As Marvin and Monica say,

"It's just one of them days. Don't take it personal." I wish I could chalk it up to that, but the truth is everyday is "one of them days" - some days I'm just better at disguising my disdain for brokenness. 

I'm a sensitive person, but not abnormally sensitive. Some would like to pin me down as overly sensitive but the truth is they are just sensitive too. I tend to think Marvin Gaye had it right, "We're all just sensitive people with so much to give." 

The truth hurts sometimes is the saying but I'm pretty sure it hurts all the time - the good kind of hurt, the kind that heals. A friend of mine, who I consider one of my very best friends, told me he thought I was a moody person in a non negative way. He also said by way of clarification that I was rather, inconsistent with my moods, still in a non negative way. Honestly, I'm still processing those statements, but I don't hate those statements, I trust them - because he's honest, and if I'm being honest, I can see those things too, and I hold his opinion in high regard.

There’s no easy way to discuss what’s going on in my heart right now just like there’s no easy was of dealing with it. So, no transition is necessary. I have a sin nature. I am sinful by nature. As a part of that, I’m jealous by nature. Some readers may deal with this in an equally abundant way while others of you may have other weights to bear, but at the least I hope you’ll bear with me through this honest blog. 

My jealousy and selfishness are cousins. best friends. They run so deep that it effects my relationship with a holy God and my ability to understand His deep and abiding love for me. See, I’m a person who loves people. They are my blessing and my curse. I love relationships and the act of relating. It’s a high, really. For me, its a very broken thing and there are other selfish and jealousy oriented lesions that branch into the thing of relating and relationing, but getting back to the point, at the core I’m person who loves persons. My love is broken. Much like my heart is continually broken. Due to selfish ambition, impatience, and other Fall related things. 

Enough with the disclaimers. 

I’m jealous for attention. I want what’s mine to be mine and no one else’s. Sound like your 4 year old niece? Please forgive me. As a child of God, I probably am your 4 year old niece. My jealousy runs so deep that when it comes to approaching the indescribable love of God, I hesitate. I, little practically incompetent twenty three year old Jordan Rae, hesitate to accept what God so freely gives. “WHY?” You must be screaming. Because I’m jealous. When I think of my relationship with God I think of two primary relationships, 1. God as my Father, 2. and as the Bride-groom. With the second relationship comes the issue, in earthly marriages there is one man and one woman, bride and groom. together. forever. With Christ, we are ALL His bride. The church is His bride. Herein lies the problem in my wicked heart, I want so desperately for something to be mine! All my own. But nothing is. I’m selfish. I’m ashamed. All this translates into my daily relationships. I want my best friends to be  MY best friends. I want the man I’m interested in to be interested in only me. My heart is often torn between what I find morally attractive in truth and what I am truly by nature. 

So what is the remedy? Where is the truth? 

God has given me a new nature.

Truthfully, nothing is my own. It all belongs to God who gives and takes away and though I deserve nothing good gives to me as a loving God things which I can love and enjoy. (noted: they do not belong to me, they are like the toys at mimi’s house which we enjoy when we visit but are not for our taking.)

Finally, and probably the most beautiful truth of all, yet the hardest in this list for me to grasp... We only model our earthly marriages after that supreme marriage between God and man. There is a fidelity to be found there. and while it seems that it might stop between man and wife, it is not so, we are so little minded. Fidelity is to be found between the Church and God. We are as a church to be as one (it says so in Philippians).  The bride is a community.

 This truth sets a climbing grapple full thrust into my heart because my love I only expend so far with  my selfishness and I wish this same sin upon those I am closest too. That they would only expend their love on me and a handful of others because somehow it means more that way. (As an aside: Seems all too familiar to the idea of inflation. We name our prices high, but rarely invest in any purchases, even though production is overstimulated.) Who do I think I am? To limit one’s capacity to love. Luckily, rather providentially, I cannot limit them, and most people will not be limited. Though this breaks my human heart I only hope it makes my spirit rejoice if not now, then one day.

So I guess to conclude I leave you with more wise words from Marvin Gaye, “Since we got to be here, let’s say ‘I love you.’”

If you’re wondering, I think I wrote this more for myself than anyone else. Actually, I know I did. I’m sorry for being so selfish in my writing endeavors. I do pray that it some how affects you, dare I say, inspire you. I can’t say I’m entirely confident in the truths I aimed to bring to the forefront through writing this little blog. So if you’re a brother or a sister in Christ, I hope you’ll pray for me to stand firm on those truths and hold tightly to Christ’s promises. 

Christ is sufficient for me. He has already satisfied all my needs. He does not withhold any good thing from those who love Him (ie. me).

Musical Inspiration:

Monica “Don’t take it personal”

Marvin Gaye “Let’s Get it On”

Shane & Shane “Embracing Accusations”

A plea: For those who have fallen victim of my jealousy and selfishness, please forgive me, and thats probably all of you. 

More disclaimers: This barely scratches the surface of what is rambling through my mind.

Closing statement: The need for "validation" is excessive. Pray against it, if not for yourself, then for me.

Purposeless Purpose: An Uninsightful Day in the Life.

So I was sitting on top of a train car with wood chips as insulation looking over downtown Montgomery and desperately trying to see the stars and all I could think was “I’m on top of a freaking train car!!” It was something I’ve never known I always wanted to do. I wanted to document every second. I wanted to claim it and reclaim it. I wanted to plant my flag at the top of that wood chip pile, but all I left behind was a fake m&m candy cane container. fitting, really. and then I got down and then, all I could think was “I have to get to down. I simply have to.” I was planning for the worst. I got up there and it was time to come back down. That happens every time. Nothing seems to last. And finally, I can say (again) that it’s okay. I did get down. I am Spartacus. 

In other news, I managed to grasp a nature taught lesson. (glory be to God) It follows: Ironically, the same night I did my “train car thinking” I saw a shooting star -- first time, I suppose since China. Shooting stars are special. I am determined I tapped into some greater purpose for shooting stars (laugh). I’m sitting on this magnificently designed sod couch (an AUM student’s senior art project) peering over the little duck pond across the road from the Baptist Campus Ministry building humming “Smoke on the Water” and wondering if Ben still has his guitar hero. I am freezing. I am warm. I have this excellent hand warmer in the pockets of another jacket. This couch is amazingly comfortable. I lean my head back and . Just like that a shooting star shot across my sky. I think I gasped as if in pain and maybe even grabbed at my heart. Its on my top ten list of things to feel. 

Today I felt like a new woman. (Am I even a woman? whatever.) I imagine that feeling will go away in a day or two, maybe longer.  (Yesterday was amazing.) but I imagine it won’t last me a lifetime. I was myself in what felt like the first time in months. Its so nice to find your skin again and then its even better when you get comfortable in that skin again. you know iron out some wrinkles in the layers underneath and breath easy. (You know you know what I mean. laugh.) I was praying against this feeling going away, but I’m smarter than to think it never will, but lots of things get postponed. (You take what you can get.) Nonetheless, I prayed which in turn made me think, and I thought about when I first became a Christian how excited I was -- I was in love. I was forgiven. free. We forget so fast the very best of things in life. feelings and truths. We remember most of the worst things in life. Funny how things go. I tried to remember the shooting star. I remember the sight of it but not what it gave me. That can’t be recreated. (No white elephants allowed in the heavens.) 

And so, I made a discovery in the culmination of a thousand things including the train car, the shooting star, and an Ingrid Michaelson song employing a brilliant often misunderstood musical technique called “the round”. I’m going to try including a playlist with this blog so you can hear the song (and probably ever blog here after since music is such a big deal to me in terms of processing). Anyways, it’s called “The Chain”. Sheer goodness. I was remembering remembering. I love memories. I love making them and naming them and then finally remembering them. Some recent events have transpired inspiring me to avidly make a commitment to memory but also inspiring me to nostalgia and simple remembering-- smells, sights, feelings, places. So I did. It took me all the way back to 2nd grade. Thats the first time I remember having so fond a memory that I didn’t want it to end. I remember aching for the past even so young and recalling that old heart ache was comforting. Change is never easy, but eventually the things we once called our changes we start to call normal. That is where I am. I’m getting over that hill and its picturesque up on this plateau. From here I can see both sides and at a safe distance. The breathing is easy up on these hilltops, and fresh. It nearly evokes a real life sigh at the end of this sentence. But what comes up must come down. (Sorry for the jumbled images, but you do what you can with what you know.) So, I’m going to try and enjoy these next couple of days or months, however long the hilltop lasts, because I will yet again descend into a valley and be forced to climb. For now, I can say, I’m okay with that because I’ve been reminded of the hilltop and the rest and the joy. It’s good. 

In short, “the round” became symbolic of this cycle more fondly known as sanctification.

More suitable for a diary...

So, I know so far this blog is like the Queen of Debbie Downers and Disclaimers. But like I told this stranger today, I'm not usually like this its just this season of life thats got me all funked out and unsorted...I'd hate for this to be the way you know me. So, its better for those who already knew me once, but for those who didn't stick around because we'll pull it out and you'll see. I'll show you, but for now, you'll just have to think what you will and hopefully that includes a little sympathy and perhaps some empathy. In order to rectify myself, I'll include a few lines I'm working on in their rawest form. (still working on a strong ending and thinking of adding some lines) 

**Be warned not for the faint hearted**

Disclaimer: For all my absolutely wonderful God fearing friends, do not be alarmed. I'm sure there was a time in your life when you didn't pass the cuss test. Forgive me? Just keeping it real. Have mercy. With love (and grace).

I’m drawn to guys who are hard asses with well shaped asses.

--but when all else fails i’ll go for character assets.

the sun can draw me out. the kind of sun that defrosts your frozen heart and makes you feel again the breeze that tickles your skin. it never left you.

I’m drawn to chaos when organization saves us

--and I’m a list maker with an appetite for pain.

the sun can draw me out. the kind of sun that remind you of spring and makes you forget the winter you once loved because of the special way it treated you. it still loves you.

I’m drawn to thinkers who give no answers and make me wonder

--but make me feel dumber and incompetent, I’m just a blunder

the sun can draw me out. the kind of sun that makes your eyes shine like you were already mine and makes you lie down on the pavement and feel your skin tingle. it won’t disappoint you.

I’m drawn too.

Mirror, mirror

I’ve spent hours in my lifetime thinking about this. I suppose it started when my mom would frame these horrible pictures of me and every time I had to make a commentary on how horrible the picture actually was. She said, “Your crazy!” At first, I luffed it off as one of those different taste type of things. Ya know, the 'she’s-my-mom-and-likes-every-picture-of-her-baby' and even then her favorites are usually the ones with the total opposite of my good side. This was perpetual pattern -- not just with my mother but with others. Coincidentally, I was favoring certain photos of my loved ones they personally despised. For a second I thought I was just self absorbed and if it was a good picture of me then, well, that was it. The picture was good. That’s true (laugh) but not the final answer. I quickly discovered this exercise remained true even when said loved one was all by his or her lonesome in a photo. 

So simply, I ask, what do you look like to yourself?

How many pictures have you thrown away because the way you were depicted, though still you in reality, is not the way you wanted to be remembered. Its awkward. As I sit here thinking of how I hope I am thought of... I realize it is more of a feeling. I want to be remembered the way I feel when I feel good. When you think of me 

I want you to think of a fair skinned girl with freckles peppering her skin, head slightly tilted revealing the “good side” where my hair lightly sweeps over muddy river greenish brown eyes that are  intrusive and beat with long black lashes proportionate to a narrow button nose with a finely formed straight angle pointing to two expressive lips. Whose bottom lip is fuller and whose upper lip reminds you of the top fold of an old Valentine’s card that hinges and makes a sort of dimple thats hard to forget (if you’re looking for it). These lips protect some pearly whites that aren’t blinding but well kept for a tea and coffee drinking fool. Well rounded by a thin not to narrow chin and characterized by high arching cheeks that show some of my history, underneath my chin and surrounding my face is a flood of dark brown hair you might think was black until it catches the light. These things are happy (and thats just my face). And on a good day when I’ve left the mirror for my morning ritual -- this is what I see in my spirit as I work hard to carry myself. Therein lies the problem. I’m trying to carry myself. 

Though I must daily carry this tent of flesh as my cross, it is God who gives me the strength and more so the ability to carry it along. I am therefore carried along. Like a stubborn child who helps bringing the Christmas tree into the house. His father bears the weight at the base and the child wraps his hands around  the center where his father tells him too -- taking one step at a time as his father determines the pace and place. The child will think he’s done something, and he has but he hasn’t done it alone. He’s been carried along and allowed to participate in some exciting event.

How often I am wrapt in understanding perspective of myself and then the perspective others have of me and finally my perspective of you. While this is an awful reality, it is not actually important. Someone said to me yesterday over a cup of coffee on an eerily weathered day, “We are so desperate for a connection -- someone to relate to. I was so concerned with how we related to each other. It was exhausting.” While we must relate to each other, however ugly it looks, what important is how we relate to God. 

Now, I have to believe this.

So this is Christmas...

I went shopping today. I bought some roll on peppermint aromatherapy that reads in capital letters HEADACHE RELIEF. I bought it for $10 at Bath & Body Works. It's Christmas Eve EVE. Here I sit (plopped down in a vintage looking wicker chair from Pier 1, I'm sure. Its my mom's. Writing on my brand spankin' new silver GREEN macbook a.k.a. graduation/christmas present) listening to my spokesperson, Ingrid Michaelson, touch a few chords in my pounding brain and heart only four or five 'dloops' from full audio. ...I have a headache.

"I can't wait for it to be over," I think to myself. 

Seriously?

What is it with this hurried mindset? I can't wait for this semester to be over. I can't wait for graduation to be over. I can't wait til the lonely holiday seasons are over. I can't wait til singleness is over, but I didn't say that. (Although, I think that is the bigger picture.) Well, here I am. I've wanted to write several times. I've had topics and everything. Writing means inspiration/perseverance/meaning to me. As much as I love it, I'm afraid of it. Much like commitment. Funny how things go, ay? When someone passes around one of those personal information surveys for those of the bored at heart I always answer "being alone forever" as my biggest fear, yet committing is just as scary. I have no problem giving myself away fully. Ask most of my friends and former loves. I pour myself out like stale coke, but it's entrusting all that I am to someone else that bothers me. The haunting questions: Do they feel sorry for me? Do they even like me? Am I being manipu

lative? Am I forcing this on them? Do they even really care? Do they understand me? blah blah. But writing. It's my friend. I don't do it as much as I should or would even like because it's so personal that if I put out something I'm not satisfied with or others find fault with a small part of my world is shattered. Not to mention, writing something means being held accountable for it which is partially why I've avoided blogs so long. Besides, who really wants to be reading this blog. Its not interesting unless you have some sort of investment in it. So why am I writing? Well, I have this thing for inspiring people. Someone special to me reminded me that "you have to be inspired to inspire". I immediately thought to myself that I feel inspired most of the time. SO many things inspire me: music lyrics, a voice, harmonies, a beautiful landscape, the right lighting, a word reclaimed, colors put together in a new and invigorating way, smiles, twinkling or even crying eyes, other people's pain, merry christmases, efforts to do what we human consider good...SO many things. Being a christian, my mind within a matter of seconds had taken this small statement to a second level. I believe the Bible was written by inspired men. So what does inspiration from the Holy Spirit mean or look like? This made me a little sad. I have been in God's word so little lately and for no good reason--busyness. I can't really be inspired without that. It made a dream (of inspiring people) put its feet back on the ground. Thus I blog. 

More to the point, Ingrid just reminded me of the actual starter for this blog today. Her song "Starting Now". It says:

I want to crawl back inside my mother's womb. I want to shut out all the lights in this room. I want to start fresh, like a baby in a sink. Scrub away all these thoughts that I think of you. Life moves slowly when you're waiting for it to boil. Feel like I watch from 6 feet under the soil. Still want to hold you and kiss behind your ears, but I recount the countless tears that I lost for you. I want to crawl back inside my bed of sin. I want to burn the sheets that smell like your skin instead I'll wash them just like kitchen rags with stains, spinning away every piece that remains of you. But before you finally go, there's one thing you should know: That I promise - Starting now, I'll never know your name. Starting now, I'll never feel the same. Starting now, I wish you never came into my world. 

This song has crossed my path before. At the end of a relationship that never really should have existed, it became a very real part of life, a very real part of the love I expended, and the very thing I blame for my out of sorts behavior. (I haven't been the same since I got home from China. I have my moments but...) I've diagnosed myself with a broken heart. No need to worry. It's like diabetes for me. There is no border line and it is a daily battle to moderate. Today, as I listened to this song again (and probably for the two millionth time) the same thoughts came to mind but this time needed airing out. I wished that I could say "THAT is exactly the way I feel" about the song. It's simply not true. Th

e highlighted words are 100% true, but honestly, every time I hear his name I remember and it is sweet, and if he simply changed his heart and mind I could feel the same and love him til my dying day (aside: I think we can love anyone but some will be harder to love than others), and if he didn't come into my world I wouldn't know what I know now. The fact of the matter is that, while this hurts like hell, I'd rather love and lose--like Mr. Bennett says,

 "Poor Jane. A girl likes to be crossed in love now and then. It gives her something to think of... and a sort of distinction amongst her companions." Someone asked me once if I have an appetite for pain. I'd be the first to say no, but sometimes I wonder. A lot of the pain I feel I bring on myself unintentionally but by way of living or what I call living.

Well, this isn't really going any where. I just think it is a shame that Christmas has to be a headache. That you have to find the perfect gifts and the Christmas car accidents are some how worse than the daily fender bender. I wish we could just give each other good thoughts like Mork (of Mork & Mindy). Our... My...expectations of Christmas are so high when Christ was born so lowly. I think it's a shame that we get so busy and caught up in making our expectations happen that we wish our weddings, christmases, (singleness) etc away. We wish them away and forget to live them. So, all our life (my life) is wishing. Wishing and not living. Boo. 

This extensive blog is inspired by Matt who said "You were amazing over there" referring to China AND Ann for showing me how I am giving back and talking to me about "ushering in the fruit of the Spirit" AND Em for listening when I didn't expect her to AND Neal for being inspired not by me but by everyone else AND Hope for telling me about a boy AND B for emailing me when I was ready to hate him AND Heejeang for being a real friend AND music for

effecting my heart. Thanks.

In the spirit of commanding my emotions and following the below advice, I decorated gingerbread men tonight.

Above all, my dear

Advice to a daughter, gothic literature style:

"Above all, my dear Emily, do not indulge in the pride of the fine feeling, the romantic error of amiable minds. Those, who really possess sensibility, ought early to be taught, that it is a dangerous quality, which is continually extracting the excess of misery, or delight, from every surrounding circumstance. And, since, in our passage through this world, painful circumstances occur more frequently than pleasing ones, and since our sense of evil is, I fear, more acute than our sense of good, we become the victims of our feelings, unless we can in some degree command them." ~M. St. Aubert of The Mysteries of Udolpho

I'm content to leave it at this. Consider this my disclaimer. 

Sincerely,

a Romantic, a wannabe Philosopher, a Christian Theist, a Writer, a Lover, a Sister, and a Friend.