see me running through that open door

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I have played a lot of roles recently.
piano teacher

dance mom

sprinkler mom


ice cream mom

annoying mom that keeps taking pictures



red mango employee

camper

wedding attendee/makeover giver to mama
bum
I'm not gonna lie...living up my different lives has been pretty great. I'm like a movie star!

Minus the fame (the general public either knows me as "Miss Whitney" or "that red mango girl") and the fortune (I'm saving as much money as possible for my next Grace bill) and the men (no need for elaboration).

Okay, so I'm really not like a movie star. But I am doing a lot of reading and a lot of searching. I'm reading the Gospel of John like someone who doesn't know anything about Jesus. I'm letting myself be astounded by Him and His ministry and lifestyle. Instead of reading it as a theologian who already knows it all and is looking for some deep and inner meaning that will one day make me famous, I'm reading it like a normal person. And I'm letting myself just be shocked by His character. His selflessness, His sacrificial attitude, His upheaval of social norms, and also the fact that He never messed it up. Jesus is crazy awesome, did you guys know that????

What else is new with me? Besides the fact I haven't blogged in awhile. There has been a lot on my mind, a lot of things He has been teaching me and a lot of things running around my brain like little fire ants on a picnic that has a lot of food that fire ants like...flaming hot cheetos? Hot wings? Hot chocolate?

Okay.

The wind is sputtering against my window and I've been with third grade boys all day long and the Space Jam soundtrack keeps rocking in my head. And I've honestly started a new blog like ten times and stop halfway through because I hate it and I don't really have any conclusions I've come to. Life right now is one big decision, a question mark, it's like the movie Space Jam without "I Believe I Can Fly" inspirationally flowing into the hearts of its viewers.

I want to start up swimming. I want to move away. I want to dye my hair red. Or be that girl that sews her own clothes or that girl that wears all black or that girl that packs her preppy beach clothes and moves to Boston. I think I get restless when I have decisions to make. I'm about to start digging in a golf course and move in with Bugs Bunny down in Looney Tune land somewhere in a chasm in planet Earth. And help them win a dual against fiendish aliens and ensure them a lifetime of Looney Tuning and child entertainment.

But I'm still here. And I'm not going anywhere. I would look terrible with red hair and I would look like a homeschooler with self-sewn clothes. And the decisions are still sitting outside my door like devil children that claim me as their mother. 

hello mommy. you cannot run away. we will always be here, gnawing at your soul.
And so I'm about to make a pros and cons list. And I will wake up tomorrow and run for seven miles because it makes me feel like I'm running away from them. But these darned albino decision children NEVER LEAVE.

Gosh, am I going to post this? I am this close to slamming my laptop shut and turning over in my bed, hoping the rain will drown out the decision/devil children and also the phrase "Raise your hands in the air if you feel fine, we're gonna take it into overtime welcome to the space jam" from my throbbing, ant-infested head full of flaming hot cheeto picnics.

Okay, I decided to. Decision made! A devil decision child just disappeared into thin air! Magic tricks! If only every decision were this easy.

Sometimes I wonder if God cares so much about what we decide. I mean, I know He does care and wants the best for us. The best possible situation for us to glorify Him. I get that. But I think He is simply blessed when we make our decisions, whatever they are. When we lay down burdens of worrying and stop letting songs of anxiety ring in our heads like a bad 90's soundtrack and just decide. 

He can make beauty out of a not-so-good choice. He is not thrown off, the world is not hanging on our decisions, ready to self-combust when we accidentally choose wrong. Thank goodness. But when we look at our situation. And maybe we don't want either. Maybe we want both. Maybe both options involve dying and both give an opportunity to live. Maybe He doesn't care as much as which one we choose, maybe He is  just glad we are giving up those securities of worry and anxiety and by saying, we don't know, aaaah. But. We are going to stand in our unknowing, fully confident that we trust a God who makes beauty out of our ashes of logic and understanding. We live for the One who honors our trust in Him and is not shaken by the decisions of any man. And maybe choosing to let go and just make a decisions is even better than choosing the right thing.

I still haven't decided. I still don't know. But I am excited to wade into the waters of mercy and grace that will meet me at my decision. I am excited to be drenched in the morning dew that is the hope of His intricately divine plan that supersedes any decision, whether good or bad.

Because a good choice made selfishly, anxiously, and distrustingly has got to be worse than a bad choice made though we were selfless and prayerful and seeking.

In fact, I don't think the latter could ever be deemed bad.

Abedeeabedeeabedeeabedeep, that's all, folks.






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