a reminder of grace.

Sometimes I forget not everyone here knows about my family.

It's easy enough to do. I've been living in New Brunswick on and off for the better part of about eight years now and for as much as I complain about it, it has become home. I have started building a life here; although I am sure Jeff and I will eventually do as many other young New Brunswickers do eventually and leave, for now, we'll be staying put.

I'm OK with that. I have a job I love (most days), lots of great friends, an awesome local church, and plenty of different opportunities available to me. I'm close enough to home that I can visit, while still being far enough away that I'm able to live my life without too much interference.

And, if I'm being honest? That's the way I like it. My family is a big part of the reason why.

Don't get me wrong: I love my family. It's tempting to reach for a cliche and say i love them despite their flaws (and there are oh so many) but the reality is, I love them AND their flaws. They are not perfect, and neither am I. It took a long time - most of my teen years and into my adult life - to understand that and to figure out how to move forward in love in a way that is beneficial to everyone.

In some cases, this has involved accepting there are some people I cannot have a relationship with at this time. For example, my father. I have forgiven him for everything that happened when I was younger. I don't harbour any ill-will toward him and I pray for him every day. However, I know at this time, it would not be good for my heart to have a relationship with him. This could very well change in time, but for now, this is where things have to stay.

In other cases, this has led to reopening lines of communication with previously estranged family members.

This has been the case with my brother.

I wrote about my brother during the summer after I finished reading the latest Sarah Dessen novel. At the time, I described Saint Anything as a "total punch in the gut" and that description stands.  I could understand what Sydney was going through with Peyton because it was a lot like what I had gone through with my brother. Some of the details were different, but seeing a character live through a situation like mine was an emotional experience for me.

Everything from that post in June still stands, but there have been some developments on this front since. The most significant development is that my brother and I are in contact again. He is in jail in Nova Scotia and based on what my grandfather has told me, it seems likely he will remain as a guest of the province for the next several months.

That part isn't ideal. But there are some bright spots.

Like the fact that, since being locked up, he's finally been able to complete his GED. It took two tries, he told me in his last letter, and now he's thinking about what comes next. "If I get out, I am going to apply to (community college) and try to get into heavy duty auto-mechanics and do something good for myself," he wrote.

He's also clean and sober for the first time in...I'm not even sure how long. "The only good part about jail is its a detox. No drugs to mess with your head," he wrote in his first letter back in the fall. He's also working to get his anger issues under control.

He's a lot calmer than he was. Jail isn't where he wants to be, but he seems to accept the role he played in the circumstance he's found himself in.

It's a maturity I never expected from him.

I am so proud of him.

I am so, so grateful to God for the way he has watched over my brother through all of it. Considering everything my brother has gone through, I know it is by God's grace alone that he's still here - and that same grace is helping him even now as he figures out where to go from here.

Now unto him that is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that worketh in us, unto him be the glory in the church by Christ Jesus throughout all ages, world without end. Amen. 

Ephesians 3:20-21 

My brother's story is likely more dramatic than most but the underlying principle applies broadly: we never move past God's grace. You're never too far out of reach, nor do you ever outgrow your need. It doesn't matter who you are or what you've done - you are not a lost cause and his grace is enough.

you're a good, good father

it's who you are

+ i'm loved by you

it's who i am. 

more

there's gotta be more than wanting more...

The thief cometh not, but for to steal, and to kill, and to destroy: I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly.

 John 10:10 

"We want our lives to mean something. We don't want to just exist."

When I graduated from high school in 2007, I thought I had it all figured out.

I knew what I wanted to do - I wanted to be a reporter - and I knew the steps I'd have to take to get there. In the fall, I packed my things into my grandfather's truck and made the trip to New Brunswick to study journalism. Over the next four years, I threw myself into my major, balancing a full course load with part-time work at a grocery store and volunteering (and later, running) the campus newspaper. I was interesting and challenging and satisfying in so many different ways. I loved it.

I started working at a newspaper about two weeks before I graduated. The first few weeks were an adjustment, but in all honesty, I could not have had a better experience interning. The work was interesting and thanks to mentorship from a really great group of co-workers/bosses, I finished those four months a better reporter than I was when I started. I signed another contract as soon as my four month term ended. Sixteen months later, that contract job morphed into a full-time gig.

I've been there ever since.

There are still so many things I love about the job. My co-workers. My bosses. The thrill of breaking news. The endless opportunities to learn. Helping others tell their stories. People rag on the media all the time, but I really do believe storytelling is important and quality journalism has the power to make a huge difference in the world.

It's important I establish that before continuing. I want it to be clear what comes next is about me, not my workplace or the profession as a whole.

Here is the thing - I have been in somewhat of a rut lately. This is not a secret - I think most people who know me well are aware that I've been praying over the question "What's next?" And, considering I've been traveling one path for the better part 10 years, that hasn't been an easy thing to wrestle with.

And, to be honest, despite wrestling with it, I still don't have it figured out. I have a pretty solid idea of what I like, of what gifts and talents I possess, and how I might be able to combine the two, but I'm not sure what sort of "next" that is going to translate into or when "next" will move from concept to reality.

One thing I do know: being honest about it, with myself and with others, has helped a great deal. That's why I'm writing about it here. I wasn't going to and even considered deleting this a few times over the course of writing it, worried people will read too much into it or take it as something other than what it is: an attempt to work through some of the things that have been on my heart and mind lately.

We started a new sermon series at my church last week, with the big focus being on the whole idea that God always has more for it. If that's true, then it's also true that when we fall into ruts of being disgruntled or apathetic, that's more on us than it is on God. That thought has resonated so much with me this week and it's been amazing to see the difference rejecting the idea of "good enough and it could be worse" in favour of being willing to believe and pray for God's best has made.

It's not always easy, but it's certainly freeing. I'll take that any day.

with just a word, set the dark to flight

sing to the world: "let there be light!"

Now unto him that is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that worketh in us, unto him be glory in the church by Christ Jesus throughout all ages, world without end. Amen. 

Ephesians 3:20-21

onward!

O give thanks unto the Lord; call upon his name: make known his deeds among the people.

Sing unto him, sing psalms unto him: talk ye of all his wondrous work.

Glory ye in his holy name: let the heart of them rejoice that seek the LORD.

Seek the LORD, and his strength: seek his face evermore.

Remember his marvellous works that he hath done; his wonders, and the judgements of his mouth.

Psalm 105:1-5 

I turned 26 earlier this week.

Growing up, my birthday usually coincided with the first day of school; in my adult life, labour day weekend tends to eclipse the day. Which is totally alright by me - at work, I'm an extrovert by necessity, but apart from that setting, I'm definitely an introvert. Selectively social, and way more interested in a low-key, low-stress evening at home than some kind of big celebration. Don't get me wrong - I love people, but I find big social events stressful and draining. I know it doesn't make sense, especially considering what I do for a living.

I digress. Back to the point.

Twenty-five was a pretty great year for me. Jeff and I got engaged in the winter and adopted a second cat in the spring. I went to a whole pile of weddings this summer, including the long awaited nuptials of two of my very best friends from high school. I went to Ontario to hang out with my best friend for a week. I got really involved in my church, participating in small groups and volunteer in kids ministry (and realized just how much I missed the sense of community that comes from belonging to a church). I made new friends. I read some books (not as many as I would have liked) and binge-watched some Netflix (more than I should have). I wrote and rewrote and then scraped entire projects and stopped in favour of waiting instead of trying to rush the words out. I drank a lot of tea. I listened to a lot of worship music. I spent a lot of time at Starbucks.

That's not to say everything was perfect this year - there were definitely some stressful, hard times. But looking at the overall picture, I can truly say it was a pretty good year. God is good and I feel so grateful for the ways He's blessed my life over the last 12 months.

& the way He continues to pour out blessings. Twenty-six is shaping up to be a pretty incredible year, too. After procrastinating for the better part of nine months, wedding planning is underway. Jeff is going into his last year of his undergraduate degree and I just marked my third year full-time at the paper. I'm about $1,200 away from paying off my trip to Kenya in July, which I am BEYOND excited about, and after much prayer, I'm finally getting some clarity related to some elements of my life, while seeing redemption at work in others. Twenty-six is shaping up to be a year of very big things - transformational things. I keep thinking I should be nervous about it, but I'm too excited to be nervous.

The point of all of this is two-fold: first, I anticipate I'll be writing here more regularly throughout the year, especially in relation to the whole going to Kenya/getting married business. I don't think I'll ever be someone who can write a blog post every day - I'm just not that interesting - but I can do better than once a month.

The second element is a request: if you're reading this, could you please take a moment every once in a while this year to pray for me? Specifically, for my upcoming marriage (Oct. 15, 2016), my trip to Kenya, and just generally for wisdom to discern God's direction for my life. Faith might move mountains, but prayer moves God - I can't recall the origins of the quote, but I believe it with all my heart.

it is well.

Therefore, I say unto you, Take no thought for your life, what ye shall eat, or what ye shall drink; nor yet for your body, what ye shall put on. Is not the life more than meat, and the body than raiment?

Behold the fowls of the air: for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feedeth them. Are ye not much better than they?
Which of you by taking thought can add one cubit unto his stature?
And why take ye thought for raiment? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin:
And yet I say unto you, That even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.
Wherefore, if God so clothe the grass of the field, which to day is, and to morrow is cast into the oven, shall he not much more clothe you, O ye of little faith?
Therefore take not thought, saying, What shall we eat? or, What shall we drink? or, Wherewithal shall we be clothed?
(For after all these things do the Gentiles seek:) for your heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of all these things.
But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you.
Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.

Matthew 6:25-34. 

When the boat is tossed upon the waves

+ I wonder if you'll keep me safe.

even in the storms, I'll follow you

even in the storms, I' l l  f o l l o w  y o u. 

Be careful for nothing; but in every thing by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God.

And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus. 

Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things.

Philippians 4:6-8. 

though Satan should buffet, though trials should come

let this b l e s s e d  a s s u r a n c e  control:

that Christ has regarded my helpless estate,

and hath shed his own blood for my soul. 

The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want.

He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.

He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.

Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the LORD for ever. 

Psalm 23

Praise the Lord, with the world on your shoulders

Praise the Lord, when it seems too hard.

Praise the Lord, 'cause in every moment, Jesus Christ is Lord.

Even in the middle of the long, dark night

there is always g r a c e enough for today.

Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword?

As it is written, For thy sake we are killed all the day long; we are accounted as sheep for the slaughter.

Nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him that loved us. 

For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come,

Nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord. 

Romans 8: 35-39 

when all of a sudden I am unaware of these afflictions eclipsed by glory

+ I realize just how beautiful You are

and how great Your affections are for me.

O h ,  h o w  h e  l o v e s  u s 

summertime slow down

would you come and tear down the boxes that I have tried to put You in

let love come teach me who You are again. 

would you take me back to the place where my heart was only about You 

+ all I wanted was just to be with You

come do whatever you want to.

"Tired."

That is the first word I've been reaching for lately whenever someone asks me how I'm doing. 

It comes easily, often without hesitation. Sometimes it's accompanied by a work-related explanation or a remark about how summer's just aren't as relaxing as they were once upon a time. Almost always, the immediate response is a true one; tired is a pretty good way to describe my state lately. 

The good news in it all: this state refers almost exclusively to the idea of being physically in need of rest. A couple weeks ago, a pastor at our church preached on the whole idea of the sabbath - specifically, the fact that we live in a time where we tend to ignore it. Taking breaks and resting just...isn't something we do well in 2015. We are on all the time. We're plugged in. We're working.  We're busy. We don't stop. We don't rest.

This is something I can relate to on so many levels. I'll even take it a step further and add that, on the rare occasion when I do actually take that down time, I feel terribly guilty about it, knowing there is probably something I could be doing. I like feeling productive. I like to-do lists. I like getting things done. I don't do idle well so more often than not, I'll just go and go and go until I can't anymore.

And even then, I'll try to push through it. The end result: for me, it looks like low energy, physical illness, waking up tired, writers block. Just total fatigue to the point where stopping isn't an option anymore - it's a requirement.

Sunday's sermon focused on the parable of the sower and the seed (Matthew 13). In this parable, Jesus spoke about a sower scattering seeds on four different types of ground: a hard surface, a stony surface, a thorny surface, and good soil.

The hard surface is the hardened heart - the place where the seed lands, and is immediately snatched up by the enemy. There's no chance of the seed taking root there.

The stony land is a bit better, but not much. The seed planted there lacks deep roots - and that's a problem, because those deep roots are needed to live.

Although the conditions of the heart change every day, most of the time, I can't relate much to the first two types of planting conditions. It's the third one - the thorny ground - that gets me. The thorny ground is the heart of the person who has too much going on. As the pastor put it: "you can be choked and strangled by your calendar." 

Um...amen?

In all seriousness, I've found that to be so true. I've also come to find it's incredibly problematic, at least in my own life, because here is the thing: being a slave to the calendar and feeling burnt out as a result hinders my ability to love God and love others well.


And on the seventh day God ended His work which He had done, and He rested on the seventh day from all His work which He had done. 
Then God blessed the seventh day and sanctified it, because in it He rested from all His work which God had created and made.

Genesis 2:2-3

Why am I writing about this here? The purpose isn't to complain about being OHSOBUSY or attempt to garner sympathy or anything. Instead, it's an attempt to explain what ultimately amounts to a heart issue I've struggled with since...well, for years. The internet makes it so easy to fake it and paint a distorted picture of reality - something I'm not interested in doing.

My vacation begins in four days. I'm heading to Ontario for most of my nine-ish days off, and my goal for the time off is simple: to recharge. To sleep in. To not go to the gym. To eat a lot of great food. To go on adventures with my best friend. And to not feel tethered to my desk or my email or my phone for a little while.

And I'm not going to feel guilty about any of it at all. 

(It's probably also worth noting after DAYS of feeling creatively blocked, this post came SO easily - which tells me it's one of those things that needed to come out before anything else can flow freely again)

my brother's keeper.

"And how's your brother doing these days?"

It's the one question I can count on being asked time and time again when I visit my hometown.

Former co-workers, people from the church I went to growing up, high school friends...it's one of those queries that comes up in all my social groups, as natural as asking about my job or my partner or whether or not the weather was nice during the drive from New Brunswick to Nova Scotia.

It's the question that lurks on the other side of the initial catch-up small talk, waiting patiently for its turn to be released, to be voiced, to be indulged. It doesn't matter how long it's been since I've been home or how long it's been since I've seen the person I'm speaking with, if they knew me growing up, it's one of those things that's bound to come up.

It's inevitable.

It wasn't always like this. Growing up, I think it would be fair to say things were different, if for no other reason than because my brother and I are two very different people. I've always been a high achiever, a perfectionist A-student involved in a variety of different activities. I wasn't popular (quite the opposite, actually) but I had several close friends. My speciality: being really good at being really good.

Then there was my brother. He struggled with school, both when it came to grades and making friends. If I was unpopular, he was whatever fell below unpopular. I used to say kids picked on him all the time, but that's just a cutesy way of saying he was bullied. As if that wasn't enough, he was also trapped in a vicious cycle of comparison - something I've only started to understand looking back at my childhood as an adult.

"He's just not as smart as Tara when it comes to academics."

"He doesn't make friends the way Tara does."

"He's so out of control these days! Why can't he be more like Tara?"

And so on. For years.

Against that backdrop, it wasn't really surprising when he started getting into trouble.  I had been living with my grandparents for several months when the situation at my father's house deteriorated to the point where my brother came to join me.  But going from living without rules, without any real parental guidance, to a place where there were clear behaviour expectations wasn't an easy shift for my brother. I can't remember how long my brother stayed with my grandparents, but I know it wasn't terribly long before it was too much to handle and he was off to his first foster home.

That's about as far into the details as I can go - the rest is not my story to tell - except to say it has been a continuous downward spiral from there. And even though they've changed, the comparisons have not stopped:

"You've done so much better for yourself than your brother."

"You and your brother both had the same opportunities. You just chose to take advantage of them."

"Man. It's so crazy to think about how different you and your brother are!"

What I'm getting at is this: I can't remember a time when I didn't feel defined, at least in some sense, through comparison to my brother.

That made reading Saint Anything, Sarah Dessen's latest book, a total punch in the gut.

It's not a secret Sarah Dessen is my favourite author. I've read all of her books, all more than once. One of the first things I do every summer is re-read Keeping the Moon. My copy of What Happened to Goodbye? was a graduation gift from Jeff - we had only been dating for about five or six months at the time, but he knew that was the thing I wanted most at the time. Someone Like You is my favourite book of all time - it wasn't the book that made me fall in love with reading (I was already a big reader by the time I checked it out of our local library) but it was the book that made me want to be a writer.

The thing I like most about Sarah Dessen is the way she crafts realistic stories about issues teens face.  At a time in young adult fiction where vampires who sparkle and tales of adventures in dystopian worlds dominate bookstore shelves, I find it refreshing to read a book where I feel like I can relate to the characters and the challenges they come up against.  That was definitely how I felt reading Sydney's story in Saint Anything.

In the interest of not spoiling the book for anyone who might want to read it, this is the book jacket summary.

Peyton, Sydney’s charismatic older brother, has always been the star of the family, receiving the lion’s share of their parents’ attention and—lately—concern. When Peyton’s increasingly reckless behavior culminates in an accident, a drunk driving conviction, and a jail sentence, Sydney is cast adrift, searching for her place in the family and the world. When everyone else is so worried about Peyton, is she the only one concerned about the victim of the accident?

Enter the Chathams, a warm, chaotic family who run a pizza parlor, play bluegrass on weekends, and pitch in to care for their mother, who has multiple sclerosis. Here Sydney experiences unquestioning acceptance. And here she meets Mac, gentle, watchful, and protective, who makes Sydney feel seen, really seen, for the first time.

Although I wouldn't say my experience mirrors Sydney's, that feeling of being cast adrift and left to fend for oneself while a sibling commands the bulk of the attention and concern from those around you is something I know all about. I knew this book would be a difficult read when I read the summary before its release but I wasn't prepared for the emotions that would come with seeing what is, for all intents and purposes, the story of my life down on paper in front of me.

In Sydney's case, Peyton's larger-than-life personality and problems cast a shadow over her and left her feeling invisible.  I've found living a life where you constantly feel you're defined by comparisons to another to have a similar effect. You feel known for who you're not instead of who you are. My brother and I don't have a lot in common, but that's something we share.

Now, all that said, I'm OK. More than OK, actually - I'm doing really great. That's the other thing Sarah Dessen nailed in this book: people like Sydney and I, we do find our way. We find places to grow and we find people who see us for who we are, not just in contrast to some element of our history.  We acknowledge our past, our history, and accept it for what it is. We forgive. We learn to love deeply.

We let go.

And we move forward.

I am the good shepherd, and know my sheep, and am known of mine. As the Father knoweth me, even so know I the Father: and I lay down my life for the sheep. 

John 10:14-15 

+ in a crowd of 10,000, You don't miss a thing.

grace.

you broke your back

kept all the rules

jumped through the hoops

to make God approve of you...

oh, tell me: was it worth it?

the whole time you were spinning plates

did you ever stop to think:

maybe he's ok with just you?

there's no need to join the circus.

welcome to the new//mercyme 

Despite being out of university for almost four years now, I can still remember most of the details about the first poor mark I received.

I was in my first year. For some reason, when putting together my schedule in the spring, an 8:30 a.m., sociology classed seemed like a good idea. I've never been a morning person, but I liked sociology in high school. The content was interesting, it was taught by one of my favourite teachers, and - added bonus - I excelled in the class. My final mark in high school sociology was in the high-90s. University sociology seemed like the logical next step.

The professor - a nice man with an unfortunate tendency of slipping into monotone while speaking - lectured every class directly from a PowerPoint slideshow, word for word from the screen. He posted the lectures online afterward for review. The syllabus consisted of two papers (a proposal and a research paper), a mid-term, and a final exam. Awesome, I thought. I'm good at those things. The idea of the class being anything but easy didn't even enter my thoughts.

Until I got my first assignment - the research proposal - back.

The thing I can't recall now is the details of the proposal. I do remember acing the final assignment, the paper written based on the proposal, but I don't remember what that paper was about. I couldn't even tell you what it was I did wrong on the assignment.

What I can tell you is this: the anxiety I felt after seeing that grade on the last page was something I hadn't experienced since Grade 10 math. (where, by what I can only call a miracle, I managed to pass the year with a final mark of 69. I have never struggled with a subject the way I did with math in Grade 10 - it's the reason I tapped out of math as soon as I could. Math still causes me a lot of anxiety...which is unfortunate, because one path I have been praying about lately involves taking a statistics class. That's a story for another time, though).

Looking at the grade on that sociology paper, I worried about what it would mean for my long-term academic career. I worried about keeping my scholarship. I worried about whether university was actually the right place for me, about whether or not it was possible I had actually peaked in high school and was as a result destined to fail in university. I worried about whether I could keep up with the rest of the academic year in the class and then fretted about how I had missed the opportunity to drop the class.

This is the point I should tell you the mark I was so distraught about was a B+.

Don't worry: you don't need to tell me how completely ridiculous that is. Trust me, I know.

I've always been a performer.

The most obvious example can be found in academics, but in truth, it's something that bleeds over into every area of my life, including my faith. If there's a good mark to receive, an accomplishment to be achieved, or a gold star to be earned, I'm your girl. It's strange in a way because I'm not particularly competitive, but I like order. I like having a plan, following it through, and seeing the outcome. I can't remember a time in my life when I wasn't like this.

Sometimes, it's a good thing. One thing I like to think I'm pretty good at is getting things done and doing things well. I work hard to follow through on my commitments and to do so wholeheartedly. If I'm going to do something, I'm going to give it everything I've got. Anything less is, to me, unacceptable.

That's where the problem lies.

Because it's all well and good when things are going well and good. When things fall into place according to plan. When everything works out.

When they don't? Well, it's kind of soul-crushing for me.

And discouraging. And exhausting.

I beat myself up about it. I ruminate and I stew. I don't let things go and I don't let people off the hook easily.

I don't let myself off the hook easily, even when the standard I've set for myself is impossibly high.

And it's only been in recent weeks that I've started to understand how self-destructive that behaviour is...and how it has been standing in the way of experiencing the freedom Christ's grace offers.

bring your doubts, bring your fears

bring you hurt, bring your tears

there'll be no condemnation here.

you are holy, righteous, and redeemed 

And if by grace, then is it no more of works: otherwise grace is no more grace. But if it be of works, then it is no more grace: otherwise work is no more work.

Romans 11:6 

"Religion told me 'You need to be perfect.' Grace told me 'I'll be there when you can't.'" 

Bart Millard, MercyMe  (Moncton, April 2015) 

"You never move past God's grace. Never."

AJ Plaizier (sermon: here) 

Life has been all about change lately with so many things shifting - goals and dreams, desires and passions, attitudes and outlooks. It has been largely a positive process but admittedly, it has also been a bit painful at times. I am telling you this because I think it's important to be honest and because I expect it will have an impact on whatever writing happens here going forward. This season has been one of reflection, one of evaluation, and in some areas, one of conviction. It has been so necessary, but coming out the other side, the question I'm left with is: what now, God? Where do you want me to go from here?

I want to say I'm ready for that answer, but truth is that's only half-true. I'm excited, but I'm a little afraid of giving up that much control over my life.

But I'm also confident the God I serve is bigger than those fears. And His plan for me will always be better than my plan for me.

the one about love

I was 16 years old when I had my first kiss but I can still recall all the details - the before, the during, and the after.

He and I worked together and after weeks of on-shift flirting, he finally asked me if I wanted to go see a movie with him. I was thrilled - after years of unrequited crushes, someone was actually interested me. Added bonus: he was a couple years older than me, he was cute, and he had a car. Of course I said yes.

It was October. We went to see Doom. That's about the only thing I could tell you about that movie - we basically just made out in the back of the theatre the whole time.

That was fine with me.

The movie ended. I didn't have to be home yet so we went for a drive. We found a place to park and picked up where we left off at the theatre. It was great. I was even alright with him putting his hand on my leg...until he started moving it up my thigh. That was when I pulled back.

"Come on."

"No. I want to go home."

Looking back now, I can see how easy it would have been for things to go another way but he listened. He drove me home. We said good night, I went inside, and he went home.

After that night, he stopped coming on my break with me at work and stopped answering my calls. About a week later, he broke up with me. Not long after that, he started seeing one of our co-workers.

It sucked.

It also started a cycle for me, one of making really awful decisions related to relationships. I went from the pushy, older boy, to the boy who led me on and dropped me as soon as his ex came around, to boys who only wanted sex, to moody boys who played it hot and cold and left me feeling confused all the time.

And for a really long time, I thought all those things were normal. That they were par for the course when it came to dating and relationships. That love was supposed to be hard. It was supposed to hurt. It was supposed to require an insane amount of work for very little pay off.

I know. Some days, I wish I could go back in time and give my younger self a good smack.

I have some theories as to how I ended up with such a ridiculously warped concept of what love and relationships are supposed to look like. The biggest one stems from my relationship with my parents. My mom wasn't around when my brother and I were kids. My dad did a great job up until I was about 10 or so, then he gave up on us, too. For the longest time, I didn't think that messed up dynamic affected me. It's only been in recent years that I've started to understand just how much having your parents check out on you at a young age screws with your head.

Pair the absence of loving parents with love as its projected in media - books, movies, music - and the drama of high school romance, and I think it would have been stranger to believe love could look any other way.

(my favourite photo of us, courtesy of the lovely Lena Price @ Price Photography) 

Fast forward almost 10 years later.

So much has changed. Healing has happened. Forgiveness has happened. Peace has settled in. And I am in the very early stages of planning my wedding.

My fiancé, Jeff, and I have been together for four years as of Feb. 15. And, cheesy as it's going to sound, these four years have easily been the best I've ever had, as far as relationships go. Things haven't always been easy, of course, but these last four years have taken all the things I thought I knew about relationships and turned them around in the most challenging, but wonderful ways. I feel so blessed to call him my partner and I am so excited to see what our future holds.

This would normally be the part where I'd refer to him as my other half or say something along the lines of "he completes me" or "I've found my missing puzzle piece" or whatever. But I'm not going to go there.

It's sweet rhetoric, yes, but to say it would be a lie.

I love Jeff.

I love him in a way that is deep and real and tangible. He is my best friend and I trust him to be kind and gentle to my heart.

But as much as I love Jeff, he is not my God and I am not his.

And honestly? Thank GOD for that.

oh, that rugged cross! My salvation! 

where Your love poured out over me! 

And ye are complete in him, which is the head of all principality and power

Colossians 2:10 

I like to think I am a pretty good listener. As a result of this, I spend a fair bit of time hearing stories from friends about different elements of their relationships- the victories and celebrations, but also the struggles and the hard times.

 I'm not a relationship expert by any stretch of the imagination but, when I reflect on some of the different stories I've heard, there is a common narrative when it comes to struggle: more often than not, the problem comes down to expectations.

To be more specific: the expectation for another human being to somehow fill an empty space in our lives when fact of the matter is they simply can't do that by nature of being human.

Or, in the words of the pastor last Sunday: "Don't look for someone else to complete you. They're broken, too."

Alternative reading: "People make lousy Gods."

That said: I'm a big believer in relationships pursued for the purpose of mutual enrichment. I believe in being kind, in giving, in encouraging others as often as I can and seek to be in the company of like minded people as often as possible. I do think it's so important to surround yourself with people you can pour into and who can pour into you.

"The healthiest people give the healthiest love."

And if, at 25, I've learned anything about relationships (romantic, and otherwise), it is this: I love better when I know how loved I am in Christ. I love better when Christ is my identity, my foundation, not another person.

Loving Christ first makes it possible to release others from my expectations and love them freely - because that's what Christ did for us.

We are His portion, and He is our prize, drawn to redemption by the grace in his eyes

If grace is an ocean, we're all sinking.

So heaven meets earth like a sloppy wet kiss and my heart turns violently inside my chest

I don't have time to maintain these regrets when I think about the way 

He loves us.