Unpacking…

Life is not easy, and love is hard. We are all a little broken. Someone brought up the term “damaged goods” to me the other day and I had to explain why I hate that term.
Who in this world has not suffered or been hurt? Can anyone truly say that? We are ALL damaged goods. So then why do we let others or ourselves make us feel like we are less because of it? Each and every person has baggage. The goal is not to find someone who will watch your baggage for you as you drop it off. The purpose is to find someone whose travel plans for life are the same as yours, pick up your bags together, and proceed to your destination while helping each other shoulder those things that can weigh a lot if you had to carry it all on your own for your whole life. Then when you make it where you were going, you unpack together and stay.
For the right person, you can see the hurt and brokenness and all the wrongs they suffered and your heart yearns to treat them better and show them the love they deserved all along. They may not think that they deserve it. And sometimes you try to be all those things and it still isn’t enough or that person doesn’t know how to live outside the abuse and chaos they have learned to expect and accept as the norm and then you are tossed aside again. There are going to be a lot of wrong people, unfortunately, before the right one…

The right person isn’t going to make the hurts worse and is going to love you. Things won’t be magical or easy because that isn’t real life. But for the right person? Itll be worth the bumps you overcome and the struggles you face.
Love is worth the fight.
Love is worth the struggle.
Love is worth each and every broken heart you suffer, because in the end we were made with love and made to love.

The Order of Things

I Am LVL

The Order of Things

God, Spouse, Children: Your Love Succeeding

by LVL

The word “succeed” is what is called a heteronym. These are words which are spelled the same, but have both different pronunciation and meaning.  In the case of our subtitle, we have to accomplish what is attempted or intended” as well as “to come next after in an order or series, or in the course of events; to follow.”

For success, the order of things must be properly followed in life, so proper succession leads, very literally, to success. Media and movements popular in our world right now discourage the proper order of things as God set forth in his plan for family.  Different references throughout the Bible point towards this. Modern society and the push for feminism and women’s rights find the world pushing past the hope for women to be humanized and seen as an equal in the working world, and seem to want to diminish the roles of men in family or affairs altogether.  Men are no longer seen as valued heads of households, both spiritually and familially. The push of toxic feminism to tear down men is very real, and has paved the way for the roles of men in family to be taken away or seen as unnecessary when that is not within God’s plan.

Within the Bible, the metaphor of the church and God being the head of Christ and Christ being the head of the church is an example given as it relates to Man being head of the Woman and Woman being head of the Children/Household..  For a more modern look, let’s refer to something the majority of people can relate to: Travel.

Travel is something fairly common. It’s something most of us do, whether we delight in it or begrudge it. And for my personal taste, I would much prefer to fly versus sit in a car for very long. Flying has become a convenient, quick and safe form of travel. There are exceptions, of course, but flying is, statistically, less dangerous than riding in an automobile. It is also something the majority of us can relate to.

When we fly commercially, we are on board with an aircrew. This crew, though composed of many positions, truly only has three that we as the passenger come into contact with or know of offhand: The flight attendant, the co-pilot and the pilot.

We are aware, by the smiling face and warm greeting that we will be kept company by a flight attendant. She is there with us in our space on the flight. Over the intercom before disembarking, we hear the voice of our captain speak, who is our pilot. And next to him, we occasionally hear the voice of the first officer, our co-pilot. These two take us safely where it is that we need to go. They assure us we will get there safely and without too much issue, though they can’t keep us out of storms, they lead us through them. Meanwhile, the flight attendant remains with us during smooth or bumpy flights, being sure we are nurtured.

Much like the aircrew on an airplane, are the relationships between a man, a woman, and God. When a man and a woman choose to become a couple, especially when they choose to be married, they are uniting together as a team. They are a force working together towards one purpose, supporting each other. And what good is a team with no coach? God is the coach. Have you ever seen the bumper sticker that reads “God is my Co-Pilot?” Wrong. He is the pilot.

“But I want you to know that the head of every man is Christ, the head of woman is man, and the head of Christ is God.” – 1 Corinthians 11:3 (NKJV)

God is our pilot on our marital and family aircrew. He is who gets us there. He is whose voice calls to us and welcomes us. He is the one who we trust to guide us and take us where we need to go. Sure, we choose that ticket and that flight. But who is really in control? The plane isn’t going to fly itself where my ticket asks it to go. The pilot is the one who does that. There have been occasions where pilots have had to alternate their routes, to make landings where they weren’t supposed to, or where they have had to delay a flight. It is never for no reason. Our safety is their concern. Our lives.

“25 Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ also loved the church and gave Himself for her, 26 that He might sanctify and cleanse her with the washing of water by the word, 27 that He might present her to Himself a glorious church, not having spot or wrinkle or any such thing, but that she should be holy and without blemish. 28 So husbands ought to love their own wives as their own bodies; he who loves his wife loves himself. 29 For no one ever hated his own flesh, but nourishes and cherishes it, just as the Lord does the church. 30 For we are members of His body,of His flesh and of His bones. 31 “For this reason a man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh.” –Ephesians 5: 25-31 (NKJV)

Husbands, you are the co-pilot. You are directly beneath the pilot. You have much of the same power and responsibility, at least within the respect of governing your family and marriage, but without the authority the pilot has. Your responsibility is to do as the pilot commands. To help him ensure that yourself, the flight attendant, and the passengers get where they are meant to go. Safe from harm, and on the route you are meant to travel. You can diverge from the path when deemed necessary, but always with the thought of those you carry and their well-being on your heart and mind.

22 Wives, submit to your own husbands, as to the Lord. 23 For the husband is head of the wife, as also Christ is head of the church; and He is the Savior of the body. 24 Therefore, just as the church is subject to Christ, so let the wives be to their own husbands in everything. – Ephesians 5:22-24 (NKJV)

Wives, you are the smiling and nurturing, welcoming face of the flight attendant. You are the member of the aircrew who we reach out to. Who we expect to provide us comfort in storms, nourishment, and gentle reassurance to those in fear. You work beneath both the pilot and the co-pilot. Your authority is less, but you still govern those in your care. You have a firm hand when needed, but you are kind and serve. You not only serve and care for those passengers on your flight, but also cater to the pilot and co-pilot, insuring they are taken care of as well.

Can the crew survive with one of these members gone? Realistically, of course they could. But the roles are essential.

–Without the Pilot, the Co-Pilot is trained and can fly the plane himself, but with all of the radio communications, navigational tools, or long flights common in commercial airlines, he would be left to shoulder all of the responsibility alone. He would lack someone to lead him and be there for him to lean on. And his job would be harder, more tiring and taxing upon him. This may lead him to wish for more from the flight attendant than she is able to do, not that she wouldn’t be willing. But she must care for her passengers as well as he.

–Without the Co-Pilot, the Pilot could lead the flight attendant and the plane where they need to go, but again, we see a worn down flight attendant trying her best to do double duty on a long flight because she must be sure to take on extra responsibilities and leadership that was not her duty.

–Without the Flight Attendant, the plane, of course, would get where it is going. The passengers would arrive, but with no nurturing aside from the kind voices of busy leaders, they would not do so happily. They would stray away from this airline in search of one that better met the human needs of caring, nourishment, and comfort. Or, perhaps, if a disgruntled passenger caused an issue, who would be able to subdue them if the Pilot and his Co-Pilot are both busy in the cockpit?

God is the pillar and center of marriage and family. He was always meant to be. Leaning on God for understanding, for comfort, and for wisdom takes a great load of pressure off of us. It provides us with a deep inner peace.

The Husband is the leader and head of a marriage. In Latin, father is pater. This word, along with praetor, the word for leader, share many of the same synonyms. It is symbolic of the man’s chief position in his family. He is not a dictator or a tyrant, but he does hold a responsibility both to his family and to God to lead his family on God’s righteous path. He is a teacher, a friend, a lover and a caregiver to his wife.

The Wife is the helpmate. She is the loyal and loving partner to her husband. She is devoted and faithful to him and to God. She respects her husband, cares for him, and prays for him as he prays for their family. She nurtures their children, teaches them, and controls her household. She keeps things in order so that her husband can lead them all safely through the life God has planned for them.

With these things in mind and this map of how our relationships with God and our spouse should work, we are on the path toward a happy, healthy and strong marriage in Christ. Does that mean it will be easy? Of course not! What, worth anything in life, is easy? But it will be easier and less stressful. And full of the unconditional love of Wife to Husband, Husband to Wife, Husband and Wife to Family, Husband and Wife to God, and God to Husband, Wife and Family.

 

I Am LVL

https://iamlvl.wordpress.com

But Am I?

hemmorhage. By Fuel.

Memories are just where you laid them
Drag the waters till the depths give up their dead
What did you expect to find
Was there something you left behind
Don’t you remember
Anything I said when I said
Don’t fall away
And leave me to myself
Don’t fall away
And leave love bleeding in my hands
In my hands again
And leave love bleeding in my hands
In my hands
Love lies bleeding
Hold me now I feel contagious
Am I the only place that you’ve left to go
She cries her life is like
Some movie black and white
Dead actors faking lines
Over and over and over again she cries
Don’t fall away
And leave me to myself
Don’t fall away
And leave love bleeding in my hands
In my hands again
And leave love bleeding in my hands
In my hands
Love lies bleeding
And I want you
But you turned away
You don’t remember
But I do
You never even tried
Don’t fall away
And leave me to myself
Don’t fall away
And leave love bleeding in my hands
In my hands again
Leave love bleeding in my hands
In my hands again
Leave love bleeding in my hands
In my hands again, oh.

‐——-‐‐——————————————————-

And there I was. Caught up and remembering a time when this song meant nothing more than a memory of me laughing and telling you how it was a devastating song. One you’d never heard. But one I heard but hadn’t felt before. Not like this. Not until now.

Literally and emotionally as my body bleeds out and my emotions wring out and my heart and herewithin release life together and my soul sleeps to avoid the hurt and torturous agonization of each day I spend here not reaching out to be bitten back and not recoiling so far you’re left alone.

I’m knotted in the barbed wire and the real knots inside me twist further as the ones inside my heart and mind do too. What is all of this and why did I deserve it? I thought you said I was the best you’d ever have?

Pond Water and Chocolate

They say the eyes are like a window to the soul

And mine tell everything about me.

Like to giant globes to the lighthouse in my heart they shine.

Beaming out any hint of rough seas or calm and peaceful waters.

When your sun shown here, they shined out across a sea in shades of brown and green sea glass

Or the cool water on a still pond shimmering the golden sunrays, muddy bottom and greenish water all in different rays and bursts.

When the seas shake and storms blow and your sun left me cold and wanting, the globes lost their reflection

And turned back like dark silty delta waters when no sunshine and the slush stirs up

Like chocolate but bittersweet

And oh so empty.

I’ve Got to Love Me More…

I resisted you. I was afraid you would hurt me. More immediately than you did. Sooner and much less because I wasn’t going to be around long enough for you to get too close. You were young, you had a lot of girls you were always talking to, the “oh, this is just my friend” always felt flaky and crumbled under a crap timeline that said they were more like conquests that hadn’t panned out and had put you in a friend zone or who you kept in the wings. I even knew about the friend and the arrangement and I’d been there once… in fact it was part of what threw up all the red flags for me and scared me. “He is young. He hasn’t been divorced long. It doesn’t matter how much the marriage meant or didn’t mean. It’s a bad idea…” But there you were… charisma, charm, a smile from ear to ear that makes your eyes crease and your singular dimple press into your reddening cheek below the freckle that matches mine… Your laugh and humor matched mine. Your kind heart and altruistic attitude melted me and the way you spent those first eight days chasing me and glued to my side when you weren’t working? You made me feel a feeling I’d never had. Was this what it was like to be wanted? But you didn’t. You weren’t ready and you were torn and so was I because I loved that feeling but I knew there was hurt coming because you still had your friend and the timelines and the friends didn’t add up and so I put up a wall and I was honest and upfront. I explained that I wasn’t willing to invest my heart if you couldn’t and so we needed to be friends. “Do you know how hard it is to leave without kissing you?” You would message me. You would say it. You would hold me longer in a hug to keep from looking at my face. And I felt it too. It was hard. But I couldn’t budge on that. You went home for leave and texted me every day and all day. Called me twice. “I miss you. I should have brought you with me.” Tug on my heartstrings again. He’s drinking. Doesn’t count. Then you drove home those 11 hours and had talked to me throughout. I heard the doorbell ring and confused…I went to answer it. There you were: exhausted and in your all day driving clothes, you hadn’t even gone home to change, just wrapped me in the biggest hug and said surprise and told me again, sober this time. I missed you. And I missed you too. Days later, you said “I need to talk to you.” I taught you almost immediately after that that those words are horrible and torture to a woman. I assumed you realized you couldn’t be in a relationship and my wall was too much and here came the hurt I had waited for… “I want us to date. I want you to be my girlfriend.” Are you sure? I asked three times. You looked nervous, as if now it was going to backfire on you that you took this step, but it wasn’t that I didn’t want to be. I did. But were you sure? Because you were trouble…and I had told myself so but you had done so much to be protective and kind and so I said yes and that is when it began. I stepped slowly and cautiously the first two months. I loved every minute of it, but I didn’t even show you off as mine those first two months because you felt so fragile. I waited for some break somewhere in you to say this is a mistake and I want more women than this one woman can be. But you were happy and assured me and showed me off like I was some sort of prize and dammit… I felt so happy. We made adventures. We did things I had always wanted, things you had always wanted… we accomplished things and made steps. There was a hiccup. I said the three words because I am honest to a fault. You got scared. “It isn’t fair if you feel it already but I don’t.” That wasn’t how love worked and I knew that. People reach it at different times sometimes. I had in the past. My parents had. I knew that and the bump was just a passing hiccup. You kept moving up in that world of yours you hold so dear but when it kept throwing curveballs, when life realizations and the big span of time away was stretched out before us… There it came. That hurt. That incredible, awful, angry, hurting, throbbing, ripping pain… what’s that thing in the ground? I think it used to be a part of me but there it seems it was torn out of my chest and smashed to bits all because of everything that wasn’t me.

I fought hard. I broke through. You told me things that you have never and may never tell anyone else. It had to be short bursts. It took time. In each emotional breakdown, drag out, tear-filled moment I held onto you and softly touched you and tried to understand you and you did the same. And eventually I accepted that you could not love me if you didn’t want to love yourself or anyone else. And you didn’t. Your brokenness broke me and the feelings and hurts inside of you still and always will cry out from inside my heart and mind, I know, because you are worth so much more, deserve so much more than you think and will demand… When being with you but not being with you became to much, I gathered my bricks and began stacking them again. I’d always be here for you, but I couldn’t be with you but alone. It hurt me and my hurt would turn to anger or resentment and so I would be here for you but have to move on. Then you wanted me back…

It was all so different. How much better was beyond words. You talked to me openly and honestly. Physically everything was the best it had ever been and only got better. Your loving me was honest and wholly. You kept apologizing, though. That killed me. You held in all this guilt. Admitted jealousy. Felt you always needed to be sorry for the thing, the hurting me, and the things you did while we were us but not us. I wanted so badly to find a better, clearer, way to make you know I meant it with all of me when I said you did not need to be sorry. Your story, your heart…I knew more now and your reaction and your act was one that I would not have chosen but that I knew was your default and a conditioned response. It was what you saw as the right path and you could set yourself to the easy autopilot of physicality and flirtatious fluff because that was easy and that didn’t require the effort, the gamble, that comes with giving your heart away and trusting it to someone.

So the miles apart made you think, made you honest, made me miss you, made you miss me. “It means so much to me that you’re always here.” You felt “forgotten.” You felt “alone.” You thanked me for never being one to leave you in that place and finally one night you said those words to me, I thought, in sleepyhaze. In drunkenness or sleep were the only ways you had ever said that to me before, so as we were saying goodnight after your long graveyard shift you said it and I did not want to put you on the spot, so like those drunk nights when I’d hold your head and rub your back or those nights in sleep where you would reach out for me and pull me into the curve of your body like the perfect pillow pressed soft around me, I softly sent you off to bed. The next day you knew you had said it and from then on, you said it more and more and my heart was a mess again, but this time from overflowing and expanding beyond the confounds of the ribcage prison because you loved me and you knew it and you wanted love and to be loved and the man who “doesn’t deserve love” and the man who “may never get to have what other people have” had made a giant leap without his parachute and was free-falling and had become a sap like me. The cute ways you would shower me with love, affection, unnecessary but dearly treasured gifts, and most of all words of affirmation and your precious time touched me in ways I could never have imagined. In my entire life I had never believed someone could just fit me like this. I was in heaven and you talked about the future and plans and I was in those plans and for the first time in a long time I packed my bricks away and I didn’t keep a safety net nearby. I gave you my all, completely and wholly, because you wanted to be more. Be who and what you always deserved.

Finally you were home and more than ever you would pull me into you at night and hold me tight. You, the human polar bear who would sweat until I wondered if you might sneak away to shower then come back because I knew the body heat my always frigid body when held tight to yours would make the seat unbearable… but there you were, night after night for so long. We spent holidays making memories and made steps and talks again toward what may happen and back up plans and the what ifs. I let you into a personal and private part of my life that even the man I was once married to never got to be a part of… You got every shred of me from the new growth in twigs and leaves to the blooming blossoms, withered trimming, through the sturdy central trunk and into the deepest roots on the rock at the foundation of me.

And then it happened again. A part of your world you hold dearer than any part…a part that wasn’t me and yet like a beloved wife turning a blind eye to the concubine who can not have her betrothed in mind and heart but only body… that part stole your smile. Your light went out that evening after the news that broke your soul and crushed your dreams and you threw in the towel… You gave up and let the disheartened piece of you break all of you and you let it break us and me too. You shut me out. Immediately. Slammed the door and left me there not knowing what your feelings, your thoughts, your plans, ideas were… You turned outside of us and away from the person you called your best friend, partner, love… Anyone who wasn’t me could be your shoulder, your confidant, and your co-conspirator. You lay silent too often, snapped at me, lied to me, half truths, lies of omission, and worst of all you used me. I somehow became a nuisance, enemy, undesirable, and like the piss poor whiskey from a plastic bottle you bought to throw into holiday eggnog for the family, you spat me out and onto the cold, rocky, wintry ground. I was once again disposable. I was once again the waste. You stole from me. Not my money. That was ours. Not my things. You stole my time. You made me a fool. All the jeers about “it will happen again” and “deployment penpal” and “guaranteed piece of ass” ran through my mind and heart and up and our my eyes and nose as I choked on vomit and tears while you sat and spit with venom the same bullshit about “relationships are hard,” “you know commitment issues… my whole family is like this,” and “I just don’t want to try.” I’m so sorry that my existence as the entity that with no promise if anything aside from my own love alone agreed to wait nine months for you. I’m sorry that no matter what I did it will never be enough to you. I’m sorry that my love, devotion, and willingness to be here for you through your worst nightmare, no matter what you choose or come what may of this terrible thing, was not enough and somehow led to my own banishment from your dream world and left you alone in that nightmare. But you aren’t alone, are you? You have friends again to keep you warm. The same ones who did oh so much the last two years. The same ones you find and swipe on to fill a void while you go about filling a void.

Yet here I am. Angry. Hurt does not begin to touch on how I feel. Hurt belittles my emotion, my heart, and my dignity. You did not hurt me. You destroyed me. You desecrated the place inside my chest that once housed my most sacred vessel and yet still on your bloody hands and splattered against your cold, emotionless face are giant bits of it still beating, but faintly. It’s soaked deep within the pores and cracks and cuts of your rough mechanic hands that always fit so perfectly in mine, and now bits flow mixed into your own DNA in a way that allows me to live like a zombie without thirst, hunger, or emotion to cloud my mind while you keep inside pieces of my brokenness and carry them away leaving me alone in all the ways I truly believed you would never do to me again. Here I lay in bed alone, another night trying to keep my mind off of you and my anger and my hurt. You know that about me: I hate to be angry towards people. Anger is toxic. It claims people, consumers them, builds walls and borders and catapults, armies and breaks down bridges to keep those seen as enemies out. If I let that happen? I will never forgive myself for losing the chance to be in your life and see you hopefully conquer this someday and want actual happiness. I want to know, always that you are moving toward being better. Right now, you aren’t and it most certainly won’t be happening in only two months this time. I imagine much longer. And I imagine you can’t see beyond the end of your nose to see you cut it off to spite yourself and leave yourself very short sighted.

I love you and it hurts, not to be around you, but just to know what you would give up and how quickly. I love you with all of me and truly I know inside I will, forever and alway, love you… but until you want to change and only if you change… I choose to love me more…

Stunted.

stunt

\ˈstənt\transitive verb

:to hinder the normal growth, development, or development of

Stunted. The word seems to buzz loudly like an alarm clock in my head over and over calling me to wake up. I’ve tried for days now to explain the funked out depression I’ve found myself thrown headlong towards. The suffocating feeling of drowning inside myself is indescribably paralyzing and I find myself wondering if I’ve allowed too much water in my lungs to be able to resuscitate.
The saying goes that when it rains, it pours. And I must wholeheartedly agree that I’ve never felt more soaked without a day of sun to dry even a drop.
One event after another has crippled my self esteem, self worth, and self love into a meager and measly self tolerance, which in reality seems more loathsome and derogatory than I’ve possibly ever been. The facade of rampant confidence and jovial optimistic smiles are hard to keep spread when my heart feels lacking and lazy.
Where is my joy? Not forced optimism, nor decisive attitude masquerading to hide my own desperation. The real and true joy I once had. The happiness and trust I’d be alright. I may live, I may breathe and have the necessities of life as a basic physical function…but beyond that, I am destitute for emotional growth, financial growth, spiritual growth.
I find my situation stunting my growth, as if I am but a tiny plant bending and reaching towards the sunshine but overcast skies and tall, tall trees are at every angle and I feel my roots drying up and my leaves recoiling in to myself.
I need to be replanted, replenished, tended to and pruning. I need rich soil on solid ground, rain from above and warmth, but instead I find the winter only growing colder.
A flower can not on its own escape the clay pot, but only pray hard that the gardener finds my fruit worth the transplantation to fertile ground.

Indefinite

For those unaware, I work for the American Red Cross. I use my skills as a medical assistant and a phlebotomy technician to organize, set up, break down and collect blood donations at blood drives. This also involves going through a health history process with vitals and then a questionnaire. In this process, occasionally someone pops up as an indefinite deferral. For whatever reason, they have been flagged and further information is required for them to know why or how long or what they may do to change this, if anything. But the same question is presented to me each and every time we inform them of indefinite deferral status:
“Indefinite? You mean forever?”
This misconception is far more common than I ever imagined. Indefinite is defined as “for and undetermined period of time.”
Indefinite doesn’t mean forever. Indefinite means nothing is for certain. Life is indefinite. Love is indefinite. All things are indefinite. We can’t guarantee them, their span, or their ability to last and survive… But what we can do is hold tight to the indefinite things in our lives. Life can’t be changed. It will always be indefinitely finite. But love knows no bounds. Hold tight to it. Make it infinite.
Love with all your heart, all your might, and never let go to the love that’s true and worth your lifetime.

Lessons learned

I find each day to be a new blessing. There is so much good and my life has come so far. I have grown so much.
I have a job I truly enjoy now. One I feel a purpose within and feel fulfilled to be doing. I do not dread it, though it exhausts me. I would rather be exhausted in a job I love than worn down in a job I dread.
I am alive and well. Though my issues arise, I persevere through them and do what I can to maintain health and thanks to the aforementioned job I have great insurance to help with that.
I have family and friends who stick it out and support me through everything. Do they all do so? No. But the ones who do, I treasure and thank from the bottom of my heart…
And I have love. A love I never knew I could truly have, but do. A man who I never feel enough for, but who says he feels he is the one who isn’t enough for me. A man who makes me smile at just the thought of him and who, when I can make him laugh, makes my heart skip a beat and butterflies flutter up throughout my heart and touch the deepest parts of my soul.
Throughout this time I have learned about myself. The feelings I have, those I don’t want to feel and how to rationalize and remind myself things aren’t always so bad. I have learned about people and that they aren’t always going to do what I wish they would or treat myself or others how they should but that I can not make everyone see or treat others as I do.  And that my heart is large and open and that for me, it’s worth it to love and risk hurt versus shutting myself off and feeling nothing for those around me.
Another year older, another year wiser.
And here is to many more…

Off The Beaten Path

“For each one of us, there is only one thing necessary: to fulfill our own destiny, according to God’s will, to be what God wants us to be.”
― Thomas Merton

From childhood, we dream of our lives and what we will be. In our developmental years the dreamy ideas of being a princess or a ballerina or a rock star fade and we find things we truly enjoy and fields we excel in. We begin, through adolescence, to pursue those things and plan our lives around that pursuit. We form, within our minds, a plan. A path in which we will achieve goals, possibly make our dreams come true. We branch out the thoughts of what we most desire to be and let them grow into ideas and questions we ask ourselves to build onto this plan. Where we will be? Who will be our life partner? What will our home be like? Will we have children? Pets?
From here, we decide we are on a good plan. We have it all figured out. We jump up, get motivated and begin to pursue it. Sometimes that plan is exactly what we really and truly needed and what God had planned for us anyway…
However, more often than not? We are human and we think our plans are better than His. We are wrong. So very wrong. But we won’t want to accept that.
When your world, your plans, your life, are all the opposite of where you wanted them to be…when the plan isn’t going where you intended and you don’t like what you see ahead, instead of trying to find the good, or instead of trusting God that he knows what is best for us, we plead with him for what we want. We are like children wanting to eat all the Halloween candy and God is there to tell us that He knows it’s what we want, but He knows we will only regret that decision later and so He forces redirection on us when we will not change it ourselves and he puts us back on the path we are meant to follow. Who are we to question God’s plan? What He laid down for our lives has purpose… Remember:
“In Gethsemane the holiest of all petitioners prayed three times that a certain cup might pass from Him. It did not.
―  C.S. Lewis
The world, its people and all of our life threads are already woven into the tapestry. Where we are may not be where we expected, but it is where we are meant to be.
In my youth, I assumed that by 25 I would already have my first child, be married and be a full-time mother at home with a family. I’d intended to get my English degree and work from home as an online professor to bring in extra income.
Instead, my first marriage ended. It was something very hard to face, as I was careful, I was selective and I waited for who I thought God had placed in my life. And perhaps he did. There was much I learned from my marriage. About myself, about believing in myself, about what I do and do not want and about what I do and do not deserve. I have become stronger and I have bettered myself and I have found appreciation for myself and for what a good man really is in the love I have now. C.S. Lewis was a wise man and a good Christian man whose words I can often relate to. His ideas on marriage and God’s purposes in it are beautifully phrased as can be seen here:
“It was too perfect to last,’ so I am tempted to say of our marriage. But it can be meant in two ways. It may be grimly pessimistic – as if God no sooner saw two of His creatures happy than He stopped it (‘None of that here!’). As if He were like the Hostess at the sherry-party who separates two guests the moment they show signs of having got into a real conversation. But it could also mean ‘This had reached its proper perfection. This had become what it had in it to be. Therefore of course it would not be prolonged.’ As if God said, ‘Good; you have mastered that exercise. I am very pleased with it. And now you are ready to go on to the next.”
― C.S. Lewis
I know in my heart, now more than ever, that though I can not see the plan God has for me, that I am listening to him better than ever. My relationship with my Lord is stronger than ever and I am trusting him more than ever. I have handed over the reigns and stopped steering. I am focused and determined to succeed in the plan he has for me. And I am determined to follow his path, the one less traveled, and let it lead me to the beautiful life I know my God has set aside for me.