11/20/17

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Day 17

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God, 
I tried climbing up the stairs by myself today. The dog had to go the bathroom and kept doing that whiny thing he does and basically sat there waiting for me. Yeah, good. Play We’ve Got This Hope by Ellie again. And now, Songs of Deliverance. 

It takes me back to singing in Trisha’s car at the gas station. Or maybe it was to it. But before I go off topic, I was half way up there before I became afraid. And you know, I kept trying to think how proud Nolan would be. But then I started sweating. This is too high. I’m almost there. God, help me. 

Why is this my life? I’m not going to make it in time. Call Nolan. No answer. Until I went back down to put on slippers. He tells me later he’s not going to deal with my fear of the stairs anymore. Or something. And I already felt the disappointment because I only made it half way the first time when it was just you and me. 

Lord, even now I want to cry. Because while he played Elvis and sang along, I talked to You in my head. About my weakness or maybe the verse. Where Your power is made perfect in weakness. And I wondered why even though he wanted to help, it didn’t feel encouraging. Humiliating. That I’m afraid of falling. That I want Your presence encircling around me, Your smile asking me, come? It’s okay. I’m here. Your face. 

Because it’s easy for those who can walk to bound up and down the stairs (unless the person is afraid of heights) while I take my time. And yes, I’m a little cynical maybe that I feel like no one understands. And I know that’s not entirely true and everyone has fears. But sometimes I think you think I’m a baby because I’m afraid. And once I get upstairs, I find myself sobbing to Kallayah for reasons I’m unsure of. But I think it’s all this stuff you’re bringing to surface. Wanting intimacy with friends. Hating how I think of marriage. HATING. How the stairs are a small thing to be afraid of. And then I tell Trisha I’m randomly sobbing. And there’s so much I want to say but I don’t how to say it. 

Because you bringing all this to the surface is a lot. My heart aches. And I just want a breath. Breathe. It’s like declare all over again. Not that I don’t fit but that I keep crying. Over and over. I don’t want it fixed. But to sit with someone in it. And telling Kallayah I wish she could last night. Physically. But ughh I’m so thankful that this is coming to the surface even though it hurts so much. That she listens and prays and shares her heart with me. And her sensitivity. I can’t wait to give her a hug. And laugh in person. The wait will be worth it. You’ve gone above and beyond the last two years with seeing Trisha. So I need to trust the timing with this and grow in the meantime. I love you for giving me these friends I never expected. Thank you. 
No idea where I was going with this letter. 
love,

you tender haired girl

previous letter for Letters From A Tender Haired Girl found here. 

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11/18/17

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Day 15

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God, 

I love the depth to our friendship. The way You make space for me to be real even if it scares me. A lot. But even as I’m saying it, I feel Your peace. I don’t want my own belief of marriage to stop her from sharing her heart. I don’t want to be cynical (cubical really doesn’t work. Haha.) toward love. Every time she tells me how this boy has loved her, my heart is so happy yet so doubtful it is real. Happy for her. Doubtful for me. And the fact she believes You will change the way I see marriage – really means more to me than I can say. 

If You bring a guy into my life, will he know to take care of my heart? Or that I like to be surrounded with words? Books. Notes. Texts. That I’d like to be held forever. Or at least a really long time. And flowers. I’d probably burst into a grin at his just because I love you. Will he want to stay up late with me to hear me ramble on about whatever and mostly You?

Will he let me sing in the car or just offer to put on my fave artist because he knows I love them and maybe likes to listen to me sing even if I get emotional? Will he encourage me to write even if it’s not something I ever get lots of moola, enough to live off of? Will he be understanding when I most likely cry if he talks about having kids and hold me because it’ll probably still hurt? Will he take me to see long distance friends? because we know I’m going to tell him all about the ones from my blog and launch teams. Will he understand that if at any time he hurts my feelings or we argue, that I need calm tones to get me to open up, or I will withdraw?

Will he read books to me or Your Word? Or both? Will he not even see my disability and my just my heart? That I want to love and be pursued? Will he sing to me?

Telling You all this makes me wonder. Will You bring this to pass? Will he be my friend? Because if he’s not that first, we will never work. I’m not breaking my heart again by trying to be a pursuer. Nope. Not happening. 

See? I just dreamed a little bit. And it makes me feel this swell of emotion because my heart maybe wants this. But I need this friend to keep on dreaming for me until I believe. And if it happens that I marry, please bring her to my wedding so we can thank You together. 

love,

your tender haired girl

Ps. and if he gives me dark chocolate – he’s a keeper. 

previous letter from Letters From A Tender Haired Girl found here

11/17/17

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Day 14

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God,

I have no excuse not to tell you how I feel. And honestly? Confused. Hurt. Mystified. These aren’t words that accurately describe it. I hate that I think I hurt her feelings with how I feel about marriage. I hurt with the way I view marriage. Like its not worth it. You are going to wind up hurting each other or divorced. And you know where that leaves your kids? Confused. Hurt. Starving. And bringing all that hurt into other relationships. And it’s not like I want to believe this. 

five minute Friday prompt: excuse 

previous letter from Letters From A Tender Haired Girl found here

11/15/17

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Day 12

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God,

I don’t want to sing right now. If I don’t though, my soul will sink. My heart. It is cold in this kitchen. This hat makes me think I’m in the Arctic (I’ve been spelling/saying that wrong all along I think.), but I don’t want to be cold. Or make my ear hurt. I feel pressure in both now. 

I’d really like to sleep and not worry something will go wrong if I’m not awake. Like the dogs will go nuts. And then I’ll wake up. I’d like to stop dreaming of spiders, too. Looking up the meaning of them I can’t even get past the picture before jumping like it’s in front of me. And then seeing that they mean manipulation – God, I’m sorry if I am doing that anyone. Really, the amount of fear it put in my heart freaks me out. Because you know I want things but honestly I just want to be still with You for a while. And sleep. And if I’m being manipulated at all, we both know I never know or I’m being kind. Or trying to be which most likely means I’m trying to please. Never goes well. Ever. 

I don’t have energy for people. I mean, I do for the one relationship I feel peace. And honestly, I think You’re giving me the energy for it. But everything else feels off. Makes me tired, wears me out. I’m weary, God. And I want to tell another friend how I am, but I think about what I could type or call and say – which could be a whole lot of rambling – but I’d like to ask if she’d come sit with me. I feel so much peace in writing that even though I know that unless you did a miracle, it can’t be today. 

Thank you for the quiet and doing the dishes with Nolan. And this jacket with fur inside. And the water. And this hat. And the slippers. And mom checking on me. And the dogs being good. And a conversation with Raechel. And the show Speechless. Thank you there’s a show where an actor who actually has a disability plays the person with the disability. And for the way the cast is so patient with him. Helps me see You. I love how the mom of the show is so focused on listening and making sure he is heard. Ugh. They all are but You know how I am with the moms. And reminding me I can expect good things because I’m precious to You. 

Please help me see Your favor today. I don’t know why it’s so fascinating since the verse I showed You yesterday, but I will not leave me so here’s me asking again. Thank You. 

Love, 

your tender haired girl. 

Ps. And thank You for the skit guys thanksgiving goodness video. So good.

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previous letter from Letter From A Tender Haired Girl found here. 

11/2/17

So, I know this month is national novel writing month. And for some reason I want to give it a go. For me, this is going to be a test to see if I can write actual letters to Jesus this month. No word count or the Nanowrimo site, but this will keep me accountable. I already missed day 1 so this is going well already. Hello kindness to self. 🙋 and this means two posts on Fridays (but I’ll try my best to space them out.)  This is going to be fun. 

Tentative title for this novel:

Letters From A Tender Haired Girl.

(Also, may be about my actual life. So don’t think this qualifies as a novel, but I’ll work with it. 😂)

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Day 1

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God,
Do you find it weird I am worn out after something I didn’t want to do? And it was the same with last Thursday too. With something I wanted to do. 

And in the beginning of October. I was pumped in the waiting for these two things. Okay, I despaired quite a few times. Even though I had peace. Everything makes me tired. You know what I really wanted to say to this woman who did this intake for help to find a job? I don’t really know who I am anymore. I’m in denial about being depressed. I did like launching books but I no longer know how to read for fun anymore. Or not take notes. And poetry helps me communicate with Jesus. I have to do it. I’ll lose it if I don’t. I’ve lost it some already. 
But I said I write poetry and have been helping authors launch their books. Good stuff, isn’t it? That’s not really who I am. I’m your kid. Your kid who doesn’t want to work. Who feels lost and confused and wants a hug at least 25 times a day. Yeah, I know, weird number. But really it’s a lot. Maybe 100-150 real tight ones. But I need strength to keep going. I also apparently need lots of chocolate and slushies and if it’s at all possible more laughter and time to listen to audio books with a book. Let me pretend I’m sitting on your lap while you tell me a story. I’ll sit and turn the pages while I listen to you calm my anxious heart. With your comfort. 
Let it be my delight. I have 60 days to wait and see how a woman who doesn’t know me only from what I say and paperwork can train me for a job. Be my advocate. Lord. You know my heart. You know my anxious heart and how I don’t want this. Really. Sleep sounds like the best thing in the world. Days of it. But I can’t. Help me. Let me see your heart in this wait and when you gently (oh please let it be gently) ask me to see what you have for me.
You are good. You are faithful. You are true. You know my heart. You know what I need and what I want. You know what is best and what will draw me close to you. 
And right now, I need you. 
Love,

Tender-haired 

my shelter

Hey God,

Would you please 

invite me into your heart?

Your peace, I long for my 

anxiety to drown in it. I hear 

the voice of the enemy louder,

You don’t deserve that! You are 

not even looking for a job. You don’t even 

care to start. It is true, God. I’m afraid. 

The louder

the condemnation, the more I shrink 

back. I need you, Lord, to

come rescue my heart. I need you, my 

only place to start. Come hold me in your 

arms. 
fmf: invite

This prompt made me think of the ways I’ve been invited this year. To a Facebook called group called Glory Writers. (Facebook and I are no go right now, but eh. It’s okay.) To the whispers of rest launch team by a friend. To Declare by another friend (really I think we may have both invited each other 😂). To go back again to Texas. 

But what this also made me think of is how I’m desperate to be invited into Jesus’ love – to understand those unforced rhythms of grace. To understand that church really doesn’t have to be scary, though it’s terrifying to someone who wants to bolt every time worship songs come on (says the girl who can listen to Ellie Holcomb on a continuous loop if you let her..). 

This week has been one of those weeks where I don’t know what Jesus wants me to do. I don’t want to go to school or get a job and I don’t want to work for approval. In the middle of the week, I got an email saying Ellie Holcomb tickets were available (a few) for a show that was sold out, and I about lost control inside. I texted Megan and exploded with joy. I also texted my brother a few times since he said he was cool getting tickets for us. And then I waited. Told Jesus, PLEASE SAVE A SEAT FOR MEGAN AND ME. PLEASE. And then maybe an hour or so later, I think, I text many friends like: I’M SO PUMPED RIGHT NOW! AHHH! 

Jesus planned it perfectly. He knows my heart, my fears and my lack of trust in him right now, my fear that he doesn’t understand me at all and won’t come through. How I need gentleness and so much kindness to change my fearful heart. Because honestly I don’t think I deserve the things he is gifting me with this week. Ellie Holcomb tickets. Time with Megan and another friend this weekend. Ellie Holcomb on the 26th with Megan. In the midst of all the good, my heart is still terrified. 

You can’t possibly love me like this, Jesus. I won’t even try because I know I’ll give up. Don’t care enough about me. How are you still mindful of me? Mindful that I’m on guard. Mindful that I can hear the enemy. Mindful that I really REALLY want to write a song with Ellie. So much so that it feels like I could burst when I’ve only written one song ever and who knows where it will lead. If at all. Mindful that desperately need you. 

Please come to me. Please come invite me. Please. Thank you for loving me. Amen. 

turn away again. 

Won’t you come

& sweep up my heart

again, Lord? Your smile

begs my attention while

the world says my name,

Julia, Julia, julia. The frustration 

grips me and I wonder what my place is 

again. I yearn to stay in this quiet place 

with you where I can be calm, maybe 

laugh again, and I won’t lie and say I 

don’t long for the company of a friend, 

where a hug can embrace my frame. But 

you’re in room and I can’t 

Fmf: place.

I like this prompt. Though I totally thought I’d go a different way with it. Ask Jesus what my place is. Where I belong. Because it is confusing lately, this tension of wanting to where I belong with the world and where I belong with Jesus. The world is so loud and HEYY LOOK. LOOK. HELLO, did you hear me, I said look! (And books, though they can’t speak like a person, will make you look for a very long time. As in whether you should buy it. But it isn’t dire right now.) 

while Jesus is quiet, more tender. Stay with me. But Jesus, I.. I know. Stay with me. Can’t I fix it? Stay with me. I don’t understand what is happening. My insides feel like I may burn up with joy for reasons I don’t know. Stay with me. Ughh this makes me so sad and why does it feel like no cares, but you do. Stay with me. Why are all my relationships hard right now but I feel so close to you? Stay with me. Jesus. I want that intimacy. Stay with me. Stay with me. I feel like I’m losing. Stay with me.  Did you really answer my prayer? Stay with me. What about me? Stay with me. Wait and see. I love you. 

Its hard to stay in that peace when the world can so easily lure me away. And then I lose my focus and feel like it’s my duty to keep everything going, under control. But it’s not. It never will be. But I want to stay at his feet. In his word. The pull has never been stronger this year. Or maybe it’s my eagerness too. But this is where I’m finding most of my delight. Maybe all lately. And even though we’re a little more than half way through the year, I can’t wait to see what more surprises he has up his sleeve. 

Keep my eyes fixed on you, Jesus, the author and initator of my faith.