It's bizarre, isn't it, when you can watch your life change dramatically in a short period of time.
And it is fantastic when you have people around you who can both encourage you in that, and keep you sane and grounded.
Thank you, friends. I love you.
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Liz waxes poetic
Nostalgia. I know I am hardly the first (nor will I be the last) to write about that great, not-so-great feeling we all get when we ache for something gone. But, hey, this is my blog, so I can do what I want. :)
So often, I feel like God moves me on before I am ready. Leaving high school, leaving college (and the wonderful small group of girls that I saw tonight), leaving Fuel, whatever. I get comfortable, and God pushes me out. Just like that eagle's nest in my previous post, I am pushed to continue on, to keep going.
A huge part of me resists it. I have never been an advocate of change. In my perfect world, I would just stay where I am, and add to my friend collection - I would never lose friends or have to leave friends behind. Change is scary, uncertain, and not my thing. Will I ever outgrow this fear? I hope so, but I have a feeling that will be a long time coming.
What's really funny about nostalgia is how it makes you more sad than happy. You go back and visit with old friends, or you return to an old hang-out, or you see an old movie. You instantly remember the great times, and then are struck with the pain of all you have lost. It's never just, "Oh, that was so great to see my old friends - I feel so upbeat." (at least for me.) Nostalgia, by its very definition, is not a happy feeling. It's bittersweet and yearning.
When I feel nostalgia, like I felt tonight, I am struck by two things. The first is how much I would like to return to that place for which I am nostalgic - a time period, an actual location, whatever. The second is the realization that I simply don't fit there anymore. I've moved on, they've moved on, the "it" we used to have is no longer there. It is the second that makes me sad. Inevitable? Of course. We all have to move on. But what I want? Definitely not.
I do know that nostalgia makes us yearn for something more, something better. Something that we can only get in heaven. So I am grateful for nostalgia, for making me desire heaven more and more each day. Some day, nostalgia will be a thing of the past, for every moment will be perfect, exactly where I want to be. The journey to get there, however, is the hard part.
So often, I feel like God moves me on before I am ready. Leaving high school, leaving college (and the wonderful small group of girls that I saw tonight), leaving Fuel, whatever. I get comfortable, and God pushes me out. Just like that eagle's nest in my previous post, I am pushed to continue on, to keep going.
A huge part of me resists it. I have never been an advocate of change. In my perfect world, I would just stay where I am, and add to my friend collection - I would never lose friends or have to leave friends behind. Change is scary, uncertain, and not my thing. Will I ever outgrow this fear? I hope so, but I have a feeling that will be a long time coming.
What's really funny about nostalgia is how it makes you more sad than happy. You go back and visit with old friends, or you return to an old hang-out, or you see an old movie. You instantly remember the great times, and then are struck with the pain of all you have lost. It's never just, "Oh, that was so great to see my old friends - I feel so upbeat." (at least for me.) Nostalgia, by its very definition, is not a happy feeling. It's bittersweet and yearning.
When I feel nostalgia, like I felt tonight, I am struck by two things. The first is how much I would like to return to that place for which I am nostalgic - a time period, an actual location, whatever. The second is the realization that I simply don't fit there anymore. I've moved on, they've moved on, the "it" we used to have is no longer there. It is the second that makes me sad. Inevitable? Of course. We all have to move on. But what I want? Definitely not.
I do know that nostalgia makes us yearn for something more, something better. Something that we can only get in heaven. So I am grateful for nostalgia, for making me desire heaven more and more each day. Some day, nostalgia will be a thing of the past, for every moment will be perfect, exactly where I want to be. The journey to get there, however, is the hard part.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Another quote from my devotional
This one is super long, but apropos to my life right now. Enjoy!
"And to the woman were given two wings of a great eagle, that she might fly into the wilderness, into her place, where she is nourished for a time, and times, and half a time, from the face of the serpent." - Revelation 12:14
After choosing a site on a rocky cliff sometimes thousands of feet above the ground, a mother eagle constructs her nest. For protection, she arranges sharp sticks along the perimeters, but inside, the nest is soft and comfortable for the eggs. So, when Ernie Eaglet pops out of his shell, he finds his accomodations quite to his liking. "Wow! What a view!"
And with Mama Eagle dropping breakfast, lunch, dinner, and an after-dinner mint into his beak every day, he's a happy eaglet indeed - until his girth increases and he begins to bump into the sharp sticks Mama purposefully placed around the nest. Suddenly, the once cozy abode becomes a little uncomfortable.
The same goes for us. When what was once so cozy - that group you were in, those people you were linked to, the job you had - gets a little irritating, you may have a tendency to grumble. But you must realize God does this intentionally because He will not allow you to perpetually nest in a place of fatness and flightlessness.
Then, just when Ernie thinks he can't stand one more poke, Mama Eagle comes, and with her powerful wings, bumps the nest - sending Ernie tumbling out. Flapping his little wings frantically yet futilely, he falls hundreds of feet and is about to crash when Mama Eagle scoops him up on her wings and takes him back to the nest.
"Whew! What was that about?" Ernie wonders.
And for a couple of days, he's happy again, being served breakfast, brunch, lunch, and dinner. But then those pesky sticks begin to bother him again, and after a couple of days, bump goes the nest, and out he falls. Once more, right when he thinks his life is over, there's Mom bearing him on her wings, returning him to the nest. Now Ernie's really wondering. "Every time I get comfortable, every time I settle back in, Mama comes and turns my nest over. What kind of parent is she, anyway?" Yet the process is repeated five or six times, until one day, Ernie soars. And as he does, he understands the pokes, the overturned nest, the perilous plummeting were all about spurring him to do what he never would have done on his own. They were all about teaching him to fly.
Precious saint, if you've been flapping or squawking or crying, this word is for you: God says, "I found you in a wasteland. You are the apple of my eye. I've got nothing but the best in My heart for you. You're not going to crash. I'll always be there to catch you. But I'm going to continue working with you that you might fly."
As a result, I am slowly learning not to be quite as squawky, quite as angry, quite as fearful - but to remember the plan of the Father to bear me on eagle's wings. The pokey sticks are preparatory for the overturning of the nest. And the overturned nest is absolutely essential to teach me to fly."
-A Day's Journey, Jon Courson, December 16
"And to the woman were given two wings of a great eagle, that she might fly into the wilderness, into her place, where she is nourished for a time, and times, and half a time, from the face of the serpent." - Revelation 12:14
After choosing a site on a rocky cliff sometimes thousands of feet above the ground, a mother eagle constructs her nest. For protection, she arranges sharp sticks along the perimeters, but inside, the nest is soft and comfortable for the eggs. So, when Ernie Eaglet pops out of his shell, he finds his accomodations quite to his liking. "Wow! What a view!"
And with Mama Eagle dropping breakfast, lunch, dinner, and an after-dinner mint into his beak every day, he's a happy eaglet indeed - until his girth increases and he begins to bump into the sharp sticks Mama purposefully placed around the nest. Suddenly, the once cozy abode becomes a little uncomfortable.
The same goes for us. When what was once so cozy - that group you were in, those people you were linked to, the job you had - gets a little irritating, you may have a tendency to grumble. But you must realize God does this intentionally because He will not allow you to perpetually nest in a place of fatness and flightlessness.
Then, just when Ernie thinks he can't stand one more poke, Mama Eagle comes, and with her powerful wings, bumps the nest - sending Ernie tumbling out. Flapping his little wings frantically yet futilely, he falls hundreds of feet and is about to crash when Mama Eagle scoops him up on her wings and takes him back to the nest.
"Whew! What was that about?" Ernie wonders.
And for a couple of days, he's happy again, being served breakfast, brunch, lunch, and dinner. But then those pesky sticks begin to bother him again, and after a couple of days, bump goes the nest, and out he falls. Once more, right when he thinks his life is over, there's Mom bearing him on her wings, returning him to the nest. Now Ernie's really wondering. "Every time I get comfortable, every time I settle back in, Mama comes and turns my nest over. What kind of parent is she, anyway?" Yet the process is repeated five or six times, until one day, Ernie soars. And as he does, he understands the pokes, the overturned nest, the perilous plummeting were all about spurring him to do what he never would have done on his own. They were all about teaching him to fly.
Precious saint, if you've been flapping or squawking or crying, this word is for you: God says, "I found you in a wasteland. You are the apple of my eye. I've got nothing but the best in My heart for you. You're not going to crash. I'll always be there to catch you. But I'm going to continue working with you that you might fly."
As a result, I am slowly learning not to be quite as squawky, quite as angry, quite as fearful - but to remember the plan of the Father to bear me on eagle's wings. The pokey sticks are preparatory for the overturning of the nest. And the overturned nest is absolutely essential to teach me to fly."
-A Day's Journey, Jon Courson, December 16
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
