#firstworldproblems

For those of you on Twitter, or even just Facebook probably, it's likely you've seen people tag their posts #firstworldproblems.

And let's be honest, we have a lot of them:

"Too many concerts, not enough money. #firstworldproblems"

"My medicine doesn't taste good. #firstworldproblems"

"When your phone charger isn't long enough to reach your bed. #firstworldproblems"

"My 52 oz drink won't fit in my car's cup holder. #firstworldproblems"

The Twit-lists go on and on and on.

But I'm not about to bash those people who use the phrase. I'm not about to guilt you about things you've said or complained about.

Rather, I'm turning all the criticism on myself as I have noticed in our current and impending circumstances how prone I am to worry and complain and horde angst about matters that don't.

My recent qualms regard the weeks following Stephen's homecoming and a little bit of uncertainty there. It sounds something like this:

"Ugh, we just really need to figure out when we're going to move and where to so we can be closer to our friends! And we need to figure out how to go on vacation in the middle of all of that too! And where should we go? And what should we do when we get there??"

I've even jokingly added on, "I know, I know, #firstworldproblems"

Until one day I stopped myself.

Because really. 

Really.

That's what they are. 

And while my Father in heaven has His eye on all these details and does care about them, His ultimate goal in it all is for whatever comes to conform me to the image of His Son. And that should be my primary concern as well. 

Not to mention the fact that between seeking Jesus and planning vacation there are a lot of other priorities that require the majority of my time, prayers, thoughts, and strength.

So if you hear me griping about any of these things, or any others, that just don't matter, please do alert me. I want a heart of gratitude more than almost anything else in the world. 

That is all.

Five Minute Friday: Dance

Most Fridays in a month I head over to Lisa-Jo Baker's blog to join in the Five Minute Friday fun. And though today's participation got extended to the wee hours of Saturday morning (and broke a few rules in so doing), I'm so glad I jumped in. So, for five (and twenty) minutes...Dance.

GO!

Some days FMF is exactly where I am supposed to be.

Today is one of them.

Just a handful of hours ago I found myself dancing with my favorite 2-year-old to the Kidz Only Music Choice channel on Comcast. It's one of our favorite past times and I will gladly take a majority of the credit for her love for dance. She's been watching me goof off and love life through dance for nearly two years. And who can resist, now that she's talking up a storm, when she says, "Tadie, I wanna dance wiz YOU!!" Everything stops, all of life, whatever it is we were doing before, and we dance. We run in circles, we do ballet, we wobble our knees and we just don't stop. We dance until we're sweaty and thirsty and drag ourselves to the kitchen for a drink.

Glorious. Truly.

I cannot fathom how it's fair that I get paid to spend my days this way, but I do praise Jesus for it.

Today though my thoughts were drifting into tomorrow's dance party, the wedding reception of a dear friend from high school. I so look forward to cutting loose with my mom, old church friends, and maybe if I'm lucky my dear-old-dad too. 

But I have to admit that, unlike any other reception anticipation, I'm feeling just the tiniest bit anxious.

Ok, that's a lie.

I'm way more anxious than I want to even admit to myself.

STOP.

But clearly I cannot stop here. So if you wanted only a Five Minute read, feel free to abort now as I am unsure where this ship will land. My feelings won't be hurt.

But whether alone or with company, I need to dig this out.

It's not my dance moves I'm worried about. They flow naturally, and often uncontrollably, and tend to leave people smiling, a win whether it's laughter or awe-inspired.

It's not that Stephen won't be here, per say. I danced the night away at a wedding last Saturday without him. In fact, this will be the 6th wedding I've flown solo since he deployed last year.

It's not the forecast of outrageous heat. A stifling high of 106 is reportedly up and coming for us tomorrow.

Nope. It's not any of these things. It all boils down to one word, one tiny word, one high school word I wish I knew nothing of.

The beautiful, Christ-loving, glory-giving bride-to-be was popular.

There, I said it. And believe me it looks even shallower now than it sounded in my head all afternoon.

But she was...and is, I suppose, in that crowd of cheerleaders, football players, well-dressed, super-"cool" kids who called me Smart Girl if they needed to call me anything at all.

{Now, as a disclaimer, they were not all this way. Some were delightful altogether and precious friends to me.)

Still, what was a fun and lighthearted dance party with my friend, JuBe, suddenly felt the weight of worldly insufficiency come crashing in in an instant. Not crippling, but still anxious. Not debilitating, but still present.

Ugh, insecurity! I should be over you by now.

But the facts I want to flaunt defensively against the onslaught of imagined inferiority have nothing to do with the issue, not at the root. Nothing I have accomplished solves the problem. Nothing I can show alleviates the shyness. Nothing that has changed in the last seven years gives me any sure footing on which to stand when Satan tempts me to despair. 

The issue is still comparison. And the answer is still that I am found in Christ.

Nothing else truly matters. Period. Paragraph.

I was then. I am now. Freedom.

Underneath my lingering people-pleasing, fear-of-man, self-loathing, underneath it all is truth. That everything about Katie died with Jesus, and I am raised in His new life, living His identity. At war with sin, oh yes! Sin is outraged by the turnover and fights against it constantly. But the truth remains.

I am found in Him

Complete in Him.

Validated in Him

Accepted in Him. 

Lacking nothing in Him.

Free in Him.

Full in Him.

Alive in Him.

Hopeful in Him. 

Loved in Him.

The joy of Truth is liberating and captivating all at once. My heart enthralled by the outrage of His love. My heart set free to live so fully.

The joy fuels the dancing. And all I want to do is dance this life in Jesus.

crawling over the hump of the week

I don't want to be good,

Don't want to and can't

Failure feels better

My natural slant

So many tasks

Each slips through these hands

But am I allowed

To ignore life's demands?

Where can I go?

Where perfection is banned?

Where failure is standard

And admitting it grand?

Into the arms

Running headlong

Instant relief

My heart hears His song

"When all seen is failure

You're ready for Me,

Sit down in My perfect

Where I finished for thee."

musings on marriage and the state of things

"I'm definitely learning a lot about what marriage is not..."

If you've caught up with me in person over the last few weeks, chances are you've heard me finish this sentence any number of ways. And really, I've written about it several times here too. It's been on my mind for a variety of reasons. I stand nose-to-nose with these realities every day. Being married to Stephen Kump still surprises me, especially on the days we don't "feel" married. And so many friends and girls I know have set their sights on marriage, unintentionally demanding that the prospect reach the crevices of their souls with contentment, that life will suddenly spark for real with that one word: Yes!

My heart is moved passionately by each of these things to express over and again how God's plan for marriage is not that it cater to the whims of the female heart--namely mine. But in that train of thought Jesus redirected my focus last night.

What is marriage about, Kate? What am I doing in and through your marriage today? Right now? Because of all this?

Gratitude and refreshment instantly rush in. 

So much for which to give thanks.

A glimpse of our marriage?

Well, we have just passed our second week without talking, but emails seem sweeter and sweeter. 

Five lines of "I love you" and "I miss you" reach much farther now than they did this time last month.

Lots of prayer. What else can you do if you cannot talk?

And what could be more meaningful, really?

Two people, loving each other as best we can. Only enabled by loving Jesus as best we can.

Eyes on the cross, our comfort. The tomb, its empty echo of great hope.

Knowing that as we each seek Christ, if we could not speak one word this year, our proximity to Jesus will make up for all that would be otherwise lost. 

I'm leading two small groups for girls this summer. Wasn't aiming for two, but that's what Jesus arranged. Wasn't aiming for anything at all until Stephen encouraged, exhorted, affirmed.

Excitement builds toward the fall. Days turn into weeks turn into months of progress toward homecoming.

We try to plan our celebrations.

Look forward to family weddings and family babies.

Georgia Tech football finds its way to our calendar...two months ago.

Daydream about where we'll live come November. Hopefully in Smyrna. Definitely not where we are now.

Stephen's ministry to my heart draws me out of legalism, into the freedom of loving Jesus because He set me free, not because together He and I can keep the rules. 

I'm learning not to judge people so harshly. 

Like couples publicly displaying their affection. Or holding hands while singing at church. 

You just never know where people are, where they've been. My natural bent is to think I do know. I do not.

I pinterest my way to wifeyness. Homemade cleaning solutions and crafts galore. Recipes to try and party ideas for his return.

This season will come to an end. But there are sweet things here. Jesus fills. 

Grateful He points Himself out to my ever wandering attention span.

learning how to count

Never, and I do mean never before in my life have I counted days so religiously.

Estimating, praying, counting, re-counting, equating, comparing, fractionalizing, remembering.

I do it every day this year.

How many months to homecoming?

How many weeks?

When will we hit 100 days?

Only half of what has already passed to go!

This time last year we were...

What if this time next year we...

It's less than my birthday to Christmas!

It's less than Armor School was!

And on and on and on it goes...how many ways to measure the remainder of this separation?

Until I grimace in conviction at these words:

"So teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom..."

Words followed by:

"Satisfy us in the morning with Your steadfast love, that we may rejoice and be glad all our days."

Thank you, Psalm 90.

In a season when all I want to do is number my days, am I doing it for the right reasons? And shouldn't I number them all year long? All life long?

And doesn't this seem to imply that my numbering system is all inverted? Incorrect? Perhaps grossly so?

I ask: how many days do I need to pass to get to the end of deployment?

But if I honestly wanted Jesus to fulfill me like these portions of His Word promise, wouldn't I be asking how to get the most rejoicing and gladness out of His steadfast love today? Wouldn't I be treasuring, coddling, hugging so tightly every single day I found Him in? 

The Hebrew word meaning "us to number" is manah. It means to count, reckon, number, assign, tell, appoint, prepare, ordain.

Moses is asking to be taught this skill, something he knew we needed to do, something God has allowed us the ability to do. 

Teach us to appoint our days for wisdom--let us be satisfied in You.

Teach us to prepare our days to prepare our hearts--let us rejoice and be glad.

Teach us to ordain, set them apart--for daily renewal of Life.

This word manah, though Hebrew, looks strikingly similar to the English word manna, the name made up for sustenance that God provided to Moses and His people from the sky. This "bread from heaven," man in Hebrew, fed the Israelites for 40 years in the wilderness as they wandered to the promised land, paying out a penance for choosing not to be satisfied with the love of God.

Man means "What is it?"

It also means portion, gift.

Man. Manah.

Portion, gift. Number, assign.

Am I to assign these days as gifts? To reckon them as Your portions? To feast wholeheartedly in this daily bread provision? Knowing there is no guarantee of future days for numbering. Knowing You have promised to give abundance for feasting today. Knowing I cannot carry over to tomorrow what was given for today--knowing anything left un-enjoyed is wasted. 

Teach us to count these days as gifts. To assign them identity as Your portions. 

Oh teach me! This lesson is so far from completion in me...

Five Minute **Sunday**: Perspective

In the busyness of Friday's birthday celebration I found just enough time to glance at the prompt, but lacked enthusiasm or inspiration for writing it out. Today that changed, so here I am. Not sure I can do it justice in only 5 minutes, but here goes.

For whatever reason, several of my friends have recently experienced their first significant separation from their spouses. Ok, if I am going to write in brutal honesty, I'll call it "significant" separation. Because let's face it: a week just isn't a very long period of time. 

But somehow or other these girlfriends end up telling me about it, sometimes dramatically, but never intentionally insensitive. Either way, some days I've just had it.

Want to know what I walk away thinking? 

No, really. Are you sure you want to know?

Because your opinion of me may change in the next few lines.

But here it is.

"Shut the heck up. Why the h*** would you complain about that to me?? Did you miss the memo that I've seen my husband for a total of 10 days over the last 8 MONTHS??? Do you realize I don't even TALK to him every day?? There's no texting and no phone calls, let alone date nights or meals together. FOR A WHOLE FREAKING YEAR!!! So take a second to think about how much harder life could be for you than a week away from your husband before you have the nerve to complain about your situation to an Army wife!!!!!!!"

Yep. There it is. Told you. Pretty nasty. Shameful even. But that is where I've been.

So as I fumed my way across town this evening at the remembrance of these conversations, I asked Jesus why these people couldn't step outside of their circumstances and look at things from my perspective for just a minute. (Because clearly, my head is screwed on straight.)

But He stopped and asked me to do the same thing.

Kate, how often do you step outside yourself to do what you ask of others?

Mini eye roll. Not often enough probably...

Is it an easy exercise for you?

Well, it doesn't come naturally, if that's what you mean.

Then can you give a little grace to others the way I give to you?

Yes. Help me?

Because, you see, life could be so much harder for me. I would say I am on a peak in the mountain-valley terrain of this deployment lately. But even when it downright sucks, things could always be harder. And I'm sure some day they will be. 

For starters, Stephen is deployed. He is not dead.

Our immediate families are in good health.

We have access to email daily and video chatting several times a week.

Our Father has been gracious to reveal parts of His work to us in this season.

We are both employed.

We have the best families, amazing friends, and a tremendous church family to support us.

The list goes on and on.

And really, I am sure that a week-long separation from Stephen will feel miserable at some point. We are all in different places, with different situations, and life is hard for everyone. I cannot think of anyone who has it made perfectly, whose story I would rather have. And I want to have grace for the people around me because only Jesus knows just how much grace has been lavished on me. 

Who am I to withhold it from others? 

And if you happen to read this and think I may be talking about you, please know all is right between us and the fault-bearing is all mine. I apologize for my lack of compassion and welcome your honesty about your life. I need to see the grit and grime of these dark places in my heart, let the Light shine in and clean them out. Thank you for bearing with me in this refinement process.

It is difficult at times, some more so than others. But I'm striving, asking, sinking deeper into the Gospel, I pray, to be a fountain of refreshing grace to the people around me.

Thank you, Father. Give me Your perspective minute by minute by year.

Five Minute Friday: Real.

Aaaaaand we're back! It's been a while (vacation with Stephen threw me off in the best possible way), but I'm back for Five Minutes today. And the word is: REAL.

GO.

Living in what is real is a challenge, one I find myself faced with almost constantly these days.

But it seems that what I am finding is that what is real is simply what really matters. 

Certainly many things clamor for my attention, trivialities, the minutiae of modern life. Or bigger things, like loneliness, frustration, fear.

These things have ruled my heart and mind for the last few weeks. So many hormones and too much idle time. These real-like things spiral me down so quickly, seeming so legitimate.

I want to feel things that are hard and be vulnerable with the people around me. I want to let the difficulty of single-wifing these 365 days grind against my rough edges and soften my heart toward Stephen and Jesus. 

But I also want to keep my eyes on what is real, really of consequence: that suffering was Jesus' ministry and will be mine as well. That the cross was so much worse than I can imagine for the purpose of restoring me to the Creator's image. Suffering not so I can merely relate to Jesus, but so that I may become like Him in His death and share His victory.

So while part of me feels like I'm merely pulling on my big girl panties to get over my raging femininity, I know that never works. What does, what is real, is the hope of Jesus coming to make all these wrong things right, all these dead things new, all the frenzy peace.

Jesus, give me what is real, all that really matters. You.

STOP.

married, but single

Atypical as our first 13 months of marriage have been, marriage is, without a doubt, accomplishing the purpose God intended it to. It is, by His grace, making me more like Jesus.

But how?

Not through the "bonus" purposes I hoped marriage would fulfill. I don't have constant company with Stephen. I don't have physical protection, provision or intimacy with him. I don't get to double date or pursue motherhood.

No, these secondary and tertiary purposes are stripped away this year, leaving the only two purposes that marriage will ever be founded on biblically.* One of refinement and greater dependence on the Good News that because Jesus died on my behalf, I am free to struggle, fail and fall forward toward Him and into His likeness. And the other that marriage must move us to a place where we are better equipped and positioned to advance His kingdom. 

In all honesty, our marriage is accomplishing little if anything else at all apart from these things right now. Stephen and I are highly blessed by and grateful for the technology that enables us to maintain involvement in each others' lives to these ends, and our love surely deepens and strengthens as we seek these God-given purposes together.

But if any other standard or measurement were the rule for worthwhile marriages, ours would be doomed in this year-long separation. We laugh and enjoy our video chats, but our lives are not bliss and happiness. He is extremely competent and faithful in managing our finances and planning for our future, but he's not taking out the trash or planning cutesie dates or driving me all over town. Neither am I doing his laundry or massaging his shoulders or cooking him meals. 

Even less frivolous than these things, we are not able to share every part of our hearts with each other. We cannot talk and process and plan together to our hearts' content. Knowing each other is a more challenging mission to pursue than ever before.

At the risk of mimicking complaint that is not my aim or heart, I will bring these thoughts to a close for now by saying that deployment is tangibly removing the fluff from my expectations and perceptions of marriage. I pray we will have many more seasons of enjoyable togetherness to come, but there is something sweeter forming in the hardship, the difficulty, the separation. Something deep, stable, satisfying. The supremacy of Jesus in and for all seasons.

I am a wife, but that is not my identity.

I am married, but Stephen is not my whole world.

I feel lonely, but I am never alone.

Life and marriage are thriving, not because it is easy and we are happy, but because our Savior is good.

Marriage, as with all of life, is for Jesus. Nothing more and nothing less.

And therein lies all my hope.

Glory to God!

*Not to say that procreation is not a biblical purpose of marriage; I believe it is and should be pursued. But that is a different topic for a different season of life!

no good thing

Well, here we are again. You're reading. I'm wrestling. 

And hopefully by the time we finish the Lord will have drastically moved my heart.

I am in desperate need of a heart-shift. Strike that. A heart transplant.

Lord, give me Your heart?

Deployment never ceases to clarify the tension in which we, as pursuers of Christ, are called to live. My current struggle is truly just a variation of some other struggle that I'm sure I've written about before. Ultimately I know what the remedy will be: the Gospel. But first the Lord is calling my heart out of the shadows of obscurity, into a place where diagnosis takes place, into the Light.

The last few days, perhaps for the last week, I have rushed through almost everything. Christmas vacation days could not come fast enough. Then the road trip to Orlando for Christmas could not pass quickly enough. Then emails, phone calls, and video chats with Stephen could not come often enough. The miles home could not be short enough. And now the week drags on as well, despite the fact that it was actually shortened by the holiday. 

Unsettled. Discontent. Absent.

There were a few redeeming moments. I do tend to enjoy the evenings more than the afternoons and always more than the mornings. And time with my family was certainly blessed and refreshing. But overall I have been over-eager to cross days off my big calendar on the wall.

The first twinge of conviction came with the first chapter of Priscilla Shirer's "The Resolution for Women," a sweet Christmas gift from my in-laws. The first resolution is "Surprisingly Satisfied," so it's no wonder that I quickly found piercing lines like this:

"I recognized that by rushing through life, I'd been subtly devaluing those around me and the experiences I was involved in, not appreciating the importance and significance they bring to my life at this very moment, not grasping my responsibility for holding dear and treating well these gifts God has entrusted to me."

or like this:

"Then before you know it, you've missed out on the joys in the journey, the growth that comes from battling through the difficulties, the sweet and savory experience of creating the memories."

and questions like these:

"What have you been hurrying through? What have you been hurrying to get to?"

With these thoughts resonating in my mind through the Christmas weekend, I settled into the 7-hour drive home on Monday with a new book from my best friend, Tashi. It is called One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp. The theme of the book? Gratitude. 

Ok, Lord. You want to teach me about contentment, grace, gratitude, joy. Please do! I'm miserable here.

My mind begins to process all the reasons why I should be actively grateful, constant in thanksgiving, cognizant of grace, etc.

But my heart is still so far behind.

Today is more of the same. I think part of the issue is the collision between expectations and reality. At certain times in my life I have lived with such a high view of eternity with Christ that anything here that happened to go well was nice, but not valued as the norm. Comparatively, everything on earth is infinitely unsatisfying. 

Either way, after a longer day of work than I had anticipated, I came home to eat a frozen dinner (if you know me well this is probably the most shocking statement of this entire post). I realized that I had not yet hung up this week's deployment countdown card. The one I took down yesterday is in the shape of a pocket. On the back it reads: "Keep me in your pocket and memorize me! 'The Lord is good, a refuge when trouble comes. He is close to those who trust in him.' Nahum 1:7" I did, in fact, keep it in my pocket today. Thank you, sweet friend, who thought of this.

The card I moved to the current week space is for Week 38, Psalm 84:11. 

"For the Lord God is a sun and shield;

the Lord bestows favor and honor.

No good thing does he withhold

from those who walk uprightly."

I've been living life, viewing life, valuing life, as though I am missing out on something that I deserve to have. The Lord did call me to marriage. This much I know for certain. But He also called my husband to the Army long before our marriage was in the picture. This being true, I am called to the Army as well. 

Do I really believe that the Lord is not withholding any good thing from me right now? 

Do I really grasp deep down, at the gut level, where all my emotions spring from, that God has allowed our separation because it is good?

Do I view it as a terrible thing that the Lord will redeem?

Or do I see it as a beautiful, if heart-wrenching, gift that He has offered to me?

Do I agree with His word that there is nothing good that He has not already given me?

It certainly depends on how I define the word "good." For that I turn to Romans 8:28-29: "For we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to His purpose...to be conformed to the image of His Son."

What is truly good is my conformity to the likeness of Jesus. If wrestling through Stephen's deployment is the best tool for that masterpiece that the Lord has at this point in my life, He would actually be unloving if He did not use it now. What is truly good is for me to have Jesus. So if realizing and rejoicing in my desperation for Christ is the aim of this deployment, it is the sweetest gift and highest good the Lord could give.

I realize this could sound maniacal or despotic, but verse 32 of Romans 8 brings it all into proper perspective: "He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things?"

God has not given me His most treasured Son only to deny me of lesser good now. 

Such truth is unbearably difficult to feel at times, but how I long to be in that place!

Can I see it as a gift? Not only deployment, but every other part of life that seems on the surface to be a frustration, a waste, a heartache, a hurdle, an obstacle, a loss?

Can I please have Gospel-eyes to recognize that I lack no. good. thing?

Oh! How I do not want to waste this year! Whether it meets my expectations for productivity or not, I want to savor every good thing the Lord brings in and through it.

My entire being wrestles with this tension. I miss Stephen. Separation is a gift. It is good for me to have a husband. It is best for me to be away from him for a time. 

Lord, let this only whet my appetite for Your return. Let my heart live constantly in the tension between fruitful labor on earth and the deepest desire to be with You.

I may not be in the Garden

But the lie is still the same

That happiness awaits me

Just beyond what You have named

Crafty serpent, sinful heart

Such a deadly combination

Kill, steal and destroy my joy

Restless gripe of aggravation 

Pull me upward now to You

As Jesus' tree of death allows

Serves as reminder of Your heart

You gave all then, You give good now

Give me a heart to live

Out of knowing this is true

So that my heart becomes a blessing

To those around me, first to You

writing things out

Rest, You say,

But it's so hard

Too tired to rest for real

I'm up and I'm down

Always "on" never off

Can You tell me which wounds need to heal?

They all feel raw

Open for trouncing 

Stretched thin to the point that they fray

Realize it or not

My heart has to cope

With this grief every minute each day

Get behind every thought

Get behind every tear

To what's really happening inside

It's all just a blur

All pent up within

I could not make sense if I tried

Nobody knows

Though some come close

But no one knows just how I feel

It's not their marriage

It's not their life

Not their separation to deal

And now You whisper

I knew You would

You do when I offer my all

It is Your marriage

Mine is Your life

This is us obeying Your call

I don't like it

I said it

I don't like it one bit

And You know

And it's fine

And you handle my fit

It's my heart

Not fake smiles

That You always pursue

I bring ugly

But honest

And give it to You

And Your voice is so tender

It melts my poor heart

As I've laid all I have at Your feet

You take ugly and honest

And cover with grace

And still Your abundance is wholly replete

You don't work with "ok"

No tools for "I'm fine"

So useless is "I'm good, and you?"

I must see my need

Not just see but admit

So that You can give mercies all new

I'm deficient alone

No clue what to do

I'm really just no good at this

For whatever reason

I trust that You have

There's something You won't let us miss

So we're here

And I'm grateful

You know that's no lie

It's so hard

But still good

Despite buckets I cry

But the point
You keep saying

Is how good I am not

And how

By sharp contrast

You've vanquished my rot

That I'm clueless

And hopeless

When considered alone

But You're holy

Victorious

King on the throne

King in my heart

King of this day

Not King far away and aloof

And what better time

To remember Your love

You came down as a babe to give proof

Free to be me

Because You give You

No longer defined by my plight

The deeper my weakness

The more room for You

To display the great power of Your might

Well, here You go!

Display away!

Weaker I may never have been

Still my heart is Your canvas

I trust Your scarred hands

For Your glory my all. With love, Katie Lynn

"Return, O my soul, to your rest;

for the Lord has dealt bountifully with You."

Psalm 116:7

flood warning

This may be bad.

This may be really, really bad.

But I've warned you now, and that's all I can do.

Today, this sucks. It really does.

I don't even like that term, but I can't work my way around it. "This stinks" just isn't cutting it today. Sorry.

I'm alone. And I'm crying. And I can't stop. 

I cry at the hard things. I cry at the sweet things. I cry because I hate it. And I cry because I would not change it. I cry because I miss Stephen. I cry because he is so worth missing. I cry because I am grateful that I miss him as much as I do. I cry because he feels the same way. I cry because the Lord is near. I cry because He keeps reminding me that I don't have to be good at this. I cry because He alone knows just how bad I am at it. I cry because I know it will get better with time. I cry because the thought of the time it will take is overwhelming. I cry because I feel like I should feel like I'm single again. I cry because that's about the last way I feel. I cry because I wish I knew how to handle social settings or meeting new people well. I cry because I almost dread it some days. 

The trigger.

I guess the trigger was a text from Stephen today saying he had arrived at his overseas destination. Up until now he was training in the same time zone. If you have spent any time with me in the evenings over the last two months, you know that writing is not my typical 9pm activity. I would have been parting ways with you soon to talk to Stephen. But now he has (jet-lag permitting) been sleeping for several hours, and his will not be the last voice I hear tonight. Not live anyway. 

And then I think about the last person I will have talked to today: the cashier at Kroger. And I cry some more.

Some days solitude is a double-edged sword. Today is one of those. I hate being alone and yet cannot imagine interacting with anyone else right now. I feel like I putter around the house, doing a little bit of everything, but not completing anything. Not that I don't have plenty to do. 

If you have yet to receive a wedding gift thank you, rest assured, they are in the works. I have another writing job that I am excited to take on between now and Thanksgiving. I have been compiling all my poetry from the last decade. 

I have enjoyed time with friends this month. My old small group got away to the lake one weekend. 

We threw a baby shower for Darrah yesterday. 

And Juliet keeps me great company. 

Hanging out with my new friend, Cat, who nannies and whose husband is also away for a year, has been a huge highlight in these few weeks. 

It's not boredom. I think I stay busy enough. It's just hard.

As I was thinking through an upcoming church social earlier this evening, I came to realize why I feel so out of place all of a sudden, especially at church. It has nothing to do with other people, though perhaps their love for both of us brings the emotions to the surface. It has more to do with the fact that Stephen is indeed my other half. And as cheesy as it sounds (I really tried not to say it, but it's true!), we are one person in two places. One heart, one flesh, one family. Two continents that might as well be two worlds. 

And it's seeing the people who know us well that really undoes me. Because I know they look at me and see Stephen too. They can't look at me and not think about the reason he's not beside me or how long it will be until he is again. And whether they say something or not, I feel exposed and vulnerable and overwhelmed in all the ways I should, I suppose. And I am grateful the Lord has given me a heart that cannot hide, although I'll apologize again for all the times each of you will get a bucket full of tears because of it.

And it's funny how real it finally seems that we are one. Sad that it often does not feel as true in togetherness as it does in separation. But we both are praying that the things we learn this year will change how we view and value each other, our future family, and every other priority in our lives. It's almost a glimpse of the "if only"s we might have if one of us were to pass, so I'll be grateful that our opportunities to love each other well are, Lord willing, still a lifetime full.

Whew. So, the tears have stopped. I think that's all for tonight. Maybe my poor sinuses will have a chance to clear up before lights out.

One thing I heard in a short John Piper montage on YouTube last week has stuck with me. I won't get the quote exactly right, but as he is talking about the certainty of suffering in the Christian life he makes the distinction between what is miserable and what is painful. And though at times I am tempted to file this experience under Misery, I know that would not be true. It's painful. Ugh, it's frustratingly painful some days. And I feel like it would not be so bad if I just loved Jesus a little more, and that way of thinking serves only to perpetuate frustration.

But the pain is not misery because of the cross of Christ. Suffering is the primary way God's glory of salvation is revealed in the world--Jesus on the cross and my hope in suffering now. This is not futile misery; it is glory-rending pain.

And I pray the Lord gets enormous glory from it. No matter how much it hurts. No matter how many days ahead will feel like this one. No matter how many showers, meals, car rides, communions, or blog posts I have yet to cry through.

When all my tears have fallen

And my strength lies in their wet

When my heart is naught but frailty

Jesus, let me not forget!

Not only did Your tears fall

But Your sweat became as blood

As You gazed on separation

Cost of mercy's welling flood

But as Your tears led to glory

Please allow mine so to do

For every teardrop let one-thousand

"Hallelujah"s rise to You

And so it will all be worth it

Every mite of this sweet pain

If Your glory shines the brighter

Beauty bursting through the rain