From Lucille

I received an iPad from an overly wonderful aunt, so I decided to try blogging from it. The iPad's name is Lucille... At least, I think that's how you spell her name.

It's a little slow and laborious, but I'll sacrifice for the cause.

There are a ridiculous amount of good things happening in my life right now, but I guess I'm choosing not to shake the general feelings of angst... I've taken to describing my life as awkward... Oh, I'm awkward, that's awkward, my whole friggin life is one mess of awkward. A better word is insecure.

On our lovely drive to Branson yesterday (I'm vacationing at my roommate's house with another one of my best friends... So many good things happening, seriously!) I gave some thought to what my life would be like if I wasn't so committed to feeling awkward (insecure) about every situation ever... If I let go, started breathing more evenly, accepted things about myself and others and life and...

It's a mess and I can learn to love it that way or feel forever awkward...

At the kids program at my church, we sing a song that goes like this:

"Jesus, Jesus loves the children, yes, He does, yes, He does,
Jesus, Jesus loves the children, yes, He does, yes He does,
Jesus, Jesus loves the children, yes He does, yes, He does,
And, He wants all of them to love Him, too, ooo ooo ooo...."

And after we sing it once, we substitute someone's name in for each of the "the children"s:
"Jesus, Jesus loves Ben, yes, He does, yes, He does,
Jesus, Jesus loves Norah, yes, He does, yes, He does..."

And something really funny happens whenever we sing one of the kid's names. The named kid giggles, or slides down off of their chair, or hides their face, or turns red, or gets all wide-eyed, like they've been exposed. As though having the people in your life suggest to you that Jesus loves you is something to get all squirmy about.

Which it is. Because, if Jesus loves the children (all of them), there shouldn't be much to feel awkward or insecure about... Unless, of course, you don't happen to buy into that whole "yes, He does, yes, He does" part of the song.

This is exclusively for Sarah. And everyone else.

ALL

GLORY

IS

EMPTY

UNLESS

IT

IS

GOD'S.

What am I forgetting?

I'm forgetting to do something. But that doesn't matter, because I just remembered what I was going to do when I got sidetracked for an HOUR on facebook... and youtube channels... while Josh Ritter angsts away on my Pandora station (also, I'm skipping out on a teaching observation assignment right now... what can I say? My weekends start early). Flipped through the entirety of someone's wedding album. That someone will go unnamed... of course, it wouldn't be too much trouble for Sarah to figure it out, probably, if she just glanced at facebook,

ANYWAY.

In the youtube world, everyone will be glad to know that Jane Bennet (vlogbennet, that is!) is going to pursue Bing Lee to the big wide world of Los Angeles! Yay for proactive 21st century women! GET IT, GRRRL!

So, what I was going to do was write this not-poem inspired by my friend Kara, who told me a fun word fact today:

Startling, it was, she was
Starting to resort to
Staring. I know the
String will become tight, and we'll both feel the
Sting. It won't be right to
Sing, not about
Sin, especially when it's
In all that
I am.

And I was going to do some homework, too.

ARTS:

Prayers of eight-year-olds

“Dear God,

Please help me to behave in school and not show off. Please help me to say sorry and to not be mean to my friends because it hurts.”

Amen.

Posting!

But I really don’t have much to say.

Sometimes I feel shallow. Sometimes I don’t…  Sometimes I approve, and sometimes I don’t. I have no battle plan for any of this. I was expecting something different, but isn’t that normal? Life is more like waiting than I thought it would be.

There isn’t as much voiceover.

I’m not fourteen.

It’s not like a blank word document. I get to decide less than I thought I would. There are things that I never saw as choices. Those things are the only things I get to decide.

I can contradict myself. I can be getting somewhere, and I can go backwards. The way is a wandering.

I’m not the conclusion. I’m not the remedy, or the answer, to anything. I get the wrong idea. Sometimes I feel important. Sometimes I don’t.

I have secrets, and I like them.

I hate them.

I’m going to be shallow tomorrow.

I have other things to do. I have too much to do. I have the vague feeling that none of it will matter. Like those things I decide without thinking... what doesn’t matter will soon.

I’m worried. I’m not.

I have less control than I think.

20. Going on 14.

It’s not that I don’t act my age.

It’s that I don’t act myself.

Because I am so wrapped up in trying to control everyone else’s opinion of me, I’m not sure what my own opinions are.

Well, I am of the opinion that everyone should like me.

But other than that… I can vary my opinions, actions, habits… so that everyone will like me. Or at least, so I’ll think that everyone likes me.

And the source of this need for validation?

The belief that I, simply as myself, am not very likeable.