Bandaid

I don't remember exactly when it was the first time I cried as if she were leaving. I know I did it more than once, using that vain imagination thing I'm so good at. Or so bad at being good at. I laid in my bed and let my mind think on it, more and more until it was as real as ever. I heaved and clenched my teeth with air rushing staggeredly in and out of my lungs My fingers created that fabric squeaking sound gripping the material on my pillowcase as I hugged it hard.

It happened. The day went by feeling more like taking care of chores or going on a vacation or a road trip. We laughed...we squabbled...we ate ghetto cajun seafood. At the end of the day, we watched the internet videos that created the endless inside jokes that laced our friendship...and realizing the significance that Judy and her baby doll hands held was too much to contain the tear forcing its way out. I sucked the rest back in while in front of her, of course. I said goodnight, laid down, and my heart got unbearably loud. I let out a tiny sob from the pain that was growing larger by the minute.

I didn't want to do it.......No!...this was the last night. I'm going to do it. I walked the two feet from my door to hers and knocked. I opened it and stood in the doorway, and even with the darkness hiding my tears she asked me if I was already crying. I shrugged, said yes, and came over and sat on the bed. I went in and out of crying, and in my crying, wavered in and out of my words being choked. Finally, in a raw, soul-baring moment I started sobbing. Hard. I was inhaling and exhaling air like a squeaky toy. Between sharp punctuations of breath I began to whimper, and I felt the distant sadness and compassion form on her face which I couldn't even see. I could hear it in her emotionally inflected and (slightly confused), “Hey......it's gonna be okay”and feel it in the warm (what do you expect from a radiator) hand on my shoulder. I pulled her by her wrist over to a sitting position where I could go in her arms without violating the awkward bra-less protocol. My face ended up more in her upper arm, and I wept some more, my arm around her with my hand gathering and squeezing the shirt fabric around her lower back just like it did months before to the pillowcase. I sat back with my roll of toilet paper and very full sinuses and we talked about my angry texting and pain, our clashing prides, her lack of a desire to understand differing mindsets, and how we each fueled each other's problems on. We tried once more (and I think succeeded), as always, to make ourselves and our hearts understood and clear...even though this was the most strained and argumentative friendship either of us have experienced, I can say that having a strong friendship surviving through all kinds of crap is one of the best things God has ever invented.

Somewhere between those topics and the bare honesty and finality of the moment that made both of us stop and think, she started crying. Weeks before, I asked her naively over the phone if she would cry while dropping me at the airport, saying bye for the last time. Her response was understandably colored with the effect on her soul of my angry texts and guilt trips I had probably dumped on her less than 24 hours before...and countless times before and after. I was a jerk.
It wasn't tears that I wanted. She can make herself cry any time she wants (just ask her—it's freaky). I longed to be missed, and I didn't want “I'm gonna miss all of my friends” or “...all you guys”. I wanted a “Melissa, I'm going to miss you”. Not exclusively me, of course, but I wanted to feel valued individually and not just on the whole with people who had gotten somewhat close to her. I told her I felt so insecure in the lack of that and in different aspects of our friendship, oblivious to what a knife in her side that would be.
I didn't notice her crying right away, as I was talking about myself as usual. The last time she cried when I was with her was because of me only focusing on myself and not asking her how life was going, on top of how life was going for her, period. So when I could make out that she was crying, I felt a powerful pang of guilt and regret that stood for my selfishness in our entire friendship. When faced with the decision to wallow in the regret or respond to my crying buddy, my crying buddy was more important than the past I can't change. I enjoy actions as symbolism. I've always thought of how much it would say to wipe away someone's tears when they're crying. Just gushy, isn't it? Well...that's how I roll. I couldn't tell immediately, so I reached up and touched the top of her cheek with my finger to see if she really was crying. Whatever that “wipe away” thing would say to her, I wanted to say it loudly and immediately. So I lightly grabbed her face with my fingertips and swept the tears away with my thumbs. I brought it down into a hug, and the same hand that grievingly pulled at the shirt fabric on her back moments ago was going back and forth on it in a consoling rub. I had no idea why she was crying until later, but I naturally assumed it was because of difficult circumstances. She spoke brokenly and reflectively of the thing she was going through, an unusual vulnerability that never fails to yank on my heart. I scooted over and sat back with her. To hell with bra-less protocol; I wanted to hold my crying best friend. I always wanted to hold or hug her when she cried because I wanted to do anything that would make that armor-less moment of hers stick around. The less Superwoman, the better. I put my arm around her and pulled her over, leaning her head on my shoulder. I leaned my head on top of hers and absorbed for a moment the volumes that were spoken in utter silence. The only thing I could hear was the wind outside and her sniffling, until I cut the quietness with the thing on my mind that trumped everything else I could've said. I told her how proud I was of her for obeying God no matter what. She ruined the serious moment with a retort about how every other door was slammed in her face. She loves ruining serious moments but I think it's a reflection of how she responds in general. She learns, responds, and reacts in private. That's why I don't stab her in the eye when she makes a joke in those moments. I know she gets it, and she doesn't have to show it right away.

The next day was also a blur. As she walked into the airport with me, I was still in “take care of business” mode. It shifted when she asked me out of the blue if I was going to be okay. When she said to say bye quick, “like a bandaid”, I knew she was thinking of me because of how doing that would be so much easier, and I know she knows that fast or slow, there is no way this was going to not hurt me. She's my bandaid.

Be a hearer, and then a doer of the word

Point A...point B intentionally left blank for the journey and relationship

Faith comes from hearing, faith without works (doing) is dead

doer of the word = obedience = not sinning against God (to not obey is sin)

must hide his word in my heart so I won't sin against him

Therefore

between point a (hearer) and point b (doer) is being a rememberer of the word :)

So memorize his word

So this is my first blog post from my phone...kind of awkward as I like to do long, thoughtful post that sometimes takes me hours depending on my reason for updating. Its a good boredom deterrent while my roomie is in the tanning salon. Why have I been in so much pain lately? When I wrote that out, that whole "sin and pain" idea popped into my head. I definitely know I've been dealing with my pain more by sinning than I have by pressing in to the Lord to spite my flesh. What is wrong with me?? I kept telling Tina awhile back to stop asking me that, even though it didn't have the implications of embarassing fault that I thought it did. I would invite that question again. Soul? O my soul, what is wrong with you?

Here I am; I'm surrounded in the center of what I began to step into at the beginning of the year. Four months in and I have hopeful plans, an awake (though struggling and battling) spirit, a best friend, a heart undergoing healing, and Jesus permeating every part of my life. I love again.

I'm not gonna lie, though: I'm disappointed in myself. All of these things above have been brutally assaulted in some way and at one time or another by the enemy and by the doubt and brokenness within me. I have not believed God for the plans, I have been negligent of my starving spirit, I have been so selfish towards the new best friend I claim to love, I have SO MANY TIMES cut off that flow of air to my healing heart, and have ignored Jesus over and over.

I saw a picture in my mind of that boulder that almost squishes Indiana Jones...except the boulder was my past failures and I am no hero(ine). It's so big. It's so heavy. It can kill. The enemy had a hold on parts of our past so why would it not make sense for him to ravage the peace and hope we would have with the mind of Christ by throwing the memories in our faces? And God, of course, has an answer for everything. The devil's scheme to bring us down with our guilt-ridden memories splits the gospel-tract-illustration-ravine between us and God even wider. Oh, how desperate we get. Oh, how quickly He comes to our help. Oh how loudly the devil curses.

My favorite name for Jesus is Emmanuel. They always read the passage in Isaiah at Christmas where it's mentioned. I can't explain why...it gets me. Maybe I'll find out one day.

I need to address these things from up there.

God, you have huge plans for me that I wouldn't believe if you told them to me. I want to trust that you're good and that I'm not doomed to fail. I need to know this desperately, because the core of who I am driving me to do the things I do expects nothing but failure.

I need the GRACE to feed my spirit man. I feel terminally fleshy and I can't do anything about it. Please tell my heart that it's not about following a model or trying to look good to other Christians...please tell it it's life or death because it will eventually need to contend for the lives of other people that no one will fight for.

Jesus...I've been over this with You, and I've been over this with her. But no amount of analyzing at 11 o'clock at night is going to make me a good friend. I've gone from You giving me Tina's friendship on a silver platter and being overwhelmed with the grace to love her fully in spite of past pain and for the healing of it....to thinking I got here myself and keeping her up at night trying to figure out why trying to continue to do it myself isn't working. I want to rely on You, the perfect friend anyone could have. I want to appreciate the things she does for me and refresh her where she's refreshed me. Help her open up...I want to get in those walls and love what's in there. I love her much more than I've let myself with friends in the past...please don't let it just bounce off a strong, independent stone wall. Let her stop doing the Superwoman thing and receive from the friend she feels like she needs to be the one looking out for. She needs gentleness...if not from others then from You!

My apathy is standing in the way of my healing. Thank God He's more clever than I am.

I feel like I won. Not as in something that I did of my own strength, and especially not for its own sake. But I don't know how long it's been since I've actually been this transparent about myself around (and in spite of the presence of) another person. Nor do I know the last time I heard Your voice and didn't give myself an option to back out. This is the way I've always wanted to be but have had a will made of Jell-O against an attack of the enemy equivalent to a midget poking me with a fork. But I won. I didn't stop until I did what God wanted me to do, even if it was just praying for my roommate in a particular way. Like the football players push those practice blocking dummies, I pushed through fear of man and fear of foolishness because I was given the strength and the belief that it was possible in the first place.

Soul....oh my soul, you are not done. You can't go back in your shell or re-build that body cast that protects you from pain. You might have been protecting yourself from pain, but you have also been missing out on all of what Jesus had for you in that moment.

this alabaster jar is all I have of worth
I break it at your feet Lord, it's less than you deserve
you're far more beautiful, more precious than the oil
the sum of my desires and the fullness of my joy

this time that I have left is all I have of worth
I lay it at your feet Lord, it's less than you deserve
and though I've little strength and though my days are few
you gave your life for me so I will live my life for you

Yes, you deserve everything I have

dear rooms,

I am so grateful for the opportunity to breathe again. Before, I felt smothered by being in close quarters where I lived before this, and had so few friends, and few opportunities. This new apartment, along with a gracious, encouraging roommate such as you has been the spacious place from Psalm 18 that I have prayed for. Unfortunately, I feel like the bird that has been let out of its cage, but wants to fly back in because that's all its ever known. Maybe I think all my inner issues should resolve when things, circumstances, are hopeful. Maybe the inner issues are coming up because the little crises (like my car, for example) are squeezing me and that's what's coming out.

What is coming out? Insecurity. Defensiveness. Timidity. Selfishness. They come up all the time, with more maturity and resolve applied to them each time around, by His grace. In other words, if I can't stop what's going on I at least recognize what it is. I deal with not loving myself, not having faith in myself. It's like, because I think it of myself, others must think it of me. I automatically assume I will screw up friendships so maybe I try to sabotage them before they blow themselves up. I smack my forehead over and over, "stupid, stupid, stupid" to put it in a nutshell. I don't actually think I'm "stupid, stupid, stupid"...in fact it's that knowledge that I "should know better" that keeps me so hard on myself. Shame is a crippling and debilitating force that keeps all of this going. I don't have to explain all of this to you; you can see it plainly. And I give you a play-by-play. It's strange to me to vocalize those thoughts, but it's honesty. Grabbing the bull by the horns. Though I'd rather grab an actual bull's horns than to talk about that stuff and actually change.

I don't think I talk to you so much into the night because I can't stop, or that I enjoy talking to you that much. Haha don't get me wrong, you are so much fun to be around and hang out with though. Like Jenna has also said you have the capacity to write books with the wisdom in your head. You have chosen to stay up with me and listen, because that's just how you are with people. I felt valued, though I do not want to take advantage of that quality in you. I think my deal is a mentality that screams "get it while you can!". I think I expect people to be gone out of my life the next day, so I stuff my face with relationship and end up eventually running it into the ground. You are so right about the boundary stuff. I want it, because I want the "stairwell" in our apartment. I want the enemy to tremble here, and I want passion to be birthed here. I want people to feel loved here, and I want lives to be called out for in prayer. I waste my time chasing after the wind and this "what do you think of me" "what do you think of me" "are you mad at me" business has been eating my lunch. It has to, and is going to, stop. 

Thanks for reading. I'm thankful for your friendship and I'm going to teach you how to play guitar and rub shoulders properly.

So anyways,
Welmel 

180

I could never have been capable of thinking of asking God for the things He has given me. I could never thank Him enough for His goodness.

I guess it's out of fear that I think twice about trying my hardest to love and be a good friend. Thank you Lord that I'm a trooper that will close my eyes, hold my breath, and will do it anyway. It's because of you that I even have the will to. You know what my heart has been through when it comes to friendship. I'm glad You've got plans for its future.

God, I sing songs to you that my heart doesn't know. My talk is so cheap, you don't want my talk alone. Why do I think it's going to hurt my heart or spoil or ruin...or lead to the clinging to memories of when my heart was sincerely ablaze? You have renewed it every single time.

Hallelujah-hallelujah
You make all things new

all things new

I'm really grateful for my roommate right now. I see her as a successful person with an almost-career job who loves Jesus, and I don't understand how she's friends with a part-time job holding college dropout who has a negligible relationship with the Father, if one at all. "Hang on, aren't you supposed to be this saint of a discipler who stoops to put up with my crap while I spend all my time trying to be like you and a little like Jesus, too?" Lord help my cynicism. But, no. There's none of that at all. Cool.

When You told me to "dwell in the land and cultivate faithfulness" I've been trying to obey it for the last couple of years. I'm starting to grasp the concept of going with every intent to do well then mess up. Help me not to stop! Help me to pick the stuff up I've dropped and keep walking.

I love you.