Spiritual Sweet Tooth

                Yesterday Morning, I woke up, still battling a cold, and with the strong conviction that I wasn't going to church that morning.  I easily justified it to myself, I was sick, I needed to rest, and I was still planning on going to church that night; so surely I could miss just one Sunday morning.  Something wasn't right though.  For someone who was going to sleep in and rest, I woke up ridiculously early.  So, I delved into the word.  Looking back, I suppose it was a little absurd to think I could meet with God and feel encouraged to take a day away from my church family. As the hours ticked by, my mind was literally at war with my body.  My head saying, “oh you’re going, you know you’re going”; my body saying, “You’re actually never moving again.”  But as my parents were walking out of the house, my mom asked if I was going to make it, and my mouth said yes.

                In the midst of these internal struggles, it’s not always easy to discern what is coming from where.  But usually as time passes we get perspective and see the Holy Spirit at work.  It took precisely 30 seconds into the sermon before I “found clarity”.  This was the Sunday we celebrated the Joy of Advent.  I cannot tell you how little joy has been in my heart lately.  I fight hard for what I have and then it is gone in a breath.  As I top the highest mountain, I trip over my own feet and tumble to the bottom of the lowest valley.  Life is just like this right?   It’s just the normal battle between our flesh and spirit!  That’s true in part.  Sin is like the mythical Hydra; for every head we cut off, seven more grow back.  God is continuously working in our hearts.  “And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ” Philippians 1:6.  That Last part says, “at the day of Jesus Christ”, this means we won’t be complete until this life is over and we stand at the final judgment.

                We are in a constant battle against our sinful nature until death.  But that doesn't mean that our joy can fluctuate with every high and low. Joy, should be static, unchanging, because it is founded on an unchanging God.  There are several definitions of Joy, the first two, as nouns, base it on happiness. Joy is a, “Feeling of great happiness or pleasure, especially of an elevated or spiritual kind” or, “A pleasurable aspect of something or source of happiness.” But another definition, the verb, means “to delight in something.”

                So if I am seeking joy based on the first two definitions, I will be joyful while the things in my life are going as planned.  And unless you are an infant, you should be acquainted with the fact that is only about 15% of life. So by this rule I will only have happiness about 15% of my life; maybe 20% if “luck” favors me. That means 85% of my life will be lived in despair. I’m sorry, but that’s not enticing nor is it how I am called to live.  God has called me into a life (meaning 100%) of JOY. 

“More than that, we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us” Romans 5:3-5. 

“Rejoice always; pray without ceasing, give thanks in ALL circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you” 1 Thessalonians 5:18

“Count it ALL joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing” James 1:2-4.

                So not just when I’m having a good day, but when I’m sick, hurting, and lonely.  This isn’t how my life looks.  I can fully experience the full spectrum of human emotion in one day, and it is exhausting.  Timothy Keller speaks to misplaced Joy.

                “Your mother used to say, ‘don’t eat that candy before meals. It will ruin your appetite. The trouble with eating candy is it gives you a sugar buzz and masks the fact that your body needs stuff you don’t have. Sex, and money and power and success, favorable circumstances are spiritual sugar. What happens to Christians is you say ‘Oh I believe in God and I know I’m going to heaven…’ but you actually base your day to day joy and happiness on circumstances and when they go away it drives you into God, because when the sugar goes away, when the candy goes away you’re forced to go after the feast your soul really needs. When things go bad it drives you into God and you develop a poise, a power, a strong kind of joy that never goes away regardless of circumstances.”

                My father so wisely said yesterday “fallen people are obsessed with their own glory.  It’s spiritual narcissism.” This is so much of what destroys our “joy”. When we are so focused on our own glory instead of glorifying God, the only being that deserves it, we are in a perpetual state of rising and falling.  Because there are moments we seem to get some shadow of “glory” and it makes us feel so great about ourselves. What really happens is we begin to think we are actually responsible for how things are going in our lives.  I finally finished my education and am working in a career, that I enjoy, and I’m good at it!  Kudos to me, right?

                I try my hardest not to get cocky before I do a haircut because inevitably the NEXT one I cut, falls to pieces.  One particular day I was feeling pretty swell about myself.  I am finally on the floor at the salon after all these years of work.  And I’m pretty good at what I do.  Enter my mom.  Sweet, sweet Karen who bore me.  She is the most selfless and giving person I have ever known.  (So, I’ve got this… it’s my mom, I’ve cut her hair so many times.)

                I don’t really know where it went wrong, or when it really started, but everything I wasn’t supposed to do, I did. I literally ended the haircut in tears.  I suppose the end product wasn’t terrible, but the entire process had ripped any and all confidence clean out of me. What was I doing?  I can’t do this, I am a failure.  And there went all my joy.  But it wasn’t a lasting humility.  My false joy was restored to me the next day when I looked at her and thought, “It’s really not so bad.”

                But what if it had been just earth shattering, you have to shave your head and buy a wig terrible?  What would I have done?  Quit my job and gone back to serving? Who knows? That cannot be where my joy is, where my confidence is.  Because as much as I hate it, as much as I want to control everything, something like that is going to happen.  And what will happen to my heart and soul when it’s all over.  If my joy is rooted in me, others, circumstances, anything other than God Almighty, it will destroy me. 

“I am the true vine, and my Father is the vinedresser. Every branch in me that does not bear fruit he takes away, and every branch that does bear fruit he prunes, that it may bear more fruit. Already you are clean because of the word that I have spoken to you. Abide in me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit by itself, unless it abides in the vine, neither can you, unless you abide in me. I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing” John 15:1-5.

                It is a promise that he is going to prune the branch that is producing fruit.  Which is a painful process, so how do I maintain joy in the midst of all of the pruning? So let’s go back to Joy as a verb: to delight in something.  “Delight yourself in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart” Psalm 37:4.  Sounds like a good deal right?  Just find my joy in God and He’ll give me whatever I want.  Yes. But that doesn't mean I come to Him with a laundry list of wants that he is now obligated to give me because I “delighted in Him.”  When your delight is found in God, He is your desire.  And He will continue to give himself to you!  I cannot make myself joyful, or my joy would be rooted in me.  Which need I remind you, is the problem already.  It must come from my unchangeable, good, loving and joyful God! And it comes from falling in Love with Him. 

                I never quite understood how to do that. But I began to think about how you fall in love with a person.  It isn't at first sight. I’m sorry Disney and trust me I am a hopeless romantic; this is just as disappointing to me. It doesn't happen after spending a few times hanging out together, even though it may be epic.  It doesn't happen because you have a “connection” and can laugh and flirt with each other.  It doesn't happen because you have things in common.  All of these things can be a prelude to falling in love, but they are not the actual act of falling in love. 

                You fall in love when you spend countless hours with someone and you share your heart with each other.  You begin to understand the way the other was designed to work.  You begin to know deeply and intimately their heart and soul.  And you allow yourself to be fully known to them.  It is then that you fall in love with them.  And it is then that they begin to change you.  You start to say and do things only they would.  You begin to fall in love with the things they love.  It is even said that many begin to resemble each other after so much time of being together.

                And that’s when my heart got it. It’s easy. “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light” Matthew 11:28-30.  All I have to do is come to Him and He will do the rest. 

When the Grace Bank is Empty

                Grace.  An alluring concept I have known and used my whole life without possibly ever truly living the word.  Well of course, four years ago this January I gave my life to Christ and accepted His gift of grace.  What does it mean though? I’m going to use the definition Shelley Giglio used this evening.  Grace is the unmerited (or free) favor of God, manifested in the salvation for sinners and the bestowal of blessings. Meaning, I am a sinner and deserve to spend eternity in Hell, but Jesus Christ took my punishment and bore the WRATH of God, so that I will get to spend eternity in the presence of God!  So in that sense of the word, I have been living under the grace of God. 

                But salvation is only one of the many forms of God’s great grace.  Strength to face life is a grace.  Joy in sorrow is a grace.  The ability to forgive those who hurt us is a grace.  It’s been over a month since God began a great work in my life.  It has been a time of immense pain as God siphoned poison from my heart. I had been betrayed.  I sunk so low into darkness that I just had to make myself continue. God had a plan, heck if I knew what it was, but in that I could trust. Despite my ingratitude for the grace already saturating my life, God continued to bless me.  In the second chapter of Philippians, Paul writes, “For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain.  If I am to live in the flesh, that means fruitful labor for me. Yet which I shall choose I cannot tell.  I am hard pressed between the two.  My desire is to depart and be with Christ, for that is far better.  But to remain in the flesh is more necessary on your account.” 

                I was disillusioned with this life.  I believed the things of this world were better.  Friendships, family, relationships, and futures.  That was what would make me happy.  I hoped so furiously for those things to satisfy me.  So imagine my bitter disappointment when they left me empty and miserable.  When you live for this world, it’s a constant roller coaster.  One minute everything is perfect, or seemingly so, and before you can breathe, it comes crashing down. Rinse and repeat. But you can do as I did, stuff it down and ignore it and let it continue, until it tears you apart from the inside out. Or, you can let God heal you and show you what is actually better.  Him.

                He never abandons, He never betrays, He waits patiently every single time I wander, He is joy, He is love, He is strength and He is unending mercy. God’s great grace opened my eyes to see, it is so much better to depart and be with Him!  When that happens, I will never again experience hurt, anger, bitterness, shame, rejection or any of the ugly emotions welling up in my soul. But, it is so vital for me to be here while I can be.  To share this grace with others!  Not only to reach those who are lost, but to encourage and exhort my brothers and sisters in Christ.  But finally, my eyes were off of others and things, and onto Him.

                The next grace that God extended was bringing my sinfulness to light.  How is that grace?  It doesn’t seem like it.  Gifts and blessings don’t seem to coincide with telling someone how they’re broken.  In this day and age, we censor our words, we tolerate flaws even to the point of exalting them, and we flee from conflict as if our very life depended on it.  It’s not the norm to deal with painful truths, or suffering.  We want it over, done and locked away as immediately as possible.  So we cannot understand how a good God would allow us to hurt, suffer or walk around with bruised egos.

                “Our vision is so limited we can hardly imagine a love that does not show itself in protection from suffering.  The love of God is of a different nature altogether. It does not hate tragedy. It never denies reality. It stands in the very teeth of suffering. The love of God did not protect His own Son. That was the proof of His love—that He gave that Son, that though ‘legions of angels’ might have rescued Him. He will not necessarily protect us—not from anything it takes to make us like His Son. A lot of hammering and chiseling and purifying by fire will have to go into the process.”

-Elisabeth Elliott

                For God to make me like His perfect Son, is going to take a lot of work; a lot of painful work! Because He has to show me how I am not like His Son. I claimed to be the victim of lies, betrayal, abandonment, and rejection.  Was I ever guilty of doing these things? If not, then awesome, one step closer to being like Jesus! Hmm, well, there was that one time, but I had a reason!  Does that excuse the sin?  Unfortunately not.  It’s so easy to justify in your own mind why sin is okay.  That it’s not offensive to others and even worse to God.

                So began two weeks of major heart surgery.  Oh Andrea, you pride yourself on being honest, so why does your friend need collateral to take you at your word? Because they can’t trust you. Can you argue and defend yourself?  No. Because you lie, you flake out, and you choose to do something else, because it’s easier.  Don’t you think they feel abandoned and rejected?  But, I had reasons.  And here is where the really ugly part comes out.  When I believe that one person should be punished for hurting me, but I shouldn’t be punished for doing the same exact thing, what I’m actually saying, is that I am better, I am worth more, I am of greater value than they.  I get different rules.  I’m better than the one who betrayed me, because I don’t do to people what they do, so I deserve better.  But I’m also better than the one I betray because they don’t matter as much as I do, therefore it really doesn’t matter how I treat them, as long as I have a reason.

                Silence. That’s exactly where that realization left me.  My anger was not a product of righteousness but of sinful pride. I thought I was better and therefore deserved better treatment.  Which, hold up for a second, completely contradicts the very core of my beliefs.  “for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God,”.  Even a brief summary of my heart could show that statement to be true.  But to take it a step further, theoretically what does it really matter, if you do to someone, what they have done to you? Doesn’t that make you square?  An eye for an eye? Eh, not really, but that’s a whole other blog.  But what if you continually betray, reject, and spurn someone who had given all they had for you.  What I typically hear from people giving advice on this subject is, “drop them, they don’t deserve you!”  But God didn’t do that. 

                Here we are, full circle, back to that grace thing.  He is the only one with the rights to be angry.  But He has chosen to stay His anger and give us a chance to come back to Him. And He literally pursues us to the gates of Hell to save us!  How can I stand in the understanding of that grace, and not extend it to others?  Comprehension dawned that morning as the weight lifted from my shoulders.  I could forgive, because I was forgiven!

                Alright, so I could forgive and try to reconcile, but when that didn’t work, what then?  Could I just rest in the peace that I had forgiven and hope one day they’d come back? Let’s just stop and think for a moment where I would be if God did that with me; if He waited for me to choose Him.   I believe that is one of the reasons suffering is so vital, it drives us to the feet of God. No, God pursues us and continually pulls us back when the world draws us in.  And for that I am so thankful. Unconditional love is what it is called.  That means no matter what I do, “nothing can separate me from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.” 

                “Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth.  Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.  Love never ends.”                                                                                                                                                    1 Corinthians 13:4-8

                If I can daily walk in this grace, then it is my hope that it will overflow out of me! And I can truly rejoice in my suffering because “I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in me will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ.”                                                                                                 Philippians 1:6

One thing I of the Lord desire

For all my path hath miry been

Be it by water or by fire

Oh make me clean

Oh make me clean

So wash me now, without, within

Or purge with fire, if that must be,

No matter how, if only sin die out in me,

Die out in me

The Shameful Christian

                Raised as a fixer, I’ve lived my life by the rules of “should” and “shouldn’t”.  I should be at peace, I shouldn’t feel angry; I should be content, I shouldn’t wish for things that aren’t mine. I’ve always viewed God as a God that is always looking to the next area that needs improvement.  He’s never satisfied with where I am and who I am. This has brought insurmountable shame and guilt into my life.  If I am hurting, bitter, or angry, it must be because I am doing something wrong.  If I was being obedient to God, I’d be joyful and at peace. 

                Due to the brokenness of man and the havoc this wreaks on relationships, my world has suddenly been catapulted into pain.  This hurt coupled with pride and self love brings in anger, which leads to its destructive friend bitterness.  Immediately when these emotions come tearing in, my first reaction is, “I shouldn’t be feeling this way.  Christian’s genuinely after the heart of God shouldn’t be battling bitterness.  They trust the will of God.  So my hurt is saying that I’m really a ‘weak’ Christian.” I should be past this. So what can I do to “fix” this?

                In times like these, I wonder how I can so completely forget the entire purpose of the gospel.  I am broken. I am not enough. I am insufficient to please God because I am sinful. But that is exactly why Christ came and died for me.  He offered up His righteousness for me because no matter how many bible studies I attend, no matter how many John Piper books I read, and no matter how many times I read through the bible, I can never erase my depravity. This means that even as I continue to grow in Christ, I am still going to fail epically.  As Paul says in Romans 7, “For I know that nothing good dwells in me, that is, in my flesh.  For I have the desire to do what is right, but not the ability to carry it out.” It not only means that in order to grow I must have God’s grace, but hopefully by God’s grace, my life is constantly in a state of growth. 

                So maybe He brings these things into my life to make me grow.  Sanctification means to make something holy, to purify. You purify precious metal by melting it in the fire and then skimming the impurities off when they have risen to the surface.  When I am in the throes of hurt, I want to figure out what I need to do to fix it and get past it.  However, maybe He wants me to feel this pain.  Paul in 2^nd Corinthians 12 discusses the “thorn that was given him in the flesh”.  He said that it was given to keep him from becoming conceited.  How many times have I begun to boast in myself and my strength when things are going “well”? Would I not continue to take credit for my seemingly great life if God did not show me that I wasn’t really in control? Paul pleaded with the Lord three times to remove the thorn, but God chose not to.  And this beautiful scripture explains why, “But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong.”

                Perhaps another reason He leaves the thorn of bitterness in my side, is because He knows I must draw closer to Him. The best answer or distraction I can come up with leaves me filled with emptiness.  In an article on loneliness from Henri Nouwen, he speaks about not fleeing from the pain of loneliness; that there is something hopeful about allowing yourself to experience the pain. 

                “Then suddenly I had this idea that loneliness, which is pain, when you do not run away from it but feel it through and stand up in it and look it right in the face, that there is something there that can be a source of hope, in the middle of the pain there is some hidden gift… I think one of the greatest challenges of life is to dare to stand in your pain, and to trust that there is something beyond that which is safe. What begins to happen is something like the experience that there is safety beyond the pain, that if you enter into it, it’s not so frightening as you thought it was, and that underneath your loneliness, there is an experience of being held safe…” 

The Christians that dwell on “should” and “shouldn’t”, that wallow in the shame, are missing one of the most essential characteristics of God; His mercy.  God has positioned me exactly into this moment for my good and His ultimate glory.  If He had intended for me to become instantly holy at the moment I accepted Christ, He would have done so.  But He didn’t.  For Him to work in my life through this brings about a far richer glory for Himself than would the other.  And if I step into my pain and allow Him to comfort me, it will sweeten my affections for Him.

                “I've discovered that there's much more strength in me than I realized and, in a way, the strength is not coming from me, but it is coming indeed from someone who holds me, who loved me long before I came into life, from someone who will love me long after I have died. It is not an intellectual thing. Jesus for me is the center of it. Jesus for me is the one who helps me discover that God had loved me before I even was born, and will still love me after I die. The love of God is a love that is there before and after any other human being has touched me. The mystery of knowing Jesus is the mystery of knowing God who embraces me much in a wider and deeper way, more than any human being can do.”

-Henri Nouwen

                So when the hurt comes (because it will), and when the anger rises within (because it will), and when they merge to bring out the bitterness already within my heart.  I will not run from it and I will not be ashamed.   Because I am forgiven.  I cannot fix the brokenness just as I couldn’t save myself.  So I must take the pain and offer it up to God.  It seems easier to pretend it isn’t there, to ignore it and stuff it deep within my soul.  But isn’t it a better sacrifice to God to embrace the pain?  To say that I trust He gave this to me for a good purpose and I will continue to lift it up to Him for as long as He wills me to have it. It is then, that He can, unhindered by my pride and assumed shame, begin to work in my heart. 

The Casey Chronicles: The Day I Tried to Climb a Tree

I have never been a coordinated or agile girl; especially when it came climbing things.  I think my adept skill at falling down validates my healthy fear of heights.  I didn’t know how to climb trees and frankly I was quite content with that. That is until I met Casey.  This young lady could climb trees like a squirrel.  It did not matter how tall or limbless it was, give her a few minutes to work out a strategy and she would make it to the top.  I, on the other hand preferred to stay with both feet on the ground.

Whenever we had spare time we tried to play hide and seek.  This can be rather challenging with only two people, so much of our time was spent in preparation for when we would have enough people to play.  This time was mainly Andrea boot camp.  It was her goal to get me up a tree, which afforded better hiding places.  So one day we were out in her yard and I decided I was going to make it happen.  I walked straight up to the tallest tree in her yard (I’m an idealist) and began to try and climb it.  She just stood back and laughed at me.  This tree was not only the tallest but it had no branches or knots below ten feet.  As I am not at least eight feet tall, this was a rather unrealistic goal. 

I do not enjoy failure.  In fact I am sure most people don’t either.  However, when I am unable to meet my goal, often I am so discouraged that I just give up.  This poses a huge problem in the life of a dreamer.  If you aspire to reach the stars you will fail when you just try to reach out and grab them.  You have to break down what you want and find out the most basic steps to get you there. 

So after one minute of failed determination, I was ready to throw in the towel.  I would never be able to climb a tree.  I am a person and people are meant to walk on the ground, not in trees.  Casey must have squirrel blood somewhere in her family.  I turned back to her and told her that I couldn’t do it.  With a huge sigh of exasperation she told me of course I could.  I wanted to argue; in fact I’m sure I did.  There was no circumstance that I could think of that would get me up that tree.  She rolled her eyes at me and dragged me over to another tree.  This tree was short, nobly and covered with branches.  Doubt still coursed through me but she promised me cookies and I love cookies, so I grudgingly told her I would try again.  Foot by foot she told me where to step and what to grab on to.  It was very difficult.  I slid several times.  I kept telling her I was done and I couldn’t do it.  I’m pretty sure at this point she came outside with the cookies and started eating them in front of me.  As sweet and kind as she was, she did have a splash of spitefulness; though it was this spite that got me up my first tree. 

That night I went home scratched and sore from all my attempts.  I walked away having conquered a goal.  I didn’t realize then the life application connected with climbing a tree, I was just happy to have a new hiding spot.  Looking back now I believe that helped me learn that I cannot just give up on my dreams because they seem too far out of my reach.   Despite the obstacles that loom above me, I just have to take it one foot at a time. 

The Casey Chronicles: The Girl Who Called me Andy

                Growing up, I always wanted a nickname.  I guess I thought it would be super cool to have an alias and when I was younger, I really wanted to be a cool kid.  So one day in fourth grade I started signing my papers, Andy.  I think my teacher and my parents recognized it for what it was, a ploy for attention.  Needless to say, they continued to call me by my actual name. 

                The other kids in my class, the ones who were not my friends, thought it was stupid.  They even emphatically told me that Andy was a boy’s name.  It was a slam to my ego, but I wasn’t quite ready to accept defeat.  To return to my given name so quickly would give them too much power.  It would show them what they already knew, that I was strange and easily conquered; only now they would know I knew it too.  It was very much like the time they ridiculed me for wearing a hat to school.  While it didn’t take me long to realize just how odd this two-in-one hat did actually look, I continued to wear it out of spite.  I couldn’t let them see how much their opinion really mattered.

                I’m sure none of them had ever been the odd one out.  The worst part is there is no way out; it’s a vicious cycle.  You try to fit in when you were never meant to and they despise you for it.  So you try harder, thinking if you could just be more like them, or tell enough jokes, or wear the right clothes, they might change their mind.  Little do you know that no matter how funny you are, or how in style, they’ve already decided that everything about you is wrong.  These were the kids who made you cry every day when you got home; who made you wish you could be likeable, normal. 

                Enter Casey, an independent spirit.  The most confident and decided fourth grader there ever was.  She was cool.  The other kids thought she was funny, invited her to sleepovers, and sat with her at lunch.  They would not have mocked her for wearing a silly looking hat.  It wasn’t because her family was  wealthy, or she was beautiful (which she was), it was because she accepted herself regardless of who else did.   This girl had the courage to be my friend while I was a social pariah.  She stood by me even when I wore that ridiculous hat.  She even began to call me Andy.  Casey was the only person who has ever called me that, and she did it the rest of her life.  However, it was not because it was a fitting nickname.  Of all the nicknames that I have received, Andy was by far the least suitable.  She called me that because it was my wish, my desire to be called that, and she honored it. 

                I grew into myself as the years passed and I began to see what that name represented.  It was loving the unlovable; extending mercy.  It was leaving the cool kid’s table at lunch, to sit with the girl in the dual purpose hat.  So that girl will know next time that she doesn’t have to try as hard, because she already has a ringer on her side. 

The Hope of Escape

The woods were dark and foreboding; even the moon was hiding tonight.  Despite all of the unspoken dangers awaiting me in the forest, I had no choice but to enter.  I couldn’t let him find me.  Fear began to keep rhythm with my racing heart.  I ran into the forest searching for somewhere to hide but my mind was too numb to concentrate.  I tried to force myself to take deep breaths, to focus on my surroundings.  Most of the trees looked too difficult to climb, but one caught my attention.  I could easily conceal myself within its branches.  Scrambling up to it, I grappled at the trunk, but I couldn’t get a foothold.  There was no time to keep trying, I had to move on.  I began to run again.  My ears were starting to play tricks on me.  I kept hearing footsteps that weren’t there.  I finally came upon a healthy sized bush just off the forest path.  Desperately falling to my knees, I tore at its branches seeking a way to the center.  Threatened at my violent approach it retaliated by lashing out at my arms and face.  I was getting nowhere.  I heard him call out and dread hit me in the stomach.  Grasping at straws I headed toward a fallen tree, deciding it was better than nothing.  As I got closer I noticed there was a deep ravine on the other side; enough that I could completely tuck myself into.  I could hear him thundering down the path behind me and I dove.  As silently as I could, I settled myself in the protection of the tree. 

My position afforded me a very small window of sight between the tree and the ground.  I could really only see the path.  Suddenly it became piercingly quiet.  My breathing was the only sound, and it was so loud I knew he would hear it.  I couldn’t stifle it.  The more I tried to silence it, the more desperate and ragged it became.  So I tried to turn my focus back to my ears.  Where was he?  The silence was eerie.  Even the night creatures seemed to be holding their breath.  A seed of hope began to blossom in my heart, as I thought maybe he went a different direction.  Maybe I was safe.  The moments began to stretch on, fueling my hope.  I couldn’t move yet though, just in case.  As the immediate danger had seemingly passed, I began to grow restless.  I also realized that I needed to pee.  Anxiety was always rough on my bladder.  I was still cursing myself for drinking that grande mocha when I heard the twig snap.  The hope evaporated and in its place panic took flame.  I could hear his breathing and I was so thankful mine had slowed.  I could see his feet carefully treading the path, stopping every once in a while to listen.  His feet disappeared and I willed him to move further away from my spot.  He apparently just turned around though for his feet came back into view and they were only about a foot from my tree.  My terror was widespread and I could feel my body begin to shake.  He stopped moving and I stopped breathing.  He stood there for what felt like an eternity.  I thought my lungs would burst.  When he finally continued forward, I exhaled as quietly as I could, relief flooding my body.

                Hope began to gnaw at me again.  I allowed myself a moment to consider that he had not found me and would not be coming back.  I had to get out of here quick and I only had one shot.  I quietly rolled onto my back trying to get in position to move.  The moment I looked up at the sky, my blood ran cold.  He stood looking down at me.

“I found you.” His silvery voice mocked.   I was so scared I couldn’t even scream.  I hadn’t even heard him come back.  His face split into a sly smile.  There would be no persuading him to forget me.  There would be no getting out of this.  He laughed at my paralysis.

“Come on Emily, You’re it.” He extended his hand to pull me up. 

The Casey Chronicles: Prologue

I walked into my fourth grade class and sat down at my assigned table.  There were several other kids as well, but the only person I really remember is Casey Allyn Gosnell.  It was my first year at this school, and as adept as I was at moving to new places, I was terrified.  There was never a spoken agreement that she would become my best friend, but after her simple introduction, I think we both knew.  It wasn’t as complicated back then, making friends.  We didn’t need to hold back for awhile to see if the other was trustworthy, we didn’t have some unspoken test the other had to pass before they could be deemed worthy of entering our lives; it was just pure and ready acceptance.  Our friendship started literally the moment she said, “Hi, I’m Casey” and I responded, “Hi, I’m Andrea”. 

                This incredible young woman put up with many difficult qualities about me throughout the eight years of our friendship.  She was the first to celebrate with me through the good news, and the first to cry with me over the bad news.   Casey was wise beyond her years, and I wore my immaturity on my sleeve.  I don’t know how she did it, but she stood by me through it all. 

Just three years after I met her, I was forced to move again.  I was so brokenhearted because I knew there would never be another Casey.  One day, before we left, I was at her house and we made a pact.  She promised for my sixteenth birthday, that she would come halfway across the country to celebrate with me.  The next four years were spent conspiring over long-distance phone calls, emails, and eventually Facebook.  When my sixteenth birthday was around the corner, Casey told me that she wasn’t going to be able to make it that year; her very wise parents wouldn’t let her drive by herself across the country at fifteen.  Though we were both disappointed, she promised me that she would find a way to come the next year.  When we were still a few months away from my seventeenth birthday, she called to tell me she had purchased a plane ticket.  That birthday was by far the best that I have ever had; it was also the last time I ever saw my best friend.

July 21^st, 2008 she died in a car accident.  There are times when the pain of missing her is so palpable that I just can’t stand to think about it.  But I don’t think that is right; Casey never did things the easy way, she did it the right way.  She deserves to be remembered and the best way I can think to do that is to tell the story of our friendship.  The Casey Chronicles are the start of remembrance of how she changed me; and even though it has been almost four years, she is still teaching me how to be a better friend and a stronger woman.