I'm reminded of how fleeting life is. Especially after hearing about a dear friend's friend, a wife and mother, who died this weekend. And as I watch from across the ocean as a dear friend to our family is intensely battling terminal cancer. Sometimes it's too much. The morbid reality that we'll all die, sometime, somehow. That everyone we love and every person we interact with will also die.

I initially have the tendency to want to withdraw when I think about it, to give people less. I think it's mostly out of self-preservation, really. But then I also have the thought of wanting to give my life away more if it's so fleeting. To offer people more of myself, to love more deeply. The confrontation with death makes me scared to not live or love enough.

Several years ago after experiencing the deaths of friends, I became incredibly frustrated at the state of my life; that I couldn't manage to be alive enough. I couldn't experience things as fully as I wanted to, or enjoy something deeply enough, or purely love someone, or feel free from expectations from myself and others. I had the feeling of being trapped. I felt that death wasn't natural, and that a full life was somehow possible but I for some reason was incapable of having it. It's beautiful, though incredibly painful, that death causes us to consider the reality of our own lives. Are we really alive...fully?

There's of course a lot more I feel I could say. And as I continue to be confronted with death, I still have the experience of aching to fully live. But I have hope now. I have hope that the god i put my faith into has offered full life to me, that it's available. Now I just hope that in every interaction with someone, in every minute of my day I continue to choose life.

¹⁶ And I command you today: Love God, your God. Walk in his ways. Keep his commandments, regulations, and rules so that you will live, really live, live exuberantly, blessed by God, your God, in the land you are about to enter and possess.

^17-18 But I warn you: If you have a change of heart, refuse to listen obediently, and willfully go off to serve and worship other gods, you will most certainly die. You won't last long in the land that you are crossing the Jordan to enter and possess.

^19-20 I call Heaven and Earth to witness against you today: I place before you Life and Death, Blessing and Curse. Choose life so that you and your children will live. And love God, your God, listening obediently to him, firmly embracing him. Oh yes, he is life itself, a long life settled on the soil that God, your God, promised to give your ancestors, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.

Sufjan Stevens is both an indie music god, and the man of my dreams (well, probably not but he does seem equally talented, nice, and a bit strange...which I like). He'd supposedly dropped music for writing recently, which has proved to be a big joke considering he's been doing a small tour and has an album coming out next Tuesday. Anyways, I forgot how great he is until I spotted Avalanche at the library today on the shelf of CDs to be put away and remembered! Here's a taste.

Everything is lost--uh oh!

Still I know that you can take it to the Lord

(All that he has given to the world)

I visited the IND of the Netherlands today. After leaving the office I made use of my train transfer at Schiphol to drink starbucks, enjoy the brilliance of airports and just be for a little bit. The appointment was easy enough really. And my last minute passport photo at Centraal met the strict requirements, luckily. At the end of the meeting the sweet woman helping me explained the new sticker in my passport, and finished by pointing out that the year of its validity begins TODAY. Meaning in one year from 13 October, I better be leaving. It's strange to have such a temporary mindset. Or, rather a temporary life and the prayer that my mindset is much different.

It's interesting to think in terms of having one year in Amsterdam. And having absolutely no idea what's in store, or hardly the ability to process what I want to be in store. I feel this year and the past are precious years, and vital in forming who I'm to become. This past year has changed my heart and mind (though I suppose change is not correct, but challenged and pressed and grew) in less tangible ways than new habits or hobbies. But I feel it's been incredibly more valuable than those things we see and touch and typically measure how we're changing and developing as people.

I've grown in awareness of myself in a way that has allowed me to see and confront issues of my heart and soul more deeply than before. Which has been both painful and good.

I've also expanded my perception of friendship to include people so unlike myself and found a fullness and joy that I hadn't experienced before. This has proven to not only be the less comfortable choice, but also the one that challenges our own motives of love and friendship; making me at times come to terms with how self-seeking I can be. Again, both painful and good.

I've also discussed Jesus with people that really don't care. The spectrum is great. Some people don't care because they're apathetic (which is sometimes appealing, really) and others feel they've grown past any need for a savior or faith for a God. But I've discovered that somehow Jesus has something for all of us no matter our philosophical or theological views on life and society. I've been reminded that he redeems people in order to redeem the world, and truly loves us regardless of how sure we are of his existence.

At times I feel like my life has unfolded during my year (and will probably say years next year at this time) in Amsterdam. Growth is scary in a way. But I do have hope that in whatever ways growth creates mess, however painful it is, it is very very good.

And, anyways, I hope for more this next year.

Do you ever have days (or, lifetimes) where everything seems utterly hopeless? I do. Not right at this moment, but the other day was one of those. I mean, has there ever been an initiative or revolution or policy that's truly bettered the position of mankind? Okay, I take that back. Considering as writing it I thought of several (notably non-violent movements like the US civil rights, the Indian independence movement, etc). But not nearly enough as you'd hope for!

It's a lot to think about (or worry about) and have hope for (and also the compassion). In our own small worlds alone we're surrounded by people who have tremendous need for love and healing. And then if you consider our neighborhoods, churches, cities, and the world. I, and I imagine most of you, don't want to be someone that knows about violence in inner cities all over the world, but separates myself from it to pretend it isn't there. Or who hears about war and starvation and decides to read the news less to avoid any sort of responsibility. But sometimes it just feels like too much.

We're contaminating our earth and our bodies, we are incapable of moving past violent wars in order to solve conflict, the gap between the wealthy and poor continues to grow, women continue to earn less than men and have less rights globally, people groups are constantly becoming the source of marginalization (if it's not for color it's because of religion, or ethnicity, or social economic standing). And even more, somehow it all connects. It's all cyclical. Which makes any sort of light extremely dim.

In all honesty, how do people have faith that it can get better? Especially when I can barely think past myself on most days. There could have been a lot of answers to our mess, but Jesus was such a good one. God was brilliant again and sent a Savior to redeem it all. If it wasn't for that victory, I don't think I could find strength to hope for anything more than the reality of today. How could I? The mess inside me alone needs a whole lot of redemption.

I realized several years ago that I'm terrified to create. Anything, really. It can be art, or writing, or music, or schoolwork, or new initiatives. I feel sick just thinking about being the main creative element in anything. I'm okay with having ideas and smartly passing them onto someone else, but having to bear the responsibility of the expression and responses of others is something I'd rather do without.

I felt sad at this discovery (as I love both art and academia), but accepted that perhaps I'm not cut out for it. Years later though, and after being convinced ceaselessly that we were all created to be creators, I have hope that I can have a place in it all. I feel convinced that it's not the Lord's choosing for me to be unable to create while others have all the fun, but instead my aversion to the vulnerability required to do so.

Creating is truly vulnerable. You put something out there, which often requires much of your heart and deep expression of you as a person, and it somehow affects the world and people around you. Even more, in whichever way you express yourself, the moment it's created it's no longer just yours, and everyone else can have their input. Yes, I have fear of criticism and rejection, which I like to assume most other humans do as well, but even positive recognition is a bit terrifying. I think positive interest is more appealing than negative (obviously, perhaps), but I'd prefer no one to take an interest at all. There's safety in being just another person in a crowd. Which very likely is one reason I can never get a haircut that's too over the top. Or even the thought of a guy sending me flowers is enough to make me sick.

So, aversion to vulnerability. I have an idea where this stems from, but feel that 24 years of never taking risks to move out of it has only made it that much more difficult. But regardless, I feel hopeful. I think for the first time, overcoming what's seemed just part of my person actually appears possible. I feel promise that the Lord desires me to be vulnerable and to create and to express and to recreate along with him. Even that he wants me to love and receive love along with him as well. It's not so terrifying when you realize it's not a matter of empty attempts on your own, but that you have the creator of the universe on your side. I feel like the ability to be vulnerable will bring my soul to life even more, which thankfully is our Lord's expertise.

It's a messy life. And somehow never gets completely tidy...but it's wonderful to know Jesus makes good of it all.