It's V-day again

Happy day of romance!

Reading my short post from last year... I still have to agree. Congrats to those who still have their head on straight. I, for one, still believe I do, though some would try to convince me otherwise. In fact, I feel like I have it on more straight than I did last year...

So to celebrate this happy little (actually-rather-confusing-because-I-thought-it-was-about-romance-and-then-people-celebrate-love-on-it-too) holiday, I'm going to repost an incredibly note-worthy post written by my brilliant friend Alexa. READ IT.

And secondly... A love song. One that you probably haven't heard before, to make it unique. Okay, so it's not the best song in the world or anything, but it's sweet, okay?

And thirdly.... a shout-out to my truly amazing suitor, a rare man of virtue. I'm so honored to not be alone on Valentines day for the first time in my life. Thank you, Courtship Buddy. (hehe) As I've said before, for 19 years my life was beautiful, but with you everything glows a little brighter.

That's it for now, people. Go eat some chocolate!

The Close of a Year

I've been wanting to post about 2012 for a while now... but when somehow the entire poem I put my heart into vanished from the blogger drafts, I sort of gave up.

So I don't have a lovely original poem for you about this incredible and terrifying past year. Sorry. Instead, with my vanity rather smushed, I offer you the words of another instead. (Honestly I think they apply to my year almost better than anything I could've written!)

These words are from a song titled "The Beauty and the Tragedy" by David Hodges.

"For I am finding out that love
Will kill and save me
Taking the dreams that made me up
And tearing them away.
But the same love will take this heart
That's barely breathing
And fill it with hope beyond the stars..."

Whose love is this? God's. And yet is has a sort of double meaning. I recall writing in my journal, shortly after Josh died, " I didn't know it hurt so bad to love." The strong, deep love of a close friendship killed me, in a way. Because God took my dreams and literally tore them away.

But the story doesn't end there. My merciful Creator took my barely breathing heart... And filled it with hope. Many different kinds of hope - the grandest of which had already been mine from before my birth. The hope of an eternity with my Love, my Lord.

And so God wounded to heal. He brought me low to show me just how much I truly needed him... And then brought beautiful, glorious, painful Healing.

"Come, let us return to the Lord;
For he has torn us, that he may heal us;
He has struck us down, and he will bind us up." (Hosea 6:1)

"For he wounds, but he binds up; 
He shatters, but his hands heal." (Job 5:18)

So that was my year! Oh, and on top of that my only sister got married...

Needless to say, 2012 was the biggest year of my life. Also the most painful, and somehow still the most wonderful. I grew up. The Lord changed me greatly. Now I greet 2013, a woman: weaker in myself, yet ultimately stronger; more vulnerable, more mature, and a little wiser, thanks to His grace. (And much more emotional!)

Hello, new year. Ariel is ready for you. She has a King on her side who can handle anything you throw at her. So bring it on!

To Crucify Your Maker

Can you imagine? Can you even begin to feel the kind of horror, sickness, and shock that came upon the Roman soldiers who realized... they have just brutally murdered the very Son of God.

The One who made them. The One who gave them the voices they used to wound his spirit; the hands they used to wound his ravaged body. The One who is suffocating on that piece of wood to save their dead souls.

And they tortured him to death.

Listen.

What is this that we have done? I cannot forgive or forget it.

Just another crucifixion... an ordinary moment.
Before God tore open the sky. And their souls.

Can the silence erase the memory? Can we ever forget this... can we just cover up what we have done...?

They kept quite. The only way to hide. (See Matthew 28:11-15)

Pray for the day when the truth will make us pay...

The day of judgment. "What have you done to My Son?" Only the very blood that they shed can redeem their shame and guilt.

The silence has become the end of us.

The sickening silence after His lungs and heart gave up the struggle for life. After the sky was darkned and the earth shook. After the Man cried out his last breath... and was gone.

"...The centurion, and they that were with him, watching Jesus... feared greatly, saying,
'Truly, this was the Son of God.'"

Changing, growing, learning...

This is a quote I like. From a fictional book.

      "But now, although I am still young in years, I am no longer young in understanding. I have loved and suffered. I have discovered that the sun still shines without him, that the wind still blows, and that there is poetry still in life, though I have found it where least I looked for it. I have learned to look beneath the surface of things, and now, I believe, that the differences that lie between us are a good, rather than an evil, for you have a great deal to show me; not just picnics and parties, enjoyable as they are, but matters of deeper import, too. 
      ...I have been born to an extraordinary fate, have I not?"

-- Marianne Dashwood

New Look

Yep... I know autumn is almost over, but my sister took this incredibly magical picture of me a couple days ago and I looked at it and said, "That is going to be my header." So there it is.

End of story.

Rest

Engulfed by night, we raised our voice,

"The sun will rise; it has no choice!

God's strength is ours. We must prevail!

His love and power cannot fail."

We clung to hope, and still we wait –

For at His voice, the storms abate.

Press on! Recall His faithfulness.

The sun will rise; You will find rest.

-me, 11.1.12

'Young' they call me

In the past seven days, I have grown up a lot.

In the months after Josh died, I felt like I did more growing up than the rest of my teenage years together. And I believe I did. But this past week I have grown up even more. Let me try to summarize it.

To find blessing out of what you thought was a curse. To be overcome by words you never thought you'd hear. To survive a plunge through darkness and come out whole. To accept what's broken, only because of your own frailty. To shatter your own pride enough to do something you never, ever would dare to. To share deep sorrow. To be open, vulnerable. To die. To live. To forgive. To love.

Yes. It has been a huge week.

But then, a few days ago, as I sat staring out at our wind-chimes... I realized I have my whole life ahead of me. Here I am, feeling as if I've felt every emotion there is to feel... and I'm only 19.

So sometimes I feel young, so young. So naive and sheltered. And then, on further reflection, I realize that I am so much less naive than I used to be. And I feel old. Childhood feels so far away. I feel like a woman, not a girl. And I am a woman, I am. Yet still I am young.

Perhaps, after all, there is no contradiction. Maybe I just like to have something to ponder about... hmm.

That being said, I will leave you to finish pondering it for me. I must move on to life... yes, life. Life is such a confusing thing sometimes. But in the end, it doesn't matter if it's confusing now, because whatever it is, it does have a purpose. God is quite intricately involved in things. It's a mystery, and an incredibly happy thought. Because he is so good. So, so good.

Hmm... I'm feeling dreadfully pondersome. But I said I would finish, so I will. Good day.

The Path

That is what I will call it.

The Path stands before us humans. It leads through dark, light, beautiful, murky, sharp, smooth, difficult and serene. This path has been written about so much that everyone is sure they know it by heart. But they are all wrong. It is much, much harder and much more beautiful than they think.

Some approach it with much caution. Perhaps too much, because they are afraid. They are afraid of injury. They are afraid to put all of their energy into climbing up the hills because the view at the top just might not be worth it. Worst of all, they could fall, and then be both injured and greatly drained of precious energy.
Some of these mask their fear with piety. They claim that those rough cliffs and steep ravines and raging rivers don't need to be traversed through at all. "After all," they say, "only the fool-hardy would rush into un-needed dangers such as these."
How blind they are. Do they expect the hills to just level out for them? Yet deep down inside, they have just as much fear as those who don't mask it.

Before you scorn these people altogether, let me tell you that they are right to be wary of the danger. Their caution is good, for they could very well be deeply wounded. Their mistake lies in their conclusion about the danger - whatever is on the other side is not worth the risk of getting there.

So let us see what these fearful people do. Before they even take a step, they take account of the risks and purpose to avoid them. Then they begin, walking along delicately, not wanting their feet to get dirty. At the first sign of a danger, they stop. "I could be injured badly," they say, "Therefore, I will be wise and guard my life."

Therefore, they do not live. They miss the excitement of getting dirty, fording the river and trekking up the hill to see the majestic mountain peaks and rambling meadows and deep dark forests. They miss the pain and sorrow of injury, but they gain the sorrow of never having seen anything. They do not die, but they do not live.

So they turn around, walk back and look for another path which they hope will not hold these dangers. But they will not find that. You cannot see anything beautiful without risk. So they will either continue searching forever, in an endless, fruitless circle... or become so frustrated that they bitterly give up ... or finally realize that perhaps, after all, the risk might be worth it.

Then there are other types.
There are the sort who are bold and wild and reckless. They are afraid of nothing. They run along the path, tripping and scraping themselves up - oh, but it is so worth it! They feel everything to the fullest. They dive headlong into the stream, they climb the rugged cliff with abandon -

And they fall.

Suddenly they are broken and in pain. Their energy is spent. They can hardly walk on their injured legs. Angry and sorrowful, they crawl into a little cave to mourn their loss. And they will either sit their forever, just as bitter as the meek ones... or they will one day raise their head, stand on their shaky legs, and find the courage to enter the world again.

These wild ones were wounded before they had hardly seen anything. Why? Because they were afraid of nothing. The dangers were real and they disregarded that fact for the sheer thrill. Therefore, they did live - but the constant pain they now endure was not worth the short amount of freedom and abandon.

So what are we to conclude? Both types are unwise in different ways. Therefore, let us follow the meek one, who is slowly becoming more courageous - who decides to take a risk after all - or, if you'd like, the bold broken one who is finally ready to attempt the journey again, though with much more care.

They approach a river. It is rushing, fast. The meek one feels herself start to tremble. Can she really do this? Yes, she must, if she can find a way. The bold one easily pictures himself jumping in like he would've done before... but no, he must think this through.
So they walk along the path until they find a place where it narrows. Here, with a very big jump, one could make it across. It is not entirely safe; no that it can never be. But it is considerably wiser, realizes the bold one, than trying to jump across where he was before. It simply took a little longer walk. No, it was still a risk, but one that could be accomplished.

The meek one whispers a prayer. The bold one backs up to get a running start. And then they jump.

The bold one stands panting, on the other side. He is a bit scratched, but he doesn't notice. The thrill of the jump washes over him and he grins. Then he turns and jogs through the forest, which is becoming more and more beautiful with every step.
The meek one stands slowly, in awe. Was that all? Yes, it was frightening... but now it was over, and look. Look at the beautiful golden forest ahead of her. Tears rise to her eyes as she realizes she's finally where she's always dreamed of being. It was so worth the risk.
And as for the bold one... he too is taking a moment to take it all in. It breathtakingly gorgeous - so much moreso than the quick glances he got at beauty during his former days of rashness. It was worth the caution.

And so the tale ends. Not with perfection, but with resolve. The path continues. More wounds, challenges and sweeping sights wait for the travelers. But they are ready now. With God's help, they are ready.

The path is not for the faint of heart. Neither is it for the reckless.

It is for those who note the risk, say a prayer, and take it on. With fear, perhaps, but with determination and wisdom. And there lies is a thrill you can't afford to miss.

Trust me.