Yet I’m terrified of heights. I grew up in a land of cornfields and there wasn’t much climbing being done. There weren’t many friends either, and all I wanted was people to do things with me. When I left for college on Lookout Mountain, GA, I hoped that I would be given friends who would love adventures and outdoor activities. Well, I did, but little did I know how much stretching I would, and still do, go through. My friends are insanely crazy, and pretty much hardcore. Life is one big adventure!

Growing pains hurt though, and a lot of times I find myself dwelling on the past. Why would no one play with me? Making excuses for why I’m the slowest or the least skilled. Well I just didn’t get to do this when I was younger. Whenever I do things with them, I find myself climbing over a bigger boulder of absolute resentment.

So I end up battling fear and resentment. Why then, do I keep wanting to go climbing? The challenge, obviously. However, every time I walk over to that boulder, I remember what a gigantic challenge it is. I  shrink back. In my various escapades I’ve made it to the top only a few times. Overcoming fear and resentment is a huge daily battle in itself. It takes time. The more times I climb, the more I get used to it, but it’s so slow. Each time I go, I think, Oh I’ll get to the top this time, but I only get higher than the last time I went. I think that’s good. It’s not necessarily hardcore, but honestly, it takes time for me to get used to anything I do. Slow, low energy…that’s just who I am. The adrenaline rush does not push me up. It makes me freeze. But I keep at it anyway, because eventually I’ll get to the top and I know it will be so rewarding.

The other reason I keep going is because, like running, climbing doesn’t bore me. When I do a cardio/ pilates video or go to the gym, I get so bored and distracted. I lose count really fast, literally. I become demotivated, and then in the gym, overwhelmed by all the options I can do. Should I do every machine? Have I stretched every muscle? If I had a buddy, I probably wouldn’t mind so much, especially if they counted for me. In pilates everything seems so still and I wonder, is this really doing anything? Then boredom sets in. Although, I do get through it and realize it wasn’t so bad.

I wouldn’t necessarily jump off a cliff if my friends did, but I would definitely climb one if they did. Maybe to me life isn’t a big adventure, but a big battle. Or maybe I should see it as an adventure; however, it’s something to overcome and I plan to overcome it though it take me a lifetime.

Take, for example, standing on a train platform. You’re standing there with a wide gap in front of you where the train tracks are. It’s tempting to start thinking about jumping in, especially when the train is coming. I don’t know about you but I always think about suicide when I wait for a train. But would I actually give in and end my life?…uh…no!

Think of these petty thoughts, these lame excuses, these guilt trips as doorways into a self-deprecating, unfulfilling, future. Chase them away! Or reign them in and make them work for you. Above all, don’t let them control you. That’s when you sink into the train tracks.

I love my body. I love to take care of it. I love to see what it can do. I challenge it. I defy its weaknesses…and give in to them a little. I love how taking care of it makes life that much better. It’s just getting started is my issue. I get really really picky. My bedrooms too small to do pilates (not really). It’s way to cold to run (sometimes). I didn’t drink enough water/I didn’t eat the right food. I will never be as thin as those women that I see running or on the pilates video. So yeah, all these excuses. Then I start thinking about how I’ve missed a few days. Then I just smack my thighs and get out there! Stop these foolish thoughts, Luisa!

Anyway, I find these little pickinesses in lots of other areas of my life. How late a party goes, how much noise there is, blah blah blah… It is what makes it so hard to live with me. These thoughts can tear me down like a fire unleashed and then spread to those around me. So the recipe to get over them? An armload of grace and a kick of discipline.

Some people find confrontation to be negative, but I beg you to look at the etymology of this words and realize confrontation is an act of caring. I mean, some people confront negatively, but in general I think that confronting shows that one does care enough about a friendship to show light on something hurting that other person in order to ameliorate their situation, which is also affecting you. It takes a lot of courage and care.

“Confront” comes from the Latin words “com” and “front.” “Com” is an adverb meaning together. This is a social act, communal. “Front” is forehead, noting that this is something done face-to-face. So if you’re talking behind someone’s back you’re gossiping not confronting. In my mind, I see two people coming together to make something better. It’s good to confront, evaluate, and assess things. In this broken world we need these things. If we had no guidelines or boundaries, we’d be crashed in the ditch.

I can’t deny that we tend to look at guidelines and boundaries in a negative light. Yet, as cliche as it sounds they are there to protect our hearts. Remember how in Proverbs we are told to guard them? Making boundaries is one way to do that. God did not give the law to be a task master, but rather to be a loving father. Think about this humorous example, the game pinball. A ball is shot up a shoot. It gets hit and tossed by different buttons and levers to get lights. Lights are points, lots of points. If pinball didn’t have all those buttons and levers to keep the ball up then it would fall and you would lose.

So if the word “confrontation” sends shivers down your spine and you’re tempted to say “carefrontation” STOP and think that you’re bravely doing this because you care and want to make the ailed situation better. Furthermore, you’re not doing it alone. It may hurt (well, it does hurt) and such, but in the long run, in the big picture the situation is so small. The big picture shows the growth that has come through the exercise of building character, by expressing concern, courage, and accountability.

Lately I have had quite the concerns about hospitality. When coming to ones house the host often and probably should according to “the rules” offers something. I’ve come across a plethora of hosts in my small almost a quarter of century life. People who offer everything to their personal towel for a shower in their personal bathroom to people who just offer water. No matter which situation I always get nervous, is it okay to accept, or do “the rules” prohibit ever accepting? I wonder if some people are just following conventions and will begrudge me later, or if they are sincerely practicing hospitality. 

I think part of practicing hospitality is accepting what is being offered to you, not just giving. It’s a pleasure to receive. I find that some people will only give or only take. We should do both. Giving reminds us that our things are materials that one day will rot or rust. Taking reminds us that we are relational beings, that we need others. We shouldn’t be ashamed to take something offered to us. Sometime it’ll be our own turn to give. Also, our lives shouldn’t be solely giving. We’ll wear ourselves out. Both are apart of practicing hospitality in order to build up the church.

Take for example our relationship with God. God gives us an abundance of goodness, more than we could ever ask, and in return we give him 10% back. But does God really need us to give him things? No, and yet he takes it and builds us up more. We can freely give and freely take whether we need it or not.

So, this is really a post to tell you if you offer me coffee, donuts, a ride, your underwear, your towel, your personal super awesome modern shower, your wine, your beer, your time….I WILL take it. And whatever’s mine you can totes have too.

Yet, God was every present and powerful. He brought his people together in prayer, and healing to this sweet girl.  I wish I actually had words to describe how amazing God worked through his people. Probably like if you watched some master craftsman cutting away until he’s finished with something gloriously beautiful. That’s still not good enough. To put it simply, these friends and this church are my family…my heavenly family…my eternal family. Yeah, this valley was one of many last winter, but we got through it by God’s hand, bearing each others burdens. I am just overjoyed and beyond thankful. I love my family.

You come ’round bringing

the anticipation of new.

Long, cold winter days

test our excitement and resolution.

You look at me with

that cold daunting face, and I say:

January, I loathe you!

I defy you!

You will not crush me.

You’re only one month outta’ 12.

I’m merely crashing from December’s

sugar high

I’ll love you again

in July, maybe.

Well, this has also been an attribute that I’ve loathed about myself. I compare myself and think no one else is like this, maybe I’m wrong to be like this. However, those are not the negative thoughts that trip me up the most. I have always thought I needed to find someone who will fix me. So the place where I trip up the most is in my friendships with guys. I have been through a couple of particular hard friendships in the past four years that I’ve just completely stumbled. Both of them are really nice, but they’re actually not alike. Basically, though, I had the same friendship with two different people, in which I thought the extreme part of their personality, analytical emotional, or logical, could fix me. I became extremely excited when I became their friends, and ended up going too far emotionally for mere friendship. It’s safe to say, I’ve been crushed.

Yet, I am so thankful for both these friendships. If I hadn’t been friends them I would not have learned so emphatically one of the biggest lessons of my life: I don’t need to be fixed by man. The only fixing I ever needed was being saved from my sins, and Christ did that on the cross. What is even more amazing is he did that while I was still a sinner. He loved me and delighted in me knowing I would sin against him, but also knowing I would come back to him. So this made me realize it is possible for me to be loved, delighted in, cherished regardless of my downfalls, or any particular intense parts of my personality. And I can show this unconditional love myself. It all comes down to his work in our hearts.

But when you zest a lemon, you want yellow not white.
My perfect pie crumbled with my bitter mistake.
I’m crumbled, I’m humbled,
by such bitter pie.
Thinking I had sugar to sweeten you,
I had nothin’ but bitterness to feed you.
Crumbled, humbled, by bitter pie.

I knew I couldn’t eat them fast enough. I knew I had time to make a pie, but I also knew I probably wouldn’t eat it.

There are two things going on

1) My lack of consuming things. After graduating from school, I also graduated from big portions on my plates. I’m not dieting just eating less, getting full faster, and trying not to buy too much, with the little money I have, because I don’t eat it fast enough. In fact just to let you in on a secret, I’ve become a non practicing vegetarian….yeah between me and you, I only eat meat now if someone serves it to me. Not to mention as well that eating alone is pretty boring.

2) I don’t actually like pie. I get a thrill out of making it, but I’d rather not eat it. I usually like to eat about three bites and then let other people just devour it. The irony of it is that I am queen at pie making. I really am, I’m not being vain, I’m just stating facts. It’s sort of like my relationship with hats. I seriously could put on any hat and “make it work”, but I hate wearing hats. This drives my mom crazy because she loves hats, but they don’t always fit on her head perfectly.