The way our world sees love is warped and askew.


When did love become a selfish solution to our own loneliness? Something to be bought or borrowed?
Something to be used?


The word 'love' gets thrown around so much that I fear someday it will lose its meaning altogether.
I know you have heard that before.
However, I'm not just talking about using the word 'love' to express your affection for blueberry muffins or for your favorite TV show. I know I am guilty of that!


I do love blueberry muffins.


I'm talking about this game that we play. 
A game that abuses the sacred word of love in the worst way possible.


You see, the poor victims of this game can only take so much battering.
After so many failed relationships, the word 'love' has lost its sparkle. Its glimmer. Its hope.
It is only used to describe your affection for delicious baked goods.
Or maybe it has disappeared completely. 

The thing is, love was never intended to be selfish. 
If the only thing you are concerned about when you enter a relationship is what you are going
to get out of it...I feel like you are already doomed.
If the only thing you care about is how attractive your partner is...you are missing the point.


I know these may sound like obvious statements. That is because they are.

So what's the problem? What are we missing?

Honestly, I think that we enjoy this game too much. Let's face it.
Getting attention feels good. Talking to that guy for the first time is exciting, I'm sure it's 
thrilling to ask a girl for her number! And I actually don't see anything wrong in these things.


However, we get bored. When suddenly we notice flaws in that seemingly perfect guy, 
or when that girl starts taking too long to answer your texts, we tell ourselves that we
deserve
better.


So the game starts over.


The crumbled remains of previous relationships are left unattended.


Are we wrong in approaching love in this way? After all, we are young. Why shouldn't we explore our options? Meet people. Flirt with who we want.


Well let's see what the Bible has to say about love.


Love is patient, love is kind; love does not envy or boast.
Well I know I am guilty of being the opposite of these things. 
I am not patient with people. I'm not even nice a lot of the time. 


It is not arrogant or rude.
And we all know enough guys who think they have enough 'swag' to get 
alllll the ladies. (And we usually fall for it..right ladies?)
In fact, we are guilty of thinking we are pretty hot stuff once in awhile.
And don't even get me started on how rude we can be.  

It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful. 
Ohh this is a big one. I don't know about you, but I get pretty upset
when things don't go according to my plans. In fact..usually
I insist on it.

It does not rejoice with wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. 
Now we might think we are pretty guiltless with this one...I mean,
if someone murders someone we aren't exactly going to pat them on the back, right?
Ehh..I think it goes deeper than that.
This verse means anyyy wrongdoing. Whether its lying, gossip or 
any other kind of immorality, we are to avoid it in our relationships. 

Love bears all things,
believes all things,
hopes all things,
endures all things.
This is pretty self explanatory folks, but perhaps the most challenging.
Giving up on a relationship is so common because it is usually the easiest route out.




So I leave you with this question. What would our relationships look like if we simply
lived out what these few short verses instructed us to?


The Bible has so much to say on love..(things that shouldn't be disregarded!)..but I encourage you to
focus in on this passage. Not just in romantic relationships.
But in your relationship with
your mom.
Your friends.
That annoying coworker that's hard to work with.

I firmly believe that until we learn to put our selfish hearts aside, and truly focus on loving
others the way we were intended to...there is only going to be more brokenness.
More confusion.
More pain.

So who's with me? I dare you to passionately reexamine your relationships and fix where there 
is errors. I encourage you to fix what is broken and to strengthen bonds that
are already strong.

Most importantly, I pray that you would take a good look at your relationship with Christ.
Who better is there to teach you how to love than the very One who defines it?

Why is it that insults cling to us so much tighter than than compliments do? Think about it. No matter how many compliments you receive, all it takes is one nasty remark to take a little bit of bounce out of your step.

Or a lot of it.

Why is it that it's hard to recall certain compliments but I could easily spout off a list of specific hurtful things that people have said to me? Why do we take insults so much more seriously than we do the kind things people say to us?

I am helping out at Vacation Bible School at my church this week and a certain remark a little girl said to me yesterday is what triggered this blog post. It was just one sentence, yet it made my heart hurt and got my brain thinking.

During the middle of a lesson about Noah's Ark this little girl turned to me and whispered,

"Someone on the bus told me I was ugly."

It is the middle of July. We were learning about Noah's Ark.

This was obviously something that has stuck in this precious child's mind since some unfortunate afternoon on the school bus. It came back to haunt her on a sunny summer morning at Bible school.

This particular little girl is absolutely beautiful. With golden blond hair and huge expressive eyes, she is clearly not ugly. Besides, I think children are too young to be 'ugly'. They still hold their innocence, seemingly untainted from the world and its cruelty. At least that is how children should be.
We all know that isn't always the case.

Anyway, this mean comment was probably made by some obnoxious bully who most likely doesn't recall the incident at all.

That is the worst part.

When we are insulted, we can't forget it. However, when WE are the ones being cruel, it is easier to block it out. Pretend it never happened. Pretend that we are still the victim.

That's just it. We live in a broken and fallen world full of vicious cycles. When we are hurt we find a way to hurt others in return.

It's only fair, right?

I know you have all heard the 'anti-bullying' talk time and time again. No one can say it isn't talked about enough in schools.

Then why is it that so many kids face hell every single day they step foot in their school? Why are middle schoolers commiting suicide? How is this happening right underneath our noses?
Why are little girls questioning their value at the young age of seven?

Why didn't I have the words to say to that sweet girl with the big eyes and a hurtful comment replaying over and over in her head?

I can't answer those questions. I can't make up answers that sound graceful and poetic and make you want to cry and hug someone. I can only offer you this.

Until we can truly start loving one another, none of this is going to go away. Until we fully grasp what Christ meant when He said, "Love your neighbor as yourself" we will continue to hurt one another. No required class in school about bullying is going to solve anything unless kids truly understand what love looks like. Most kids go home to a broken family of shattered relationships where their only view of 'love' is mom and dad screaming at each other every night. How are they supposed to know any better?

The answer is Jesus. Not religion, not fancy words. Not mushy blog posts written by such a flawed and unworthy individual such as myself. Just Jesus.

He is the definition of love. He doesn't view His children the way that we see each other. The way that we see ourselves. Can you imagine how it breaks His heart to see how we treat each other down here? He is the answer to all of this...He is proclaiming that every day. Why don't we listen?

My prayer for you is that you will join me in pursuing Christ in our actions. In the things that we say to each other. In the things that we think about each other. We are such mean and sinful people...helpless people.
We can't do this on our own.

Do you know what the comfort in this is though?

He doesn't expect us to.


 

No. That is not fake.

Two days ago, a very dear friend and I traveled to Sioux City and got our bodies permanently inked. Here is my explanation:




When I was younger and I heard the word tattoo, my mind would instantly dance to the kind that came on gum wrappers or the kind in the grocery store that you would beg mom to have a quarter to buy.
Cheap.
Little to no meaning behind it.

Temporary.

As I grew older and learned what a REAL tattoo was, I was shocked. I was confused as to why someone would allow a needle to poke you repeatedly as it etched a picture into your skin. It sounded like a cruel form of torture.
Expensive.
A big commitment.

Forever.

In high school I began viewing tattoos differently. I chose a bunch of pretty much meaningless pictures of the internet and put them in a folder titled 'Tattoos!!'. I wasn't ever really sure if I would get one, but it is fun to collect things.

Shells. Stamps. Rocks.

You get the point.

This summer I was thinking a little more seriously about getting a tattoo. I went through a couple of ideas and I had really reached a dead end. One day, as I was just about to close my laptop in despair, my eyes landed upon a picture of a swallow tattooed behind a woman's ear. It looked so graceful, so vibrant. A splash of color on the ivory canvas of her skin. I was hooked.

I started to do some research on the history of swallow tattoos. The wheels in my head started turning and I knew.

This was my tattoo.

The actual tattoo took about an hour each. I cried like a baby. Ouch. They say the foot is one of the most painful places to get a tattoo...but honestly, I probably would have cried wherever they put it. I never claimed to be tough.

I walked (err..limped) out of the tattoo parlor drained and quite a bit poorer...but at peace. Content. I was happy with my choice.

A swallow tattoo is signifies a journey behind you. An achievement. My research revealed that sailors would get a swallow tattooed on their chest when they had sailed 5,000 nautical miles.

I had reached my '5,000 miles' point in my life. I look back on these last eighteen years, and I am happy at where I am at today. From moving to Iowa from Colorado to my ups and downs of high school, it has definitely been a journey. I look back to what God has done in my life. His faithfulness through my weaknesses. His love as I failed him time and time again. He has blessed me with a beautiful family, irreplaceable friends, and His provision of my every need. I smile as I look back on my life, as I replay conversations in my head, as I recall the first time I really understood the reality of what Christ has done for us. There are no words for that.

This tattoo represents this turning point in my life as I make the transition to college. It represents not only my past, but also my future.

A swallow tattoo was a comfort to sailors because it represented home. A swallow was typically the first bird that they would see when shore was approaching. This is significant to me. Even though I am leaving home, I pray that I never get too caught up in my new life that I forget about the ones that shaped me into the one I am today. Even though my parents aren't too thrilled about his new addition to my body...I got this tattoo for them too.

It wasn't an act of rebellion. I didn't get it to make my foot look 'hot'. (Is that even possible? Feet are gross.) I know not everyone are into tattoos and I respect that. I'm not trying to impress anyone with it.

I got it for me. It will walk with me wherever life takes me.
It is a reminder to slow down and breathe.

A reminder to call mom and dad to let them how much I love them.

To look back on what God has overcome and what He will continue to triumph over.

Every action has a reaction. A consequence.
Some actions trigger glorious responses, these are the type we are proud of.
However, sometimes our actions cause destruction. Pain. Ruin relationships.

These are the kind of actions I am going to talk about.

This is going to be an extremely personal blog post that I have been debating with myself about posting. In fact, I may type this whole thing out and it will remain living in my drafts folder. We'll see.

Basically, I have been sorting through a lot in my life lately. I have been asking myself some tough questions that are triggering me to think about just what type of woman I am growing up to be. As I stepped back and observed what my actions were showing and as I examined where my heart was at, I realized something.

I had lost sight of the godly woman I wanted so badly to be. I had no idea where she was.

As I staggered back at this realization, an even heavier one hit me.
 
I had lost sight of the One who was the very reason I was striving to BE that kind of woman for. No, I'm not talking about my mysterious Prince Charming or knight in shining armor. I'm talking about a Father who I have claimed to love these last couple of months. The One who's heart I was breaking. A God who saw through my facade and loved me anyway.

You see, I had drifted. I had allowed silly things like a crazy schedule, a desire to be attractive and a selfish plan for my life to push me farther and farther away from the only One that has mattered this entire time. I had stopped concerning myself about His plans for my life and focusing only on what I wanted out of it.

That's all it took.

I know I have changed. I know others have noticed it. Hey, some people probably liked the change. Others may not have even noticed. But I know I have hurt people, confused people.

The worst part of it all is that I have not been the picture of Christ that I was striving to paint. It scares me to think of all the people that I have been such a horrible witness to. I feel like I have wasted so much time.

I only have about a month before I head to college in August. My goal is to set things right. I have praying that God will remove this selfish fear of what others think about me and that He would give me the boldness that He deserves. I pray that I am not tempted to water down the Gospel to please people or to keep myself from being offensive. I may have already offended some of you reading this. Others may have stopped reading this at the first reference to Christ. I also know that I may lose some of you who have been reading this blog

It has never been my intention to 'shove my religion down anyone's throat'. I believe that we all should have the freedom to choose how we live our lives. With that being said, I firmly believe that Jesus is only One who will bring you a full and eternal life. I refuse to be ashamed of that.

I will leave you with this verse. It is one that I found recently that really ties into what I have been experiencing lately. Here goes:

The saying is trustworthy and deserving of full acceptance, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am the foremost. But I received mercy for this reason, that in me, as the foremost, Jesus Christ might display his perfect patience as an example to those who were to believe in Him for eternal life. 1 Timothy 1:15-16

Fall; verb.

Definition:

1. To descend freely by the force of gravity. 

Falling should be the easiest thing to do. 'Descending freely sounds simple enough. Blissful even. What a lovely string of words. Complete and total surrender to a natural force.

However, gravity is a heavy word. Any creature who dreams of flight can assure you of this.

Falling can feel a lot like failing.

2. To come by chance.

'The job fell into her hands.'
'His birthday falls on a Tuesday this year.'

Sometimes we don't have a choice as to when we fall. Sometimes we fight it. Sometimes we wish it upon others.

Sometimes we rejoice when fate causes us to fall in a good place.

3. To pass suddenly and passively into a state of body or mind or a new state or condition.

Perhaps this is the scariest form of falling. The kind that will send a shiver down a spine faster than the thought of a physical fall. The fall that most people long for most fervidly, yet dread with the same gusto.

To fall in love.

The act of giving another human being the chance to destroy you. To leave the safe and steady stage of independence to once again learning the childhood lesson of sharing. Sharing not only physical belongings, but sharing your feelings. Sharing your secrets. Sharing your world.

I don't know about you, but I most certainly believe that 'falling' is a terrifying verb. An uncomfortable word that demands more than I am willing to give sometimes. An action that won't occur overnight or as smoothly as romance novels portray. There will be no background music like the movies.

The individual that provokes you to fall will be a flawed one. Be prepared to cry. Be ready to be disappointed. Realize that you are flawed too. But most importantly, be willing to laugh at yourselves in the midst of your imperfections.

I have never truly fallen in this form. I have stumbled, but I have a lot of learning to do before I get to experience this horrifying and beautiful descend. I have a lot of people to meet. Decisions to make.

However, no one plans on falling. I pray that I don't schedule a time for me to. Love shouldn't be rushed. It shouldn't be imitated. It shouldn't be mocked.

It just happens.

It all just falls into place.

Let's talk about our bods.

I don't know about you, but I am tired of hating mine.

Now this may be a super girly and maybe kind of boring blog post, but I feel like it is a topic that is talked about so much and yet we live in a society where girls despise the body they are walking around in.

I have always struggled with body image. I'm pretty private about it, so my fingers surprised even me when I typed the first sentence of this post. I'm not writing this for people to comment on it with things like "Ohhhh Molly..you are so skinny!" or other responses that people generally feed people who are fishing for compliments.

I am not fishing for anything. You don't even need to finish reading this. I just feel like this is something I need to get out there. So here goes.

I will always remember the first time I felt the sharp pain of hatred towards my body. When we were little we had a big box of dress ups that we kept in our basement and my sisters and I would spend hours upon hours changing identities with the help of dusty hats and sparkling costume jewelry. Not only were we well supplied with accessories, but we had a vast array of old fashioned dresses that we absolutely adored.

I can still see the dress.

I can't remember exactly how old we were, but we were approaching the age where playing dress ups wasn't 'cool' anymore. Time was running out! We had to take advantage of all of our remaining time of our youthful freedom.

I lifted the dress out of the box. It was a long, pink dress with a giant bow adorning the back and fabric that whispered whenever you moved. My favorite. I eagerly climbed into the dress, my imagination already churning as I imagined myself as a glamorous movie star or perhaps a princess from a far away land. I reached back to zip the zipper.....

I managed to get it halfway. My heart stopped.

I slowly unzipped the pinching zipper as I felt my eyes fill with tears. It was hard to believe that only a few seconds ago I didn't have a care in the world. Now my mind was filled with one word.

Fat.

Now this unfortunate incident occurred years and years ago, but it impacted me enough for me to carry it around this long. Us girls don't just forget that kind of stuff.

So why are we so traumatized by this? Why do we keep the number on the scale such a well kept secret? Why does jean shopping send us into a deep state of depression?
Well, I'll tell you why.
We are programmed that way.

And I'm sick of it.

Who says the size of your jeans is directly related to how happy you are?
Since when did starving yourself become sexy?
Who determined this?

I have recently accepted the fact that I am never going to be 'skinny'. I will probably never be able to pull off skinny jeans and I will never squeeze into an 'xsmall'...well, anything.
I'm alright with this.

You see, I have come to the conclusion that the kind of people I want to surround myself with aren't going to be the type that care. The kind of guy I want to attract isn't going base his pursuit of me off of my BMI just like I am not going to determine my feelings by how 'ripped' he is or his capability of being a Hollister model. Come on now.

I would be lying if I said am completely past my self confidence troubles. I have so far to go. But I am proud of how far I have gotten and I feel so much more....content with myself. In fact, as I have embarked on this self accepting journey, I have not only grown stronger mentally but physically as well.

I realized that prior attempts to lose weight have been all about trying to impress people. Look good in my prom dress. Find a boyfriend.  Blahhh, blahh, blah. This time is different though. I have been working out because it makes me feel good.
Because my goal isn't 'skinny' anymore.
It's 'healthy'.

Every pound I lose is met with celebration, but also with a dose of reality. I have to remind myself to be constantly checking myself and my motives to losing the weight. I refuse to fall into the same state of mind I have so often been in before. The same that I have watched others be consumed by. That's no way to live.

So girls. If nothing else of this long and ranting post has stuck with you, please note this. Before you decide to lose weight, you need to accept yourself first. If you feel like you can't accept who you are if you hate what you see in the mirror, then you may be confused by who your 'self' is. She is living on the inside, ladies! You can bounce from a size 16 to a size 2 and you are still going to be the same person. Weight loss isn't going to fix that.

Alright, well this has gotten to be a lot longer than I anticipated. It's just been something that I have been thinking about a lot lately, and I feel like its a topic that can't be emphasized enough.

Have a glorious day :)

PS. I am going to the pool today. I am wearing a bikini. I only feel slightly terrified at this thought. :) This is progress people!!

I work at a fast food restaurant that closes at 10 o' clock.

10 o' clock sharp.

I really don't like it if people even come in after 9:30, so this evening when I heard the shrill sound of the door go off at 9:45 I was less than amused. I grumpily made my way to the counter and was preparing my best glare for the unsuspecting victim at the counter.

The first thing that came to my mind when I saw the character standing there was..."Luigi".

You know that little guy in Mario games? He wears a bright green shirt and overalls. Real adorable.

Anyway, the man standing there looked disturbingly like this video game personality. He exhibited a worn green t shirt with a picture of the Virgin Mary on the front, a red baseball cap, and a giant pair overalls that probably could have fit two of him in them.

I'm not kidding.

The kind of overalls that you see old farmers wear. However, they were spotlessly clean and he was wearing them with pride. As I got to the counter, he grinned at me.

Now, its hard for me to describe his face to you. It was a kind face. He had giant dark brown eyes that seemed to be smiling to match his grin. He had dark brown hair. A neatly trimmed beard. Straight teeth.

From the start, he baffled me. I tried to guess how old he was...and I still couldn't tell you. He was solidly built with broad shoulders and strong arms that gave him a youthful look. However, as he examined our menu his eyes crinkled up which aged him incredibly. I knew he wasn't terribly old, but he could have been thirty five or twenty one for all I knew.

I have a staring problem.

Finally he turned to me and exclaimed "I've never been here before! Can you help me?"

Being the outstanding employee that I am, I began rambling off some of the popular choices on our menu and he listened politely and made little comments about each suggestion. I began to like him more and more.

He had me laughing openly by the time he was done ordering. Every sentence that came out of his mouth was quirky and almost boyish. Each remark came without a second to prepare.

He had a low, rumbling laugh.

When I handed him his food, he tipped his hat at me and thanked me.

Then he was gone. Went out the back door, which means he must have walked there. I was sad to see him leave but I had a lot of work to do. As I began straightening up I noticed he had left $4.35 in change sitting on the counter. In fact, it hadn't even moved from where I had set it down.

This isn't the first time people have left change on the counter. It happens a lot, but this was different. My new friend just seemed....free. Not the type to be concerned about leaving five bucks on the counter. He certainly didn't look wealthy, but boy oh boy..was he rich in every other way. He was happy. Blissfully so. Giant overalls and all.

People walk into our lives, sometimes only for a brief amount of time, and fascinate us. I'm not saying I fell madly in love with this stranger or anything, that's not what I mean at all.

(Even though I am a little bit convinced that we might be soulmates.)

Sometimes only a couple of minutes of exposure to these types of people has the power to cure us. He was a breath of fresh air. A bizarre breath of fresh air with an atrocious taste in style, but I think that is why I liked him so much. He didn't care what I thought. He was just going to be himself.

So here is my challenge:

Be that type of person. Have the power to walk into a fast food joint and leave the people there with a smile on their faces. Awe them with your complete and utter freedom.

Conquer them over by causing them to laugh even though they probably don't want to be there.

Hey, they might even blog about you when they get home. :)

I am a wreck.
I don't say what I mean, and I don't always mean what I say.
I leap before I give myself time to even peer over the edge, let alone look.
I am silent when I should speak up and I fill the peaceful kind of silence with ramblings.

Be patient with me.

I am ungraceful.
I listen to strange music.
I change my mind at the last minute.
I step on the toes of those trying to lead me.

Dance with me.

I am loquacious.
I ask too many questions.
I struggle in my responses.
I don't always say the right things.

Talk to me.

I am a sap.
I get attached quickly.
I have unrealistic views on love.
I am a firm believer in fairytale endings.

Love me.

She was a mystery to the world.

A closed book. A well kept secret between tightly sealed lips. Her face held eyes that reflected every emotion that didn't have a name.

You know the kind I mean.

The way it feels when something makes you so completely and utterly happy that you feel a sense of dread fill your stomach. Is it because you're afraid you'll lose it? Or maybe you are feeling sorry for yourself because you don't get to experience this feeling as often as you would like.

So tears fill your eyes.

Or maybe the feeling that takes over when you love someone so much, so purely, that it hurts your eyes to look at them. It doesn't make sense--this..anger that you begin to feel towards them. Maybe we are angry because we know that all they have to do is leave and that will be the ruin of us. Or maybe we start to feel hatred towards the ones we love the most dearly because we know we had no choice in the matter. Love was shoved upon us like a weight we aren't prepared to bear.

We clench our hands into fists.

She held these emotions in her eyes. Uncomfortable, confusing feelings that we don't like to think about. So what do we do?

We dodge her gaze. We take an alternate path to our destination just to avoid those crystal blue eyes that make us squirm. Those eyes that reflect back what we need to examine more closely, but are scared to.

So she remains alone. Sits by herself at her lunch table. Never gets asked out on a date. Stays home on Prom night.

We are scared of what we don't understand, so we separate ourselves from those who confuse us. Put them in a box and swear we will get to them once we take care of what really matters. Safe, comfortable things that don't push us too hard. We fit in. We frown at those who stick out.

So she remains. Alone.

You and me
are like night and day.
Addition and subtraction.
Hot and cold.
Every cliche, polar opposite.

Then why is it,
that we are drawn to each other
like the positive and negative
sides of a magnet?
We are the needle
to each other's thread.
The echo that resounds
back to a shout.

Why is it that your
hand fits perfectly in mine?

We don't make sense.
We never will.

So let's stop trying understand.