The Trains

"I had a dream.

In my dream, I was at a train station. There were two sets of tracks, stretching away from each other until they disappeared in the distance. I was standing on a simple wooden platform beside the tracks. A throng of people were pressed together, waiting. Between the steps that led to the two trains stood a man in white with the most welcoming, joyful smile. The people pressed towards him. Some of them wept silently, tears of joy streaking down their cheeks as they reached for his hands. Some of them shrieked excitedly, and leaped to embrace him. Some of them knelt and kissed his feet. He knew the name of each one who approached him, and threw his arms around them, kissing them, and laughing uproariously. He took their right hands, and put a beautiful ring on their fingers. He gave them a dazzling white robe to wear, and sent them to board the train on his right.

But many of the others slunk by him without saying a word. They silently boarded the train to his left. They did not weep, but their faces were a mask of terrified regret and sadness as they boarded the train, and never looked back.

One man boldly approached the man in white. He crossed his arms, and demanded. "I belong on that train," and nodded toward the train on the right. The man in white looked at him, and said, "I do not know you."
The man's face got red, and he angrily thrust out his right hand, showing off a garish ring. "Look, I even have a ring. Now let me on!"

Nobody breathed. The man in white looked at him, and his face was stern. "I never knew you. Depart from me."

The man opened his mouth, and shouted, but no sound came out. His feet turned abruptly, and marched him toward the other train. He disappeared into it, mouthing angry protests.

The man in white turned back to his work, and the angry man was forgotten.

It must have been a long time, but seemed only a moment, and the tiny station was empty. I stood there alone with the man in white. He smiled at me, and nodded towards the train on his right. I followed him into the train.

There was only one car, and inside it were millions and millions of people. I could never have counted them all. They stretched on forever, and at the same time, everyone was near the front, where they could see and speak to the man in white. He sat down in the conductor's seat, and shouted out with a laugh, "All aboard!" and started the train.

As we pulled away from the station, singing, laughing, and shouting. I caught a glimpse of the other train, dark, silent and miserable, pulling away from us in the opposite direction. I looked ahead of us, and saw the tracks rising sharply, like a roller-coaster. I cried out, "Please, I'm afraid!"

The man in white turned and winked at me, "No you're not." he said.

And I wasn't."

The End

Unlike many of my short stories, this really was a dream. It was a beautiful, and somber dream. I woke up crying and really happy. So I wanted to share it.

I Like Who I Am

I do.

I am kind.

I am loving.

I am compassionate.

I cry a lot. For others and for myself.

I feel things deeply - I've always thought that my emotional scale was much wider than everybody else.

I am funny. I love humor. Not unkind, cutting humor, but wit, spark and the just plain sillies.

I smile and laugh a lot.

I have a hard time being serious, even when I ought to be. There's always a part of me that wants to giggle.

I am smart.

I work hard.

I think about things - a lot.

Sometimes, things bother me - a lot - but I keep thinking.

I don't really care about the global situation - I don't feel like I have any control over that, and I just end up worrying. But I care about my neighbor. And that lady on the street. And two kids in Africa. And my family.

I am tall.

I have blue eyes.

My nose wrinkles when I smile.

I am fat. And more days now, I'm okay with that. The people who love me, love me and my body. I could have a sculpted, thin body, but I don't want to pay the price for one. For me, it would cost my self-worth, my relationships, and my focus on who I am in Christ. So I choose to accept my body as-is.

I love food.

I have bad eating habits. I'm working on changing that. And that's good.

I am creative.

I am artistic.

I have grandios, gigantic, over-the-top, Broadway ideas.

I like to write.

I love cats.

I like to cook.

I'm generous.

I'm hospitable.

I'm not very good with money. I'm working on that too.

I play the piano very well.

I sing beautifully.

I like people.

I have a distinct sense of style.

I like my long hair.

I am not very tidy.

It's hard for me to be organized.

I procrastinate.

I love video games!

I don't like scary things.

I love reading.

I like being read to.

I don't know how to dance, but I love to do it.

Thunderstorms frighten me. Bridges frighten me. Lots of things frighten me. But I don't let that stop me.

I am brave.

I am persistent.

I fight for what is right.

I am wise.

I am learning when to keep my mouth shut, and what to say when I open it.

I like myself.

I think I'm pretty cool.

Jesus does too. In fact, He's the one that taught me that I'm pretty cool.

Because He thinks I'm to die for.

Thinking About Weddings & Marriage

I am attending a wedding today. Along with that, I've been watching David Tutera's My Fair Wedding, and it's not inaccurate to say I've been thinking a lot about weddings. For me, that also involves thinking about marriage.

Growing up, I always thought that I would be married around 22 (the same age my mom was), and be popping out babies, and supporting my husband in whatever he did.

I just want to say a quick "THANK YOU, JESUS!" for knowing my best, and not choosing to saddle some poor man with that old me, who didn't even know she could be a person in her own right, and didn't know that she had something special to contribute to the world.

As I've gotten older, and - thankfully! - wiser, my concept of marriage has changed. As I've experienced real relationships, and walked through dark times with people, my concept of relationship has changed.

I no longer see marriage as a 1950's sitcom, where I maintain a spotless house, raise two clean, perfect children, and selflessly and endlessly support my husband in whatever he does. (Don't get mad at me yet, wait for me to explain!)

I no longer view relationship as a one-sided affair of giving to others, ignoring my own needs, and always being "the strong one."

When I used to think about marriage and any other relationship, it was from a point of emotional bankruptcy, and a confused concept of who I was as a person. I was completely empty of love - I loved others, but I could not accept love from others, and frankly, I thought I was worthless.

I didn't approach the idea of "supporting my husband" from the view of "We are two strong people, partnering together to change the world," but from the view of "I have nothing to offer, except trying to make this person a little comfortable so he can do his job."

Do you see how ill that is?

Thanks to the relationships I have had in my life, my best friends, my pastor, my counselors (both professional and simply "wise elders"), I have come so, so, SO far.

When I think of marriage now, and who to marry, I am looking for someone I can partner with to change the world. I am looking for someone who complements my strengths, and vice versa. I'm not looking for a knight in shining armor to sweep me off my feet, I'm looking for another soldier in the same army, who's charging in the same direction!

I had an opportunity to get married, once. I was in a relationship with a guy, and it was not a good or healthy relationship. But how could it be? I was not a healthy person, and I had never experienced a good and healthy relationship of any kind.

I am so grateful that the good Lord in His wisdom spared me from marrying that person. (I'm sure he's grateful too!)

It broke my heart - please do not make any mistake about that. It killed me inside to break up with this person, to say, "I understand now that this is not right, and I have to choose Jesus." Right after that break up, I didn't want Jesus. I couldn't understand how He could "let this happen to me" if He loved me.

But out of that brokenness and emotional death, God brought into my life people who would live out a healthy relationship with me. People who actively loved me unconditionally, people who were determined to fill my crippled, empty soul with love, people who refused to stop showing me "You! Are! Loved!" until I listened.

God, through them, showed me that my perception of relationships was wrong. God, through them, showed me that my perceptions of myself was wrong.

I am not worthless. I am amazing, and I have so, so much to offer the world, it's staggering. There is no need for me to hide behind someone else, "supporting" them. No, I am called to be up front, with them, working together.

Relationship isn't about me being "the strong one" and not having any needs! Relationship is about growing each other toward Christ, demonstrating Christ to each other, and practicing Christ daily.

Because we are both practicing Christ, I serve their needs, and they serve mine. Sometimes, we are the Samaritan, and sometimes we're the beaten up guy in the road. Sometimes we're both at the same time! But the purpose is always Christ in me, growing in me, shining out through me, and being practiced through our relationship.

 I am so blessed to have not one, but two relationships like this. I'm not saying "We're always perfect with each other!" No. No, not at all. But we are practicing Christ. We fail, we forgive, we try again. We get angry, we work it out, we try again. We communicate, we get confused, we understand, we try again

Seeing a pattern? Practicing something doesn't mean you're already good at it. It means you're practicing to get better. Practicing means you don't give up, you don't stop, you keep trying until for one glorious moment, you get it right! And the world explodes in beauty and joy as love pours from you and into you, and all is right with the world.

Then you make a joke that's not funny, or you forget to take out the trash, and you get to try again.

THAT is what I'm looking for in a marriage partner. Someone to partner with, to practice Christ with, and someone who will always, always, try again.

A Choice and a Voice

This morning, I found myself lying in bed contemplating jumping off the high dive this year on PE fun day.

I'm sure those of you who know me are as flabbergasted as I am.

In my younger years, I climbed up to the high dive, trembling in line, at least once every year on PE fun day, only to find myself ashamedly muttering "excuse me, excuse me," and sliding down the stairs.

It was not until late high school that I finally realized I didn't have to jump off the high dive if I didn't want to.

What a wonderfully freeing thought! I didn't have to "prove" my courage to anyone, I didn't have to climb those stairs, and face that terrifying ledge if I didn't want to.

I haven't thought twice about leaping off the high dive since. Until this morning.

I had just finished Lisa Harper's book, Overextended and Loving Most of It. It ends with a scene where a dad and son both take a leap of faith off a cliff into water. She challenges us to live like that - taking chances.

That's how I found myself considering the high dive.

Obviously, I'm not saying that jumping from the high dive is going to make me "level up" in my faith, or move me closer to Jesus. But I do wonder if my new levels of freedom from anxiety and fear could handle me making that leap of faith.

Which brings me to my point: the importance of a choice and a voice.

Relationship where you do not have a choice or a voice is not relationship, it is terrorism and tyranny.

While it is not obvious in the small scale, when viewed large-scale, this is painfully apparent.

For example, if someone suddenly burst into my room with a pistol, and shouted at me to come outside, I would - rightly so - feel frightened! Why? Because I, my safety, my autonomy, and my feelings are obviously of so little value to this person. I don't matter.

When we are consistently deprived of having a choice and a voice, even if it's in small things, like what to wear, what to read, where to go, entertainment preferences, how to spend our time, the message we receive is I don't matter, and this is crippling.

If I don't matter the world is necessarily a frightening place, because nobody will look out for me, except myself. If I don't matter, I am not loved, because you can't love something that doesn't matter. If I don't matter, I have to work really hard to always be pleasing, or I'll be abandoned.

This perception of myself twisted and distorted my view of God. I believed I don't matter more than I believed God loves me. He has brought me to a new understanding of myself though, I do matter. As I replaced that internalized lie with the truth, I began to learn that I had choices in life. God didn't want me to be miserable (Yes, I honestly believed that serving God = you MUST be miserable)! I could make wise choices about serving Him that also brought me joy.

I learned that I could tell Him, "I want this, or that" without feeling guilty about voicing my desires, and knowing that my wants went into His consideration for my best.

As I learned that I matter, I also began to work through my fears and anxieties. Since I matter, other people are looking out for my best interest. Other people care about what happen to me. God cares about what happens to me. Since I'm not alone in the world, the world is not as scary.

I have a choice about what to do, what not to do. I have a choice about what to wear, and what not to wear. I have a voice in decisions about me, ranging from big life decisions to what movie we'll watch on netflix.


Which brings me back to the high dive. I might just choose to jump off it, just to see for myself how much fear has been conquered in my life.

On the other hand, I might not.

It's my choice.