Dear girl

To the girl who came up to the counter at work today with scars on your arms,

I have them too.

I understand.

You're not alone.

I've been where you've been.

I've had those nights too. Those nights that choke you of your hope and suck away all the light and leave you, seemingly, with only one option...

I know.

I know.

I know and my heart hurts for you and I wanted to give you a hug and tell you that I'm with you, sister, I am with you in this battle...

But hey, girl with scars on your arms?

There is hope...

I don't know how long you've been fighting. I don't know what it is in your life that has caused you to do that to yourself. I dont know your heart. I don't know who or what has hurt you. I don't know what you carry with you.

I don't know you.

But hey, girl?

Jesus does. 

Dear girl, dear, dear girl who carries scars with you in your heart and on your body, scars just like mine...

Jesus has scars too.

The Son of God, whose birth we're celebrating here in a couple days? He came to earth and he bled and hurt and took the sorrow and sin of the entire world right on His body and His shoulders and His heart...and His arms...and hands and feet and head..and died...so we don't have to hurt ourselves.

You don't have to hurt yourself...

Dear girl, do you know that there is hope?

Do you know that it's going to be okay?

It's going to be okay.

Do you know that there is a Love holding you close to His chest and shielding you when it feels like your whole world is crashing down at your feet?

I've tried it all and maybe you have too. The preventative projects and tactics. Drawing a butterfly on your arm, drawing a semicolon to remind yourself not to give up, pretending that the body part you want to draw a blade across belongs to someone that you love because you sure as hell don't love yourself...

Dear girl...my heart cries for you. I've been there and I wouldn't wish it on anyone and it makes me so sad that you've been there too...

But, friend, do you know that you are loved by God?

You are loved by God...

Do you know that He is not far from you?

Do you know that He weeps with you?

Do you know that you are not undeserving and incapable of being loved like He loves you?

Could you believe with me for a second that He took your punishment 2,000 years ago so that you don't have to punish your precious, beautiful body?

You don't have to do that.

Here's the thing, though, I'm sure you've been told all these things before. I'm sure it gets old and I'm sure that you feel like you take up enough space the way it is, without giving God one more thing to worry about.

But oh, dear girl, the best thing I ever learned was that God is not bound by human emotions and that His love and faithfulness to us is not dependent on our love and faithfulness to Him...

It's just not.

Breathe. He's not leaving. He created you in full knowledge of your messiness. Psalm 103 says that He knows your frame and He remembers that you are feeble, human, unsteady and easily spooked. We spook ourselves pretty easily, yeah?

You can't scare Him away.

Precious girl, I pray that you embrace the love held out to you so freely by a Father Who loves you to death...and then back to life again...

He can love you back to life again.

And His love is holding us, both of us, right now, so close...

There's a baby that came to earth 2,000 years ago, born to a virgin teen in a dirty stable. They named him Emmanuel. God is with us.

You will never walk alone, dear girl.

God is with you.

Take it from someone who knows. You are very seen. And very known. And very protected. And very loved, always, forever, very loved.

He's got you, sister. And me. In His hands.

Praying that you will know Him, as you are fully known, and that you will find comfort and peace and rest in His own scars that He took for you, because of His great love for you.

Merry Christmas. ❤

Brokenness Aside

I wake up this morning and my stomach is immediately filled sick with anxiety. A daily morning occurrence, it is not new for me, but this morning, I mutter, "No. Not doing this." I close my eyes and breathe, say good morning to my boyfriend, get dressed, and go outside to take the dog for a walk.

I am surrounded by glory.

I am reminded of the prophet Elijah in 1 Kings 19. Standing on a mountain before the Lord, Elijah experiences a great wind, but the Lord is not in the wind. Then comes an earthquake, but the Lord is not in the earthquake. Then comes a fire, but the Lord is not in the fire. And after all of these calamities are past, Elijah hears the voice of the Lord in a quiet whisper.

A quiet whisper. 

Everything is whispering around me. Besides my dog and the occasional squirrel here and there, I am alone, just me and the trees. And everything is whispering. The wind through the tree's naked branches, the snow whisking across the thin, frozen surface of the pond, my boots through the leaves on the ground. And I stop for a second and just stare, transfixed, at the chilled clarity of everything around me and the ice and the sky and the snow and the grass and my God has given me all this and Christ?...

It's been a really long, long time since I have been able to or have allowed myself to just be. My heart has been striving, I am often discontent, anxious, sad, my head is on a constant swivel, I never stop.

And here in the cold, with only me and the pond and the dog and the quiet, I feel Him leading me to rest. He's been doing that, lately. I am learning what it takes to get through life with my one broken heart and all of this fear and uncertainly and longing and learning that maybe joy isn't circumstantial, maybe joy is an awareness of my brokenness and an equal awareness that there's this Man that sees me and holds the universe together by the word of His power, even me. And maybe it's not about "getting through" so much as it is allowing Him who loves me with a pure love that washes stains and sees me as I am and clothes me in white, white, like snow, to lead me even when I can't see and can't comprehend or grasp the grace right in front of me.

And I walk on, taking it all in, allowing myself to just be, be with Him, be broken and be okay with it because broken does not mean ruined, broken means held and seen and melded together, and healing, always healing, surrounded with a love like the snow. 

Held

"We're asking why this happened to us who have died to live...it's unfair..."


On December 4th, I sat on the floor with my choir girls all around me. Heads against my head, hands holding my hands, hearts holding my heart, they mourned with me the loss of a life taken far too fast. Close and huddled and humbled, we murmured the Lord's Prayer with broken voices and I glanced up to Heaven and whispered, "Come back soon..."


The same day, I hugged one of my best friends as she cried and told me that the child her mother had miscarried weeks before was a boy, and I shut my eyes and breathed, "Jesus, precious Jesus...You came to bring life and it does not feel like Christmas and I don't understand..."


A few weeks after that, I sat on my bed with a different friend, my insides cold with fear, praying and praying while she read a psalm in an effort to calm both of our souls, and I thought to myself, "When will it end?..."


"This is what it means to be held, how it feels when a sacred is torn from your life and you survive..."


Sometimes appalling, unfair things happen to people who never saw them coming and don't deserve them and we are left to wonder, "Why? Why, Lord? Why this broken world torn apart with grief?..."

Pain can be debilitating if one doesn't know what to do with it. I speak from experience; far too often I make the mistake of breathing in the pain of those around me and sitting with it and letting it smolder inside my chest instead of giving it to the only One Who knows how to make things like pain beautiful. I rely far too much on my flesh and not enough on the One Who gift-wrapped Himself in flesh and gave Himself to me so that the pain in my heart could be redeemed.


I even make the mistake, while raging at Heaven, of accusing Him of not knowing what it's like. Of certainly not being able to grasp the pain of everything happening in my life, because what could a God Who has everything possibly know of pain?


One evening, cursing out the God of Heaven for being distant and cruel and ignorant and unaware of everything happening down here, His response, quiet and patient and harrowing and burning, chilled me.


"Oh, child.


"I sent my Son.


"I waited 13 years for you. You, my Beloved one, for whom I sent my Son to die for. I watched you fall apart and when I reached for you, you refused Me. Time after time after time after...


"A Son, rejected by a Father who gave up everything for His daughter.


"A daughter, sought and paid for, only to reject her Father. A million million times over.


"And you tell Me I know nothing of pain?


"Child, oh, child, tell Me...what do you know of pain?"


And He gave me this image of Himself, 

weeping as He turned His face away from His only son, pinned fevered and gasping and bleeding and dying, black with the sin of everyone ever, on a cross he never asked for, even begged his Father to take from him...


Weeping as I turned my face from Him in turn and instead reached for pleasure, wickedness, sin...over and over and over again until I lost all my bearings and couldn't even remember His name let alone my name in Him...


God knows.


God knows our grief. God knows loss. God knows tears that fall so fast we're afraid we may drown in them. God knows storms that spring up and wipe out all our security. God knows defeat.


God knows pain.


And when our hearts break, our hearts that are anchored to His own, His heart breaks into more pieces than we could ever count. Over and over again.


"This is what it is to be loved and to know that the promise was when everything fell, we'd be held..."

And what I know, what I have gathered from tears and loss and heartbreak is that God holds. God heals. God saves. God never gives us a situation and stops being constant, good, merciful, sovereign, holy. Yesterday, sitting in church, I came, once again, across Romans 8:28-- "And we know that in all things, God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose." Mmm...Charles Spurgeon called that verse, "the pillow on which the righteous rest their weary heads." God works everything out for good. There is a purpose to pain. There is a purpose to grief and loss and wounds that are deep. And it is good.
---
I wrote this post a long few months ago.

Fast forward to today and my little sister's friend was murdered a few days ago, along with her entire family.

And there's a boy who died not long ago either, that I'm seeing posts about, that friends knew well.

And another young man my dear friends knew well, who passed very suddenly on a missions trip to Ireland, while his sister held his hand.

There are 20 or more dead in Dominica...my Dominica...as a result of a monstrous storm.

Our nation just recognized the 14th anniversary of 9/11.

There are posts and news every day it seems like, one tragedy after another, little Syrian boys drowning in the sea, little girls who will never walk down the aisle, families left parent-less, childless, widowed and barren and lost and devastated and I am surprised that this whole world hasn't ripped itself right apart in overwhelming, earth-shattering grief.

And in it all, in all of this, there is a weeping God.

A God Who is not far from each one of us, holding our hands and our hearts together, breaking His own to keep us from falling apart.

And in all of this darkness and death, there is Jesus...Jesus who died the ultimate death so that we always know that our story will end a happy one, free of all of this...

This world, this broken earth, is not all there is. There is a light that shines in the darkness and for every unspeakable tragedy there is an unimaginable love, unreserved grace holding us all close to His chest...

God is not absent in all of this...God is near to each one of us. There is a reprieve from all of this madness and He calls us to come rest, even for 7 seconds, and when we hurt, so angry and so confused and shocked silent with all of this, He's calling...calling us to His arms, calling us to the cross...

And I'm listening. I'm hurting, with a hurting world, with my sister, with my dear friends, and I'm listening. And I'm hearing His words, hearing His whisper that He is close to the brokenhearted and saves crushed souls and I may never understand why on earth He allowed souls to get to the point of being crushed, but I know that mine needs a Savior to breathe it back to life and I know that He offers that life, abundantly...and I am learning, learning to find grace in all things, in the dark destroyed places, and can you hear it?

Hope. 

God is giving us hope. 

And for as long as there is tragedy there will be grace and there will be hope and He is holding out for us, never fainting, never absent...and we are always covered in Jesus' blood, held in the arms of the God of all comfort, Who knows. 

Joey

Hey baby.

You're probably running around right now playing with your brothers and kicking around a pelota, or maybe you're eating a plate full of white rice, or maybe you're playing pato pato ganso with some of your friends, or maybe you're in bed. I'm pretty sure you're probably not thinking about the strange milky-white American teenage girl who burst her way into your world and claimed you as her own for a week, the second you would have her.

But I'm thinking about you.

Oh, precious boy, words are not enough to wrap around the ocean of ache in my heart as I write.

I miss you so much.

I miss your tiny chocolate-brown arms around mine. I miss your giggle when I'd bounce you up and down on my lap and sing the Noble Duke of York song. I miss your raspy little voice and hearing you call my name across the street when I would walk out of the school in the morning. I miss squeezing water from my water bottle into your mouth and how you were so eager to hit the top with the palm of your hand to close it every time you were finished. I miss turning around and looking down and watching you follow me everywhere I'd go, I miss how you would always swoop up my water bottle and my camera and how you were so proud to carry them for me. I miss reaching down and absentmindedly brushing my fingertips along the black stubble of hair across your little forehead. I miss being sure of you. I miss making sure you could be sure of me.

I'm sorry for when I would be short with you and tell you to sit down and stay put so that I could go back to the church and get water or go to the bathroom without you. Not for needing to do those things, but for the selfish relief I would often feel for a couple minutes without your hands clamoring to reach around my neck or my arm or my hands. Sweet baby boy, I would give absolutely anything to get those minutes back with you. Anything. You were not a burden to me. And I should not have made you an option. Time is precious, so precious. In American culture, we so often jump automatically to what is most convenient to us at the moment. You were not convenient sometimes, so I would sit you down and go away for a few minutes at a time. But minutes add up, and now I have to spend many, many more minutes without you, and I am aching, and I am so sorry, baby. Thank you for teaching me not to take time for granted.

Joey, my little love, I had to leave, but there is One Who will never leave you, no matter where you are. His name is Jesús, He is the Son of God, and He is there in the Dominican Republic with you, right now, so close. He is the lover of your soul and He died to know your heart. He sees every tear you cry when big kids steal your pelota from your hands or swing you to the concrete or when you get lost or when people slap your mouth and scare you with loud voices. He sees. He knows. People hurt Him, too. And He had compassion on them and asked God to forgive them. He will protect you. He will keep you safe. He will keep you in perfect peace if you keep your eyes fixed on Him. Joey, you can trust Jesús. He loves you so much. There is nothing that can ever separate you from His love. Joey, love your God. Love Him back. He is the most priceless treasure in the world, more priceless than beads or crayons or comida or agua or dulce or pelotas. He is such a good Friend, better than I could ever be. I can't carry you anymore, but He will always carry you when you're weak. He holds your heart in His hands. He holds this whole huge crazy blue planet and He still sees you. He will always take care of you. He will always provide for you. You will always be special to Him. I know you have lots and lots of brothers and sometimes you feel invisible, but you will never be invisible to Jesús. You are His precious little boy. You are the only you there is. And He loves you with a piece of His heart that He has set aside just for you, that you will never have to share with anyone or fight anyone for. You are so precious, Joey. You are so precious. Look to Jesús. He will show you your worth. Look, baby. Look at Jesús when you are lost or afraid or sad or angry or hurt or hungry or lonely. He is enough. I promise He is enough. He has been enough for me time after time after time. He can be enough for you. He can do anything.

Joey, I love you so much. I wish I could kiss your little face over and over and hold you in my arms forever and run with you and make you laugh so hard. I wish I could bring you to my house and push you on the wooden swing in my backyard and take you for a walk around the pond in the woods behind my house and take you down the road to the gas station and buy you ice cream. I wish I could give you the world. I wish I could hold you every night until you fall asleep, like that night in the church. I may never see you again on this earth, and my heart weeps and breaks for that loss. But I have to look forward to Heaven and trust my God and His faithfulness, and that I will see you there. I can't wait to dance on streets of gold with you, baby boy. :) I can't wait to run and run and run with you and never get tired. I am so thankful for the promise of glory. God is so good to His children, Joey. Praise Him with me.

Thank you for being my friend last week. Thank you for trusting me with you. Thank you for your patience with me. Thank you for all the times you sat quietly with me and just cuddled (I miss your cuddles so much, baby boy. My arms ache). Thank you for your cheeky goofiness and for making me laugh and for helping me to not take life so seriously. You are my Joey joy; you are one of the purest definitions of joy I have ever seen in my entire life. Spread your joy, baby. Shine your light. Be good for your mama and obey her. Be kind to your brothers. Share with those around you. Smile. Always, always smile. I'm in love with those teeth. :) Be an example to your new little brother or sister when they come. You have the potential to do so much good, sweetheart. Choose to do good. Choose to be a blessing. You don't have to try very hard. I was blessed the first time I saw your face peeking at me from the other side of the fence.

Oh, Joey, I love you. I could say it a million times. Lord haste the day when I can hold you again. Until then, I will wait and cry and pray and smile and remember you and remember our week together, and I have pictures of you and your scribbles in my journal, and the sound of your sweet little voice calling, "Ana! ¡Ven! ¡La pelota!" in my head. I will love you across the ocean until I can love you in my arms again.

Jesús is all you need, baby. I am praying every day that you will know Him. He loves you so much, even more than I do. Make Him your best friend, Joey. He loves you endlessly.

I love you endlessly.

Hasta luego, mi amigito precioso. <3

Build Your kingdom here

A couple nights ago, my best friend and I went to a mediocre movie and then went to Sonic for dinner (their limeade, y'all...on FLEEK). We drove from Sonic to a beach to eat and the sky was gray and the water was stormy and it was really strangely beautiful.

While we were there, we started talking about our futures, our hopes and dreams and fears. We talked about boys. We talked about how much we want God to use us to bring Him glory with our lives. I started telling her how scared I am to get close to people lately.

"My life is like a circle," I told her, munching on a fry. "I get close to someone or I get involved in something and I'm like, this is it. This is my nich. This is where I fit. This is what I've finally been waiting for. And then...it goes away or I lose interest or I don't have a choice but to move forward and try to forget or shove it off to the side because I can't get it back. And I'm angry about it and I keep telling myself I won't trust people again and then I meet someone, and it's like, this is it. It's a circle."

We talked about grief. About how grieving things and people brings healing. About how we're tired of grieving.

It was a rather depressing conversation and I was finding myself close to tears, when across the beach from us, I heard a rather odd sound. Well, not odd in itself, but not a sound you would normally hear at a beach. It was an accordion. There was a boy sitting at a table by himself, playing an accordion, oblivious to the rest of the world.

Throughout our conversation, he played Vance Joy. Then, right when I was telling my friend how hopeless I had been feeling, how I have no idea what I want to do with my life and how I wish everything would just slow down and how confused and afraid and overwhelmed I was, he began to play a familiar song.

"Build Your kingdom here, let the darkness fear
Show Your mighty hand, heal our streets and land
Set Your church on fire, win this nation back
Change the atmosphere, build Your kingdom here, we pray..." 

And we both just stopped and I heard Him whisper soft, "My will will be done in you whether or not you are certain of Me. I will have My way in you regardless of whether or not you choose to believe I have you." 

I was shivering and she knew I was cold, so we got in her car and drove back to my house. There were a couple songs that she had asked me to listen to that I had forgotten about, so she played them in the car where I couldn't forget and couldn't get away. :P We pulled into my driveway and the music was loud and my heart was unsteady and aching and yearning and I felt 13 again and my eyes kept shifting around, trying to figure out where to land. That was when I felt Him again, whisper soft, "Look at the trees."

The trees? Why the trees?

So I looked at the branches of the trees, towering above my house, dancing and dipping and flying loose in the wind. "Look at the trees," it came again. So I looked and I didn't understand their significance, until I heard Him again, a little louder and stronger and more sure, "Look, look at the trees."

"Even the trees move for Me."

"Hey, love, breathe in and out. I hold all things together. All creation testifies to My hold on them and they live and move and exist because I will it so. "Child, what purpose does a tree serve but for you to behold or to be used as firewood or a shelter or a cross? The trees have no fear of what is to come; they move at will; they move when I will them to move. They crash down when I will them to crash down. They burn when I will them to burn. They serve the purpose I will for them and they resist Me not. 
"And they're beautiful.
"Child, if even the trees are used by Me for a good and perfect purpose, how much more do you think I will use you?
"Oh, but Child, could you surrender like a tree and could you move when I will and could you open your scared, clenched hands enough to let Me hold and direct them?"

And then the music stopped and I shook myself out of my trance and we went inside and I sobbed and I told her all about what He had said to me and we prayed. I spoke to Him shortly. I was so shaken up by this sudden communication, like, how dare God tell me to surrender? Again? 

But I went to church the next morning and I sat with another dear, dear friend in the grass and we talked about how insane it is that the Lord uses things that are sources of pain and fear to calm us, how sovereign He is over the details in our lives and how we are always, always loved and seen and taken care of.

And I heard Him say, again, "I will build My kingdom here. I will have My way. I will make something of you and all these things that make you up, and I will have my way regardless of whether or not you will have Me." 

God doesn't give up. God knows my humanness. God knows my fear. And God is good. These are the things I have to remind myself of daily, except that now, I can feel my hope returning. I can feel my joy coming back like rain to the dry ground. He'll make something of me. I don't have to strive. I can unclench my hands. His will is good and perfect and He will do something beautiful with me and I don't have to know what I'm going to do with my life because it's not about me.

Father God, help me to remember the trees. Help me to bend when You want me to bend.

Thank You that You never stop creating me. Build Your kingdom here, in me, I pray. <3

Glorious

"Everyone plays a piece and there are melodies in each one of us...oh, it's glorious..."

Choir is over. 

Choir is over and now I have to figure out what I'm going to pour my heart into. I'm not gonna see most of my family for a really, really long time.

Maybe it was coincidence or fate or God the day I walked into that tiny church and was met by countless pairs of beautiful eyes that were as shy as mine. But it wasn't coincidence when we began to introduce ourselves and laugh and watched Frozen together and decided that we liked each other. It wasn't coincidence when I hugged Lilly goodbye that day and thought to myself that I wouldn't mind seeing that smile more often.

Maybe it was coincidence or fate or God or by default that those same beautiful girls with beautiful eyes elected me choir president one afternoon after I promised to bring them cookies. It wasn't coincidence when tears and laughter and pride and joy and family followed.

This is what I know. After last night, this is the conclusion that I've come to.

Love is not a coincidence.

Family is not a coincidence.

They are choices.

Conscious, purposeful choices.

Choices that result in memories that make my heart overflow with abounding, unending joy.

A text message at 11 o'clock at night and staying until she goes to bed because she doesn't want to be alone.

Hands holding my hands and heads against my head and hearts beating with my heart as these girls mourn with me the loss of life taken too soon.

Lizzie's random hugs.

Lilly attacking me at her front door after us being separated for a month.

Coming downstairs and arms flying to wrap around my torso and almost losing my balance for the 8 or 9 girls screaming with excitement because I was late to the party but it's okay because we're all together again.

Throwing my arms around Kristina and laughing and screaming when we FINALLY GET OUR FREAKIN PART DOWN.

Scurrying over to Sarah during a break in choir rehearsal and plopping down in her lap because I don't have to ask.

Paris' hand in mine.

Zoe's radiant smile whenever we make eye contact.

"JENNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN?!"

Kristina's head on my shoulder while we watch TV.

Listening to music together and comparing and contrasting just for the sake of doing something together. 

Trading random tumblr posts with Sarah and Emily.

Alli sharing her Cheetos.

Creating a secret song for Jen because we can't figure out another way to express our love and we all know that music speaks where words fail.

Laughing until I'm sobbing with these girls that have become my sisters in a matter of a semester.

A giant group hug at the end of the concert.

Walking arm in arm down the street with my best friends and realizing that the world around me is beautiful because I can see its beauty through them. Realizing that I am surrounded by these moments that make my life worth living with these precious people that give my days light and meaning. Stopping and understanding that these things, these people, these seconds are not coincidence but God-ordained. 

A silent, "thank You," at the end of a full night, whispered by a full heart. 

Being with these people and wondering what I knew of love before.

And making music with all of them is like tasting Heaven. And it was all over so fast. 

Love is not a coincidence. They are not a coincidence.

My family is not a coincidence.

They are a glorious gift from my God.

I love you guys. 

In which I gush about my choir girls

If you follow the things I post on Facebook, you'll see that lately, a lot of it has been about music and Clara Bella, the homeschool girl's choir that I'm in.

I may as well face it--I'm obsessed. Music makes me come alive and breathe deep and open my eyes up wide. Music remedies my anxiety like nothing else. Music manipulates my emotions and picks me up when I'm feeling sad.

And making music with all of my sisters...ah. Magical.

I am so blessed with all of these girls.

Let me give you a few reasons why.

They speak my love language (touch) so well. I've probably gotten more hugs and kisses and held more hands and gotten more back rubs and had more people play with my hair than I have in my entire life this year. SO WONDERFUL. ❤️️

They have cheered me on and supported me through everything, big or small. We cheer each other on as well. If Jen, our director, is working through something with one of the sections and they finally get it, all of the rest of us will clap and cheer. If one of us has a birthday, the entire choir will sing and the birthday girl will go around and get a high five and/or a hug from every single choir member. If one of us accomplishes something, everyone gets so excited and offers heart-felt congratulations. It is so encouraging and it makes for such a wonderful environment.

There are no cliques. I mean, some of us are better friends than others, but there is no exclusion. We're all friends, at the very least. We're able to hang out in different groups, laugh, talk, and get to know each other without any pressure. We all get along really well.

They accept me with my flaws. They know I'm not perfect and don't expect me to be. I'm the president of the choir, and with that comes a lot of added responsibility. Sometimes I direct or help girls with parts, and it puts me in a general leadership position. Now, don't get me wrong, I LOVE it. It's SO much fun. But I am human, and sometime that leadership goes to my head and I end up snapping at girls or getting impatient, or I screw up a part and confuse people. Even so, whatever the situation, they are so beautifully full of grace and they accept me as I am, and they are always willing and ready to offer forgiveness (often with a shake of a head and an, "Oh, Anna." ;) )

They are so talented. They have some of the most beautiful voices I've ever heard. They're able to pick up music quickly and learn their parts well. They step up to challenges and have far surpassed the expectations I had coming into choir last year. They never cease to blow me away and give me goosebumps. I just...I am so lucky to know every single one of them.

We're friends outside of choir. We talk on Facebook and email a ton, and we've had parties and gone caroling and hung out lots of times. We're genuinely happy to spend time with each other. It's not an obligation.

We love each other. These girls fill my Thursdays (and the rest of my days, really) with laughter and harmonies and hugs and so much love. Rarely have I ever experienced so much pure love in one place. The love that we have for one another is real and fierce and so, so beautiful. I showed up late to a party one time and had to fight to stay standing from the girls attacking me with hugs and "I MISSED YOU"s and exclamations of my name. There's a verse in 2 Corinthians 13 that says, "Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres..." and these girls display every single one of those qualities listed. They are so good at loving me. :)

It makes me sad (and a little bit insane) when I have to be apart from them. Winter break was awful. There were tears, to say the least. And when we were all together again, it. Was. GLORIOUS. When I'm apart from them, music in general loses the meaning it has, as opposed to when I am making it with them.

This second family of mine has brought so much more joy and light and meaning to my life. I am so, so blessed. And through them, I catch glimpses of Heaven and I see and feel Christ's love, so evident. He loves this thing that we're apart of. He loves the music that we are creating, especially when we use it to honor Him. He loves that we love each other. This second family of mine, that He has given to me, is pleasing to Him. He looks at it, at all of us, and He says, "this is very good." I feel His pleasure, His unbridled joy, when I sing with them, spend time with them, laugh and cry with them. I am so thankful for this gift that the Lord has given me in Clara Bella, and all of the beautiful, strange, unique, amazing, talented, slightly twisted girls who make it up. They've become my best friends and I could not imagine my life without them.

He is ever, truly good. Praise You, Father, for the good gifts that You so lavishly give to your children.

Let the music we make lift You high all the days You give us breath to sing. ❤️️

A Note to Ignorant People at 5 in the Morning

Dear every person who says that a mental illness is not a valid reason for not being able to finish schoolwork or attend a "normal" school,

Say that to the boy who sleeps in every class because he's too tormented to sleep at night.

Tell that to my teacher who had to talk my friend out of suicide on a school night at 2 in the morning.

Tell that to my bio teacher who saw almost our entire class break down during a suicide prevention assembly.

Tell that to the man on the phone the morning I called the suicide hotline because she was home alone and I thought she was going down.

Tell that to my youth group leader who tells me I look so alive now in comparison to how dead I looked sophomore year.

Say that to any friend who has had to calm me down after an anxiety attack.

Say that to every friend that has ever come to me afraid that they're going to self-harm.

Tell that to the kids who have failing grades because they can’t focus, the ones who can’t make it through a school night without having an anxiety attack, the kids who sleep right when they get home and straight on until morning, the ones who have more breakdowns a day than meals a day, the ones who have spent more time staring at hospital walls than school hallways.

Tell that to the kids who cry every night.

Tell that to the teenagers in psychiatric wards and treatment centers. Tell that to the family of someone who has just committed suicide.

Tell them that school is more important than their sanity.

An Untitled Prayer

There's a whole lot of uneasy hearts around me lately, Lord...

And it's gray outside and it feels like this winter will never end and my spirit is slumped and parched and exhausted...

Life. I need, we need...life.

I believe that's what You came to give and I've been so confused lately because I am Yours and yet I feel so empty...

I feel constantly trapped in one spot on one side of this wall

and You over there and I really need to connect with You and what's going on in Your heart but my prayers are muffled in my head and I can't make sense of myself, much more You...

And I don't know what I'm doing with my life and I am trying to believe that this good work that you have begun in me will be completed...

But it all seems so distant...You know?...

There are scars on my arms and scars on my heart and...scars on Your wrists for my scars that You came to heal but I feel like I've wasted it, all of it...like You've handed me a glass of water that You've traveled so far to bring and in a blink I've tossed it at the wall and crumpled to the ground, crying that I'm thirsty...

I don't know how You do it.

Or why...

You want me, yes? You created me in my mother's womb on purpose, yes?

I'm not forgotten, abandoned, forsaken, given up on...

I'm Your own...yes?...

Your own created messy one.

Breathe in me again, reach far beyond me and gather all my shards and meld together my broken pieces...

...and maybe we can just be broken together for a minute or so. I'm broken over me and them and this life I never saw coming and I can feel Your brokenness over me, much as I've tried to avoid looking You in the eyes.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry that I'm small and that I try to hold this huge, huge tear at my center together on my own.

I'm sorry that I freeze whenever You get too close.

I'm sorry that I shut myself to You.

I'm sorry for holding what he did to me against You, as if You were the orchestrator of it all. I haven't really loved You, I do see that now, for doesn't love believe the best, not the worst?

I don't know how to believe.

I don't know how to believe these things that have been pounded into my head since I was small. "God is good all the time! Jesus loves me! I've got peace like a river, I've got peace like a river, I've got peace like a river in my soul..."

I don't know how to believe that You won't just up and toss me away when You get sick of this game of hide-and-seek.

I hear Your hold on me is stronger than my hold on You and I need You to breathe that into everything in me when I'm losing myself...losing You...

My hold on you is stronger than your hold on Me. 

I'm slipping and sliding and the snow is falling even harder outside and...hold onto me...

I don't know where I'm going or what to do with everything happening around me...

And I know You're here, somewhere, Your wounds holding mine tonight, Lord...

And maybe I don't need more words or proof, maybe I just need You to be here with me silently. Sometimes when someone is going through a storm they don't need a wind of words, just the stillness of a hand in theirs. So hold my hand?

I don't know how You do it, I've said it before.

But thank You. However You do.