Dear Crush

Dear Crush,

     You have been on my mind daily, for about a week.  Sure, my attraction to you has been longer, but usually, I still go on with life and, periodically, you come to mind.  When you do, I pray for you.  However, my thoughts toward you are once again moving toward that sense of longing.  Something that which should not be woken.  I know. I know. I KNOW! I should wait until God’s plan.  But life’s journey coupled with the heart’s desires can tempt God-given gifts to be open before it’s time.

     Sometimes, it is easy to wait.  I do like being single.  I like the idea that I can have all authority on my time, and be able to decide what to do and when.  I am able to serve and help when needs arise.  Personally, having a family sounds nice, but frankly, at this moment, as much as I love kids, I do like being able to send them home (that probably makes me sound a little selfish).     

     Nonetheless, I also feel a certain anxiety when alone.  It’s an ironic dichotomy.  When I’m alone, I wish I had someone to share life’s moments and dreams.  Yet, when I have visited the family I have, I wish I could find some alone time.  I’m never settled.  It’s as if I am looking for the next thing.  My independent spirit cries out, “I can do this on my own!”  But there is a quiet whisper that confesses, “I don’t want to.”  

     I think the religious tone portrays that I must first and foremost look for a common purpose when desiring for a romantic relationship.  It’s important.  If I am wanting to do mission work, but the man I’m interested in would rather hide himself away, it would not work.  (Hudson Taylor found that out with his first love interest.  Didn’t work out.)  However, there has to be more than just a similarity in goals and passions.  What if in changing seasons, purposes change?  Truth is, there is something in you, as a person, and as a son of God, that makes me take a second glance.  And though, there is a present purpose to our journeys of singleness, it is tempting to yearn for what could be.  

     We once said that we should wait on the question of getting to know one another, on account of things that you had to work through.  In the meantime, God has revealed to me that I myself have toxic tendencies.  Habits that formed in a manner to protect my heart from hurt.  If we were to begin anything, I would be apt to sink us.  But that doesn’t stop the temptations of wishing things could be sped along.  Whenever your name crosses my mind, I hope you are doing well, growing and healing.  I pray for areas that you confided in me concerning your struggles.  

     Then I wonder if you still think about me, aside from the times that I message you.  If you still think you aren’t worthy of me; if you are tempted to find someone else.  I hope I don’t make you feel like you couldn’t compare.  So many conflicting thoughts.  But I know it’s my own insecurities that stir up an anxiousness in my heart.  Honestly, there is a deep desire in my soul, and the gravest of temptations include seeking you for what only Jesus could ultimately do.

     I want to be wanted; to be an object of affection.  I don’t want to have to be the first to say something.  I don’t want to push to receive.  I want to be a joy to someone.  But I am only human.  I have my shortcomings and failings.  There are things in me that if I begged you to carry, it would be too much for you.  This is not a question of your strength; this is a reality that what I fight is something from that which only Jesus can deliver me.  

     Even in my personal relationship with Daddy God, I am finding that it is easier to study His Word to “become a better Christian” than to desire just being with Him.  My prayer time consists more of intercession than adoration.  I am a fighter before a lover.  I am driven by having a sense of purpose; a goal.  But God desires for relationship.  He desires for a level of intimacy that humans only can conjure up in imaginations.  The very things I am wanting, God is trying to tell me that I am the object of His affection; I cause Him delight and smiles. More than what any man could know my soul, God is the only able to see the unknown, and carry sufficiently.  I don’t doubt any future capability to love me, but if the longings inside me spur me to expect you to carry things that only the Cross was created to bear, I will break you, and I will wound me.  I will instill deeper roots of lies that I have believed my whole life.  Ones in which He wants to remove.

     Please don’t take this as a “no”.  As you once said, “at least, not now”.    I am finding that I want to be your biggest cheerleader, but I have to watch what I say, when I say, and how often.  You are still healing, and I cannot accidentally manipulate our friendship in such a way that you begin to solely co-depend on me instead of wholly depend on God.  Furthermore,  I have to not beg for your words as you would become an idol for which the throne should only be sat by Him who made each of us.  

     I, SO, wish for the ability to share deep thoughts, insights, and dreams.  I want to be able to fight alongside, share news of His salvation and persevere for the betterment of our neighbors.  I also long to be the cause of someone’s smile.  But most of all, I want God’s best.  And the greatest hurt is knowing that at this time, I may not be the best for you. We both need to take time to let God heal and grow us.  We must become attached to Him before we can begin taking steps toward a closer friendship. 

     I ask one thing.  Please wait. At least, for now.  

Sincerely

My Christmas Miracle

  Ten years ago, I was sitting with friends for lunch, and while we prayed, one person had a picture of my family sitting together as a family.  I had told them about my personal heartache, feeling like my family was anything but.  Emotionally distant and a broken relationship with my mother had scarred my heart.  Fast forward 10 years, and there has been some progress.  However, as of last Thanksgiving, old wounds were reopened.

     So...three weeks after was Christmas vacation.  I know what God said through Elijah’s story in 1 Kings 19:44-47.  “Go again.” Yet, I still was hesitant.  I was hopeful, still. I wanted better memories.  I wanted to enjoy my family, despite the present circumstance.  With faith, I ventured back to Missoula.

     All in all, I actually had a great time with my family.  After the tumultuous conversation with my father in November, I think he became more proactive to make sure TV wasn’t the center of the family.  He pulled out old family photos.  We found a lot of images of my grandmother (who passed away in 1998) in different hairstyles and fashions.  Grandpa led a boycott back in the ‘70s, over products whose advertisements were sensual.  Lastly, found out my aunt was a poet.  There was a saved paper, which is enlightening to something she had gone through.

     Dad brought out board games one night, too. Three rounds of Yatzee.  Danny had won all of them, but wanted to quit early.  With that statement, Dad said, “Aww...but I’m having fun.”  When Dad and I went to Spokane to visit my grandfather and cousin, we played some pool with my cousin.  Had fun at that time, too.

     Mom was still pretty introverted.  Stayed to herself and watched TV.  But I am learning to love her where she is at.  There was a moment where she let in on some of her frustrations.  Things I had guessed, but she never admitted vocally.  She is still a woman who still needs some healing. 

     So, do I keep going?  Yes.  This is my family, and though the journey has been emotionally painful, healing is eminent, because God is at work.  And He continues to be working.

A Thanksgiving Full of Hurt

     I was excited to visit.  I have learned to love my parents where they are, and to be content.  But I didn’t remain so, last weekend.  God, You know what happened.  Daily, I cried.  Witnessing the complaining my mother did about my father was just the start.  The final stab was the old wound of watching TV.  Something that is a form of entertainment; it acts as the center of my family’s life.  I am hurt because though we are relatives, there is more relating with the plot lines on screen.  I have found my parents (and even my little brother) guilty of becoming more emotionally invested with fictional characters than with those sitting right next to them.  I am trying to be forgiving, and move on.  I am trying to heal and not continue to look back.

     When I explained my hurt, admittedly, I cussed.  But I didn’t blow up, or turn into Hulk.  That’s something to be thankful for.  That being said, I look at my family and I don’t want to be like this.  I don’t want my marriage to be full of complaining about my spouse.  I don’t want to be unaware of my kids because I focus my attention on lesser things.

     It is hard to forgive when I hold an expectation for a wrong to be righted.  And the wrong I have suffered is the feeling of neglect and rejection for something fake.  I no longer believe my parents don’t love me.  I know that they do.  But, I still am looked over.  Daddy, it hurts.  Families are supposed to spend time together, right?  Talk with one another, right?  Then why doesn’t my family.  We get so caught up in our entertainment that we fail to find enjoyment in the person of those we love.  

     God forbid that Mom misses her “Days”, but thank You, Jesus that she can catch episodes on the phone.  

     Mom wants to gift me with a Rocu.  I told Dad to make sure she doesn’t.  I have enough to watch on Youtube and Facebook.  I don’t need anymore distractions.  I hate that screen.  I hate it more, because when I am home alone and yearn for interaction with people, I myself, am drawn to that same screen.  Why not read, go for a walk?  Usually I do.  But being winter, and winds threaten a blizzard, it’s safer to stay home, and I feel caged.  

     Alone.  Unable to move much, and lacking intimacy.

     Because that is what I am yearning for...Intimacy.  Purpose.  A sense of being wanted.  And every time I visit “home” (which is no longer, since I moved to the Rez), I hope that things will be different.  My expectations lends to a painful fall, as I realize the same habits that I lived with my whole life - the same dysfunction that was my normal for growing up - continue to persist.  

     There are things I am thankful for this Thanksgiving.  The visit wasn’t all negative.  Meeting with a Missoula youth pastor allows my soul to breathe with all that I deal with in ministry.  Talking with someone who can see the positives of Natives helps break my fear that all whites may be racist.  However, even the blessings have been overshadowed by the hurt.

     I have been rejected once again.  My mother has no clue.  She told me that she already missed me when I was getting to go home.  (My actual home.)  How can she miss me when she hardly spent any time with me?  Sure, we watched TV together.  But what could be said in the moments where we learned more about one another’s thoughts, hopes, dreams...at the soul level?  Nevermind.  We don’t get to that level.  

     I do have a stronger relationship with my dad.  We can talk.  But Daddy, I have thoughts, hopes, concerns, ideas that are too much to bear or understand.  Even on my way to Missoula, “I am too much,” whispered into my mind.  I’m sorry.  I don’t mean to be too much.  Why wasn’t I more simpler?  Why am I so serious?  It makes me wonder if this is the reason why I have so few friends.
    Sure, I have many acquaintances.  But friends - knowing me beyond the mask I might wear on any given day - I can honestly say that I have one or two.  Am I too much for people?  Is there something odd or unusual about myself?  Why am I hardly invited?  Is there something wrong with me?  Do I drain people more than I pour out (opposed to how I personally feel (in that I feel like I pour out on others more so))?  God, I want to be carried, but I fear that no one can.  I realize that no one is You, but there are so few people that I trust to want me.  The full me.  

     So, I hold back.  Unbeknownst to myself, I have built walls, though I want to tear down bricks.  I decide to not give too much of myself, because I don’t want to have to need people, but I also put hard boundaries in which people cannot use me...or at least, I make sure to define the relationship for what it is, rather than what I wish it was.  I’ll share Christ, be Your light, be a friend.  But I won’t call them my friend.  

     There are chains tied around my heart, and they are heavy.  Their name is rejection. I thought I was over this, but I am not.  I want to be, but I don’t know how.  I know that forgiveness is key, but I need Your help.  This pain tempts me to keep my distance from this day forward.  Why willingly put myself through ongoing hurts when I know that it crushes my spirit?  It’s amazing how traveling to that city, the old fears and insecurities come to shroud my mind.  But as Elijah did in 1 Kings 19 (verses 41-44), he told his servant to “Go again,” when looking for the fulfillment of the promised Word.  Seven times that servant traveled before he saw a cloud.  And even that cloud was the size of a hand.  But that grey was enough to stir enough hope that You are indeed faithful.  You tell me to go again.  I will.  My emotions are still bare, but I want to walk in forgiveness, and right now, that looks like continuing to say “hello”.  But if nothing changes, can I be content?  At this point, I still feel the arrows.