To Wonder or Wander

Wander: walk or move in an aimless way
Wonder: feeling of surprise and admiration, caused by something beautiful and unexpected

 I never cognitively realized wonder and wander as two different words... in my journey, so often wandering has led to wonder. What currently feels like a pointless, hopeless, never-ending journey has sparks of beauty and hope along the way, reminding me the purpose and love behind my choices and life. The wanderings continue to show me wonder.

Tonight, my mind wanders and I have yet to find the wonder. But its coming, I know it is. Somewhere in my anxious mind, beauty is seeking a way out. it wants me to let go and let it shine, but I'm so afraid of the judgement and loss that may come. I don't want to hear the criticism of the beauty, the love showing me the way to living. I am afraid of the pain before the emerging, the anxiety and shakiness, confusion and unsettling. Its the deep down, when I have nothing left to fight, that beauty can come out. When I find myself, stripped of my own defenses, relying on Him who was there the whole time.

Don't get me wrong. Coping skills are good. I firmly believe God gave me tools to be able to take care of myself at times, to take responsibility in my wandering. Yet it cannot replace Him or gave them to me... Just as the gift is not meant to replace the giver, God's wisdom is not meant to replace Him who gave it to me. Yet I let my coping skills replace the love and wonder of Christ, to rely on them instead of relying on Him. These gifts I'm given are meant to point back to the giver, to remind me of Him and his love.

Before writing, I'd tried eating and sleeping. I'd taken my medicine and cleaned, did some homework and took a shower. Yet nothing removed the wandering in my heart. I was scared... my repertoire was nearly empty, my arrows spent... but I was still wandering into darkness. My mind wouldn't settle. My skin itchy, my body moving... to sit and settle felt like defeat.  My stubborn heart was avoiding Him... yet I took a step. Pandora, with Bethel Music Arts, would be a reminder my spirit could follow. And then this blog was born...

I have a previous blog, Zephaniah 3:17. I haven't written in a year, almost to the date. I guess I had lost the motivation to write, and my musings seem worthless. Its definitely a different purpose... my wanders there more hopeful, based on my missionary events and the wonders God was showing me. I hoped to cause others to think, I actively pursued hope by showing my questions and revealing the answers I was given.

But I don't have answers anymore.

This is for me. If you stubble across it, enjoy the wanders and wonders of an anxious mind trying to make sense of herself and the world. But this isn't for you. Or an audience. It's a place to write, to type, to get my thoughts out... but provide a way for God to use my wandering for good, too. Because you may feel alone, and in my thoughts, find someone who struggles. Who reminds you you aren't crazy and you aren't alone.

It's definitely less pressure on me. I'm not stressing over the formatting, my sentence structure, or the flow of my thoughts... I can just write. Whatever comes to mind, it doesn't have to make sense and I don't have to stay on topic. Eventually, the thoughts crashing and wrecking havoc and confusion in my brain will be put into sentences, to make sense... and out of my head.

Tonight's stressor deals with a different type of wandering... the academic world of having multiple homes, as I travel between my dad's and college. Trying to make a home in two places, always longing one over the other, but having to spend time in both. I've been at dad's a week... I still consider it my true home. My people are here... the one's I can hang out all night with, where I don't have to strategically consider my every move and the interpretation of others. Yet home was a stress... there wasn't enough time to see everyone I wanted to see, to spend time with my dad and my best friend as much as I wanted to... even now, I'm trying to figure out how to spend the last few hours I have at home, because I want to spend time with everyone in those last moments. I'm hurt and frustrated because I had people who told me they wanted to hang out, so I said to let me know when they were free... but they never got a hold of me. I shouldn't be hurt.. life gets busy, people get forgotten, especially when I've been gone. But I acknowledge the hurt, as silly as it may be... because that's how it gets the treatment it needs. When we ignore the problem, we don't seek to solve it, to fix it... to treat it. So I acknowledge it, and in this, can seek a way to move past it and not let the circumstances sway how I view myself... as much as I want to tell myself how worthless and unloved I am, because of how it seems to be, I can overcome with the truth.

Through worship, the coping skills, time, and journaling... I think this anxious mind has settled for the night. Settling upon the wonder of the written word and the even better healer of sleep, the wanderer has found a pillow for the night. Thanks for the ramblings... and remember to love your beautiful self.