripe His zebras. To make cats the floppiest mammals. To make dessert flowers so small we can't see them- they're just there because He felt like it.
And then, I think God got so excited about His ideas He had to talk about them. And in His still, small voice that can melt worlds, God spoke. And as He talked about His fantastic ideas, because He's God, they happened.
And God, with all His power that I can't imagine, holiness I can't grasp, and creativity without edges, decided He wanted me here. Me, with my depression and anxiety and physical deformities and incapabilites and everything else. . . He decided that I was worth His time and His effort, so He planned me out- frizzy hair to missing fingers. The God of everything came up with the idea for me. And He decided I was worth the effort it would take Him to make me and win me. Somehow, my being in Heaven someday is so important to God that He risked all the pain I put Him through, (He knew what He was getting into) and God. Made. Me.
If He can invest so much, maybe I can live through today. Since He risked His heart in starting the beat of mine, I can learn, just a little today, about the beat of His heart that's big enough to hold all of us and strong enough to break for each of us.
Apparently He thinks I'm worth His time.
I know He's worth my life.
May you find the same to be true for you. God thinks you're worth His effort and risk, and whether or not you believe it, I do.
~Dolly
In Review
Wow... I've officially had a blog for a year!
So far there've been:
3 Facelifts
23 Posts Published
55 Facebook Followers (Increase the number here) 😉
and a LOT of Things learned. Things like:
How to use emojis on blogger 😑😶😀😏🌝😻🙀😸💓💁💚💛💜 (etc., etc.)
How to make posts accessible
How to write clearly
and very importantly, How to be honest. Because that's hard, especially here on the interwebs.
I've shared about my dreams and struggles and other stuff. Not everything of course, but. . . enough, I guess. So here's where my life's at now:
I'm still living in the little shop apartment with Bailey. It's been fun! Not exactly sunshine and roses though. My house is a mess, (and I don't say that lightly) Bailey and I both have anxiety issues, and I really hate washing dishes. If I'm not careful to regulate Bailey and my routine, she has an annoying tendency to pee on my clothes or poop on the floor. And until maybe a week ago (when my best friend saved my knees and back from hours of scrubbing) the bathroom floor was covered in dried kitten diarrhea. It smelled amazing! 🙄😷😑
I've mostly graduated high school. . . Just the scariest part to go! #GED #MathAndScience I'd love to get a job, honestly, but finishing the GED test comes first. And then learning to properly keep house. As in, consistently. And then, maybe I'll believe I have what it takes to enter the workforce! Of course, that's all my plan. God might very well have something else up His sleeve, and if so, I'll probably kick and scream and then write a lovely blog post about His plan- once I settle down.
Spiritually I feel like Habakkuk, crying,
These verses just. . . resonate with me. I know I'm not the only of God's small ones that raises a cry. We look around and then shout, "Daddy God! Look! Violence- people are killing each other and wounding hearts and look at all of us down here bleeding! Government isn't working, we don't trust our leaders, and right and wrong are so tangled we can hardly tell what's what! ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING?"
So far there've been:
3 Facelifts
23 Posts Published
55 Facebook Followers (Increase the number here) 😉
and a LOT of Things learned. Things like:
How to use emojis on blogger 😑😶😀😏🌝😻🙀😸💓💁💚💛💜 (etc., etc.)
How to make posts accessible
How to write clearly
and very importantly, How to be honest. Because that's hard, especially here on the interwebs.
I've shared about my dreams and struggles and other stuff. Not everything of course, but. . . enough, I guess. So here's where my life's at now:
I'm still living in the little shop apartment with Bailey. It's been fun! Not exactly sunshine and roses though. My house is a mess, (and I don't say that lightly) Bailey and I both have anxiety issues, and I really hate washing dishes. If I'm not careful to regulate Bailey and my routine, she has an annoying tendency to pee on my clothes or poop on the floor. And until maybe a week ago (when my best friend saved my knees and back from hours of scrubbing) the bathroom floor was covered in dried kitten diarrhea. It smelled amazing! 🙄😷😑
I've mostly graduated high school. . . Just the scariest part to go! #GED #MathAndScience I'd love to get a job, honestly, but finishing the GED test comes first. And then learning to properly keep house. As in, consistently. And then, maybe I'll believe I have what it takes to enter the workforce! Of course, that's all my plan. God might very well have something else up His sleeve, and if so, I'll probably kick and scream and then write a lovely blog post about His plan- once I settle down.
Spiritually I feel like Habakkuk, crying,
How long, LORD, must I call for help, but you do not listen? Or cry out to you, 'Violence!' but you do not save?
Why do you make me look at injustice? Why do you tolerate wrongdoing? Destruction and violence are before me; there is strife, and conflict abounds.
Therefore the law is paralyzed, and justice never prevails. The wicked hem in the righteous, so that justice is perverted.
And of course, we know He is listening. I think. 😕 He must be, because I believe His reply to Habakkuk is still valid for me, right now.
“Look at the nations and watch— and be utterly amazed. For I am going to do something in your days that you would not believe, even if you were told. ..."
So, I'll try to wait. I'm watching.
Y'know, all this time I thought Habakkuk was just kinda. . . stuck in there. Like filler material with a conveniently laughable name. In fact, I felt that way about most of the minor prophets. Then, of course, I gave myself a challenge of reading through them all. (Not for any spiritual reason. I just wanna be able to say that I've read the whole Bible except Song of Songs so I can quit being such a disappointment to our youth pastor.)
But it's been good. And now I hafta go home to my house and quit using my parents' internet.
Goodnight everyone! I might not know you, but I love you! If that makes sense. . . Whatever. Byeee~!
~Dolly
Battle of Literature
I have an urge to write, but only nebulous ideas for a subject. This sudden outburst of undefined creativity is inspired by Edgar Allen Poe, whom I have more or less despised since 4th grade.
For at least a few months now, I've been reading through American Tradition in Literature: Volume 1. It's an overview of our country's history through the writings of of its prominent citizens. Currently I am at Poe, and it's highly fascinating in some ways. See, I view literature as a chance to become acquainted with the author, and Poe is definitely a study! His writings range from slightly dark/strange poetry, to grotesque stories of the occult/insane, to perfectly rational critiques of other authors' works. And I think I've figured him out.
Poe has a decent helping of PTSD, plenty of bipolar to go around, and a pinch of Satan worship.
In any case, I just finished an article Poe wrote- a favorable critique of Nathaniel Hawthorne's Twice-Told Tales. It piqued my interest because some of their styles have a bit of overlap, in fact, some of their writings are super similar, but I prefer Hawthorne WAY more.
And of course, since I'm (borderline) obsessed with introspection and psychology, I had to delve into my own psyche.
Both Poe and Hawthorne wrote stories of the darkly mysterious, where reality and symbolism are all tangled up together until you start to question both. But Hawthorne's stories always have an insinuated point/moral, or a slight glimmer of hope, or both. On the other end of things, Poe, at least in his darker writings or emotional states, just ends his stories at the bleakest, most confusing moment. I think this style was designed to create a certain, strong emotional effect, but for me the emotion is too straightforward (always gotta complicate things!) and somehow incomplete. Poe can horrify and confuse me, but Hawthorne can hold me, hovering halfway between hope and despair with horror; he can let his characters into my head/heart where they find our commonalities. Their evil reflects my own, their struggles mirror mine. And this second effect is much more powerful for me. It's just way more captivating and well-rounded.
And you should read The Scarlet Letter.
I also think I trust Hawthorne more. While he dives into the supernatural realm, he does it with a bit of balance. He writes of fiends (demons) and Satan and witches, but with at least a vague sense of the Divine (God) in the background. Wrong and right are kept firmly in place even while they are tested and questioned. Poe's exploration into the invisible is off-kilter. Rationality is thrown unceremoniously out the window and hope is entirely dismissed. He chokes up his own talent by choosing to write with fear and confusion rather than the much more powerful literary tool of contrast.
Of course, I'm not an expert, just a nerd. 😅 And since my English IV class this past year went through The Scarlet Letter, I've studied Hawthorne much more than Poe. I'll probably go back and reread some of Poe's stories to see if I can understand them (and him) better, and then update you of any changes in my opinions stated here.
Happy Reading! (Remember the assignment I gave ya'll? 😉)
~Dolly
P.S. After some rereading, I'm only slightly less confused than I was originally. My point still stands, as far as I'm concerned.
For at least a few months now, I've been reading through American Tradition in Literature: Volume 1. It's an overview of our country's history through the writings of of its prominent citizens. Currently I am at Poe, and it's highly fascinating in some ways. See, I view literature as a chance to become acquainted with the author, and Poe is definitely a study! His writings range from slightly dark/strange poetry, to grotesque stories of the occult/insane, to perfectly rational critiques of other authors' works. And I think I've figured him out.
Poe has a decent helping of PTSD, plenty of bipolar to go around, and a pinch of Satan worship.
In any case, I just finished an article Poe wrote- a favorable critique of Nathaniel Hawthorne's Twice-Told Tales. It piqued my interest because some of their styles have a bit of overlap, in fact, some of their writings are super similar, but I prefer Hawthorne WAY more.
And of course, since I'm (borderline) obsessed with introspection and psychology, I had to delve into my own psyche.
Both Poe and Hawthorne wrote stories of the darkly mysterious, where reality and symbolism are all tangled up together until you start to question both. But Hawthorne's stories always have an insinuated point/moral, or a slight glimmer of hope, or both. On the other end of things, Poe, at least in his darker writings or emotional states, just ends his stories at the bleakest, most confusing moment. I think this style was designed to create a certain, strong emotional effect, but for me the emotion is too straightforward (always gotta complicate things!) and somehow incomplete. Poe can horrify and confuse me, but Hawthorne can hold me, hovering halfway between hope and despair with horror; he can let his characters into my head/heart where they find our commonalities. Their evil reflects my own, their struggles mirror mine. And this second effect is much more powerful for me. It's just way more captivating and well-rounded.
And you should read The Scarlet Letter.
I also think I trust Hawthorne more. While he dives into the supernatural realm, he does it with a bit of balance. He writes of fiends (demons) and Satan and witches, but with at least a vague sense of the Divine (God) in the background. Wrong and right are kept firmly in place even while they are tested and questioned. Poe's exploration into the invisible is off-kilter. Rationality is thrown unceremoniously out the window and hope is entirely dismissed. He chokes up his own talent by choosing to write with fear and confusion rather than the much more powerful literary tool of contrast.
Of course, I'm not an expert, just a nerd. 😅 And since my English IV class this past year went through The Scarlet Letter, I've studied Hawthorne much more than Poe. I'll probably go back and reread some of Poe's stories to see if I can understand them (and him) better, and then update you of any changes in my opinions stated here.
Happy Reading! (Remember the assignment I gave ya'll? 😉)
~Dolly
P.S. After some rereading, I'm only slightly less confused than I was originally. My point still stands, as far as I'm concerned.
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