Father's Day Is Not Today

But I have loads to update so this day will suffice as the day to talk about my FD. Also, I need to be consistently adding posts on a weekly basis so I stop making posts like this one. It also means this post may be excessively long. My bad.

Let’s recap: Father's Day was on June 17. My father made FD very interesting…

Before I continue, let me preface this by saying my parents and I have not been on the same page for the past three to four years. Because I do not wish to gripe, let me condense it down to this: they had a plan for my life different than one the Lord intended I have, and His plan was one I was actually willing to follow. This led to many fights, to feelings of me being less than, to my heart becoming extremely hardened toward them as I felt our strained relationship was my fault, but still yo-yoing being wanting to pull away to protect myself and feeling guilty for pulling away.

A couple of months ago, another fight broke out between my mother, myself, and even my sister. I felt like a piñata and they each held a stick whacking away at me with their blindfolds off. I told them this was the last time they’d see me, hoping it would stir remorse in their hearts for hurting my feelings. It didn’t. My promise did not hold up since my sister graduated two weeks ago, so I eventually saw them again.

Back to the present - I did NOT want to call my dad. I had talked with Jason about this, hoping something would direct me. He told me to pray about it. I prayed. Briefly. Not delved in to it as I ought to for I was afraid of God telling me to call my dad anyway regardless of our history, regardless of my past hurt, and regardless of any snide remarks he might say to me. I even told myself, “Oh no, he’ll be hearing from one less daughter this year.” I grew weak as Father’s Day approached. Thoughts of my father as a lost person who exhibits no personal relationship with the Lord, wondering what life is all about crept in my head. My father, whose idea of success is about the number of zeros between the 1 and the period on a paycheck.

My heart softened a bit, enough to text my sister to find out my Dad’s phone number. (His number changed sometime back and I never got around to asking him what it was. I’m sure that was sometime at the end of last year.) I found out he was in Texas and will probably be there for most of the year for a job. This fact I was thankful for because I was afraid of physically being at my parents’ house. When I called him, he seemed overjoyed. Actually, more surprised than overjoyed.  No, surprised then/and overjoyed. However, I kept my guard up, preparing myself for any jabs he might take, but none came. He even told me how much he appreciated my calling him, that it meant quite a lot for me to call him and encouraged me to shoot him a text whenever I can, too.

Weird.

Who was this man? It sounded like my father, but didn’t act like him. Was this a joke? Would this version of him last?

I have no idea what to make of that conversation. The Lord may be softening my father’s heart to Him by using me. I pray that He does and I may be used for His Glory. But how do I also protect myself from being used as punching bag? Is that even possible? I have not texted or called my dad or mom since FD because I have become a master of absence and avoidance in my relationships with them.

So please, pray for my heart. I am stubborn. My heart is hard. I am afraid.

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There is more stuff to add later of the past week. I plan on posting them by the end of this week. We’ll see how that goes. Until then -

Blessings,

Q

Psalm 27

Since November of last year, I was working two jobs: mornings at the Bellevue Lucky Brand Jeans and evenings at the Covington Applebee's. With both jobs, I worked full-time or a little over - not counting the time it took driving - and had maybe one and a half days off every week. LBJ was my second job and kept it after the holidays only for the amazing employee discount. It felt nice to look good while spending less that I normally would. As months progressed, my pursuit of a writing career was a bit strained. Instead of using the few mornings I wasn't at LBJ to hit up Craigslist or Indeed, I slept in until a couple of hours before I had to leave for Applebee's. Or if I was up early, I would spend that time getting myself sucked into Facebook, Twitter, Wordpress, Blogger, Google, or watching court shows, talk shows, fashion shows, or whatever instead.

To be clear, I wasn't a complete bum. I started off pretty motivated and applied to a handful of places, but with every unanswered application, I was discouraged -  

Was my resume that bad? Did I not edit my cover letter thoroughly?

Then it turned in to doubt -

Maybe I am a horrible writer. Maybe this isn't where the Lord is directing me. Am I even qualified for anything?

I began to give up and sat in front of the TV watching every silly TV show on my Netflix queue. I would talk with Jason about how difficult it had been looking for jobs. At first he sympathized, but our talks turned into nightly bitch fests about how much I began to resent both jobs, what some rude customer said to me and how I responded in unloving and unforgiving ways. My husband grew deadpan with every story I filled with vulgarity and malice, and I began to resent him for not feeling angry with me. I thought, He works in Renton! He should understand ghetto!

But I heard myself becoming someone I did not want to be. Someone that was not for Christ nor the loving wife to my husband.

But how do I stop? I was so unhappy and didn't want to drop a job impulsively. There was a tug on my heart to leave LBJ, but even if I quit, what did that guarantee besides making less money? I wanted something to happen, but what did I need to do?

"Wait for the Lord;
be strong, and let your heart take courage;
wait for the Lord!"

Psalms 27:14

This verse hit me during the Mother's Day sermon. I had to wait for there is absolutely nothing else I can do besides wait for the Lord to reveal His plan. Maybe I need to say this again to myself: I had to wait. Since November, my life hardly stood still, and I kept asking myself: what do I do while waiting? Yet another question that involved me needing to compensate for the time I felt I was wasting. To move my life forward, faster toward my desired destination.

Rereading this verse, I question whether it was me who was waiting for the Lord or was it He who was waiting for me to stop getting in His way. Was He waiting for me to arrive at the place He needed me to be to understand that my life is not run by me, but by Him? That His plans and my plans are not the same? That my need to control everything in my life is futile when He will unfailingly show time and time again He is God and sovereign over all?

It was put upon my heart to run to God's people for help during this time. To meditate on His Word and serve His people. So I signed up for Children's Ministry at church and joined a Ladies' Breakfast Book Study for every other Saturday. I still feel a great need to control my life, but for the moment, most of the anxiety and stress has left my heart and I continually pray to understand what it looks to follow God's will. None of this is to say I  will never feel anxiety about my future again, but I am saying that right now, God is transforming me to be more like Jesus. He is encouraging me to pursue Him and His people in faith without knowing what is in store for my future. I feel like my eyes are shut and I'm being led by a friend whom I love and trust, but still question if I'll be led into a wall and break my nose or find myself ankle-deep in a muddy puddle. 

It's been a couple of weeks since God has revealed this truth to me and God opened an opportunity to serve on the Communications team at church. Amazing news and I am excited for glorifying God in my writing. For the mean time, I pray to be strong and take courage and wait for the Lord to reveal what He has in store.

Blessings,
Q.

I Left My Heart in West Seattle

For the past month or so, Jason has been on a real kick to look at houses. We currently rent the bottom half of a house from a great Christian family in Kent for an incredible price without paying for utilities and other petty bills. However, with the market the way it is, it seems like a great idea to buy now while prices are still low. So I'll find my husband on RedFin 'till 5, 6, 7, 8 in the morning looking at houses. He was looking at places like Ravensdale, Covington, Black Diamond, Maple Valley, etc (For those not native to WA, these are places in the middle of nowhere, but offer more land for your money.) At first, I was on board. We work hard for our money and if we can get an awesome deal for a house that needs a bit of fixing up, I'm down for that.

Then as we were heading to our weekly church group, as I was sitting in the backseat keeping two homemade fruit pies from spilling on the seats, my husband says: "If we move out to the sticks, we'll have to look for another church." That might not mean much to you readers, but my heart hit my butt. The group we're a part of I've known for a few years now. During our tribulation of pursuing marriage, my group has been there offering advice, their homes, a helping hand. These handful of people in West Seattle are my family. Water was swelling up behind my lids and I blinked a thousand times to keep them from shedding. I was mostly quiet for the rest of the car ride only offering a sentence or two to my husband about how much it would suck to leave West Seattle. He was sympathetic and extended his hand out as far as he could to hold mine while driving. But it was only a week later he expressed how it would also be hard for him to move farvaway from our church, our family and friends, and to start over, so his house search extended to West Seattle all the way down to Burien(ish).

But there was question that kept glaring at us: were we idolizing comfort? Are we, especially myself, afraid of moving to another place because we know the people here so well? Are we afraid of change and what God may have for us at another place, at another church? Possibly. Before moving back home to Seattle, I was in Bellingham for school for 5 years. My transition from school back to Seattle was pretty easy because I was returning to familiar places and people. Nothing like moving to some place in the middle of the sticks where we know no one. With that, I ask you to please pray for us that we may follow God's will and not our own and to remember that His plan is waay better than one we envision for ourselves.

Also, I have felt a strong tug at my heart to serve at my church. We've been at Mars Hill - West Seattle for sometime, but I've only been permanently here for a year now and it was only 2 weeks ago I felt convicted to serve. Between my husband and I, we work 4 jobs, so free time is scarce, but I'm realizing the growth of a church depends on those who put enough hours to it, and MHC is growing fast. And I want to be a part of that. Tomorrow night, I'm going to a meeting to hopefully dive into serving and I am pretty stoked.

Well, I think I've rambled long enough. Plus, I think this coffee shop will close in a bit.

Blessings,
queennie

Practicing Transparency

It is no easy task for me, and I'm sure for many others, to be open and honest about themselves. Even with the few close friends I've known for the past couple of years, I've only recently felt comfortable talking about things I would otherwise disclose to just my husband, my longest friend, Teri, and God. But it has been tugging at my heart to exercise honesty and openness to someday overcome this fear I have of looking stupid or silly.

Lately, I've been enjoying posting on my humor blog, Things That Make Me Laugh, and thought "what about making a more personal blog?" I love writing and can articulate myself well enough when a backspace is involved, thus life was made.

So this is attempt #1. It's short and kinda lame, but I work in an hour and I want to nap before I spend the rest of the evening on my feet 'til midnight or one. So I shall say goodbye and until next time!

Blessings,
queennie