i recalled a lot of things about my life.

the interview was an hour and a half long. the woman who interviewed me asked deep and personal questions about my relationship with my parents, my counseling history, my dating life, my fears and insecurities and things i’ve struggled through…

i felt messy. my longest dating relationship was 7 months. i don’t have a job right now. and when i told her how i grew up and what i’ve been through it was almost comical. i started laughing as i finished up.

“why are you laughing?” she asked.

“sorry, it’s just funny talking about this depressing stuff. i feel like i sound like a horrible candidate for this program.”

the woman interviewing me uncrossed her legs and then crossed them again, thoughtfully contemplating her response.
“you know what i think? i think i should be sitting across from a horrible candidate for this program. someone crazy. but the crazy thing is you’re not crazy. and i can tell you’d be great for this. that’s not depressing. that’s a miracle.”

and that’s perspective.
my life really is a miracle. but then, so is everything. being born was a miracle. being able to type this on a keyboard for the entire world to see is a miracle. and when i go to bed and wake up in the morning, that will be a miracle.

i feel very greatful for my life today — all the history and all the present and all the ways God is taking care of me. i hope i can show my new little sister, no matter how underpriveledged or poor she may be, that her little life is packed with miracles…so that maybe, one day when she is sitting across from someone, reflecting on her life’s hardships and pains, she will also know its joys and how loved she was. and she will see those things as gifts that could only come from the hands of God Himself.

the dreamcatcher’s original intent was to “catch any harm that might be in the air, just as a spider’s web catches and holds whatever comes in contact with it.”

my nightmare’s have still been persisting. this makes about 3 years now.

recently i’ve become fascinated with the superstition behind the beauty of a dreamcatcher. not only do they look great on my wall, but they symbolize a deep sleep, void of bad dreams and danger. i don’t believe in superstition, but i like the sound of that.

i do believe in God. so as i hang these on my wall and prepare myself for bed, i pray that God’s power will be at work. He is greater than a doctors diagnosis. He is greater than lingering images. He is strong when i am weak and defenseless, sleeping.

dreamcatchers symbolize faith and hope for something better. i have those things.

and now i have a dreamcatcher.

when settling for less seems like the best. 

there’s a bad word that i want to say. all the time. 

but i hold it in. it comes to mind almost daily in some form, but the cursed word manifests itself the most when i’m in some sort of unhealthy relationship with a “friend,” family member or guy. i always stop myself from saying it because i think that saying it makes me bad. i wonder what people will think of me if i say this word. the consequences to the word are scary enough to keep it lodged in my throat until i just about choke.

no. no, no, no, no, NO.

the problem is that avoiding this word has some nasty consequences too. sometimes it even means making bad decisions, hurting myself and dishonoring God.

i can get to the point of avoidance where i actually convince myself that stuffing the no word deep inside my chest is the best decision. in the short term, it can be the easiest course of action, but in the long term, it can be the most harmful.

i have the most difficulty saying no to guys who clearly don’t want me with a pure heart. i get hung up on wanting to be wanted and feeling like if i say no to such and such guy, mr. right will never come along.
the problem is that there are a lot of gross guys in the world ready and happy to take advantage of girls who want to be wanted. i know a few of them. we talk. but i only say nice words that won’t embarrass me for not putting out or keep me from feeling whatever kind of affection i can get. 

there are 3 motivating lies. 
1. saying no is a sin.
2. what a guy thinks about me is the most important thing. 
3. i am only a body.

i could write for days about each (and have). there are seasons of my life (like this one) where the lies have been muttered to myself so often that they really start to look like truth. almost inevitably then, my actions reflect those false beliefs i have about myself, men and the world.

settling for 2nd best (or sometimes 3rd..4th and so on) is too high a price for avoiding the no word.  

i want something true. i want someone who thinks my laugh is cute and likes to play with my hair. i want someone who thinks i’m sexy and smart. i want someone who will pray with me and want to know my family. i want someone who likes the way i look in the middle of the afternoon and not just the middle of the night.
and even though i can fool myself in to thinking that will never happen, sometimes saying yes is what hurts the most. 

tonight i said no because it is not a sin. because i know i would wake up convicted that i had not made God the most important thing. and because my heart wants to be cared about in better, more honest ways. 

Sometimes life feels like a blur.
It can be hard to notice things.

But these days, more than before, it seems as though no matter what happens, it all happens so slowly. Like one of those scenes from the Matrix where everything turns to slow-motion and you’re left as the observer, even if you’re right in the midst of the chaos.

Sometimes when I cry, I want to jump in my nonexistent car and drive to the park by where I used to live. I never used to like it because it was void of most play equipment that (I thought) was needed for a park. But eventually I saw how special it was. Its so isolated and quiet. There’s hardly anyone around and you can sit and read or write or take marvelous pictures. It’s at times like these (and there have been many lately) where I wish I could paint. I would paint wildly gorgeous trees displaying orange leaves and long branches that stretched out, shadowing the lonely picnic tables.
Sometimes I feel like gasping at God’s creation. With each new sunset and puffy cloud I’m left at a stand-still.

I think that’s why I started liking winter. There’s something about that blanket of white that seems to make the world melt into a silent people, treasuring the simple moments….curling up under blankets, sipping hot chocolate by the fire, reading a good book or just sitting around and talking with a friend rather than going out in to the world to be busy. Same with the rain. Time slows down.

There’s nothing wrong with busy. I hate being bored and most days I want to be somewhere or doing something. But I find that when I take the time to stop and notice the little things, the big picture seems so much more real and true. The little things compliment the big things. I hate being the cause of oversight.

I catch myself staring a lot lately. Today someone asked me why I was smiling and my answer was “no reason”, but there were about a million beautiful reasons cycling through my brain.

God makes beautiful things.

when i was in high school, there was a place i would go sometimes when i was at my dads. sometimes i would need to get away somewhere to cry and be alone. i needed a place to escape everything.

my dad lives on a dead end street, and just up the road, there are some overgrown trees off to the side that make a kind of tunnel. i discovered it one day and i went back countless times after.

i would have to duck to walk through the tunnel, and at the end of the tunnel was a small pond. you could barely see the sky from that spot since there were trees everywhere. it was a really special place.

i rely on places like that to get me through. places of peace and acceptance where i can go and be who i am without being judged or feeling like a burden. i really miss that pond. i miss that spot i had to get away from everything and be with God.

last night i had a really bad dream and when i woke up i didn’t have a pond to go to. there were no overgrown trees. there was only me.
but as i prayed i knew that God was that place.
He met me when i went to the pond, but He also never left. that means that every time i went back through the tunnel of trees, emerged in to sunlight and walked back to my dad’s house, He was there. the peace and strength of God was still there.
and last night…in my bed, He was there. i felt like i was at that pond again. i imagined all the trees encompassing my lofted bed. i listened to the steady rhythm of my breathing, and as i sank deeper in to the covers, i could practically feel His arms around me.

i don’t need a pond when i have Him. He is my safe place.

i’m still not over you. i love you, like I did the first time I said it. i love you like when i lost you. i love you all over again and haven’t stopped loving you. but what do words mean? how can words take away what was done? how can words mend a heart?

for months i felt i have been alone. i thought you didn’t care about how i was doing. i thought you didn’t really mean it when you said you would protect me. the days have passed, empty, meaningless without you. i haven’t gotten a solid night’s sleep since. you’re everything to me and you never left me. i know that now. i’m not the same person. whether i’m better or different, i can’t decide, but i’ve realized my faults. it takes me a long time to trust people because of the way i’ve been treated, but i know now that you are not just anybody. if anything, you gave me a new outlook and shaped my character. i admire you more than you know. you are everything i wish i could be - strong, moral, stable.

it’s so hard for me right now. but here you are, teaching me. you show me how to achieve my dream and fulfill my purpose. you grabbed hold of me, and look what happened. my joyous moments are all owed to you. i’m eternally grateful for you.

it’s hard to know where to go from here. you’ve graced me with your presence, and i like to grace you with my foolishness. so much has changed. so much innocence lost. nothing feels the same anymore and it seems an eternity has passed, but really it’s only been a few months. it seems like looking years into my past when i think of how in love i was.

quotes and books that reminded me of you were shelved away in shame, gathering dust. i recently turned them back up. your words were resting in one of my notebooks, and just now i stuffed it in my purse. i said i’d tried to recognize you, but everything was hazy. i’ve missed you.

instead of pushing you out with the pain, i’ve decided to use you to help me rise above it. i can only find outlet and expression through the things i love. and you, dear friend, surpass it all.

i love you. i see it all so clearly when I take a look in to my heart and feel your comfort radiate from it. it all makes sense with the tiny, timid, half smirks we let each other steal.

it all comes back to me with the familiarity of these feelings. i know it’s not based on feelings. how did I get so lost? i want to be with you forever.

i love you Jesus.

My parents divorced when I was eight, and the repercussions of their split lasted long after it was final. My mother was a stay-at-home mom forced to become a teacher for kids with disabilities. Although she loved her job, i know how much she missed the way things used to be. She wanted to be home to take care of us, but for now this was the only way she could. We got by…we never were forced to live off of welfare. We clipped cupons and browsed garage sales. I remember it was hard for me to accept not being able to do little things like going bowling or out to eat. We were living from pay check to pay check. Utilities in our home were shut off from time to time, and it seemed like we would never catch up. My mother worked as hard as she could though, and I loved her for it.

Looking at my past, I see what a strong woman my mom is. My most painful memories of that time are not of being teased for my limited wardrobe, or knowing that my own dad has stolen furniture from our house, or the times we had to walk around with candles simply because my mother missed a payment. One of the most difficult experiences was watching my mother cry. She was so good at hiding those tears, just like mothers are supposed to. I remember hugging her once and telling her how much I loved her. Looking back on that, I see that that meant more to mom than most things I could have said or done.

We eventually overcame that financial stress. There were a lot of people who loved and cared about us. They would make us meals, help with projects around the house, volunteer their time to babysit us, and buy us presents to put under the tree at Christmas time. Thanks to them and God’s care, we live pretty comfortably now. Still, as I get older, I hear of my mom and her past and how it was worse than anything I’ve ever had to go through.

Through all this, I’ve learned so much from her. I came to value education, family and faith. I worked hard in school, and earned good grades. I learned from my mother’s example to run to God in times of trouble. I came to value friendship in a way I never knew, following her example…seeing her with the few women she was really close to.

There was a period of time I felt really hurt by my mom, but today I know that without question, she has always loved me. There is no doubt in my mind.
My mom always encouraged us to develop our faith. To strive to be like God. To forgive my dad and to treasure the little moments. To not blame God for our situation. Instead, we grew up thanking Him for the good things in our lives. We were grateful for the people who cared about us, for not being on the streets, and for good health when we couldn’t afford to be sick. My parents’ divorce caused hardships and pain, but it was also an experience that I would not change because of how much I learned.

I see now that sometimes I forget that my mom’s still that person. Although it’s not always visible, I see my mom still has her share of hardships and healing. I see that she is still strong.

And even if we don’t talk about those things all the time, there’s one thing I know. A simple hug and an “I love you” mean the world to her.

That never changed.

Some days I say I’m going to be a writer. Those are the days I imagine myself to be the kind who wears sloppy buns with hairsticks and a beaded eyeglass chain around her neck, sitting and typing all day with a cat on her lap. Or maybe the kind who lives in a village for a few months and writes about life there so the rest of the world can glimpse the hidden place. Sometimes it’s the kind that sits under an old oak tree, writing for hours on end until she falls asleep in the very arms of her imagination. I want to write words that impact people sometimes…sometimes I just want to write.
Some times I want to be a brain surgeon. I want people to ask me if they’re going to make it, knowing their life is in my hands. I want to know that my hands work miracles. I want to see the evidence of all my hard work and study. I want to be appreciated and admired for all the great work that I have done.
Some days I want to be an artist. Maybe the kind who lives in a studio on the fourth floor in a Manhattan apartment building with only a mattress and a refrigerator with celery and peanut butter. Or maybe one who sits on a sunny porch filled with exotic plants, listening to New Age music and dirtying her hands at a pottery wheel. I want to lay canvases out on the floor and splatter blues and reds and yellows across it, but not before meticulously planning where each splatter should go and its size and shape and color. I want to draw bitter women and fearful men, and let my portraits tell their stories. I want people to look at what I create and remember it for an hour, a week, or forever.
Sometimes I want to be a super model. I want the stick thin frame with the size zero jeans and the extra small shirts that hang on me like a manican. I want to walk down the run way with hundreds of cameras flashing at me as I step, strut and twirl. I want to be air brushed and put on the front of glamourous magazines. I want to get paid for being pretty and get free products from high-paid designers. I want to know little junior high girls idolize me.

But sometimes I get writer’s block.
I couldn’t deal with all that blood.
All the time even my stick figure’s are sad representation’s of people.
And I could never handle the pressure to be perfect looking all the time.

It is such a good thing that true successes and failures are not measured on how much I accomplish and how many people I impress. Rather, my value should be placed on how much I loved and served others and God. That means I can be whatever I want wherever I want. As long as I recognize God as the ultimate author, physician, artist and image of beauty, then it gives my little life meaning in this great big world.

sometimes i feel as though i’m on one of those work out bikes. no matter how hard or fast you peddle, you go absolutely nowhere and you get tired of doing so. i’m told eventually that if I work hard enough and peddle fast enough, then victory will come. is it true? can it be? i’ve tasted what it is to be free. still, it’s crazy how it seems as though there will always be that one thing haunting you….standing in your shadow’s place to mock you. that one you work at so hard to get over, with only temporary improvement.

i’d like to liken my soul to a coffee shop - warm and inviting. a getaway for all those with tired, busy lives…the one’s who have been riding on those work out bikes for years. i’d like for people to see my face and think, “now that’s the girl i want to talk to. she really listens.” 

if i’ve learned one thing, it’s that you can’t talk about yourself when you’re supposed to listen. i like listening. i like the peace of just sitting next to someone i care about and crying silent tears or giving silent hugs. maybe talking too, about them. 

i love being around people, but i also like thinking and being alone. a lot. i like to curl up under a blanket and stare off in to the distance for time on end, just waiting to approach some new thought…some new idea. not about algebra or what i’m doing the next day. these things pale in comparison to the broad vision of life itself. why people act the way they do…what God is really all about. 

i like to pray and be intimate with God. i feel comforted knowing that there is someone who knows everything about me, understands me and loves me unconditionally. i feel motivated to try and model that love for other people. 

maybe it’s because i’m graduating and i’m really tired of homework, but i think if we spent more time studying the world around us and less time studying books, we’d all be a whole lot smarter. 

i am reminding that to myself tonight as i pull this all-nighter and am unsure i will get a nap tomorrow. 

i’m thankful for my education and that i’ve gotten the chance to go to such a great school, but i’d be lying if i didn’t say i’m really looking forward to being homework-free.

it’s almost over. it’s almost over. it’s almost over.

UNICEF reports approximately 30 million children have lost their childhood through sexual exploitation over the past 30 years.

St. Louis, Missouri has been reported as the 3rd highest in the nation for sex trafficking victims.

Currently when girls are taken out of sex trafficking, they are treated like criminals for prostitution and sent to juvenile detention centers, because the state has no where else to put them. These girls are innocent.

Go to International Crisis Aid’s page (www.crisisaid.org) and donate! Help them open a SAFE home at the end of this year for girls being rescued from sex trafficking in the St. Louis, Missouri area.

Orrrr e-mail me (susannaschultz21@yahoo.com) your address and I’ll send you one of these cool soda tab bracelets for $10! Every penny goes to rescuing sex trafficking victims in the STL area.

the girl i sat across from was 15. she had fair skin and bright blue eyes, but her stringy, black hair gave her image an edge. as we talked she repeatedly tossed her head to the side so that her bangs would get out of her eyes, but they always fell right back in the same place. 

“how did you decide you wanted to start helping sex trafficking victims?”  
i talked to her about my experience with abuse and the way God healed me through helping other people who’d been through some of the same things, as well as things that were much worse. i told her it gave me a fresh perspective, showing me we are never alone and that God wants to use the hard things we go through for good.

“i have a hard time understanding why God makes bad things happen, even if He does use them for good. it seems like there would be a better way. …i feel like this piece of string, just like i’m being stretched thin all the time.”
she motioned to the string we were using to make soda tab bracelets. 

she sounded like me this semester. i related to the struggle of wondering why certain things had to happen and feeling defeated as a result. i’d made a lot of bad decisions because i’d felt like God had left me and i was trying to find ways to deal with my hurt alone. still, i knew all of this was wrong and was further convicted by the way i haven’t trusted Him. i saw myself in her.

i think faith is a lot like this elastic. it was probably a little cheesy, but i decided to go with her example. like, we’re constantly being stretched and it’s really, really painful, but God uses these hard times to make things good so we can grow. like with this bracelet…if it weren’t elastic it would never fit over my hand. the string has to be stretched if it wants to be used. i think i’m learning that about myself…if i’m going to be used by God to serve Him and to serve others and if i’m going to have any kind of meaning in this world, i have to be stretched. and God’s never going to allow us to be stretched so far that we break. 

she and i talked for awhile longer. i told her that God was so patient with her and that He loved her no matter what, but also that He wanted peace and joy for her that can only be found in Him. she ended up giving her life to Christ.
i was really blessed to have met her, and i was really thankful to God for giving me the opportunity to learn from someone who was just becoming a Christian. i’m constantly humbled by the way God brings people in to my life and teaches me huge lessons from even the smallest encounters with creation and the people around me. 

-matthew 5:3-6

i’ve been spending a lot of time reading through matthew the last couple days, and something i’ve discovered is God’s love for the needy. the poor in spirit, those who mourn, the meek, the hungry & thirsty… those who need God. 

i had a friend tell me once that we don’t really need God. the church is constantly telling people that they need Him, but it can get very confusing since there are people who “make it” all the time without Him. i mean, i can get married and get a nice job and be happy and live until i’m 90 without Him. but i think the Christian life is about working for a heart that decides to need Him. 

i prayed for awhile this morning when i woke up that God would keep me in a constant state of humility and dependency on Him. i think i struggle sometimes with the right balance. it’s easy for me to play victim with God and ask Him to save me without taking an active role myself in what needs to be done. i need to be able to step up and play an active role in my Christian walk without living in fear. still, i should never be in a place in my journey where i feel comfortable with where i’m at or i don’t feel that desperation for Him. 

i am comforted that in the same verse where God blesses those who mourn, He also blesses those who hunger and thirst for righteousness. to me this means that there is nothing wrong with mourning (because God is the God of all comfort, as He says in Corinthians), but that my spiritual life should also show i am hungry for Him and not just despairing. 

these are the things that make Christianity so cool. we are greatly challenged, but fully accepted.