Yes, I still went skiing with my youth group as planned. Yes, we made it up safely and quickly on Friday night. I remembered all of my gear, brought enough money for a day pass, and even met up with my good friend who had been planning to board that day as well. Seemingly, everything was in place on Saturday morning.

However, God decided to surprise me and my day was nothing like it was supposed to be. The “fun run” my friend persuaded me to go on and the 40 cm of snow left me stuck and stranded until help came ten minutes later. After I got back onto the right track, I found myself helping a little girl get her skis back on. Just as everything was as smooth as could be, I wiped out again and lost both of my skis. It took my forever to get them back on. I’m not even kidding when I say that I skied just one run on Saturday morning.

Needless to say, I was exhausted, discouraged, and downright frustrated by the time I met up with my youth group for lunch. My limbs ached, and coat dripped from all the falling. I looked around for my friend, who I had long since lost in the snow of the mountain, and was disappointed to find him nowhere. I bit into an apple with disgust and thought of how much better everything could have been. I tried not to show my feelings but inside I was saying, “Thanks a lot, God.”

“Why are you crying?” He asked, as I leaned my head against my skis outside of the lodge. Since my other plans had fallen through, I’d decided to ski with two of my new youth group friends. The only problem was, another surprise had occurred — their rental skis had gone missing! We’d searched high and low, but they were nowhere to be found. Finally, my friends had gone inside to inquire about new skis while I waited at the rack.

“I’m not crying.”

“I know what you’re feeling,” He whispered.

“Yeah, I’m kind of upset I guess,” I sighed. “I got stuck a lot. Nothing worked out. Nothing is working out. This isn’t how it is supposed to be.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s not how I planned it.”

“How you planned it? What about how I planned this weekend? Why don’t you trust me, child? Where is your faith?”

I bit my lip. “I do trust you!” I said. “I told you that earlier!” I thought back to our conversation at the top of the ski hill, when my legs were deeply sunk into the snow. I’d tried to convince Him that I had enough faith for Him to dig me out.

“Then why don’t you just let me lead you? Why do you insist on your plan all the time? What if I have something different for this weekend and it is better? I love you.”

By then, I was crying. The tears were hidden by my goggles and scarf, but they were there. I had forgotten His wisdom and more importantly, His love. Forgotten. How could I? I didn’t even forget my ski socks, yet I forgot about my Saviour. I forgot His plan and how good it is. I forgot to put Him first because He loves me more than anyone else in the world.

It was a ski hill surrender, in goggles and mits. I decided to trust and accept His love. I promised to let Him back in and show me just what He wanted. The rest of my weekend was great. I can’t say that it was how I planned it or that I didn’t have any more rebellion. It wasn’t perfect by any stretch of the imagination. We had some wipe outs, lost a few more skis, and went to bed with sore limbs. At one point, we took a wrong turn and my friend crashed into me with her skis. But all the way through I heard Him calling for trust and I said, “Yes, Lord.” It wasn’t easy, but it was right. The rewards came — I made two new friends, learned how to ski in powder, had some great conversations and moments, caught up with old friends, and played a new card game. It was good. It wasn’t my plan but it was His and it was better.

Tonight I’m going to bed with sore legs and a heart that knows that trust is hard, surrender is harder, but still God is best.

Some of my friends don’t like Valentines Day. They complain about “not having a boyfriend to spend it with” or a “valentine to bring them flowers and chocolates.” In the past, I’ve kind of ignored the day for those reasons. I haven’t been bitter or anything, but to me, it’s usually just been another day of the year. Really, it is just another day of the year with an excuse to eat chocolate. However, last year, I began to realize something new: as a Christian, Valentines Day can be very special and important.

A year ago, I realized that God was wooing me. It didn’t matter who or what else was or wasn’t. I had Jesus and He loved me more. He was my Valentine and I didn’t need anything else.

Today, you find me a year older and not much wiser. I’ve changed and grown since then. I have new scars and wounds. I have to admit that in the last few months I’ve lashed out at God. I forgot His love and latched on to other things. I felt discontentment in relationships and blamed it on Him. I worried excessively and lost my trust in Him. When the going got tough, I tried to content myself with something else that I cherished. But when that got tough, I felt hopeless and alone. Needless to say, I’ve been angry and dissapointed and not totally in love.

God still pursued me. It’s funny to think how far away I thought He was when really He was right beside me. He provided all the provisions I needed. Every week, every day that I thought would turn out badly was taken care of in the end. I was taken care of. My heart was saved. He rescued me. It was the greatest chivalry ever performed. He is the best knight you could ask for.

So today, I’m going on a date with Him. I can’t ever fully repay Him for the services He’s shown, but that’s not the point. I’ve realized, that I want Him again. No matter what else happens or who enters my life, I need Him. I desire Him, deep down. So we’ll celebrate Valentines together. We already read the Psalms at breakfast. Soon, we’ll study Biology together, make some raisin bread and chocolate hearts, play the piano, study more Biology, write a history paper, and watch a movie. It’ll be the best Valentines Day ever. It won’t stop there. No, this is just the beginning of happily ever after. From now on, I want everyday to be a date with God.

Specifically, it was the story of Mary and Martha that got me going. After a brief summary of the two well-known characters, the pastor asked us who we thought we were. Honestly, at first I couldn’t say. I’d like to think that I’m Mary, but in my heart I knew that I wasn’t. Could I really be like Martha though? I have to admit that I’m not the cleanest person in the world (if you’ve seen my bedroom, then you know what I am talking about).

My sister though, knew exactly who I was. “You’re so Martha,” she said, elbowing me.

“Thaaaanks,” I retorted. I tried to ignore her and listen to the pastor, not willing to accept her words.

“Martha wanted everything to be perfect. She was the host and had invited Jesus over. Martha was trying to serve Jesus through making everything nice. She didn’t understand why her sister could just sit at Jesus’ feet. She thought that Mary was lazy and that annoyed her. Martha tried her best with God through what she did and resented that she had to do it alone.”

I gulped. The pastor had just described how I have indeed been living in the past few months, especially this last week. I’m definitely not a perfect worker, but I have been trying really hard. Life has taken unexpected turns, given me weird feelings, and made things just plain difficult at times. God seemed distant. I’ve had moments of questioning and mornings of silence. Life hasn’t been all that happy for me. So, I’ve been working it off. I guess I thought that crazily doing the dishes so that it would look like they were never even used, staying up late and rising early to finish my schoolwork, and getting dinner on the table every night that it was my turn would make things happier, better, and more Christ-like. Turns out that was wrong.

At the end of the week, I felt like a failure. I was too burnt out to finish all of my tasks. I was stressed, worried, and upset. And God? I still had the same old questions for Him. Nothing was better through trying to just keep doing things constantly. I was only burnt-out.

“Because you’ll never finish everything on your list and if Jesus is at the bottom you’ll never get to Him…”

It’s true. So true. Frighteningly, true. Jesus wasn’t exactly at my bottom. Actually, I’ve read my bible most days and the motivation was to please Him. Yet, I was trying for happiness for everyone, perfection, the impossible. I was expecting too much of myself. I went way too far. And worst of all, I was doing it on my own. Yeah, I’d pray and stuff, but ultimitely I thought that through my hands doing the dishes and my brain working at the Civilizations homework and English essays, that I would work it all out.

But it didn’t work out and I realized that for sure today. Like the pastor acknowledged, “Martha has great qualities” yet I need something different. Something better. I need God. Not because He needs me or my family will be happy or I’ll get good grades in school and become a responsible adult sooner. But because I simply can’t do it on my own.

So here I am, God, at your feet again. Thanks for always taking me back, again and again.

At thirteen, the dollies and pretend food were quite gone but the desire remained. No, it came back even stronger. I remember holding my then one-year-old cousin and thinking of the day that I would have my own baby. I dreamed of and planned my wedding. And I thought of my husband often. In fact, I used to spend nights and days and any quiet times talking to him. Yes, talking to him. Did I know him? Not that I knew of. But in my dreams he and home were ever-present.

One day though, this castle of dreams crumbled. It wasn’t just one thing that made it happen but quite a few scattered events and realizations. It was the “friends” who crushed my view on femininity and a future home. It was the boy I wanted but could not have and the fear that no one would ever want to marry me. And most of all, it was the deep desire burning in my soul that could not be filled no matter how hard I dreamed or tried to imagine. Suddenly, this place called home became a miserable place for my mind.

Recently though, my thoughts have returned to that once-happy place where my mind liked to be. I’ve gone through a lot since then: grief and suffering, hurt, revisions, and new-found joy. Somehow, all of these things have patched the wounds of the lonely heart longing for home. Now, I can finally feel a longing for this place again.

And I find my thoughts wandering to it often. When I lie in bed, while I’m answering Biology questions, in the sad scene of my play, home is with me. Once again, this desire is strong. In fact, I think it’s even stronger than before. Perhaps it’s because I know what it is to not want it or think that I didn’t want it, and to come back restored. Sometimes its worse though, knowing that I am close to home but so far from it.

But then, I don’t really know what God has planned. Perhaps this place called home is coming soon or maybe it isn’t at all. While that last thought is hard to grasp, I have learned to be content. I know that as much as I would love this place called home, that I don’t need a husband and family to make me happy. Because I have God and He loves me. He contents me and fills the space in my heart, now and forever. Yet He gives me this dream, this longing, this desire for home. And I believe that in His good timing and with His best desire, He shall fill it when the time is right.

Note: I often write posts and leave them in the draft section for a while. This post is one of them. I wrote it back in November, but never published it. Due to a bit of “blogger’s block” this week and the fact that these feelings have been even more on my mind than ever (as I consider my life and what to do with it), I decided to publish it today.

I know that I didn’t write much about the specifics of all these events. You’re probably in the dark about most of this, unless you know me personally. The circumstances of this month have been private for the most part. Some of them have been downright confusing. I can tell you that it’s been ugly and bonito at once, like a beautiful rose sprinkled with ash.

And that is where you find me today. I’ve been humbled and changed in just the first month of 2012. Who could have guessed? I certainly didn’t. When I wrote this post about newness, I had no idea that the newness would come so quickly or strangely. Now you find me pondering it all. Today, I’ll read through my books of “sweet everyday things” and diary to find the joy and look out the window at the rain and think on the hardship. I’m pondering the beauty and the ashes.

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The Easter that I was five, I thought that nothing could ever be better than little chocolate eggs. When I saw all of those coloured eggs leading from my bedroom door to the living room, I squealed with delight and picked them up as fast as I could. I was so excited that I took all the chocolate, including the pieces that were intended for my sister. I remember telling myself that all the things I liked before were not important now because I had this chocolate. My childish brain could see nothing greater than colour and chocolate.

Today, at seventeen, I find myself falling back into that state of childishness. I have plans for my life. There are things that I want so desperately right now. I have dreams, goals, and aspirations. It’s hard to see that anything could be greater than all that I have planned.

Last night, I was fed up with it all. I was sick of not knowing, tired of having to wait, and scared about the future. I sat at my computer and tried to write a story about it all. But the tears flowed down my cheeks and I couldn’t think and I cried out to God in desperation.

A noise and a pop-up on the right side of my screen distracted me from my thoughts for a moment. Seeing that it was a skype message from a good friend, I clicked on it.

Hey Liz, I read.

Hi! I typed back.

We made small talk for a bit, until we got to the root of the matter. That friend always seems to dig deeper than the surface, even when typing to each other on Skype. I told him about my worries for the future, feelings right now, and concern. I realized that I am directionless right now. I felt lost, confused, and beyond repair.

The typing sign went on and I sat there, wondering what he was going to tell me. At the sound of a Skype message, I looked to the screen and there it was: the truth I’d been needing to hear.

Maybe God has a totally different plan for you. Maybe you aren’t supposed to be an actor or a teacher. Maybe you’re pursuing the wrong goals right now. Wait and listen, Liz. He may have something much greater lined up for you and you are too engulfed in your present problems that you are missing the opportunity to let Him lead you.

I stared at the screen for a few minutes before I replied. I honestly didn’t know what to say. I knew that he was right though. God may have a different plan than mine. In fact, He probably does. It’s something greater, yet it’s hard to see right now. I’m too engulfed in my present problems and what I think I’m supposed to be and do, like my friend said. It’s just like the Easter I thought that chocolate eggs were the best thing that had ever and could ever happen. I’ve consumed myself in the wrong places and have lost sight of what really matters.

As I typed to my friend, it’s extremely difficult for me to see that something greater right now. But I’m only human and I guess that is how it goes. I can’t see the picture at the moment. The something greater doesn’t seem so great yet. But I will choose to trust in God, for the something greater will indeed be greatest.

PS I didn’t really mean for this to be a follow-up post on my last one…that’s just how my week went and how amazing God is.

I waited for the cake after dinner. To be in my first play. For my birthday to come so that I would be the same age as my friend, Kaleigh. I waited to jump on horse back and have my first solo in a play. At sixteen, I spent nights of desperation in wait for a special friend to call and the last days of this summer waiting for school to start. Once, I waited for my grandmother to die. I’ve waited for tests, celebrations, emails, and death. Ever since I was little, I’ve been waiting to grow up. Now, I’m seventeen and seemingly starting that life yet I still have to wait.

Today at Spanish, I helped the students with verbs. Tener. Ir. Ver. Hacer. Estar. We talked about meanings. To have. To go. To see. To make or to do. To be. And we conjugated them in different ways. Yo tengo. Tú vas. Él hace. Nosotros estamos. It all made foggy sense to them, I think. Learning a language takes practice and lots of waiting.

“Elizabeth,” one student called. “What does esperar mean?”

Her words struck my heart, yet I answered calmly. “Esperar means to wait.”

All of a sudden, I was in Mexico again. Dirt was on my face and clothing, my braids were wispy and cheeks rosy. Little children clamoured around me, begging with their eyes and foreign lips for piggy back rides. I was overwhelmed by a flock of several children. They swarmed me on all sides and I said in that moment, “Espera, por favour.”

It was a beautiful memory and I yearned to go back to that place where it all began. I glanced at my textbook, wishing it could take me to the country where it’s bonito words are spoken. But then I remembered my decision from last weekend and the realization that God was not calling me back to Mexico this summer. My heart sank like a ship and I asked God why again. “Why can’t I go? Why must I wait? It’s been almost two years. Haven’t I waited long enough? I miss it so much and I promised I’d go back.”

And then I heard my fifteen-year-old, swarmed-with-children self say those words once more. “Espera, por favour.” And I remembered, esperar means to wait and that is just what God wants me to do right now.

Because promises made in the quicksands of life are easily dissolved. Since what we want isn’t always what is best. And as God knows just what I need. Sí, I will wait. Wait to go back to Mexico and see those shining faces and say “Espera, por favour.” Wait until January to go to university. Wait to have a boyfriend. Wait for God and His perfect plan and the things that I really need instead of the things that I don’t. Espera, Elizabeth. Espera, por favour.

But I dislike the word wait. It’s ugly and unromantic and far too overused. So, I’ll wait en Espanol. Sí, for it is a melody that way. To esperar is bonito and God’s plan is a song of amor.  

Yo espero porque Dios.

What about you? ¿Esperas tambien? What do you have to esperar for these days?

People say that the books I love like “Jane Eyre” and “Wuthering Heights” are overly dramatic and unreal. I used to agree since I’d never been a governess who was almost tricked into marrying a married man or a girl who seemed to go crazy when her childhood friend left. But now I strongly disagree with those people. Life is strange. It is odd, unexpected, and downright crazy. Life is not like a sweet little child’s story-book. No, it’s more like one of those old gothic romance novels.

But don’t call me an expert on life because of that. No, I’m far from knowing it all or even much. The more twists and the more turns in life, the more I learn. Yet, the more I am changed and the more I grow and become myself, the less I seem to know about it all. The old promises, strong-held ideals, and whimsical dreams are thrown out the door and I wonder who I am and what I am doing and what life really is about. 

When I was little, I wanted to breed horses and teach riding. Now, I haven’t even touched a horse in almost five years. About six months ago, I held ideals and made promises about how to conduct myself properly. Today, my opinion has changed and I am going against some of those old “morals.”I thought that I would go to university in September, but now I’m considering waiting until January or doing something totally different. I’ve yearned to go back to Mexico since my first trip, but as another one approaches I’m leaning towards the possibility of not going. I expected this month to be dull as the first month of the year usually is for me. Instead, it’s rained with joy and sorrow, excitement and confusion.

Life is unexpected. You can’t plan for anything. You can hope, but even those hopes will eventually change. Life changes. It is odd, surprising, and just, plain crazy. And it sure isn’t a nice, little storybook.

One thing that I cannot forget is God. My faith has been tested and the answers are true. I know that although I change quicker than the seasons in the year, He never does. I believe in Him. I trust His judgement. Well, I guess I am learning to trust it. I am coming to understand that He has crazy plans for my life. I am realizing that they are plans I cannot see or know right now or ever, yet they are good, wonderful, and right plans.

Yes, life is confusing and crazy but God is good.

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You know just what my words are going to be, but I’ll say them anyway. It’s embarrassing, yet I need to share it now. Just like the pastor said, “the first step to making God your first love is confession.” So, confession time has come and I am on my knees.

Sometimes, I think that I don’t need you. I don’t say it like that. No, I’m much too subtle. But they say that actions speak louder than words and my actions are definitely like that. I say it in the way that I read part of my alloted scriptures in the morning, arrive half-awake to church one morning, and fall asleep before I pray at night. It’s clear in how I worry and stress over little things and try to fix them on my own. I reject you in the way that I treat others and the idols that I make in my life. I’ve disowned you. I’ve let you fall from the center. And I am so, so sorry, God.

It’s funny how I can go through life, days and weeks at a time, and try to do it on my own and feel like everything is going so well. But there is always some trouble along the way. I always seem to prick my finger or scab my knee. No matter how hard I try or how much I seem to succeed by myself, at the end of the day, I still need You.

In the dark of night, it comes back to me, whether I try to make it or not. When I forget to pray and think of other things instead, I feel a need for someone or something. And there, lying in bed, almost asleep, dreaming away, I realize that it is You that I need. It is You that I desire. I call for you to rescue my heart once more and I fall asleep in your arms. Oh, how I still need You.

But I need you in the morning and throughout the day and in everything as well. I need you in the good times and the bad. I need you at Spanish class and youth group and in my Biology test. No matter who I meet or what I do, I’ll always need your arms to shelter me.

So once more, I’m back at square one. I’m trying faith and love again. Take my life, take my pride, and have my heart. I’m going to try and I’m going to fail, but at least I know that I still need you.

I was on such a roll last week. I felt like my blog was going so well! I had too many post ideas to actually post and I felt such a surge of joy to write. I thought for sure I’d have many more, insightful posts this week. But then, on Monday, I was rocked by two different conversations. Suddenly, life was new, strange, sad, and happy all at once.

Life never ends up going like how I imagine it out to be, that’s for sure. Everything is just so different. The vows I made to myself when I was thirteen are long forgotten. Even the promises that I made myself just a few months ago have been thrown out the door. Like I said before, I am changing.

Grief overcomes the world so readily, too. I don’t understand it. It seems so strange and shocking and makes me step back and wonder just one more time about who God is.

Life really is confusing.

I remember when I was about six-years-old or something, I was playing at my babysitter’s house and this boy threw a rock at me. It’s a really vague memory, but I still have this image in my mind. I remember that I couldn’t catch the rock and stop it from hitting me — it just came at me like it was out of control. I felt it pierce my flesh, too. My child-like brain imagined that it went right inside of the skin on my arm. I remember feeling like now that I’d been hit with this rock that it would never go away. I could not catch or stop it.

Sometimes, I feel like rocks are being thrown at me again and I am that same, helpless little child in the backyard. I feel the rock pierce my flesh once more.

There are days when the rock pierces and I cry. Grief overwhelms and the world weeps and everything stops for some. I wish I could prevent the rock so badly in those moments.

At the same time that I feel the sharp rock, a beautiful, coloured one from the beach brushes up against me. It’s beauty stuns me and I blush and grin. Yet these were the things that I once tried to guard myself against. I change and learn and feel so happy that  this time I wouldn’t stop the rock if I could. 

I guess there are just times when life is joy and grief at the same time. Some nights we can choose to cry or laugh. No matter what, the rock, whether sharp or coloured is thrown and we are the child without a choice. So let the rock fall into your flesh and trust the One who threw it.