My first instinct when I heard of this was to cry, then to get angry, and then to wonder, “What was she thinking?”  I was shocked at the stupidity and irresponsibility of her actions.  I was devastated for those families.  I scooped Aliza up and hugged her tight and thanked God for her once again.

As the story has unfolded, I have been following it on the news.  Before any investigation took place, it was assumed that the fire started, and Tata couldn’t get the children out.  But over time, it was discovered that her negligence caused four little children to die.  I was simply appalled.  I’ve been taking care of other people’s children for years.  I can’t remember a time in my life when I wasn’t ministering to children.  I believe it is my calling, in many different forms.  I can’t imagine ever, ever being that irresponsible.

With that being said, I began to hate this woman.  I may not have ever said that I hated her out loud, but in my heart, I was wishing her the worst.  I wanted my kind of justice for those families.  I wanted her to be tried and sentenced to something terrible.  I wanted her to suffer like those families had suffered. I was livid when I heard that she escaped to Nigeria because I thought she was going to slip away and never be heard from again.

And then, the Lord started to work on my heart, once again, and I must say, I’ve done a lot of repenting in my attitude the past few weeks.

Jessica Tata did do something terrible, yes.  I am not excusing what she has done at all.  I am not making light of those families’ pain and devastation.  I know what it is like first hand to lose someone due to negligence.  I know the agony of losing someone prematurely.  I am intimate with the sting of death and the grace of God.  I would still have my baby brother here on earth if people were responsible with other’s lives.  You don’t know how angry that makes me some days.  You just don’t know.

But what God has taught me through all of this is that Tata, too, is broken.  A sinner.  A human with issues and problems that only God can probably understand.  I will never know what possessed her to go shopping and leave those kids alone with a burning pot of oil on the stove.  I will not know what kind of turmoil she is going through right now knowing that she caused the deaths of those children. I don’t know if the fire was on purpose or accident.  I don’t know her at all.  All I know is that she was responsible for the death of 4 human lives, and that makes me want to hate her.

But, when I think about it, I am no different from Tata.  My problems, issues, depression, anger, and the rest of the sin in me caused Jesus to die on the cross.  It was my responsibility that He died.  His blood is on MY hands.

As Christians, we pass our responsibility of Calvary off.  It’s easy to, especially since we weren’t there whipping His back or shouting curses at Him as He hung there and suffered for our sake.  We don’t understand how wretched we truly are.

There’s a lyric by Bethany Dillon that always convicts me:

How can I despise my brother, when I killed your only begotten Son?

Help me prefer another to say, “You are the only God.”

Every time I hear it, I think about Jessica Tata.  I can either hate her, or I can pray for her salvation.  Begrudgingly at times, I choose the second option.  Not just for Jessica Tata, but for all of humanity.

There are some people that make it so easy to hate them.  I could easily hate the people responsible for my brother’s death.  But I choose not to.  Not because it doesn’t hurt.  Not because it doesn’t make me angry.  Not because I’m denying that they, in some ways, tore my family in pieces.  I choose not to hate them because I am no better.

We serve a loving, compassionate God.  He is patient with us, knows our flaws, sees our intentions, and understands our wretched state.  He calls us to love others, our enemies even.  I am trying to grasp this concept and believe it in the depths of my being, but man, it’s hard.

“But God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” ~ Romans 5:8

This has made transitioning to a new church extremely hard.

I’m afraid to open up to people for fear of being rejected and hurt.

Cause I’ve been hurt a lot in the past few months.

And there’s not a thing I can do about it right now.

I don’t even know if it would matter if I tried.

All my trying has left me stressed and feeling more self conscious than ever.

It’s hard not to lose my faith in Christians as a whole, myself included.

I’ve got too many thoughts, and no way to express them to the people that really matter.

It’s slowly eating away at me, and no amount of praying has helped.

Lord, help me.

A lot of what I’ve been thinking has to do with my identity.  I feel like I’ve lost so much of it in the past year.  It’s not because I’m going through some crisis, and it’s not because I lost my singularity and became a wife.  It’s not because I am now in the “mommy” category as I prepare for this child.  While I’m sure that those things do change who you are in countless ways, I know it’s because other people don’t know who I am anymore.

Following the close of Basilica, a lot of relationships I held very dear have changed.  I feel like I’ve lost friends, not on purpose, but it’s still happened.  I feel like some people have purposely disconnected themselves from me, and although I’m okay with that, it’s still hard.  And some people I just don’t talk to as often, and that’s my fault just as much as anyone’s.

But the thing that has been the most difficult is entering a new church family.  Josh and I decided to go to a church here in Clear Lake called OneLife.  And though I absolutely love these people, their view on the Gospel, and their overall community, I am still treading lightly with them.

It’s hard for me to be vulnerable.  I don’t like a lot of things I have done, and I despise other things that I have been through.  When I started at Basilica, I was grieving my brother’s death deeper than I ever have.  I was terribly broken, and utterly hopeless from poor decisions and things I had done.  I didn’t hide this from anyone there when I started going.  Through God’s grace and over time, I healed from some things, and just “got over” others.  I felt comfortable with my church family.  I had women I could talk to about struggles, fears, joys, etc.  I was in a niche that I had dreamed of my entire Christian life.  I could be real with these people.  I could confess sins that most would keep a secret.  I could share doubts about God and scripture without feeling ashamed.

And then…boom…in a morning conversation around the table, I found out that the church I had come to love so much was going to be over, and that was that.   And while I understand why, and I think it was best, I am just now feeling the weight of it, months later.

I long for close fellowship again.  I long for relationships with other Christian women.  I long to be sought out by other women to be a friend, and not a child-care provider (though I do love children and serving families).  I get lost in the role of babysitter so often, that I feel like people don’t see me as an adult, but rather, a big child, because most see me interacting with children the majority of the time.  And that’s hard, because I love children, and even though I have a God-given gift with them, I long to be separated from the role of pseudo-mom, and placed in the role of friend.

I just feel lonely, and it’s hard to be vulnerable with a new group of people, as wonderful as they are. They don’t know about my past.  They don’t know about how and why I am broken.  They don’t know my insecurities, and they don’t know about the things I am working on with the Lord.  And I’m not sure how easy it will be to open myself up again like that.  I just feel like the momentum and motivation I had to be in close fellowship with people is slowly wearing down.  I am in desperate need of a good push in the right direction.

Help me, Lord.

It rules my life if I let it, and it’s also the one thing that the Lord and I have been working on since before I can remember.

It started with my best friend being killed by a drunk driver when I was in 4th grade, and it was crippling until I was in high school.  I couldn’t leave my house without fear.  I very rarely spent the night at anyone’s house as a child.  I was a homebody in the worst sense of the word, really believing that I could control whatever went on with my family so long as I was around them.

I lived like this for almost 7 years, until the Lord saved me, both from hell and from myself.  When I was 15, I became a Christian.  For a year, I struggled and wrestled with my habitual tendency to worry about everything, and after a painstakingly hard year of confession and prayer, I felt free from this anxiety.

Then, at 22 years old, my world was turned upside-down with a phone call from my sister.  My brother had fallen off a waterslide and had a head injury.  She said that the EMS people said it was probably just a concussion.  They lied.  He was dead on arrival.  I received a phone call from 600 miles away from the rest of my immediate family in Oklahoma that my brother had died.

And so, my demon returned.

All of the hard work I put into repenting from worry and anxiety for the 7 years preceding my brother’s death were gone in the blink of an eye.  Not only did my anxiety return in full swing, but depression accompanied it in a way that I think no one can understand until they feel the emptiness of losing a loved one so suddenly.   I felt alienated from everyone.  My family, because I wasn’t grieving in anger or rage.  My friends, because I didn’t want them to know how bad I was hurting.  My church, because the last thing I wanted to hear was “God has a plan”.  I became my 4th grade self, feeling misunderstood by everyone I was supposed to trust.  And that, in turn, drove me deeper into depression, doing things so self destructive and horrible, I look back and wonder what in the world I was thinking.

And now, 4 years after my brother (hopefully) went to meet the Lord, I am realizing that my anxiety, though it is in a different form, is just as life-crippling as it was before.  No, I am not stuck in my house, afraid of the outside world.  I don’t have anxiety attacks anymore or feel afraid when I can’t get ahold of my parents after one unanswered phone call.

But I do struggle, still, with my habitual sin, and (shall I say it and be honest?) my unhealthy comfort.

I’m not into New Year’s resolutions, but I do have a goal that I have been striving for since November.  I want to be free of this idol in my life.  I want to let go of this anxiety, because it is a sin, and trust God in all areas of my life.  There are so many that I fret over that are so trivial.  The stress of worry has made my body look older than it is, made me feel older than I am, and stolen joy and adventure out of my life.  I’m not going to let that happen anymore.  Christ died so that I could live free from this!  How stupid of me to continue it!

So, those of you who read this, though I don’t know how often, won’t you pray with me?  And keep me accountable?  I’m confessing this sin out loud, for all on the world wide web to see, and I need prayer, encouragement, and most of all, a good kick in the rear whenever I’m being irrational (I have my husband to thank for keeping my head on straight.  He’s VERY good at it.)

Ironic that the first passage of scripture I memorized was Matthew 6:25-34, isn’t it?  Just goes to show that we have to pick up our Cross daily and that we are not invincible, no matter what we have overcome, if we stray from the Lord!

Josh and I talk about all of our dreams.  We mull over how we fit into our niche here, and how we might fit into our niche in the future.  And the one thing that always sticks out to us is that we want to work with youth.

Yes.  We want to be youth pastors.

And last night we got a chance to see how we would do together in the crazy, yet exciting, world of interacting with teens.

Josh works with a girl who is 16.  She comes from a very bad home.  Her mother committed suicide, as did her brother.  Her father is in jail.  She has 8 siblings, and they are almost all from different fathers.  She lives with her sister, who is still a baby herself, and tries to take care of her younger siblings, all while walking 2.5 miles to work and going to school.

When I met her a few weeks ago, it was very brief, but she opened up to me and I gathered all that information in just a few minutes.  That was all it took for my heart to go out to her and for the Lord to speak to me.

When Josh came home from work that night, I told him, “We are inviting her over for dinner, and soon.”  So last week, I wrote her a note and sent it to her via Josh.  I asked her to come eat with us and hang out.  She was ecstatic when she read it.

So last night, after making a big pot of taco soup, we headed out the door to what seemed like it was going to be the most awkward night of our lives.  As we were driving, she called and asked if her sister could join us.  Of course!

So we drove to the heart of Pasadena and picked them up.  We got to our house and started talking over taco soup and Dr. Pepper.  It was amazing!

We told stories, shared heartaches, related to one another, and talked to them about what life is like as you get older (in a non-lecture-ish way!)  I played southern hospitality extraordinaire.  I sliced up a homemade cake and Josh brewed some coffee, and we talked until the girls had to be home at midnight.  One of their boyfriends even came for a while to hang out, too!

It was glorious.  Literally.

We were able to minister to them, even if it was only for 5 hours on a Monday night.  We fed them, loved on them, listened to them, gave our somewhat sagely advice, and most of all, shared stories about our church, things that God had done for us, and His love for His children.

At the end of the night, we were all in agreement that it would not be the last time we would get together.  We all had such a fun time.

After dropping them off, Josh and I had a long talk on the way home.  About how we are so glad that each other love people the way we do.  About how we were so glad we pushed through the fear of awkwardness and bit the bullet.  How we can not wait to be able to do things like that for a living.  How we want to be effective for the world’s teens without all the glitz and glamour (not to mention waste) the most youth groups have, but genuinely love people and preach the Gospel through our lives.

I love that God does great things when we heed to Him.  I love my husband for being so supportive of me when I am following the Lord’s direction and jumping right in as if he was the one who had heard God’s call to obedience.

I just love our life together.  And I can’t wait to see what God has planned for us in the future!

“Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourselves. Each of you should look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others.” Philippians 2:3-4

Granted, Joshua could have been in a rush and quickly kissed me goodbye and left, leaving me feeling less than loved (as I so often do to him when I am in a rush), but instead he took his time.  He met my emotional needs rather than concentrating on the fact that he would stroll into caffeine central a few minutes late.

Anyway, enough about how awesome my husband is.  I know some people out there think we are soooOOOOoooo mushy. (We are.  We know it, okay?!)

This brings me to my second thought of this oh-so-early morning.  It’s one thing to wake up to sweet words, but it’s another to wake up to a sweet tooth.   For some unknown reason, from the moment I woke up this morning, I wanted a donut.  Not just any donut, but a strawberry iced donut covered in sprinkles.  I had to have one.  My favorite.  So, I proceeded to get dressed in a less than fashionable outfit and drove to Shipley’s.

I got the the nearest store (there are 3 within a 15 minute drive), and got in queue at the drive thru.  And let’s just say it took a lot longer than I wanted it to take.  I was waiting in line for probably 10 minutes with only 2 cars ahead of me.  I started to think about how it was ridiculous that I was waiting that long, but not too far into those thoughts, I could hear the Holy Spirit correcting me.  My thoughts quickly turned to other countries where food is rationed and people stand in line for staples.  My thoughts turned to this donut and the fat deposits it would leave on my body.  My thoughts turned to countries where there is not enough food, let alone a donut shop open before the sun rises on every corner.  Let’s just say I shut my proverbial mouth right then and there.

Then, as I finally pulled up the window, the lady was less than friendly.  You know the type.  The no greeting, no smile, no welcoming tone, ask in monotone voice “what do you want” and then tell you rudely that they don’t have any sprinkled donuts, aloof kind of lady.

And as I was driving away with my strawberry iced (no sprinkles!) donut, I was thinking, “Geez lady, could you have been any less accommodating?”

Once again, the Holy Spirit took hold of my heart and corrected me.  I had no idea what kind of morning that lady was having.  I know nothing of her.  She could be going through a brutal divorce.  Her son could be hooked on drugs.  She could go home alone every day to a crappy apartment and no one to call family.   She could hate her life, her job, herself, me.  And yet I assumed that since I was paying 75 cents to get my sweet tooth satisfied, I deserved to be treated better.

But according to our Lord, we are to look out for the needs of others before we look out for our own self.  I am positive that the Lord is trying to teach me more on this (and perhaps it’s because I’ve been praying for God to teach me to be a Godly wife) because I can not be this coherent to think all this up on my own at 6 in the morning!

I’ve been married now for almost 3 months.  It has been amazing, and marriage is all that I hoped it would be…and it’s some things I didn’t exactly…ahem…hope for.

Usually when people think of newlyweds, I suppose they think of lazy Saturday mornings, bubble fights while washing dishes together, random and crazy sexcapades, the very few and far between arguments, etc.  I suppose this is what I thought it would be like to an extent, but I am a realist (and somewhat of a pessimist, though I hate to admit that), so I knew it would be a lot more boring stuff…farting in bed, scooping hair out of the shower, adjusting to sharing EVERYTHING.

But never, never in my life did I imagine my marriage would entail having very little time with my husband.  Times are hard, and our economy is crashing, forcing me to work 50+ hours a week at least just to scrape by.  It’s been impossible to find a decent job for me.  Josh spends his days in school and at work.  Sometimes we don’t see each other from 7am to 1am (yes, that’s 18 hours), and then our time together involves sawing logs.

Every once in a while we’ll get a few hours where our schedules gel, and we’ll get that oh-so-treasured time together that we can really engage, learn about what God is teaching us, talk about the future, and cook a meal together. I wait days, and sometimes over a week for time like this, and I would lose precious sleep after a 12 hour work day just to sit and be with my husband.

I know that the Lord is teaching me to trust Him in these times.  I know that He’s teaching me what it means to rely on Him for the grace to get through one more day, and to understand that He will provide for us…even when we are in the red after paying our bills.  And I’m counting on Him to keep that spark in our marriage that He so marvelously gave to us.

I’m not sure what lies ahead in the future, but I know that I’ll have my husband and my Lover by my side the whole time, and that makes the hard times totally worth it.

Josh and I were at Starbucks (big surprise, I know!) today, and I found myself watching a man and a woman talking about who knows what.   The man was married, as was obvious by the ring on his left hand.  The woman’s hand was shielded by a purse and a cup of coffee, so I’m not sure if she was married, and if she was, if it was to this man.  But it was interesting watching their body language…seeing her look off in the distance as she finished a sentence that maybe made her feel embarrassed…watching him lean in closer as he was telling a story, etc.

Watching people interact is just so interesting to me, and reading people’s faces is the best part.  The longer I know a person, the more I can tell what they’re thinking by watching their face.  Josh gets this one “serious” face when he’s thinking about how to word something the right way, so that tells me to be patient and just wait til he gets his thoughts formulated enough to express what he’s thinking.  My sister makes this one face when she’s feeling self-conscious.  And this one little boy at Target tonight made a face at me that said, “I’m 7 years old, and I want you to think I’m awesome, because I think I am.”

I think it’s just really neat and awe-inspiring the way that God made humans such complex creatures.   I love that we have emotions and feelings and thoughts that go beyond what words can say.  Sure, that can be frustrating sometimes, but it’s glorious nonetheless.

Take some time to people watch.  It will make you appreciate life and Jesus for making it so good!

Anyway, I’m sick.  Booboo.

I’ll spare you the details, but the past few days have not been fun.

However, in an odd way, I like being sick.  It gives me a chance to slow down and really listen to the Lord.  After Joel’s sermon on Sunday, I realized a few things about my life in regards to the Bible lately.  It’s true that in the past, I was super diligent about reading the Word.  I was committed to studying, memorizing, and meditating on Scripture.  But lately, it hasn’t been the case.

Joel talked about how the Bible judges us, and not the other way around.  We can’t judge the Bible because it’s alive and active.  There’s nothing about it that changes because of us, but rather, we are changed because of it.  Sometimes the Bible boggles my brain.  Written language is something that I have always been thankful for and amazed by.  Just think…it only takes a pen and paper for someone to communicate an idea or thought that can change everything.  Words are so powerful.  And perhaps that is why God chose to communicate with us through a book.  Either way, I’m very thankful for it, and at the same time, overwhelmed by it.

You would think with my sentiments towards the Bible that I would spend hours a day unveiling its mysteries  and grueling over questions that I have.  But no.  I have been lacking lately in my love for the Scriputres, and try as I may, the discipline of reading has been really hard for me in the past few months, and I want to change that.  I really do.

So, Josh and I started a Bible study over Galatians this week, and I’m hoping that this will spark my interest a little bit more…well…that and praying diligently that God will give me a strong desire for His Word.

Anyone else been in a dry spell like this?  I know I’m not alone…

And also, we’re looking for a good commentary or book over Galatians, so if anyone has any suggestions, we’d much appreciate it.

Daddy never says he loves her
Save the times she climbs that ladder
Mama cries to herself in bed
While flowery sheets cover her head.

His one last breath seeps out his lungs
And a phone calls tells her he is done
She boards a plane that’s set to fly
Not a single tear falls from her eyes.

A wayward glance meant all in fun
Leads to the words “Don’t tell anyone”
Her fear floats thinly in the air
He brushes his fingers through her hair

Wire inside concrete borders
Rain splashed tires and money hoarders
Make her think of better places
All she needs is familiar faces

Spiritual songs pierce through her walls
And she her Father lovingly calls
Singing songs with grace and victory
She longs for love and finds it’s He.