How to be nonsensical and daring

Delight thyself also in the Lord: and he shall give thee the desires of thine heart. 

Psalms 34:7 

When I was a little girl, or even maybe just a littler woman, I felt a constant desire to discover beautiful things. I was a searcher. I looked, at everything. Wide-eyed and wondrous. Somewhat brave. At least I like to think I was brave. Really, I have trouble even imagining me as a brave tiny soul. I was never brave. One can pretend though, for one's own sake I suppose.
So. Brave. Let's say I was part lion-hearted, if only an eighth. That's quite a bit though. How about one-sixteenth. We'll call it all even + fair then.
I liked to find things out. Smallish discoveries only, mind you, but still. I kept a shoebox full of rocks underneath my bed, polished and not. I had jars of seashells. And a piece of driftwood. I still keep flowers pressed between the pages of my poetry books. Dried lavender in wooden boxes. Lilac branches. Words. Teas. White dishes. Quilts. Small pen + ink drawings. Jars of paint. Butterfly wings. British stamps. Sand.
I have always loved finding beautiful things.

Now I love to make them.

I sat at the table this morning + last night, making plans and painting pictures and writing. I am in the middle of a story about a man who has red hair and lives in a cat's ear. He is very small and witty and has grand adventures. I like him so far, though his face is yet to be painted in. I also have lists strewn about my bedroom and the kitchen table. All of them are concerning Christmas. But there are future plans too. I had an idea in Anthropology class the other morning that has bewitched me ever since it crept into my heart. I think it knitted itself into the lining, tight and with a purl stitch. It's not even clear yet, just heart in-between words that are mostly nonsensical + unsure. But hopeful. It's all written in the margins of a lot of hope. Honestly. It is potentially one of the best ideas I've ever had. I'm actually excited. I don't even know if I'll be able to lift it off the ground, but I'm actually excited.
Tables. Tables are involved. And flowers. And food. And giving. Ah my gosh, the giving involved in this idea gives me goosebumps just imagining it.
I want this.
I want to make this beautiful thing.

I'm in Matthew this November. Reading about being salt and a city on a hill and good places to plant seeds. I've been so encouraged. I'm at a point when it all seems possible now.
God is amazingly large. And yet, and yet He uses us in ways we can't even imagine being purposed + designed for. Us. These little people, these small beings. He uses us in His wondrous plan and marvelous workings. That is such a privilege. And such a responsibility, one which we should not take so lightly as we do.
I never actually thought about how hard being the city on a hill is.
I am so impatient + fed up with how unmotivated so many of my fellow young people are. I don't want to generalize, but I can't help it. I keep thinking of the conversation Chelsea + I had. She looked at me and said in her sweet, gentle voice, they don't know how to do anything anymore. No one, anyone. None of them know how to make things or be someone or change. And I agreed with her. I nodded my head and felt my heart clench just a little bit. You're right, I told her.
And she is. Because there may come a day when no one knows how to do the important things anymore because we're all too lazy to bother learning them now. No one will know how to lead a ministry. No one will know how to have the patience to sit and read a real book. How to build houses. How to be dedicated. How to be loyal. How to make a difference and an impact and be.
We are not a generation of doers.
We're all talk.
And that makes me nervous. That frightens me. Because there are imperative things out there that we simply ignore. There are things out there that the carpenter is calling us to do, but we're so busy on our iPhones and Xboxes that we don't even get on our knees to pray about what they are. I am not always so cynical about this. There are days when I have such faith and excitement over my generation and the things they are + were + will do. But I think it's this season of life, being here at the university. I am frustrated. I am tired of hearing people talk about how they 'bs' their way through every paper. How they studied for ten minutes before class. How they're okay with a 'c' because it's not a 'd.' I am losing patience with the people who aren't trying. Who really don't care. I need to let you know, people my age don't care anymore. There are far + few between who are even willing to put forth any effort at all. I can get over the failures. I can, honestly. The truth is, I can't handle the apathy, even my own. Everyone is so complacent.
And I'm afraid.
Who is going to lead?
I know we can't relive the past over and over. I know things will be different. Because of innovation + revolution + boldness. But the truth is, I don't know who anyone is, and I don't think they do either. I mean, where are the Billy Grahams of my day? Where are the Mark Driscolls and the Greg Lauries and the Chuck Smiths? Where are the Chopins? Where are the Nate Saints and the Jim Elliots? Where, for that matter, are the Elisabeth Elliots? Or the Bruchkos? The Corrie ten Booms? The Anne Franks? The Vincent van Goghs? Where are the Beatrix Potters? The Davids and Jonathons? Where are the Peters of my time? Where are the Pauls? And the Timothys? And the Esthers and Ruths? Where are the Noahs? Where are the Daniels? Where are the Amy Carmichaels?
Sometimes I think I can't see any of them.
I know that my generation is amazing and makes amazing things and has done things people before never imagined. But the impacts we make aren't rippling. And I think we just don't see that we aren't throwing our stones into a lake anymore. We're just throwing them at a brick wall. We don't make a difference. Yes, there are some people who do. There are a few who are brave + good. There are some who just go for it, but not nearly enough of us. And I'm preaching to myself as well friends. Don't think I'm just talking at you. I'm standing in the audience too. I am ashamed of how much time I waste. I hate the hours that I've done nothing with; I can't forgive myself of them. I feel terrible for all the times I simply didn't care or forgot to care.
There have been days of my life that I did nothing of worth at all.
I am done with complacency and apathy and half-heartedness. I am so done.

I moved down here with the intention of doing small things. I had a pile of more love letters with me and a few skeins of yarn. I told myself, I wrote it to myself, I said, these next two years, they're all about the small things. And I was so okay with that. I was okay with the thought of focusing on school and finishing. Because then, then I would be done. The big things are for when you have your degree. The big things are for when you have time. The big things are for when you know more. The big things are for when you've discovered enough. The big things are for later. And so I pocketed them, I folded + tied them neatly, and I slipped them into my pocket. All of those big things. I wrapped mine up too friends, I need you to know that I did that.
But I have to be honest with you, I'm sitting at our wooden table, surrounded by journals and paintings and plans and ideas and drawings and storyboards, and I can't keep them in anymore. I don't know how to do what I want to do. I don't even know where to start. But I am. I refuse to wait. Because in two years, yes I will be done. But in two years, it has been two years.
We don't always have time. Sometimes, it's taken from us. And we need to live like we know that. We need to live like that's true.
I have always been worried that I have too many dreams to fit into the length of my life. It makes me nervous just thinking about it. We were talking late the other night though, and A told me something that I'll probably never forget. Whatever God has planned for you, she said, He will make sure you can do it. No matter how impossible your dreams seem to you, they will come to pass if God designed you to carry them out. 

"God won't tie your soul to a dead-end dream."

My pastor said that once. I think I never really believed it till now. Because it's hard to reconcile my imagination with the things I know I need to do. I don't understand how I can do what I want to do in India and do what I want to do in the states. I don't understand that.
It is relief to know I don't need to though.
I just need to have faith. God is so much bigger than we think, so much more than we think. We're pitiful, puny beings in comparison. And how dare I assume a superior position and an authority on a life that's not even my own.
Here is my advice and my decision. We can't wait anymore. We don't have time to wait. Laziness is a conscious decision on all our parts. And so let's just do it. All of it. Even if it scares you, even if it's big, I beg of you, push, pursue, persist. Write the list of those things you're afraid to do but not afraid to dream of, and then go do them.
Now.

Let's stop throwing stones at the wall.
Let's be more.

Teeth.

Dear Fleur.
This morning I woke up and wanted muffins and cupcakes and berries. I laid underneath my blankets and buried my face in my pillow. No, I did not want muffins and cupcakes and berries. I wanted Jesus. I wanted to go read my Bible instead of eat breakfast. I wanted to read about Daniel. So I did.
But really I wanted muffins and cupcakes and berries.
Sitting on my bedroom floor with my journal open and my Bible on my lap and Le Petit Prince on my knee, I realized what a privilege it is to eat. To cook. To bake. To stand in the kitchen and be able to make poppyseed muffins. I can't even really explain it. It was like an epiphany of everything good and beautiful that tastes. I missed putting an apron on and baking bread.
I never thought what it would feel like to be someone who can't cook.
It must be hell.
So today I told myself I would make a loaf of bread. In the middle of my fast. Which is totally ridiculous, but Tazza and I have Art History homework to do, so why not make good of our time studying? I remember things better if I'm doing something while I study. "That cathedral was built in the 12th century because I was baking sugar cookies and I remember." It's weird, but it works.

I read the first 2 chapters of Daniel. I chose Daniel because he is one of my favourites. And he fasted too.
Did you know Daniel could interpret dreams? I am pretty much super jealous of him right now. I always wanted to be able to interpret dreams. I didn't want to get thrown in a lion's den, but I always liked dreams. It's kind of amazing that he got out of that. And he couldn't have without God. Which makes it even more amazing. But I'm not even at that part. I'm still at the beginning.

I'll be going to draw pink pictures now and bake bread. I think I'll make cupcakes on the day after the last day. But I won't be able to the eat them.
The Church is fasting 7 days. On the 7th day, I get all 4 of my wisdom teeth pulled out. Isn't that swell?
Love Bella.

The kitten on the sidewalk.

Dear Fleur.
I was thinking about Moses. And how one day he just ended up talking to this bush. A burning bush.
Can you imagine the way he felt?
If it was me, I would have thought I was crazy. Honestly? There is no way I can even grasp the concept. A bush. A flaming bush. A flaming bush talking to a guy. Insane. Literally. My mind doesn't wrap around it.
Then I thought about how crazy every person in the Bible was. Really. They did things people told them not to. They disregarded themselves, their reputations, their sanity. All for God. And it might not have been easy for them, but then I figured out why it seems easy.
God talked to them.
Never a day in my life has God audibly spoken to me. And sometimes it makes me mad. When other people tell me they hear him, or have heard him. I feel like screaming. And I have once or twice. I was furious.
Why not me too?
For a long time, I felt left out of some secret blessing only bestowed upon the "really" good saints. Tonight I realized how stupid that is. Secret blessings. Better Christians.
Ridiculous.
That's ridiculous.

We drove home from youth group tonight and Franny saw a "kitten" out the car window. She started screaming for my older sister to turn around and go back and save the kitten.
It was a sock, I told her.
A kitten, she screamed.
I am not going back for a sock, my older sister said.
A kitten, she screamed again.
If it was a kitten it was probably a feral cat with rabies, I said.
A kitten, she screamed so loud.
My head hurt.
I am not going back so you can get rabies, my older sister said.
My little sister screamed all the way home.

Maybe that's what it's like in my head with God. He tries to tell me something, but I'm not listening. Maybe I really am trying to do only what I want. I don't just want to do what I want. But maybe that's the way it is.
There is something I know I need to do. But getting there is hard. And I think I might be crazy. Because I know I didn't audibly hear God tell me to do it. But I know I'm supposed to do it.
Kind of like something else I did a few days ago.

I think God talks to me in dreams instead of out loud. And I also think being a Christian means you must be completely mad and probably have to give up a lot of things you really like.
We need to go buy sugar. I want to make donuts and we don't have any sugar.
Love Bella.