But I Love It

As I watched my niece open her gifts on Christmas morning, I was reminded of a picture I had seen awhile ago.

 

The picture shows Jesus, standing in front of a little girl, asking her for the teddy bear she is holding. Above Jesus, are the words, “ Just trust Me.”
The little girl, clinging to the teddy bear, responds back, “but I love it God.”
What the little girl is unable to see is the  larger teddy bear Jesus is holding behind His back.

Last Thursday morning, I watched as my 4 year old niece started to pass out the gifts that were underneath my brother and sister in law’s  Christmas tree. Every gift she found was for her younger sister.

I watched as her young face went from excitement to disappointment.
What she didn’t know, and couldn’t see, were the presents to the side of the tree. These were the presents that were all for her.
Her heart sank because she thought that Santa had forgotten her.
And in that moment, I thought of how I have the same exact reaction with Jesus.

All I’ve ever wanted, for as long as I can remember, has been a relationship.
In fact, every Christmas, I think to myself, “Maybe this is the year I get a boyfriend. Maybe this is the year that I have someone for New Years.”
And every year, I watch Christmas and New Years come and go, without any signs of a significant other.
On the surface, it seems as if God has forgotten me.

It is really easy to get incredibly disappointed when I think of how my prayer hasn’t been answered. It is really easy for me to get discouraged and think it will never happen.

It is really easy for me to want to give up on God.
Like the young girl in the picture, I start doubting Jesus. In fact, I cling to relationships and people that aren’t meant to be, because I would rather have someone than no one.

Watching my niece on Christmas morning, reminded me to keep the faith.  Just because God hasn’t answered my prayer, doesn’t mean  He won’t.  

Watching my niece on Christmas morning, reminded me that things aren’t always what they seem.
Just like, "Santa" didn’t forget my niece, God hasn’t forgotten about me.

I also know all too well that some prayers are never answered on this Earth. I am not promised a relationship despite it being a desire.
Despite this truth, I still hope.

I still believe that Jesus is good, and that He cares for me, despite what my circumstances look like.

Do you trust God? I mean, do you really trust Him?

If I am honest, there are many times I would rather not.

Like the little girl, are you holding onto something that God has asked you to lay down?
Do you believe He has something better in store?

Are you like me, and have a life-long prayer that hasn’t been answered?
Are you like me, and have moments when you want to give up on God? Or, have you already given up on Him?

It’s hard to continue believing for something that may not happen, but I do.

Against all hope, I hope.
Above all else, I continue to trust.

Will you trust Him?

You Failed. You Failed. You Failed. You Failed.

In the words of Chris Daughtry, “Be careful what you wish for, cause you just might get it all.”

This rang true from me yesterday.
As I sat to write my blog, I wracked my brain over and over, trying to figure out what to write on. 
I would start a sentence, just to delete it.
I asked God what I should write on and nothing came…until 5 hours later.

5 hours later, I found myself on a stage, singing in a songwriters round.

5 hours later, I had something to write about.

The stage is one of the scariest places on the planet for me.

In fact, I spent much of my life running away from the stage.
Despite all my efforts, the stage always seems to find me, and bring me back.

With trembling hands and a raising heart beat, I took the stage.

Thankfully, I didn't take it alone.  
My co-writer is always next to me, along with other writers.
In a scary place, it’s nice to not be alone.

The first song came and went, pretty much problem free.

The second song…not so much.  

Heading into the second verse, I started late, and messed up the melody.

Consequently, I had to completely stop, and re-start the song.

Fail.
Fail.
Fail.

When I got off stage, I kept my eyes lowered, looking directly at the floor. I didn’t want to catch anyone’s eyes. I had a hard time even looking at my co-writer, because I thought I had failed him.

When I got into my car to head home, the tears started falling.

 “Seriously God? This is exactly why I have stayed away from the stage for 15 years.  Why did you let me fail? Why did you let me fall? I can’t do this God. I’m not strong enough for music.”

You see, 15 years ago, I loved the stage.
15 years ago, I loved singing in front of people.
But all that changed one night.

 I received the part as Narrator for my school’s performance of, Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat.
After one of the performances, a person came up to me and commented about a note I had missed on one of the songs. Out of all the things I had done right, this person felt the need to tell me the one thing I did wrong.
Consequently, I vowed never to get on stage again.

When I got back to my house last night, my roommate asked how it went.

“Terrible. I messed up the song. “
 “Did you finish the song?”
 “Yes.”
 “Then I consider it a success.”
 “No, it wasn’t. I failed. I messed up.”

 “No, you did not fail. You finished the song. You didn’t cry and walk off stage. You finished it. And even if you would have cried, or failed to sing the rest of the song, I’m glad this happened to you. I’m glad you messed up. This was actually the best thing that could have happened to you. You are human, you are not perfect. You are not a machine, and you are going to make mistakes. You are going to need to learn to be ok with making mistakes. “

The beauty about songwriting is that it is raw.

As listeners, we get to hear a little bit of someone’s heart. As listeners, we get a glimpse into the vulnerability of what makes a person, a person.
As songwriters, we get to share a little bit of our heart. As songwriters, we get to share the things that make us who we are, the good, the bad, and the ugly.

Art is not supposed to be perfect. Art is supposed to be real.

My brilliant roommate made me listen to a recording of, The Sounds of Silence, by Simon & Garfunkel.

Countless mistakes were made on the recording, but I didn’t hear them.
All I heard was an incredible piece of art.

I’m not running away from the stage this time.  

I’m not running away from my fears this time.
I’m not running away from my mistakes this time.

I am not a perfect songwriter.
I am a mistake- making, perfectly-imperfect songwriter.
100% flawed, 100% real.

Don’t do what I did 15 years ago.

Don’t run away.

“So you failed. Alright you really failed. You failed. You failed. You failed. You failed. You failed. You failed. You failed. You failed. You failed. You failed. You failed. You failed. You think I care about that? I do understand. You wanna be really great? Then have the courage to fail big and stick around. Make them wonder why you're still smiling.” Elizabethtown

Fight Like Hell

I am a bit of a hypochondriac.

That’s an understatement.
I am a huge hypochondriac.

If I wake up with a cough, I believe I have H1N1.

If I wake up with side pains, I think that I have a kidney infection.
If I wake up with a rash, I think I got bit by a brown recluse.
If I wake up with swollen hands, I think I am about to have a stroke.

I went to the Dermatologist awhile ago because I thought I had found a cancerous spot on my skin.

I will never forget the doctor coming back into my room, taking of her glasses, and very seriously telling me, “You do not have cancer, you have an age spot.”

I am also a bit of a pill fanatic.

If life could be fixed by every kind of pill, sign me up.

The other week I was really struggling with anxiety, and starting to have panic attacks again.

I made a doctor’s appointment, in hopes that she or he would give me a pill to help with the stress.
Sadly, she didn’t.

When I told my friend about my appointment, she looked at me, dead in the eyes, and asked, “What are you scared of?”

To which I replied with long silence, and then answered, “Everything. I am scared of my future. I am scared of dying. I am scared of being alone. I am scared of songwriting. I am scared of not songwriting. I am scared of my life.”

The truth is that I am really struggling to find peace right now.

Oh, but you wouldn’t know that from the outside.
Behind the bangs, big hair, eyeliner, and heels, is a quivering child, scared of what the next step holds.

With this lack of peace, comes incredible discouragement.

Lately, it’s been easier to side with the enemy, believing the lies that he constantly sends me.

Lies such as, “You will never get married. You aren’t pretty. You will end up alone. You are a really bad Christian. You will never make it in songwriting.”
Over and over, he feeds me this crap, pardon my crudeness and bluntness.
And instead of fighting his lies with truth, I let him continue.

And then, last night, I saw it.
Someone had posted this quote on facebook, “If you saw the size of the blessing coming, you would understand the magnitude of the battle you are fighting.”

And at 11:15 last night, I wrote, “Think about it: Would the struggle and the fight be so strong if there was nothing worth keeping hidden?  Why would the enemy bother with something that didn’t matter? Amy, (because I write my first name when I am having a very serious conversation with myself), you are going to have to fight harder than you have ever had to fight…you are going to have to fight like hell, but, God will get you through.”

The truth is, I am tired of fighting.

Learning to not discard of anything that had calories in it has been exhausting.
Learning to eat carbohydrates again has been draining.
Learning to not pinch my stomach every morning, measuring the amount of fat I can gather, has been difficult.
I can’t tell you how many times I have cried myself to sleep, praying to Jesus to instantly heal me from this obsession with food and control.

Despite the strides I have made with recovery, holding down a full-time job, and holding down food, the battle continues.

Fighting for my future and my destiny is harder than I had ever imagined.
Those that think that you can just read a scripture, pray a prayer of freedom, and poof, everything is fixed…not so much.
Maybe for some it has worked that way, but not me.

For so long, I have quoted Exodus 14:14, “The Lord will fight for you; you need only be still.”

What I have not quoted, is the time God tells Abraham, “Go.”
What I have not quoted, is the time God tells Moses, “Raise your staff and stretch out your hand.”

 God always fights for us, but sometimes, He requires us to join Him.

The enemy knows we each have incredible potential.

The enemy knows what can happen if we believe in ourselves and our dreams.
The enemy knows how powerful we really are.
Because the enemy knows our future is worth fighting for, he will use every means possible to keep us buried in fear and regret, shame and self-doubt.

I have only begun to start the climb.

And I am going to have to fight like hell to reach the mountain top.

BUT, and this “but” changes everything, I am not going to be fighting alone. I will be fighting with the Creator of Life, the All-Powerful God, The Author of my life, and your life, The One Who performs the impossible, the One Who will not fail me, or you.

Maybe you are like me, and cry yourself to sleep some nights, because you know your life can be so much more, because you know you are made for more.
Maybe you are like me, scared to step out into the unknown, scared to see what the future lies.

Maybe you are like me, comfortable with predictable, but created for adventure.
Maybe like me, you are scared of your own potential.
Maybe you are like me, and need to start fighting like hell.  

Maybe I Am Beautiful

I have a love/hate relationship with downtown Nashville. 

Starting with the positives...

- Going downtown usually consists of meeting up with a distant relative or out of state friend. 

-The Ryman.

And, the negatives...
-People, a ton of people, like- loads of people, like-I'm gonna scream because I feel so claustrophobic around this many people
-Many others, but I will keep those to myself. 

Saturday night, I found myself downtown.

My good friend was visiting with her family, so we decided to meet up on Broadway. 

We ended up at The Stage, a tourist favorite.

The Stage and I go a few years back.

I remember visiting the establishment when I was 25 yrs. old with my parents, aunt, uncle, and cousin.

For those of you that don't know my cousin, she is beautiful, breathtaking beautiful. 

She stops a crowd wherever she goes. 

She probably will disagree with me after reading this, but it's true. 

The truth is, I spent the majority of my life wanting to look like my cousin. 

I was jealous of her, and she later admitted that she was jealous of me. 

Because of everything we have been through together, the ups and the downs, the hair-pulls, fights over guys and radio stations, we are more like sisters.

After we walked into the bar, It didn't take long for every guy to take notice of her. 

Consequently, It didn't take long for me to feel like the ugly duckling. 

It didn't matter that I was with my parents, aunt, uncle, or even cousin, I wanted to disappear. 

At 25, I vowed to never go back into The Stage. 

However, I didn't know at the time that I would be moving to Nashville just 3 years later.

And on Saturday night, I found myself, once again, at The Stage. 

It didn't take long for me to remember why I am not a huge fan of the place. 

First off, when I waked in, I didn't get carded. 

Ugh. 

And my friend, who is not that much younger than I, did. 

Ugh. Again.
Talk about feeling old. 

Secondly, my friend was dancing with her husband, while I was standing by my single self. 

Now, I am not a dancer, in fact, I tend to move away from any kind of dancing. 

The only times I have enjoyed dancing is when it's pitch black, and no one can see me, or in middle school, when I slow danced to, "I Swear" by All 4 One, with my crush.

This time, I wasn't jealous of my cousin.
This time, I was jealous of my friend.

I looked at the way my friend's husband looked at her. 

Smitten. Absolutely smitten. 

She was the only one who mattered. 

In a room full of people, his eyes only saw her. 

Despite being surrounded by tons of people, my friend and her family, I felt invisible, again. 

I managed say my goodbyes and leave before the tears started gathering in my eyes.

When I got to my car, driving as fast away form the neon light as I could, I thought, "God, when will someone be smitten with me? When will it be my turn? When will someone love me?"

I woke up Sunday morning, and instantly thought, "I am not going to eat as much today. That is something I can do to make myself feel better". 

I let my mind go there for a second, knowing that I was trying avoid the hurt, attempting to cover up the pain.

After entertaining that thought for one second more than I should have, I picked up my journal and did the only thing I can do...write.

"Father, You call me beautiful, but I don't feel that way right now. But then again, maybe all these experiences of feeling alone, abandoned, and invisible, will help me help others…Maybe I am beautiful… Maybe these moments of singleness have to be experienced…Maybe these moments will help me be relatable to others…Maybe these feelings of being the one not chosen, not picked, will help me help others... Maybe I am beautiful."

While I can start thinking that God has forgotten about me, I know that He is teaching me endurance and perseverance. 

It hurts, a lot, some days more than I can even bare. Many nights I have drenched my pillow full of tears, asking Him, "Why? When? How Long?"

But if I wish to walk the path that He has called me to walk, trials and pain are necessary. 

Hardships, no matter how big or small, no matter how surface or deep, force us to grow, force us to become the person God needs us to be.

“A pearl is a beautiful thing that is produced by an injured life. It is the tear that results from the injury of the oyster. The treasure of our being in this world is also produced by an injured life. If we had not been wounded, if we had not been injured, then we will not produce the pearl”

-Stephen Hoeller
 

I don't have some wonderful revelation or brilliant, awe inspiring answer that God gave me after writing this. 

This is just a blog about days when you feel invisible. 

I believe that sometimes God wants us to sit with our pain, and our sadness. 

We can't stay there, but we must address it. 

We can't cover it up with make-up, food, or lack of food, clothes, trips, drugs, alcohol, work, muscles, money, legalism…

We have to go there.
We have to be brave and face the truth, no matter how painful and uncomfortable it can be. 

My visit to to The Stage, reminded me that I am human. 

My visit to The Stage, reminded me that my heart still needs healed.

My visit to the The Stage, reminded me that it's ok to not always feel ok. 

Lastly, my visit to The Stage, reminded me that I still think Merle Haggard looks like Chuck Norris

 

“She never stays the same for long
 Assuming that she'll get it wrong
 Perfect only in her imperfection

She would change everything for happy ever after
Caught in the in between of beautiful disaster”

-Jon McGlaughlin

Torch Lake, The Bald Eagle's Nest, and Learning to Fly

Over the 4^th of July, you will find hundreds of boats covering the Torch Lake sandbar up in northern Michigan.

It's the new Panama City of Spring Breaks, except in the middle of summer.

Since I was a young girl, every summer consists of trips to the sandbar.

My parents, aunt, uncle, cousins, brother and whatever friends we had up at our lake cottage, would pile in our small white boat, and make the trip from Elk Lake to Torch Lake. Eventually, our white boat was replaced with a larger boat, and later, pontoon. Our families both started growing, and with the added family members, came bigger boats.

No matter how much our family changes, there is one thing that always remains the same: Finding the Eagle's Nest.

Before we reach the sandbar, we have to go through a river that lasts about 15 minutes.  

On the banks of this river, up in the trees, is where the Bald Eagle's nest lies.
Without fail, once our boat reaches the river, my uncle or dad grabs the binoculars and scans.
From the oldest down to the youngest, we each become bird watchers, frantically scanning our eyes in an attempt to be the first one to find it.  
Sometimes, if we are lucky, we not only find the nest, but the Bald Eagle as well.

Now, I am not really a bird person.
The closest I have ever been to being one is when I was dating a guy who owned a hawk.
In fact, he once asked me if I would feed her baby rabbits when he was gone on vacation.
Needless to say, we didn’t last.

I remember hearing someone talk about how baby birds learn to fly.

Sometimes, the mom will actually push the baby birds out of the nest. Talk about tough love.
The baby bird is forced to learn how to flap their wings, wings that they don’t even know how to use, on the way down.
It’s not always perfect, and sometimes the baby bird falls to the ground.
But through practice and trust, the baby bird eventually learns to fly.  

Now, to me, this sounds horrible.

I’m not so much a fan of the quote, “Build your wings on the way down.”
I prefer to build them now, and then gracefully slide into the air, fully prepared for what lies ahead.
I would have the baby bird hiding in the back, being like, “Nope. Not going. Dad, Mom…Sorry. You are stuck with me for life.”

And it’s ok to be that baby bird hiding in the corner for a season.

But eventually, we all have to be pushed off the edge.

Right now, I am the baby bird being pushed off the edge.

I was in a writing session last night, when Nick, my writing partner, told me that he wanted me to perform a song all by myself.

He told me that he wanted me to not only play it, but sing it as well.  
Cue the questions that soon flooded my mind. Do you think I’m ready? What if I mess up? What if I get nervous and forget the words? What if I fail? I mean, I only started singing in front of people again in the last year. I get nervous just sitting there. Now I am supposed to play AND sing?

However, the only question I asked him was, “Do you think I am ready?”

To which his response was, “Yes.”

I have been extremely content to let him do all the work on the performance side.

He is the one that plays the guitar and does most of the singing.
And that has been fine for a season.  
He was one of the individuals who helped me get back into the spotlight. He helped me gain confidence in my songs and ideas. He was one of the people to help me find music again.

He believes in me.
Now, I must begin to believe in myself and my talent.

It’s scary and a large part of me wanted to tell him that I couldn’t do it.

But I didn’t.
Instead, I said, “Ok.”

I am never going to grow as a songwriter, or begin to reach my potential, with training wheels on.

At some point, I must learn to build my wings on the way down.

Like a good parent, God knows when we must be nurtured, and when we must be pushed into the open.

We don’t become the person we were created to be if we always play it safe and comfortable.
We can't discover our hidden potential when we refuse to stay in the corner.
And being the good parent that God is, He knows when we need to be pushed.

Now, there is a very good chance that I will mess up when I perform the song by myself. I am fairly confident that I will miss a chord, miss a string, and quite possibly have my voice shake the entire time.

Despite what may happen, good or bad, I must do it.
I must be brave.
I must learn to fly with my wings.

There will come a time when you will also get pushed off the edge.
Instead of cowering in the corner, sometimes peeking over the edge, embrace the fall.
Say, “Yes,” to the open air, and the unknown outcome.

If you don’t, you will never know how amazing you are.

If you don’t, you will never become the person you were created to be.
If you don’t, you may miss out on your future.

If you don’t, you will never know how it feels to fly.

A Shovel and the Man from Australia

Do you ever have moments when you want to give up?

Do you ever have days when it’s hard to hold on to hope?

Even with Jeremiah 29:11 tattooed on my neck, my heart can easily forget that God has a good plan for my life.

Now, I have lived long enough to see that good doesn’t mean that there will not be heartbreak and trials.

Unfortunately, that is part of life.

I have just had a hard time lately believing that God’s plan is good.

That doesn’t mean that I have turned away from faith and denounced Jesus.
It means that I am human.

Yesterday, I called my mom on my lunch break, hoping she could offer me some sort of hope.

When she asked what was wrong, I couldn’t speak a full sentence without breaking down.
Right there on the Starbucks patio, I lost it.

“I don’t get it. I don’t know why faith is so hard sometimes. I don’t understand why bad things happen to good people. I don’t know why I struggle with faith. I don’t know why I can’t seem to fall in love with Jesus as much as I want. I don’t know why I can’t get my mind out of this cloud. I don’t get it.”

All she heard was, “I don’t….Why I struggle…I can’t….my mind…”

She didn’t know what to say, so we both listened in silence.

I always feel such shame when I have these moments with God.

 For the most part, my life is wonderful. I’ve had some hiccups in the road, but life has been good to me.  When I complain, I feel horrible afterwards, thinking I’m a terrible person for having these thoughts.

But sometimes perspective is hard to find, especially when we are in a fog.

I tried writing, that didn’t help.

I looked up quotes on hope, that didn’t help.
I researched scriptures on hope, but for some reason, that made me more upset.

As I sat there, tears started streaming down my eyes. I didn’t even care that I had to be back at work in an hour.  

A few minutes later, I heard an Australian accent coming from a few tables over.

"You need to start plowing and digging," the voice said to the young lady at the table with him.
“You are in a season of preparation and planting. The fruit will come but you must plow right now. You are right where you are supposed to be, so dig.”

He wasn’t speaking to me, but God was.

Plow and dig.

The interesting thing about this was that the night before, I was reading, Greater, by Steven Furtick.

The chapter I was reading was all about digging ditches.

He wrote how we dig ditches because we believe that God will send the rain. We dig ditches because we believe God will come through. We dig ditches because we are expectant.

The exact quote I wrote down last night was, “Stop waiting for what you want and start working with what you have. Start saying, “Yes,” to God right where you are at.”

Sometimes the Heavens are silent, but that does not mean that we quit believing, which is exactly where I was at.  

Despite everything amazing that has happened in my life and in the past few months, from getting my first cut to getting songs placed on hold, I was becoming hopeless, towards my faith, towards my desire for a relationship, towards music.

God knew I needed an intervention.

God knew I needed direction.

When I got home from work, I pulled out my past voice teacher’s breathing and vocal exercises.  

Rusty or not, it was time to start plowing.

After I finished them, I then pulled out my guitar.
I started strumming mindlessly and humming some sort of melody.
 20 minutes later, I had completed a new song.  Now, I don’t think this song will be a top hit or even on the radio, but that doesn’t matter.  
I was digging ditches.

I believe that God has made me an artist, not a performer, an artist.

He told me that music was going to be part of my life many years ago on the treadmill.
I laughed, He didn’t.

My job isn’t to figure out how everything will happen and at what time. My job is to believe and to dig ditches while I wait, fully expectant that He will make it happen.

So I continue to practice the breathing exercises.

I get back into singing lessons.
I write even when I don’t have the words, melody, or even know what chord I am playing.
I dig ditches.

This blog is redundant of many things I have written before, and that’s ok.

I think many of us get weary and tired on the journey. It doesn’t matter if God spoke to us yesterday, we need hope for today.

If your dream hasn’t happened, if your desire hasn’t been fulfilled, don’t stop believing.  

If you have, ask God to give you hope again.

My exact prayer which I wrote in my journal after the night I read the chapter on digging, and the night before I heard the man with the Australian accent was this, “Father, I do believe in You, I believe that you can make something out of nothing, I believe that you will do amazing things with my life. I’m just so, so, so tired of enduring, or getting by, or just holding on-I long to thrive but I just don’t know how. Please help me know that you are holding me and not letting go. That I am still yours, that you are still working in my life, against all hope, help me continue to believe”

It’s time to start digging.

The Purge

I was watching the television show, Nashville, when one of the characters said something that struck a chord in me. 

One of the main female leads said, "I need to purge."

The character was saying this in reference to getting rid of all of her ex boyfriends belongings at her house. 

When I used to hear the word, "purge," I always associated it with bulimia. 

It was an ugly word. 

It was a gross word. 

it was a word that I avoided at all costs. 

When I heard it last night, I didn't think it was ugly, gross, or relate it to food in any way. 

Instead, I realized how I need to purge some things  in my life. 

I didn't need to purge any of my ex-boyfriend's belongings. I tend to do that right after every relationship ends. 

Instead, I needed to purge distractions. 

Specifically, distractions in the form of social media. 

I can find myself spending a lot of my time on social media sites, responding to comments, looking at my friend's pictures, seeing where people are at now and so on. 

I have  love/hate relationship with it. 

In fact, for so long, I was that girl that got on, and then off, and then on again, and then off again. 

I was like a leaf, being blown here, there, and all over the place. 

I was hot and cold. 

I would get off to just get back on again. 

I realized it wasn't social media's fault I was unhappy, it was my own fault.  

There is a lot of good that can come from social media. 

I can find encouragement through a quote, or something someone posted. 

I can see what all my distant relatives are doing. 

I find causes to get involved with and opportunities to help out with. 

But For me, right now, it has become a distraction, and a pain reliever. 

I don't write when I am on social media. 

I don't sing when I am on social media. 

I don't feel when I am on social media. 

Just like food used to be, and can still be,  social media has become a coping mechanism.

When I don't want to feel my loneliness, or fear of the future, I get online. 

When I don't want to acknowledge my lack of control in life, I get on Facebook and Instagram. 

When I don't want to talk to God about how lost I feel in life right now, I scroll through my feed. 

The problem for me, is that  feeling is vital. 

Feeling is where I get my inspiration from, and how I make sense of the world.

In fact, when I was in treatment,  I refused to stay on depression and anxiety pills, because of their numbing effect. 

When I get stressed, or anxious now, my body starts to chill and I get terrible headaches. 

And lately, chills have started to resurface again.  

My body is sending an emergency signal to me….a warning sign, that I must take into account. 

I must make some changes, now. 

If not, I am headed for a downward spiral.

Interestingly enough, the advice I gave to someone who is headed down a dangerous path, was to get off social media. 

Perhaps, this advice is for me also. 

Ironically, I will use social media to share this. So It's not a matter of shutting down every site and being that girl again. 

It's a matter of taking personal responsibility, and having wisdom when to walk away, and turn off the computer. 

Instead of opening my laptop,I  reach for a pen and paper. 

Instead of opening another app, I grab my guitar.

Instead of reaching for my phone, I close my eyes , take deep breath's and listen.

Listen to the sounds around me. 

Listen to my life. 

What is keeping you from moving forward? 

Where do you need to make a change? 

What are you refusing to feel? 

What are you refusing to do?

What do you need to purge? 

"I'll drown if I don't get out, 

And face the stronger winds.

I must go against the current, 

Find out what's around the bend.

I need a time-out

A chance to lose my breath.

To travel down uncharted paths.

Is the only way I'll find myself back"

"Thats the thing about pain…it demands to be felt" John Green

That's What I'm Waiting For

Recently, I had a conversation with one of my good friend about guys, dating, and the single life. 

Now, it doesn't take many blogs of mine to see how my past relationships have gone, pretty much everywhere but forward. 

When I was in college, I blamed my dating life, or rather lack of, on my addiction. 

When I moved to St. Louis after graduating from Indiana, I blamed it on having a serving job, and constantly being too busy. 

Now that I am in Nashville, I catch myself blaming the music industry. "They wanted fame more than me," and "They wanted a super model because they think they are rock-stars," and "They can't take me out on a date because they are broke". 

Of course, this is not all musicians. I know many of amazing guys who are musicians. I just don't seem to find any of those. 

Maybe one day.  

Anyways, I am beyond brilliant at blaming my failed dating life on everyone, except me.

Ironically, the common denominator amongst all these failed relationships is, well...me. 

Insecurity is something I have to truly work on every single day. I've never looked in the mirror and have effortlessly said, "Wow, you're beautiful. You are really something. "

Never once. 

I have come a long way, but I still have a long way to go. 

When I look in the mirror, I don't see someone covered in jewels, waring a crown.  I have to purposefully remind myself that I am a daughter of the King, and that I am worth fighting for. 

I constantly focus on myself. The truth is,  there isn't much room in my relationships because I take up about 99.7% of the room. 

I exhaust guys. 

I need an ungodly amount of affirmation that most guys can't give. 

I give them every reason to end it with me before it can even really begin. Mainly, so I don't get hurt. I don't trust guys. 

Despite years of counseling, I still resort back to walls to keep myself safe. I used to think the "right" guy would be able to knock them down. 

Wrong. 

No guy is going to have the energy to continually tear down these walls. It isn't their job. 

Back to my friend…

She has been involved with this particular guy who constantly tells her he isn't interested in a relationship. He likes her, but he likes his single life more.

She really likes him,  so giving up his attention isn't really an option. She would rather be with him than be without. 

While she was telling me about him, I felt a surge of righteous anger boil up from somewhere deep in me. 

I looked at her as if she was my own child, as if she were one of my nieces.

 "You deserve more. You deserve more. You deserve more. You deserve someone who values you, all of of you. You deserve someone who makes time for you. You deserve someone who makes you a priority. You deserve a guy to fight for you.

After I told her this, I caught a glimpse of my own reflection in the mirror.  

 I needed to hear this as much as her. 

I have been in the same position as my friend countless times before. 

Let me reiterate, I'm not blaming the guys. This isn't a bash all guys post.  I know more than most how many of those there are flooding online.

Rather, this is dedicated to the hearts that don't know what they are worth, or perhaps they do, but have forgotten. 

This is dedicated to the hearts that feel the need to run to someone who doesn't handle their's with care. 

This is dedicated to the hearts that need to take a look at their own heart before giving it away. 

This is dedicated to the hearts that long for someone to love, and to also be loved.

This is dedicated to the hearts that want love, but don't know what it means to give it away. 

This is not dedicated to the hearts that like the chase, like the game, and aren't interested in finding a relationship.

This is not dedicated to the hearts that like the single life. 

 I am not God, I do not know when I will meet that person. It could be tomorrow,  or it could be 5 years from now. Whenever that will happen doesn't really matter. What matters now is how I treat my heart. 

Maybe the conservation with my friend was a wake up call, a sweet reminder, a gentle voice that was buried deep down in my soul. It was always there, I just have ignored it lately. 

"You deserve…"

The blame game placed blinders on my eyes, forcing me to look everywhere but in. In keeping score of how many times I have been hurt, and by what particular guys, I discounted all the  guys who  have been wonderful to me. 

In this case, "it's not you, it's me," rings true. 

It was me. 

What I'm waiting for, is not some tall, dark and handsome prince charming, wearing boots and skinny jeans, riding in on a Mercedes.

What I'm waiting for, is not someone who can write me the best song, play the guitar, and work it in front of a crowd. 

What I'm waiting for, is not penny loafers, a double major, and retirement fund. 

What I'm waiting for, is not a missionary, who can quote the New Testament word by word.

What I am waiting for...is me.

I'm waiting for when I start treating my own heart right. 

I have started, but I still have a long way to go.  

I'm waiting for when I can give away more love than I need to receive. 

I'm on my way, but I'm not there yet. 

With both hands, one waving a white flag, I surrender, once again. I'm done blaming everyone but myself. 

This is dedicated to my friend's heart, my niece's hearts, even my own heart…Above all else, Guard your heart.Treat it with care.  Be gentle and kind to yourself. Celebrate the glorious, beautiful, perfectly imperfect mess that each one of us is.

"Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built up against it"