How I am getting over myself.

I used to have mornings when I didn't want to get out of bed. For many reasons, but the most prominent that I can remember is that I didn't like who I was. I wasn't happy. And getting out of bed meant that I had to admit that. And also that I had to try to like myself.
I thought my life was amazing. There was no reason for me to be unhappy. It didn't make any sense. And so I would lay there, wrapped in my quilt, wishing the day away. Praying that God would just give me an epiphany and I would suddenly understand why I didn't like my wonderful life.

I used to think I knew everything.

the british man who gave me a ring.

dear fleur.
i had a dream last night. i don't think i really liked it. it kind of scared me. but i think i like that. don't get me wrong. i hate being scared. but sometimes,
i like being
unsure.
doubt is a beautiful thing sometimes.
and i don't know
why.

•
i was a missionary. in south america. with 2 other young men. one was british. the other was american. like me. i didn't really know them. we were sent together for some reason. i don't remember their names.
then we were kidnapped.
by guerillas. 4 of them. and they took us into the jungle. we slept in a little hut. they would chain us to a metal bed frame buried into the ground every night. i fell in love with the british man. i don't even know why. but i did. maybe it was because we made such a good team. we preached to our captors together.
and they didn't understand a word we said.
but we made friends with them somehow. they didn't really mistreat us. they laughed with us. they tried to talk with us. we shared everything with them. and they even let me read the bible to them every night before we would go to sleep. before they would chain us up.
one of them was named paolo.
things were that way for 7 months. we were 'happy hostages.' woke up. chopped wood. made breakfast. preached. laughed. cleaned dishes. did laundry. read the bible. went to bed chained up. for 7 months the 3 of us did that.
then one day, they took us and lined us up.
and they shot the boys. both of them.
they shot the british man i loved.
and then they turned away.
i wept over the bodies. and screamed after the guerillas. "why paolo? why?" i shouted. and he turned to me. said something to the others. and walked back towards me. then he took his gun and showed it to me. he showed me how to shoot it and load it. then he laid it at my feet. and opened my hands as i was still crying, and filled them with bullets. then he took a ring off of the british man's finger, and put that in my hands too. then he touched my hair and said something. i knew it meant 'God bless you.' and he walked away.
my dream jumps ahead 2 years.
i'm on a sidewalk. sitting next to the british man's little brother. he looks just like him. i am crying. the ring is on my finger. i am not a missionary anymore. my head hurts.
the young man is shaking.
but he prays with me. for paolo. for me. for him. for his mother. he prays. long. hard. and sure. his voice is good.
my head stops hurting.
he takes a ring off of his finger and puts it on mine. on the same finger as his older brother's.
he asks me to go back to south america with him.
i say yes.
•

i wake up.
i have no idea what any of that means.
but i think it's nice.
scary.
and nice.
because i like when i have to guess what God is trying to tell
me.

love, bell.

Jonny lee miller.

Dear Fleur.
This morning was Easter. I guess you knew that. I woke up at 5:30a.m. I guess you didn't know that. Ate my cereal and drank a glass of chocolate milk while sitting on the kitchen floor in the dark. Then fixed my hair in my bedroom lit with pink christmas lights. Tried to wake up with a cup of chai tea. Made up a ridiculous story about a unicorn that thought it was a scorpion. Tried even harder to wake up. Walked to church with Ria. In a polka-dot dress and tweed coat. It was cold. But we got there. Was an A/V girl this morning. Got home to chocolate rabbits.
EAT THE BUTT FIRST.
That's my motto.
And then I watched the new BBC version of Jane Austen's Emma.

Yes, I do love Jonny Lee Miller.

I think I now love today. And not just because of that man's lines across his forehead. Probably more because my Mamie bought me some new lipstick.
Now off to make a list. And finish that unicorn/scorpion story.
Love from Bella.

socks.

Dear Fleur.
Woke up this morning with my Mamie shaking me by the shoulders.
Rolled out of bed.
Tired eyes.
Piled my hair on top of my head.
Pulled a white knit cable sweater on.
Looked out the french doors and saw the snow on the ground.
& Skyped Sam.

This boy.

(That lovely lady is Kaylene. She's a brilliant soul.)

He's doing fine. Caught a petite cold. But fine.
We talked about socks. And people who hate us. Did you know, not a lot of people hate me? I never thought of that. But then I wonder, how many people actually love me? And I think, if putting all of my pairs of socks on someone's doorstep would make them love me, I would do it. But I'm a ridiculous person. So I don't know.
What would I do to get someone to like me?
Really. How far would I go?
And do people actually like me?
Really. In their hearts?

I LIKE SOCKS TODAY.
I have tube socks running through my head.

Love from Bell.