The first thing I did when I entered the room was to turn off the lights. The darkness was welcome as I let myself slowly wilt leaving my bags and the other things at the door. My breath slightly shaky I walked uncertainly towards the direction of the source of any immediate comfort (aside from the Lord). Sitting down I took a deep breath, swallowed hard, and let my fingers gently rest on the cool keys. A slight application of pressure and a flow of notes came out.

I played the piano in the dark, and in those moments I allowed myself to reveal everything. My deepest desire surged as the music crescendoed sweetly and longingly. I let my mind wander aimlessly through the thoughts and emotions that I refuse to let loose in the company of others. All the passion that burns inside of me directly seeped out through the music. As my mind wandered I felt a heaviness in my heart. My throat caught slightly, as my sight threatened to be impaired with tears. But just as soon as the feeling came upon me, it left again. It was as if I was literally crying through the music, rejoicing through the melodies, and calling out with longing in the subtle harmonies.

This may seem dramatic, and to speak truth, I recognize it as such. But there are so many words, thoughts, and actions left unsaid unthought or undone that music seems like the natural venue for such communication. With music I have the opportunity to resolve anything and everything I choose. I can control how the song sounds and I can guide the song in any way I choose. I don't need to exercise patience. If I want to include a note I can add it right then and there. There is no confusion or hurt. Though there is discord it is only because I allow there to be.

Why do I keep the light off? It gives me a sense of secrecy. It removes much of the thinking element when I am not able to see what I am playing. The darkness gives me courage to unwind and to unveil the parts of my soul that ought to be kept closed in other's company. In short, it's freedom to give license to my soul for any action it takes. And for one minute I'm at peace and the world is not so unmanageable.

But eventually the music ends and the lights come on and the bags are flung once again over my shoulder and I must return from my peace to reality.

Oh, it is on such days that I desperately long for heaven.

Life has been pretty interesting as of late. The weeks of genera relaxation and normalcy have quickly faded into living minute by minute as life throws headaches, exhaustion and back pain during an already overwhelming four day period. Comforts? God is in control and the chances of me living till Saturday and pretty good, though they seem to decrease throughout the day.

Patience. I've come to think that the key to being patient is to desire the Lord more than that which you currently desire. This, though difficult, can help keep you grounded. But what about the desires that God places in your heart that you're sure have no hope at fruition? What if you desire something, but do not desire yourself to that thing which you desire? And if your desires could be fulfilled now, would you want them? And if the answer is no then why are you desiring it in the first place.

But most importantly, why would you write a random blog post filled with unanswered questions at 11:45pm, when you have to wake up at 6? :)

Yesterday I had a breakthrough. Still not quite sure how it was precipitated. My only guess is that the Lord in his mercy has been merciful and brought me out of my confusion.

I've really been thinking about how much time I spend in the word. I read the bible for about 30 minutes every morning before rushing off to the rest of my day. However, the words of Psalm 92 are stuck in my head. They something along the lines of how good it is to give thanks to the Lord, to praise his faithfulness in the morning and glorify him at night.

I read my bible in the morning because I so happen to be a morning person. But should convenience dictate when we spend time with the Lord? If you were in a relationship, or even if you are, would you wake up every morning to eat breakfast with your boyfriend/girlfriend, and try to spend a little time with them every night? (This is from a college perspective, fyi). I know I certainly would. Even if it was inconvenient, I would make sure he knew that I was there whenever he needed me.

How much more so should we seek out the Lord. In the morning, in the afternoon, and in the evening. The bible, and the psalms especially, are filled with charges to call on the Lord continually throughout the day. Not just an hour in the morning, or an hour at night.

Now I don't think it is my job or calling to shirk all of my responsibilities here at college and spend all day in the word (though let me tell you, if God was calling me to that, I would do it in a heartbeat). My calling right now is to be a devoted student and a caring friend. But I can't do that to the fullest if I am not always in the word, if I am not always meditating on the Lord and his promises.

In a conversation with a dear friend, he aptly communicated what I have been thinking for so long.

I see all that I should/want to be and all that the Lord desires me to be. Then I look at myself, and I wonder how to bridge the huge gap between the two.

The more you become like God, the more you become like yourself.

Life. It amazes me how so much can be packed into a single word. I say the word "life" and immediately a host of fireworks burst into my mind. These fireworks are memories: lessons learned, relationships, things I never want to forget, things I never want to remember, and the constant war that continues every day between what I do and what I ought.

I ought to wake up an hour early to read my bible, but I wait till sometime in the afternoon when I can "spare" 30 minutes or so.

I ought trust God completely and give all my worries and deepest desires to him, but I hold on to them and try to hide them, sometimes even from myself.

I ought to be selfless in my relationships with others, expecting nothing in return from the love and encouragement that God pours out through me, but I grow bitter when I feel neglected by those I have tired to be most sympathetic too.

I ought not to be so vain, but I am.


I ought to leave my hurt at the feet of Jesus, letting myself forgive and move on, but I don't.


And so I am trapped in a list of do's and don'ts and maybes, as if the more I color code, the more I get it right. Granted, I do not always feel like this. Each day I wake up and glaring back at me are my insufficiencies, so countless that I want nothing more than to crawl back in bed, or escape to my french town so that I don't have to be reminded of what a sinner I am.

Now, please don't think that I can't handle knowing how sinful I am. For the last three years, the Lord has taught me through failed relationships, intense heartache, depression, and a whole host of other modern-day demons. I realize how deep my need for a savior is. I have seen my weaknesses, and I have seen how empty life can be. I want nothing more than to lean on Christ completely.

And yet, this feeling of worthlessness wells up inside my soul the moment I put my two feet on the ground. The battle rages on and on throughout the day, never relenting till my soul, so weary from the long war it has been fighting, greedily hides in the sleep that comes so easily nowadays.

Some days are better, other days are worse, but still there is no end.

Now to change the tune


I really am doing wonderfully. Every day, I am reminded how wonderful and encouraging my friends are. On the days when I am able to read the word first thing in the morning, the rest of the day continues to be one blessing after another. I've been trying to tell people how blessed I am to be in their lives, and I have a sneaking suspicion that it comes across as insincere, but I do mean it so very much.

Every time I open the word of God, I learn something new and fascinating.

I'll conclude with the song that seems to be the anthem of my life at this moment:

This is my story, this is my song, praising my savior all the day long. This is my story this is my song, praising my savior all the day long. 

As others see it: a young girl stumbles out of her dorm, runs to the cafeteria for a quick breakfast, and walks across the lobby to open the school bookstore.

As I see it: As the world slept a young woman left her house in the early hours of the morning. Her light brown bag hung over her shoulder and the ends thin scarf that covered her neck from the cold, flapped around without restrain.

She pushed her hair out of her eyes, slightly annoyed and pulled her jacket closer, snuggling under it's warmth as much as she could as she scurried down the quiet empty street. The sun had broken over the horizon only minutes before so though the air was filled with bright yellows, oranges, and purples, the sun had not yet scared away the morning chill that now followed young Belle, hand in hand, as they walked down the sidewalk together. Stopping a moment at the small cafe, Belle shook the cold away and stepped into the warm well-lit room. A few other early morning risers filled sat spread out through the small cafe. Some spoke in groggy hushed tones while others read their bibles, their backs turned so as to make it perfectly clear that they were busy. Belle found a few friends and chatted as she grabbed a warm cup of tea to permanently drive out any amount of chill that had somehow managed to hide away in her hair or clothes.

After a few minutes, Belle collected her things, grabbed a bagel, and flew out the door back into the brisk, fresh, and now completely glorious morning air.

A few minutes later and she was turning down the cobblestone road, headed for the bright green door that stood out from the sea of brown and black and grey that made up the walls
And doors of all the little shops. Belle stopped a moment to admire the small bookstore.

It was simple. A few books were displayed in the window, mounted on little pedestals that raised the books to various levels. If one stood at the window long enough they would be able to see all the way to the back of the store where an old, mahogany staircase wrapped around an old pillar that had been there longer than anyone could remember. Belle shook herself out of her reverie, and fumbled around in her bag, finally clasping her cold fingers around the even colder set of keys.

After several failed attempts to plunge the keys into their rightful place, she finally unlocked the door and entered the dark bookstore. She shivered as she was met with a rush of col air, one to rival the chill which had not yet subsided outside. She quickly slipped through the bookshelves to the tiny office where she set down her things, keeping her coat on until the cold decided to vacate the small store.

Belle flitted quickly across the store and began to tidy things up, straightening books, counting money, and restoring general tidiness to the place. She chose not to turn on the lights. She loved nothing more than to watch the room slowly fill with light, working all the while in the dimness that came before. She Knew her way around the store by heart. She sighed as her fingers slid over the bindings of the small shelf of antique books. She hesitated over one title, one of her favorites. But before she could get too distracted, an older lady burst through the door.

"Goodness girl, do you intend on living in Antarctica," the woman said as she lumbered through the store, flipping on the lights. She bundled through the store, weighed down by her own parcels.

Belle laughed, hung her coat on the stand near and set about work for the day.