A week devoted to thankfulness.

Here I am again, sitting on one of my mismatching plaid couches contemplating another post. This time there is a pile of yarn at my feet (waiting to be knit into Christmas scarves), the strong scent of Cinnamon and Spice in the air, Thanksgiving leftovers filling my fridge, and the now “legal” Christmas music playing. This week has been exactly what I’ve needed—peace, quiet, rest, time to cook sentimental food, and most importantly extra time in the Word and with Drew. The last thing that I want to do is two more weeks of school after tasting what break is like—but I am encouraged knowing it will quick and painless. I’ll feel completely better once the poetry reading is over. I’ve never been too confident in my poetry writing skills.  

My favorite things.

This week I have been especially reminded of how blessed I am to have Andrew in my life. I don’t mean in the sappy, cliche, lovey duvy way—but in the best friend, laughing with each other, and making the most of life together way. There is no denying that I am predominantly the type of person who thrives on organization, sticks to the schedule, and cleans the house with an OCD like manner. And there is no denying that Andrew is predominately the type who thrives on spontanaiety, lives hap-hazardly, and leaves a trail in his wake. There are a few exceptions where the lines are blurred or we share similarities in personality, but between the two of us—we make a pretty good balance of a person.

I love the fact that we can wake up laughing, understand what each other is saying when they can’t even explain it themselves, and do all the weird, quirky things together that make us…us. Outside of the home (and sometimes in), we can control ourselves and be the adults that we should be. But at the end of the day, I love that we can be exactly, bottom-line, who we are with each other, letting loose and having fun. On the flip side, he’s the person that I can talk to about anything. He is that type of person that you just click with—they’re on the same wavelength, they talk your language. That is Andrew with me. There is no concern, no issue, and no topic that I can think of that would be outside of his jurisdiction. There is nothing that I cannot talk to Andrew about, there are no secrets to keep—and even if I tried, Andrew would be able to tell. He knows me better than I know myself. He helps me to be a better person, he makes me want to be a better person—and often through all the little things that he does without realizing it’s impact on me. 

In the spirit of thankfulness.

This week has proven to be a bit more of a struggle than the previous ones. There was quite a bit of homework due, and the house seemed to need extra attention with cleaning, but these things are ongoing and I’m used to them by now. What made this week particularly difficult relates to my health. 

When I was 15, after working a summer camp I came home drained, and as usual, got sick. Nothing new. However, after my fever had passed and my obvious symptoms started to go away—there were feelings of illness that did not. Fast forward months and months of Dr’s visits, blood tests, researching, tears, attempted medications, and frustration—the Dr diagnosed me with Fibromyalgia—of course, this couldn’t be proven beyond my continual symptoms and ruling out everything else. Since then, we’ve been treating it as such and life has gone on. I do what I can to relieve the pain and help my body with its poor immune system and such, but in the end, it will always be there. In a way, I’ve become extremely used to it—I rarely even feel the muscle pain anymore unless it’s a really bad day. I’m used to feeling excessively tired and not getting the best sleep all the time. And I antipate the migraines by having Liquid Advil on hand at all times. It’s become part of my lifestyle and I rarely view it as a separate condition or a handicap. In my opinion, everyone gets aches and pains every once in a while—mine are just a bit more consistent and harsh.

Undeserved provision.

This past Sunday while visiting at our Pastor’s house, amidst the laughs and stories, we had the precious opportunity to reflect on the blessings that God has given us through time. After that discussion, I walked away marveling at God’s grace towards us, how He continually provides even when He seems like he won’t, and feeling overwhelmed by His love and concern for me, a very sinful person. I prefer to say, “God’s undeserved provision” for varying needs, because that is in the most general, but truest sense, what a blessing is.

Our Works of God journal has stacked up with the countless ways that He has provided for us through the years. Varying from seemingly small things like a gift of 40 ears of corn to freeze for winter to filling up the car with a tank of gas when we had no money to do so ourselves to witnessing my Grandma accept Christ as her Savior after countless years of praying. Whatever the scenario, God has always utilized people and circumstances, most times the most unlikely people and circumstances, to show His love towards us, and ultimately His glory. 

Parched creativity.

Today is Friday, the end of another “first week of classes”, and I have found myself saying, “Finally!” After a year of anticipating my return to Northland, I thought I would be saying, “Finally—I am learning again!” or “Finally—it’s so good to be back!” And though both of these statements are very true, I find myself saying, after only one week, “Finally—the week is over!” I thought I would make it to at least week six. Looking at this week in retrospect, I think of two words that describe the week that have led me to this point: humbling and overwhelming.

It’s funny, when one thinks of being humbled, they automatically think of a prideful person with a bursting ego that needs brought down, at least, one notch. Though I have gone through my share of ego-busting humility cases, this scenario is different.