i can't sing in F# major

i don't seem to be a very dedicated blogger these days. in fact, sometimes i cringe a little when i think of my blog because i feel so far from understanding myself at times and frustrated that i do such a poor job of reflecting it in written or spoken form.

i guess i kinda needed a little blog therapy this evening, though, in the face of more defeat. it seems these past six months have been a journey of facing my capacity to fail and the call to rise above adversity, to love and believe in myself.

to be honest, i have been severely and richly blessed as of late. never have i been so certain or excited about life, not for one minute would i complain for lack of joy. nonetheless, how exactly did i get where i am? its sunday and i feel incapable, inept and unintelligent... tambourines, petroleum jelly and job interviews were not my thing today. (don't even get me started on yesterday!... ha)

tonight my roomate and i made lavender salve for a class demo she is doing later this week in a class called 'seduction, surrender and transformation.' quite the title of a course for a seminary student! as our hands dripped with fragrant lavender-infused oil we were chatting about things roomates chat about -- taking out the garbage, how excited (or not) we are for the upcoming holiday, the meaning of our existence and what that strange smell is wafting up from our basement. as the night progressed, we started talking about our childhood images of God, our prayers to Him and how those experiences fit into where we are today. tonight in church, it struck me profoundly to realize that my junior-high and high-school prayers were significantly different than the daily prayers i whisper today. i probably have a stack-full of journals overflowing with heartfelt petitions to God -- 'refine me, refine me, refine me.' now, maybe seven years later, i could not bring myself even to the brink of asking such a thing of God. in fact, an equally large pile of journals could probably be found with entries begging nothing more than -- 'help me, help me, help me.'

the joy in it all is to realize my childhood prayers are hardly obsolete, they are simply (and beautifully) being answered.

in the past, i would have had a great inclination to over-spiritualize my daily, weekly life-long trials. this is an experience of myself that is often hard to hold, because on the one hand what is life without the context of our spirituality? but on the other hand, what is life without a grasp of reality? and so, i do not want to say that all of the failures and discouragements i have encountered in the last few years of my life are all just part of some sort of supernatural, mandy-moore, everything will work out in the end, story. but i do think that in these experiences there is a deeper truer version of myself that is being called forth into existence. and i think my younger self was even more enamored with her than i am today -- i am thankful to my younger self for calling out all of my incongruencies and begging the Father to rid me of the clutter that was suffocating her, occupying the space she needs to live and breath and find her being. and so, with a heavy, broken slightly discouraged heart i find myself heading to bed with a renewed sense of hope and joy in knowing there is more to come. i'm not quite ready to make another request for refinement, but i will say, 'Lord, i cannot help myself would you teach me to let You help me?'