You Must Know

Dear Sweet-Baby-Blog and All-Who-(Used-to)-Read-It:

It has come to my attention in my steroid-induced hypomania (a slight exaggeration, to be sure) that I have abandoned you once again.

Yes, yes, yes. I know, we've had this conversation several times before. You're surely as sick of it as I am, and I'm going to have this conversation with you regardless.

There's this pesky nuisance of a thing coming between you and me. This troublesome, life-changing, transformative journey known as graduate school.

I want you to know that I still care for you and think of you often. There are days I long to be with you - to write freely, to read freely, to leave annoyingly upbeat comments without a care in the world. Unfortunately, this isn't the time in my life for that.

For now, this is a time in my life when writing is taking a backseat. This isn't to say that I'm kicking it out of the car. I have so much I want to share about, so much to ponder. But this is a time when those thoughts, hopes, and desires take a backseat - just for a little bit.

If you must know, graduate school is going well. I no longer work at a homeless shelter and I am only working part-time at our school's counseling center. I am hoping to start to work with kids at a school soon, because Jesus knows I love kids and haven't worked with a single one. Cruel and unusual punishment, if you ask me.

You must also know that I will return. This is not that day, though, and that day may not come for another eight months and twenty-nine days. Not that I'm counting.

But that day will come. You must know that. Leave me if you wish, sweet-baby-blog and all-who-read-it. But I will return soon, and I hope you will as well.

With the highest regard and the deepest affection,

Your friend,

Adrian

What We Need

Today I begin client contact as a part of my journey toward becoming a therapist.

Pardon me.... I think I just threw up a bit as I typed that sentence.

I'm terrified. Petrified. Mortified. Stupified.

But I'm excited.

I've been in school for 18 years now. From kindergarten, all the way through the tail end of my first year of grad school, I've been working hard... all for this moment.

To interact with others in a way that is helpful. To talk with others in a way that is useful. To spend time with others in a way that is loving, edifying, and beneficial. I've worked toward this my entire adult life.

Will I fail? Possibly.
Will I be of any help? Maybe.
Will I mess up? Most certainly.

But does it matter? Is the fear of failure so powerful that we avoid helping others? Are our own egos so fragile that we cannot enter into relationship with those who are broken, giving of ourselves, our time, our emotional resources, and our lives?

What is stopping us?

The world needs love. Pure, unadulterated love. Love uncoerced, love unconstrained. And it needs it now. Today. Right here. In this very moment.

What's stopping us? What keeps us from moving? What keeps us staring at our screens, in the safety of their glow? What stops us from stepping out into the safety of the Light of Love?

Us. Ourselves. Me. You.

There is no other scapegoat but the face we see in the mirror.

Because when it comes down to it - when we really dig deep down inside, we notice something. Whether we wear a different color of skin, or were born into a better set of circumstances, deep down, we're all the same. We don't love others because we ourselves crave and long for love. We don't reach out because nobody has reached to us. We don't sacrifice because we've never seen it done before.

... or have we?

You see, over 2000 years ago, a man - God himself, at that - nullified our excuses. When Jesus sacrificed his life, he also sacrificed his ego, his status, his wealth, his career, his friends, his family, and the love he had already secured. He sacrificed the comfort of Galilee for the brutality of Calvary.

And yet here we are. Terrified. Petrified. Mortified. Stupified.

But why aren't we excited too?

My friends, it's not about what "the world" needs. Because frankly, we're in the world, and we look a lot like it. We need love as badly as our neighbor. Something tells me God had that in mind as he asked us to love others as ourselves.

Because without Love, we're all bankrupt. Empty. Destitute. Alone.

And that's what we fear. We fear that if we reach out, if we sacrifice ourselves in any small way to love others, we'll fall flat on our faces, and nobody will be there to pick us up. And you know what?

I feel the same way.

As I begin this internship, working both at a low-cost counseling center and a homeless shelter, I'm scared of being alone. Of no one understanding. Of no one caring.

And yet, here I am. Terrified. Petrified. Mortified. Stupified. But excited.

Because I know I will be alone at times - at least in appearance.

But I will rest assured that the very God who picked a lonely criminal to be in Paradise with him as he hung to his own death would be willing to do something so simple as to comfort me. To care for me. To pick me up when I fall, dust off my pants for me, and give me a gentle hug. The very God who received no love in his final dying breath will choose to love me so greatly, so powerfully, so deeply, so passionately... it's overwhelming.

Don't you think he wants to do the same for you?

It's not what the world needs.

It's what we all need.

And that is something to be excited about.

... ... ...

What stops you from pursuing others? What opportunities do you have to show love to those around you? How has God shown love to you lately?

The Uncertainty of Being Dory

They say the only thing that never changes in life is change itself.

Life twists, turns, ebbs, and flows as we wade through its currents. Sometimes we're swimming along, content as a clown-fish who has just been reunited with his son - we're thrilled to be like Marlin, from Finding Nemo. Other times, we wander aimlessly, unsure of who we are, where we're from, or where we're going - you could say we're a lot like Dory.

This, my friends, is one of those times when you could call me Dory.

It has been eight months since I last wrote here. That's 240 days. Something like a billion hours (give or take a few million - my math is a little shoddy). And with that time passed several moments in our lives that have radically shifted and shaped who we are today.

In the last eight months, I can't even begin to name all that has happened.

We moved. Again. I was placed as a student therapist at a homeless shelter. We began volunteering and falling in love with Young Life. I discovered the joy that is home-roasting my own coffee. I visited a casino for the first time. We took photos with several wonderful high school seniors and families. I had brain surgery.

And the list goes on.

In all of that change, I felt flustered at times - I wanted life to pause for a second. It's been moving so quickly lately - how am I supposed to enjoy it when I barely know which way is up?

And yet, one thing that has persistently been on my mind - why did I stop writing in that time? Was it because of me? Was it because of you, whoever you are? Was it because of my sickness? Or just because I stopped waking up at the buttcrack of dawn?

I don't have an answer for why I stopped writing. But it doesn't mean I stopped living. And I don't know that I'm "back," so to speak. But I'm here now, in this moment. And I'm enjoying it while I can. I'd like to enjoy it with you, despite all the crazy change that keeps occurring.

Why?

Because in these last eight months, I've learned that "they" are wrong. Change isn't the only constant. In fact, it may be the least important of any constant I can consider.

When I think of the craziness of these past months, and I remember learning to roast my own coffee, having brain surgery, and being placed as an intern at a homeless shelter, I don't remember change. I don't remember chaos. I don't remember the uncertainty of being Dory.

Instead of remembering change, I remember Love. 

When I learned to roast my own coffee, my wife watched with joy from and celebrated with me as I enjoyed my first cup of hand-crafted coffee.

As I was wheeled to the surgery room to be cut open from my head to my stomach, my family and friends were close by in spirit, even as many were no where near the hospital.

And as I discovered where I would be working as a student therapist, my new friends in class celebrated with me, even if I was a bit reluctant about it at first.

My friends, the last eight months haven't been perfect. They've been painful. They've been chaotic. They've been, at times, unbearable. But in all that pain, in all that chaos, and in all that change, I have discovered the one constant that has been there all along - and not just in the last eight months, but since the beginning of time.

So though I may feel like Dory today, unsure of who I am, where I am, or where I'm going, I know that Love has been by my side all along. I may have felt alone and desperate at times, and I may even feel that way today. But I know that change isn't my only companion; Love is close by - watching, waiting, beckoning.

Because without Love, this whole mess falls apart. Without Love, we lose purpose. And without Love, what more do we have than the cold chaos of change? Thankfully, whether we see it or not, whether we acknowledge its presence or try to sweep it under the rug, Love is with us.

And then again, it always has been, hasn't it?

... ... ...

You guys, the last 8 months have been insane. And I know I'm not the only one, so I'd love to hear from you. Leave me a line in the comments section so I can hear what's been going on in your life lately!

What has changed in your life in the last 8 months? What are some of the ups and downs you've experienced? Where have you seen Love?

image credit: Dory