So, how bad did you miss me? I haven't realized how non-bloggy I've been lately. I promise, I've been keeping busy with school and somewhat of a social life. Plus, I went on my trip to my hometown for my best friend's wedding. It was beautiful, and I will be sure to blog about it soon. What's so crazy, is that at the wedding I learned about all of these readers of my blog that I wasn't exactly aware of. I think it's so cool that people are reading what I write, even if they don't sign up for a Google account to be my "follower"... cough cough! But, really, hello to everyone that reads about my beautiful and tragic life as a twenty-something year old!! Haha... any new readers... proceed with caution!!
My sissy over at Moonpies and Fireflies has been getting her blog off to a good start with the 30-Day Challenge thing. It's so weird how I was getting into the 30-Day Challenge and was on like Day 7 or something when the fire flipped my world upside down... don'tcha think? You know what's even weirder... that the day before the fire the prompt was to write about a picture that made you sad. I posted a picture of one of our military veterans that is living homeless in our country right now. That does make me sad, even more now than ever, but it's funny to think how mysterious God really is in his ways. The day before the fire I was crying out for sympathy for the homeless Americans who have nothing to their name. The many Americans that aren't as fortunate as I am and don't get to replace all their belongings with an insurance claims check. The fire that took their possessions, literally took their possessions. I remember thinking about fire victims that very day. Because, remember?? I kept making comments earlier that weekend that I have no fire alarm in my room or fire estinguisher in my house. I was almost fearful of the fire before it even happened. Is that what made me handle it so well? Is that why I knew to just get everyone and all the dogs out of the house and to not go save that pile of David Yurman that was dancing in the line of fire?
I guess so. Seems mysterious. Must be God.
Just like the blog I wrote that very day about my faith and how God always does something huge and very trying in order to strengthen my relationship with him. Strange, huh? He was preparing me. In all the ways - physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. Duh - I get it now... pretty sneaky there, God!
I wish I could put it into words, the way that I feel day in and day out. I really can't, but the best way I've come to describe it is that I'm living in a twilight zone. I literally live each day from start to finish and worry about the next when it comes. Lately, I've been better about responsibly planning ahead as far as studying and work because of how my school/internship started at the beginning of the month, but ever since the fire it has really just felt like I'm living in a whole different world than before. Spiritually, mentally, physically. Nothing in my room was here before the fire. Everything is new, borrowed, or thrifted. New pictures, new clothes, new bedding, new journals, new books. It's a very odd feeling.
Like, I said earlier, when I was at home I learned about all of these friends of my parents' that read my blog. A couple of my mom's friends and mom's of some of my own friends (that's a tongue twister) would let me introduce them to Chace before they'd say, "oh, I know who that is, I read about him all the time!!" He would just wink at me because he just eats it up when people say I should have stuck with journalism or if I'm complimented on my writing in any way. See, Chace has always pictured me as this spunky little sports' journalist or this free-spirited creative writer that can turn any prompt into something. He is soooo much like my dad, by the way. Freaky deaky. Dad sees me being a writer one day, too. He thinks all of my passions for developmental disorders, advocacy, writing, campaigns, feminism, etc. can come together and make a rewarding career. Ever since he put that idea in my head of putting my passions together rather than chosing between them, I have been eager to see what I can do or what difference I can make once I have that opportunity. But, not yet. Remember... one day at a time. That's how it goes here in The Twilight Zone.
Speaking of taking it one day at a time, let me just tell one more story about that mysterious Man. The fire happened on a Tuesday the 13th (lucky 13, huh?) and on Sunday the 11th of April, I went to First Baptist Trussville with my sissy, her hubs, Momma, Daddy, Nana, and Papaw. I kept ranting and raving about their Pastor, Buddy Champion. I kept saying how I loved that series he kicked off that day called "iStress" and how I was going to come back and hear him preach that series. It was about stress and how the best "app" for the stresses in life was the Bible. I highlighted the scripture (which was mostly Psalm 23, but a few others), dated it, marked it with the series name and cited Buddy Champion as the preacher. Next to it was my sixth grade handwriting and the date that a church member told me to always refer to Psalm 23 when I was scared about the cancer that threatened my Dad. To this day, I'll never forget that moment when Mark and Janice McCallister prayed with my family at Wednesday night supper and Janice told me that passage. And years from now I will still remember how protected by the Lord I felt when I realized one of the other Bible verses that I highlighted that day, April 11th, was also the ending verse to a passage that would be read to me the morning after the fire and that I would cling to in the days, weeks, now months after that dreaded night of April 13th.
Matthew 6:34 Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.
( see the entire passage I have cited in my new Bible as "my fire passage" by clicking on the link: Do Not Worry (Matthew 6:25-34, NIV) )
My sister read it to me that Wednesday morning as we drove to the fire department to pick up the fire report from the night before. I already had goosebumps from the passage before it, and then as the last verse was read, I felt a vivid awakening from the Lord. He was protecting me, and I was going to be okay. I sifted through ash and soot, I showered and turned the bath water dark grey, I went to Wal-Mart with limited complaining, I slaved in the laundry mat, I wrote list after list after list, I shopped, I studied, I commuted, I missed my dog, I missed my things, I missed friends, I missed my life. I cried. I screamed. I did it all. And you know what? I was ok. I had just been reminded that Psalm 23 can get me through the stress that iStressed. I didn't worry about the next day, I just got through the one that had been given to me. I made quiet time and reading the Bible a very big part of each of those days, though, and that's why I wasn't lying when I answered everyone this weekend when they asked how I was doing and how I've handled it so well. I told them I'm fine, because I am, even though my life could set the scene for an Alfred Hitchcock movie. And I've been able to get through it because I cling to that old rugged cross. Me and Alan Jackson's playlist on my computer belt out his 'Precious Memories' album. All those old Southern Gospel songs... love 'em. I still scream my Janis, but I haven't had to in a while. I still love my girl, don't get me wrong, but I've been in more of a Gospel and Beatles singing mode these days. Janis was always sad... or being a hard@$$ so I haven't had to be in that mood really. The way I look at things from within The Twilight Zone is this - if I'm going to start over, jump into this new beginning, clean slate, fresh start, then shouldn't I use this as that turning point I so often longed for before the fire?? I mean, in my head I couldn't wait to get out of school so I could start over. I'd join a church up here, I'd start going to a Sunday school class, and so forth. But when I went home for Spring Break, I stayed for the second sermon that morning because I was so moved by it the first time, I needed to hear it again. I was being preached to as if I was the only person in the building besides Pastor Mercer that morning, both services. This was the first tug at my heart to better my life at that time, instead of waiting for a fresh start after graduation. The tugging on my heart, the closeness I feel to God, it all started at Spring Break in my hometown church on Sunday March 14th. A month of drawing closer to him and a month of preparing me for a fire that was going to change my life forever. Mysteriously comforting.
I might just have to add this testimony to my list of passions up there. Maybe I can write a book about it. "The Beautiful and Tragic Life of a Twenty-Something Year Old... and the fire that made it more tragic and even more beautiful." Probably no 'Best-Seller' but if Hitchcock were still alive, he'd dig it.
peaceandlove
baily jordan
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