Marching On

A friend of mine signed this song at my college's talent show this past weekend.
It was the first time that I had heard it.
But, it almost brought me to tears.
I may be broken, I may be struggling, I may be fighting a war that I can't see the end of, but with God and those He's placed around me, I will keep marching.
This is not the end.
There is something greater coming.

For those days we felt like a mistake,

Those times when love’s what you hate, 

Somehow, 

We keep marching on. 

For those nights when I couldn’t be there, 

I’ve made it harder to know that you know, 

That somehow, 

We’ll keep moving on. 

There’s so many wars we fought, 

There’s so many things we’re not, 

But with what we have, 

I promise you that, 

We’re marching on, 

(We’re marching on) 

(We’re marching on). 

For all of the plans we’ve made, 

There isn’t a flag I’d wave, 

Don’t care if we bend, 

I’d sink us to swim, 

We’re marching on, 

(We’re marching on) 

(We’re marching on). 

For those doubts that swirl all around us, 

For those lives that tear at the seams, 

We know, 

We’re not what we’ve seen, 

For this dance we’ll move with each other. 

There ain’t no other step than one foot, 

Right in front of the other. 

There’s so many wars we fought, 

There’s so many things we’re not, 

But with what we have, 

I promise you that, 

We’re marching on, 

(We’re marching on) 

(We’re marching on). 

For all of the plans we’ve made, 

There isn’t a flag I’d wave, 

Don’t care if we bend, 

I’d sink us to swim, 

We’re marching on, 

(We’re marching on) 

(We’re marching on). 

Right, right, right, right left right, 

Right, right, right, right left right, 

Right, right, We’re marching on. 

We’ll have the days we break, 

And we’ll have the scars to prove it, 

We’ll have the bonds that we save, 

But we’ll have the heart not to lose it. 

For all of the times we’ve stopped, 

For all of the things I’m not. 

We put one foot in front of the other, 

We move like we ain’t got no other, 

We go when we go, 

We’re marching on. 

There’s so many wars we fought, 

There’s so many things we’re not, 

But with what we have, 

I promise you that, 

We’re marching on, 

(We’re marching on) 

(We’re marching on). 

Right, right, right, right left right, 

Right, right, right, left, right, 

Right, right, 

We’re marching on. 

Right, right, right, right left right, 

Right, right, right, left, right, 

Right, right, 

We’re marching on.

Beneath the Surface

I've been really missing David this weekend.
I can't think of anything that would be triggering it.
It's just... a hole in my life that no one can fill.
And the hard part is, I don't know how to express this feeling to those around me.
It is a barely noticeable sadness that is underlying my day to day activities.
It stays just below the surface so no one can see it, but every once and a while my skin wears a little thinner than normal and the grief sticks it's ugly head out.
I can't stop it.
It's there, and when it comes out, I need to feel it and I need to work through it.
I just don't know how many people actually are willing to fight this battle with me.
To hold me up when I'm struggling.
To raise my hands and encourage me to keep praising God when I want to give up.
Deep down inside, there is a voice that says to me every time the grief comes out, If the one who said he wanted to marry you couldn't handle your grief, who will be willing to listen?
It's irrational.
There are so many people who care deeply for me.
There are so many people who have been praying with me, for me.
Just because one boy could not handle my emotions, it does not negate every other person who is here.
And yet I hide it.
How many people who saw me today could tell I was struggling?
As far as I know, none of them.
I am afraid of expressing how I truly feel.
And so I put on a smiling face, and I go to church, and when people ask how I'm doing, I say just fine because I don't feel like they care enough to bear my burden of grief.
After all, grief scares people away, right?
I mean, really, how many of you want to sit with me while I cry because I miss my stepdad who has been gone for almost 6 moths now.
Most people would think, Get over it! Move on! It's been 6 months for gosh sake!
But honestly, I feel it more than I did in April.
The only difference is, no one wants to hear it from me now.
So, I go on missing him, with no one knowing.

True Love Waits

I've been playing more and more with the idea of getting a tattoo.
I have wanted for a long time now to make my body a canvas that I can add pieces of art or reminders of God's love to.
I have not gotten one up to this point mostly because of the desire to look professional when entering the work force, and making sure that it is actually something that I want to do.
But there is one that has been eating at my mind for the past month and a half, one that I think would be good for me in my healing process.
I have been thinking about getting the phrase "True Love Waits" in Hebrew tattooed on my left ring finger, right where a wedding band will one day sit.
There are two main reasons why I believe this would be good for me.
First off, it would be a constant reminder of how I want to be completely sure the next time a man comes into my life.
I want to be sure that I can love him unconditionally for all time, and that he will love me just as much, if not more.
I want to be sure before I give him my heart completely.
It would be a reminder that I don't want to give my heart away again and again, only to have it be broken.
It would be a reminder to not discuss marriage before the time has come that we are both one hundred percent sure that marriage is truly where we will end up.
After all, if it is true love, I should be willing to wait, as should he.
True love waits.
Secondly, the language that it would be written in is very near and dear to my heart.
My wonderful stepfather was working on becoming fluent in Hebrew when he passed.
One of the last times I saw him, he attempted to say the Hebrew alphabet for me.
He had a ring, that my brother now wears, that had Song of Solomon 6:3, "I am my beloved's and my beloved is mine," in Hebrew on it.
It would be a reminder of him.
He would be able to be remembered when I get engaged, when I get married.
He would be present in a way.
And, it would be like him saying to me, like he so often did, "My Paigie girl, you need to wait for the best man for you."
It would come full circle.
Reminding me of my stepfather, of where God has me now, the man He is bringing me.
When I get married, the ring will cover it, and it won't show for the rest of my life.
I don't know when or if I will ever get around to getting it done.
(And my mama will have to approve first too)  ;)
But, the idea is beautiful in my mind...

I Don't Want a Boy

I don't want a boy pretending to be a man.
I don't want a boy with immature feelings.
A boy who is in his mid-twenties acting like he's still a teenager.
I don't want a boy.
I don't want a boy who would rather play video games than have an insightful conversation.
I don't want a boy who can't do what's right because it's too hard.
A boy who gives up when things get too rough.
I don't want a boy.
I don't want a boy who makes promises he cannot keep.
I don't want a boy who won't fully give his heart away.
A boy who is afraid to love.
I don't want a boy.


I want a man.
I want a man who just is.
I want a man who can express what is really going on beneath the surface.
A man, no matter what age, acts like a man.
I want a man.
I want a man who still likes to have fun, but would like to go for a walk rather than play Oblivion.
I want a man who will step up and do what is right, no matter the difficulty.
A man who will endure trials.
I want a man.
I want a man who does what he says he will.
I want a man who will completely give his heart to me.
A man that will love me with everything in his being, second only to God.

I want a man.
And I will wait for a man.

Emotions

A professor said in class this week:

Our bodies were not meant to carry the weight of what our emotions need to express.


I'm learning this balance.
Express what needs to be expressed.
Cry when I need to cry.
Share what I need to when it is appropriate to share.
Have others walk beside me, supporting me when I need supporting.
This life was not meant to be walked through alone.
And,
Our bodies were not meant to carry the weight of what our emotions need to express.

Birds

The past few days, I have had something very close to an obsession with birds.
Pictures of birds, the sight of them in the blue sky, any song or poem or verse I stumble across mentioning something about birds catches me.
I think part of it may be the fact that I often feel like a bird myself.
I don't want to be caged in by what people think of me.
I want to sing my heart out and not care who hears me.
I often think of my journey through life as a flight rather than a run or walk.
When I'm doing well, I feel as though I'm soaring.
When I'm not doing so well, I feel like I have been grounded.
This has been my general thought lately.
It as if I have been flying through a storm these past few months, these past few weeks, and have ended up with a broken wing.
I have been grounded.
Banished to muddle through what has hit me.
Figure out a way to heal, a way to lift myself up out of the mud, a way to reach the sky once again.
With God's help, I know I can soar again.
He just has to mend my wing first.

Tough Day

Since I'm assuming that most people who read my blog are getting there via facebook, I assume that most of you have already heard the news that my boyfriend and I broke up.
It came so suddenly that I did not see it until it had already hit me in the face.
So, this past week has been a difficult one for me.
Even though I know I am not alone, I feel like I suddenly am.
I feel as though I have been left alone to deal with David's death in all it's raw entirety and then to grieve Jon at the same time, in much the same way.
I usually don't make it more than a few hours without melting into a blob of sobbing, aching heart.
Today was especially hard.
It would have been my four month anniversary of dating my best friend.
But at the same time, I awoke this morning with the complete sickening realization that no matter how much I want it to happen, I don't think Jon and I will ever get back together.
Up until now, I had basically been in shock from the whole thing, feeling pain, but not completely comprehending it.
Now I comprehend it, and it hurts worse than before.
I guess all I can do is pray that a light begins to shine again, that God can restore my hope, because right now, I'm struggling.

Trust Fall

Do you remember the game of trust-fall we used to play as kids? One person would stand straight as a board, arms folded across their chest, eyes closed, and would fall back, the other player behind them to catch them? If they stayed straight, and let the other person catch them, there was trust; if they bent their legs and slowly let themselves to the floor, they didn't trust their partner. 

I've been thinking more about trust lately and how hard it is to trust someone.
How it's hard to even trust God sometimes.
I was sitting in church yesterday, and I felt God asking me, "Do you trust me? Do you REALLY trust me?"
It kind of echoed through my mind in a way that I began to think more about the question, what does it mean for me to trust someone, to trust God, entirely?
If I were to be honest about it, I would probably say that I haven't been trusting God fully these last couple months.
In this time when I know that I should be falling back on Him and giving Him everything that is weighing me down, I seem to be trying to struggle through, and hike it out on my own.
I think subconsciousness, I feel as though God has let me down, that for some reason His actions have proven Him to be untrustworthy.
And maybe that is how a human mind will process it, but there is so much more at work that I cannot even see, that no one effected by a loss or a tragedy can see.
Just because someone has died, it does not make God's actions unjust, or make Him untrustworthy.
It just means that I cannot currently understand His ways.
I guess I need to get back to the place where I can know and feel that He is always supporting me, always walking me through, always doing what is best for me.
Know that He knows better than me.
In some ways, I feel as though I am relearning the whole God thing.
The patterns of faith that I must walk by have changed, but God has not.
I guess it's simply time to let go, and fall back, knowing full well that He will catch me.

To Write, or Not to Write....

I feel as though a great deal of my blogging has been cut off since David's death in April.
I think that a good portion of that has to do with my desire not to make this a shrine or a memorial to him.
I don't want to constantly drone on about my loss and how I am walking through that with the help of my God, my family, my boyfriend, and my friends.
Something inside of me says that you would not be interested in reading about that. (Though why you would truly be interested in reading my musings in the first place is beyond me.)
So, with that desire in mind, it is hard for me to find things to write about once again.
Part of me thinks that the writing process would maybe help me, make me find my voice once again, and maybe that would be worth it.
And yet, part of me does not want to have to look back over these posts and read what I was walking through this summer when I look at them again years from now.
Do you blame me?
Who really wants to relive by rereading their mourning process?
Reread the things that you felt and mulled over in the months after a searing loss?

I know someday I will come back and be able to write lighthearted joyful posts about the experiences I am having, the laughter Jon and I share, the funny things I get myself into.
Someday I will come back to writing posts on what God is speaking to my heart, things that I feel need to be shared with my generations.
But for now, I think I still need a break.
Take comfort though, because who knows what tomorrow may bring.
I may be surprised by an experience or by something that God reveals to me and will feel the unexplained urge to share it.
Who knows.
Really, only God knows.

A Tale of Two Men

Six and a half years ago a man stepped into my life who changed everything.
He fell in love with my wonderful mother, my amazing brother, and I.
He married my mother only five and a half years ago, and quickly became another father to my brother and I, loving us like we were his own children.
He showed us what a relationship was supposed to look like.
He raised the bar for any friendship, any relationship, any man who would come in my life.
He taught us how to love and be loved.
This past Saturday, April 9th, 2011, my amazing stepfather, David, slipped into eternity to forever be with his savior.

Two months ago, I met a man who stepped into my life almost the same way David did. 

I met him quite by accident, but we quickly became friends. 

Best friends. 

He made it clear that he was interested in pursuing me beyond a friendship, interested in dating me. 

He wanted my mother and stepfather's approval first, and I felt the same. 

When David fell ill almost four weeks ago now, we were hoping to meet with my parents once he returned to health in order to get their approval of our relationship. 

When David went into the hospital, this wonderful man offered to drive me to the hospital any time I wanted to see David and my mother there. 

We went twice.

The first time, David was not entirely there, slipping in and out of consciousness, rambling nonsense with a couple moments of clarity, enough to tell me he loved me, that he wanted a hug, and how beautiful the thinks I am. 

But the second time, he pulled a fast one on all of us. 

He had my friend sit down and interviewed him.

I had never asked him to do such a thing. 

At the end of his "interview", David reached out his hand to my friend and gave not only his approval for him to date me, but his blessing. 

Three days later, he passed away. 

Two days after that, on April 11th, 2011, I started dating my best friend Jonathan. 

I don't think it is possible for me to express what an interesting conundrum it is to lose one incredible man in my life and gain another in the span of a few days. 

But, I am incredibly blessed none the less. 

How Bad Do You Want It?

It is March.
It is March of my Junior year of undergraduate studies.
My undergraduate work is coming to a close.
Much faster than I thought it would.
It seems crazy that in just a little over a year I will be leaving this place.
I have been looking more into graduate programs and thinking more about what I really want to make out of my life, and a question keeps coming up in my head.
How badly do you want it?
You may be thinking, "Paige, what do you mean by "it"?"
It is my future.
It is my doctorate in psychology.
It is what I want to do.
It is everything that I am working and striving towards.
It is my desire to go to the University of Rochester.
How badly do you want it?
Are you willing to give up time with friends to get it?
Are you willing to do extra work to get it?
Are you willing to push yourself that much harder to get it?
How badly do you want it?
This question resonated in me recently when I received an email from the head of the psychology department here asking a couple different psychology majors if we would like to help out with some of the leg work for a professor who is in the process of getting published right now.
The question of, "Are you willing to sacrifice up to 40 hours of the next few weeks to help with this project?" was raised in the email.
No credit is being offered for my time.
No grade will be given.
So, what is the purpose of it?
In psychology, everything is in being published.
If you can write on a resume that you have helped out with research, that you have been published, that you have even done the leg work for a publication, you place yourself that much higher.
You look that much more appealing to graduate schools.
You have that much better of a chance to get into the competitive program that you desire to get into.
How badly do you want it?
My answer was that I want it bad.
I want to go to UofR.
I want to get that PhD in Clinical Psychology.
I want to succeed.
I want to shine brightly in an area that does not have many Christians.
And I am going to do it.
Get ready to watch me fly.

People Who Have Influenced my Life; Part I

I was thinking about my life and how there are certain people who have impacted my life, certain people who, whether directly or indirectly, have shaped me.
Some people are nothing more than someone that I have read about, followed on twitter, and read their blogs.
Other people have had a direct hand in my life, sharing insight, wisdom, and directed me.
So, I thought it might be fun to write a series talking about the people who have impacted me the most.

Today, I want to talk about Renee Yohe.
I have never met Renee, but this woman is an amazing inspiration to me.
If you have ever heard of the charity To Write Love On Her Arms, Renee is the girl who started it all.
Abused, on drugs, depressed, and ready to take her own life, a couple friends lifted her up and supported her as she came to know Christ and walk through the healing process.
If you want her full story, check it out on TWLOHA's website.
I see what this woman has gone through, and who she has become, and all the good that has come out of her life, all the people who have been saved, all of the hope that has been spread, and I can only hope that I can influence people in the same way one day.
Maybe I won't found a widely popular nonprofit organization, maybe I won't have a movie made out of my life, maybe I won't get to tour the world sharing hope through my trials, but I can touch the people around me, I can share hope and love with those around me.
I'm thankful that she was willing to share her story.

Stressed Out

Life's been stressing me out lately.
Just a combination of not having a job, preparing for grad school, and applying to be an RA next year, life's been full of one stress after another.
In order to counteract this stress, I've been trying to pick up little mindless activities to help me relax.
I've started knitting again.
I've been journaling more.
And... I've been colouring.
Yep. I'm becoming something like a little kid and a grandma combined.
Ah, well... Every time I get stressed, I know I have something relaxing to go to.