Keep Fighting

A Great Story: I DO Know What I Want

I used to have a lot of dreams. Goals. Desires. Wishes. I wanted all kinds of things. And I thought I deserved them simply because I wanted them and was willing to work for them no matter the cost. But they consumed me and kept me from desiring what I should. So God took them away to remove the temptation.

Softball. Sports. School. My dream job. Friends. Family. Independence. Gone.

Do you know what I want and desire now? Neither do I. I want nothing.

I don't care about "The House" or "The Car" or "The Job" or any of the corrupted American Dream anymore. And I used to think something was wrong with me for wanting nothing that the rest of the world, especially America, wants. I thought it made me so broken I couldn't be fixed. Simply because I was no longer like everyone else.

Guess what? Tonight I realized something, as I lie here crying, lonely, so painfully aware of our brokenness, aware of our unending need for a Savior: I do know what I want.

I want now what I've only wanted since diagnosed with Stills once reality kicked in: I want nothing more than to be on the shore of a lake in the Pacific Northwest by a campfire with Christ. No one else. Nothing else. I want Him, all of Him, all to myself.

Do you think I ever wanted that while I had all those other distractions in my life? Never! Not once while healthy did I ever desire for nothing but to be alone with Christ!

God saved me. He fixed me. He healed me. I used to want crap that only drove me further from Him. Now ALL I want is Him! That's the miracle! That's the point!

A great story is made up of a character who wants something and overcomes conflict to get it. I thought something was wrong with me because I didn't want all the things the world wants. I thought I wasn't living a story. I thought I was stuck. In a funk. Broken. A lost cause left to just sit and watch life pass me by...I thought I had it all wrong.Ha! The Devil is tricky indeed.

You know, in high school I wanted so desperately to be able to hit a softball off a tee well and consistently well. It's laughable almost because it's so foolish. Tell me, what does hitting a ball off a tee have to do with being Christian and serving God and preparing for heaven? The Devil is crafty indeed.

My story. That God is writing with me and for me because He loves me...

I am a character, and ALL I want is to be on a lake with Christ. And I will overcome conflict to get it. And there is only one story better than this: God's, and His love for us all.

God is the author and character in His story. All He wants is for all of us to be together and love each other perfectly. And He will overcome conflict, like His only Son's death, the Devil's selfishness, and our constant rebellion, to get it. To let love be Love in its purest of forms. And it will be the greatest story ever told. And I can't wait for its ending--beginning.

Whatever you want most right now-- that's what your story is about. Is that what it should be about? Is it time to start living a better, more beautiful, more meaningful story with God? My guess? Yeah. Probably. Be careful of what you want and how much you want it. And I'm saying all this BECAUSE I love you all. I had it all wrong and God helped me. Let Him help you. Please.

It's Never just About Poetry, Is It?

Introduction To Poetry

By Billy Collins

I ask them to take a poem

and hold it up to the light

like a color slide.

or press an ear against its hive.

I say drop a mouse into a poem

and watch him probe his way out,

or walk inside the poem's room

and feel the walls for a light switch.

I want them to water-ski

across the surface of a poem

waving at the author's name on the shore.

But all they want to do

is tie the poem to a chair with rope

and torture a confession out of it.

They begin beating it with a hose

to find out what it really means.

A Series Of Events: How Still's Disease Saved My Life

I never would have found who and why I am or been this in love with Jesus and this trusting of God had I never written.

I never would have found my writing style or what I wanted to or needed to write if not for Donald Miller.

I never would have found Donald Miller if I hadn't found To Write Love On Her Arms.

I never would have found TWLOHA if I hadn't found Relevant Magazine.

I never would have found Relevant magazine had I not been told by my professor and advisor I could be a writer, I just had to get published in magazines first: ones I would want to write for. 

I never would have been told to look for magazines to write for, because I could be a writer, had I not decided to drop out of college.

I never would have dropped out of college had God not given me Stills Disease. 

I would love to leave it here. End it here. But, I'm afraid I need to tell and not just hope showing was enough...

I honestly and wholeheartedly believe Stills Disease led me to finally be someone almost worthy of being called Christian. Who I was, before Stills Disease...she didn't deserve to be called that. Not really. 

There's a lot more to the story than those events. There are more events really, but it feels complicated enough and the point is still clear...I hope. 

Still's Disease. Who knew it would lead here. To me realizing how God used it to get my attention. To tell me what actually matters. To tell me who I really am. To connect me wholly and completely to Him. 

If you aren't in awe when reading this, I honestly don't care this time. Not at all. I'm in awe. He is dazzling me. And that, THAT, is worth every bit of struggle and horror this disease can throw at me. Tonight...I sit down, or lie down, shut up, and get completely lost in how much He loves me enough to write me into His story.

What looks like a random series of events to a lot of people, is really just an epic story. 

Trust me: every little event matters. Just wait....just wait. 

All I Need By Shawn McDonald

As I sit here and think
About all that You've done
About how You gave me Your one and only Son
And I'm trying to fathom
All that You are, but so far, Lord
You're so beyond me
I fall down in reverence
And I fall down in fear
And I'm asking You, Lord, won't You please draw near
Won't You open my eyes
So that I can see
The way that You are working in me

All I need is Your love
To come and fill this heart of mine
My heart is a desert that has gone dry
And I need Your love to carry me by, by, by, by, by
To carry me by, by, by, by, by
To carry me by 

And I lay down my life
And I put it before You
all that I am is in your hands
and I’m not gonna question why you’re so faithful
Why that You give me the blessings that You have
Let the glory be known, let the glory be shown
to lift You up unto the throne
You are my God, You are my King

To You I give, I give You everything

Chorus x3

100th Post! Thank God I'm Not Left To My Own Devices: Writing Logic Into My Heart

"Left to my own devices, would I trade this for firm thighs, fewer wrinkles, a better memory? You bet I would. That's why it's such a blessing I'm not left to my own devices." - Anne Lamott, Plan B

I miss school. I only went to college for well, a year. Huh. I always forget that. Technically I was there for two, but I only was able to attend classes for a year. I was pretty good at it you know. I knew how to get A's, which I've since learned isn't really learning. It's just an acquired skill. Learning is what I've been doing for the last seven years. Learning is a choice. It's holding yourself accountable and reading and studying what you want when you want. Its not being forced to get good grades or else it doesn't really count. Which is why I say I miss school, and not, I miss learning.

School requires so much mental exercise. And college, well, do you know what a burnout in the weightroom is? It's like that. Working your muscles so hard and so quickly that you can't move afterwards. Doing so many bench presses with so much weight when you go to try to do a push up afterwards you collapse to the ground. My brain misses that. I miss that.

I miss the everyday little goals you get to accomplish. Finish the homework. Check. Finish the essay. Check. Study. Check. Go to class. Check. Now, now it's get out of bed. Check. Take meds. Check. Eat so you can take more meds. Check. Etc. It sucks. There's no satisfaction from a job well done like when you go to school or work. And yeah, I know, it's school and work, but you don't realize you thrive off of it, no matter how tedious it is, until it's gone. Goals are all that keep us going. Without them you have nothing. You lose hope. You grow tired. You grow lonely and cranky. Your life becomes endless successiveness as C. S, Lewis calls it when you are grieving. And you are. I am. We are grieving the loss of goals because everyday when you are sick or disabled your body screams at you "You can't!" and it breaks you down until you forget how to hope, how to dream, how to set goals.

My mind has atrophied. It's bored. And I'm lying here hating it. I'm lying here wondering why I've felt so crappy and exhausted lately that I've stopped reading. Wondering why I let my glasses prescription get so bad I couldn't see much of anything but my headache. Wondering why it's so exhausting to write. I mean, you have no idea how much physical effort it is just to write this blog. But I feel like if I don't get this crap out of my head it's gonna be here forever, and I can't, I can't have that.

So I'm lying here complaining, being all frustrated and I did what I've tried to learn how to do these last seven years: what would God say if He was here while I was complaining. Or, what would someone say if they were here watching me complain. And I thought God would say, "Come on Zoe. Sweetie. You know my answer." And I thought, "hmm." and then I thought someone's response to my sad story would be, "I'm so sorry." And that's when it hit me.

I'm NOT sorry, so why should I make it sound like they should be sorry. I would then have to explain to this person that it's ok. Seriously. God did the right thing. He did the best thing for me. He saved me from myself.

When I was younger and in school getting mostly straight A's I did nothing but get the grades, play the sports, join the clubs, volunteer...I did every extra curricular I could so long as it didn't drive me insane. They had to be things I enjoyed. And I did. I enjoyed having no life. I truly don't think I would have done it any differently...and that's what scares me. I was so ME focused. My dreams. My goals. My wants. Not family's. Not friends'. Not even God's will mattered. I had somehow convinced myself that just because I wanted it, so did God. Ha! What a lie.

I promise you this: Had God allowed me to stay on the path I was on, chasing my dream job, I would hate the person I turned out to be. I hate who I was before I became her...I didn't have time for God, for family, for friends, for myself. Yeah, it's one of the greatest jobs ever, it's so rewarding and amazing, but it would have destroyed my soul. I would have let it destroy my soul. I loved it more than God, and He was the only one who knew me well enough and loved me enough and was brave enough to call me on it. To demand I change before it was too late.

God took my life's cup full of crap that kept me from Him and His loved ones and tipped the whole flipping thing over and let all the distractions and idols and time sucks out. Within two years of being diagnosed with Still's Disease He emptied the whole thing. And this time, this time both He and I know that I know what should and shouldn't be put in my life cup. I NOW know right from wrong, aka good for me and my relationships and life including with God, and what isn't. I learned the Truth and He is trusting me to do what's right. And honestly, it's the scariest thing ever.

See, He trusts me, because that's what selfless love does: it gives us a choice. It gives a a free will. But now that I know my own depravity. Now that I know I'm prone to loving darkness much much more that I'm prone to living light, I'm scared as hell. I DON'T trust myself, not yet anyway.

I mean here I am still complaining, all emotion, no logic, keeping me up at nights. I know school doesn't belong in my cup; it's too much of a temptation for me and besides I physically and mentally can't do it anymore. To me, it's like God knows not to trust me with that decision so He continues to prevent me from having to make one. And thank You Lord. Please continue! Plase don't let me make decisions we know I'm not ready to make. Keep guiding me and giving me little or big pushes in the right direction. I know what You have done and are doing for me. I hope more than anything these sticky sticky emotions stop clouding my logic about You.

I hope the Truth, Your Truth continues to guide me and my decisions as I decide how to fill my cup. If something is bad for me Lord, please tip my cup over. Please help me out by keeping things of darkness from me. Help me to know Your will and obey it. Help me to remember the muscles that truly matter, like the heart, You exercise every moment of every day. My muscle of Faith, my Fight for the Good Fight, my muscle of Trust in You. Muscles like those are what matters. It doesn't matter if I can's use proper grammar anymore, sorry Erika. ;) What matters is me knowing You. What matters is my spark of You, my soul, knowing You and putting more and more of You in my cup every day. I shouldn't miss school Lord. I should miss You. For I can never be close enough to You, not until eternity.

Dear Lord, thank You, thank You, thank You for not leaving me to my own devices. Intervene any time You want to, no matter how "uncomfortable" or whiny it makes me at the moment or even years later, because we both know that in moments of clarity and logic I couldn't thank You enough. None of us could. You are an amazing parent. Thank You for not raising me to be spoiled. Thank You for raising me well. Thank You for knowing what really is best for me and guiding me and helping me figure it out too and decide to choose what's best, not just what I want. Thank You.

Prayer: What We're Doing Wrong

 Prayer Isn't Telling God What To Do is an article from Relevant Magazine that I seriously recommend you read. It reiterates what I'm never gonna stop saying until we start doing a better job: ask bigger and better questions.

http://www.relevantmagazine.com/god/deeper-walk/features/29115-prayer-isnt-telling-god-what-to-do

It's Not What You See, But How You See It

Tonight's Tough Night Thoughts

I've been having an endless amount of tough nights--tonight included. So, instead of wallowing or distracting myself from life, or denying my struggles, I am finding quotes, pictures, anything and everything that is helping me tonight as I'm burdened with all these After Midnight Thoughts, in hopes that they help whoever reads this blog too. 

I love you all. We have to submit to God's will and encourage one another not only to do the same but to help each other do the same. We have to be compassionate at all times, because having an invisible disease, I know we never have any real idea what the people near us are going through. We have to be merciful. We have to be Christ's hands and feet. We have to hold our palms against each others wounds (Donald Miller). 

Love, Zoe

Silver Lining

"Something can either be a handicap or it can be the reason that you became stronger." - Justin Timberlake 

The GOOD of Suffering

 

“…poverty (or suffering) is blessed and yet ought to be removed…

There is a paradox about tribulation in Christianity. Blessed are the poor, but by ‘judgment’ (i.e., social justice) and alms we are to remove poverty wherever possible. Blessed are we when persecuted, but we may avoid persecution by flying from city to city, and may pray to be spared it, as Our Lord prayed in Gethsemane. But if suffering is good, ought it not to be pursued rather than avoided? I answer that suffering is not good in itself. What is good in any painful experience is, for the sufferer, his submission to the will of God, and, for the spectators, the compassion aroused and the acts of mercy to which it leads.” - C.S. Lewis, The Problem Of Pain

Today...

The Meaning Of Life

Where There's A Will, There's A Way

“In order to submit the will to God, we must have a will and that will must have objects. Christian renunciation does not mean stoic ‘Apathy', but a readiness to prefer God to inferior ends which are in themselves lawful. Hence the Perfect Man brought to Gethsemane a will, and a strong will, to escape suffering and death if such escape were compatible with the Father’s will, combined with a perfect readiness for obedience if it were not?" -C.S. Lewis, The Problem Of Pain

Our Problem

“‘Don’t complain about the way God answers your prayers. You are still living on an earth that is run by the devil. God has promised us a new land, and we will get there. Your problem is not that God is not fulfilling, your problem is that you are spoiled.’

And Moses was right. God is not here to worship me, to mold Himself into something that will help me fulfill my level of comfort.” -Donald Miller, Blue Like Jazz

Whatever, Whomever, Whenever, However: How God Shapes Us

"God:        ...I used your teachers to encourage you creatively when the church could not. I used Georgina to build structure in your life when you had none. I used the Rock ''n' Rollers to heal you, and Pedro to wake you up. I worked with whatever I got my hands on. Can you see that?" -Susan Isaacs, Angry Conversations With God

So, what has, or who has God used in my life to help me because His own people were too busy to be the hands and feet of Christ when I needed them or God the most?

Anne Lamott says I own my stories and I can tell them if I want to because they are mine. If I'm afraid of hurting someone's feelings, they should have acted better...so...here we go:

My first thought is Al. Al was my softball coach freshman and sophomore years of high school. He bulled me verbally. He made me feel like I sucked at softball and was slow, and lazy, and chubby. I went home crying every day. I didn't quit at first because I loved the girls on my team and I knew what an opportunity it was to play competitive softball. It's often associated as Junior Olympics level. But one day I had had enough. I was ready to quit. The only problem is that the nine page contract I signed at fourteen--that I had been SOOO excited to sign. I thought it made me special. I thought it proved I was great-- to play softball said I couldn't. How ridiculous is that?! So I had to endure all the while having him know how much I wanted to run from him. And then he cut me and nine other girls last minute so he could create a "winning team." 

He screwed me up for quite a while. I heard his voice yelling at me every time I made a mistake for quite a number of years after that...that was the first time in my life I was seriously depressed. I didnt eat, sleep--i pulled away from all of my friends and they were mad at me for it, and i broke up with a guy who treated me so well for no reason other than I was ashamed of what happened and I was a complete mess....

By the way, this is the first time I'm telling this story to someone who isn't a therapist. But it's my story, and he should have acted better. And besides, I'm mostly thankful God allowed this to happen.

Please insert your collective "wwwhhhaaaaaaaaat?!?!"

Thank you.

I had two options after all this happened: to give up or to try harder. Al toughened me up and I somehow decided to try harder. I transferred to public high school, against everyone's wishes but my own, to test myself. I wanted to see if I could still get straight A's at a big public high school where the teachers barely remembered I was in their class, and I wanted to see if I could make one of the best softball teams in Northern California--And at that point making the team would have been a success. I would have warmed that bench with my butt as if it was the most important job on earth, if only God would help me make the team. I just needed to make the team. That would have been enough hope to hold on to so that I wouldn't have to believe Al's voice in my head anymore. 

Well, I never got that job, that one strand of hope I had left to cling to...nope. Instead I was starting catcher for the number one team in Northern California, catching for technically the number one pitcher in Northern California, which often led to a lot of death stares from people because they hated us because we were so good....ahhhh. I miss those stares...being in a store wearing your uniform and having a whole family stare at me with loathing because they knew we were better than them...the good old days. :)

Look, was I the best player on the team- oh no! No! But I was a part of the team! I didn't suck! They were family. And I got one of the best coaches I've ever met. Trina Salcido is tough. One tough woman. And she will throw you off because one minute her hair is done, her nails are done and she's all smiles in a cute outfit, and the next she diving and sliding in said outfit with the hair and make-up and nails making us look bad. Bleeding all over the field likes its nothing. And we would run--oh would we run. We spent more time running on the track than playing softball on the filed and that is NOT a lie or an exaggeration. Ive NEVER worked that hard, and I probably never will again. But here's the thing about Trina, if you love softball, and I mean LOVE softball, you will do what she says. You will run until she respects you, because she won't just give you her respect. You have to earn it. Not once. Not twice. But each moment of every day you have to fight, you have to strive, you have to earn her respect all the time. And if that's asking too much, then you don't want to play for her. And that is why so many people thought the things they thought about her--that are wrong! Because they have no idea what a work ethic is, let alone how to spell it. 

Do you honestly think I would have been ready to play for one of the greatest coaches ever if Al hadn't forced me to learn to fight? No! She would have made me cry and pee my pants. I would have given up. I would have felt like a failure, and it would have been too late to get another chance. My body had already started to fail me. Those two years with Trina and the girls were the best, but they cost me. No more softball. But if I could have played in my last game with anyone and for anyone, it would always be with them. Always. Trina's demands bring greatness out of you individually and as a team that you didn't even know existed, let alone was somewhere inside of you. I am who I am today in large part to her and those girls. They will never take credit for it, but it's true. And I never would have had that experience, if God hadn't used Al to toughen me up and make me decide who I wanted to be: A quitter, or a fighter...I'm a fighter. And it's because God used Al to shape me. And at the end of the day I do understand that, and I thank God for it. What should you be thanking Him for? What or who did He use to shape you, and you've been to emotional to see it? 

"It is more than possible to believe that God is even now imparting the gifts of the Spirit to whomever He can and in whatever measure He can as His conditions are met even imperfectly. Otherwise the torch of truth would flicker out and die." -A. W. Tozer, Knowledge of the Holy

Even a coach who verbally abused me...because with this disease, if I had learned at a young age to give up instead of fight...well, I don't even want to imagine what my life might look like. Never. Ever. God knows what He is doing. He truly does. And I will learn to love Him regardless, all the time, no matter what, knowing He is shaping me into the best version of myself. He knows there is greatness in me that I can't even fathom exists, let alone exists within me. Thank You God. Thank You.