Here I Am

So in case you didn't know, and in case you were not sure of it already.

Wait for it...

Life never goes the way you plan.

Sure, you already knew that. You rolled your eyes as your read the cliche statement, wondering, why the hell do I even read her blog?

Here is why.

Realness is what I crave consistently. Growing up the way I did, in a circle of good Christian put-together-people, skewed a lot of the way I view myself and the world. Instead of being confident of what I am made of, what I am capable of and who I was born to be... I just reflect on the injustice of the world I live in. Freedoms many are not given, lives that are violently taken away, cruelty toward the innocent...

Do these thoughts ever trickle in your mind as you pick up your preschooler from half day day care?

Because they do mine.

Constantly. If I had the time, energy and more brains I would come up with how I could change the world. But alas, my life has not gone in that direction. It has not moved to that beat of drum. It has not followed some generic life goal. I am completely unsatisfied with the American dream. The pursuit of wealth and the end goal of "get rich or die trying."

Over. It.

I have been trying to get pregnant for 8 months now. Which seems ironic as I was once an unwed, teenage pregnant girl whose hope was to be anything BUT being pregnant. At one time I fantasized of being a city girl in New York City, bar hopping and flirting myself to a great writing internship. Filling my life with clothes, laughter and drinks... escaping what I knew to be a better path.

Then God gave me Cohen. Grace in little boy form.

I am constantly reminded of how I am not in control. For an ENSF like myself, it kills me. Plans dictate my life. I need things on schedule.

What the hell does God know that I don't?

I'm crass. I'm kinda edgy. Not on purpose. I just don't care enough to try to fit the mold of what a perfect blog should look like. What a perfect 23 year old should look like. I need authenticity. And authentic Mackenzie curses at times.

Control is like a little sister that preys at my heels and reminds me that I owe her something. She demands my attention and I crave her approval and constantly try to appease her.

If you keep waiting to feel more "in control" and "more aware" and "more on top of things." Disappoint looms.

So I pursue something else.

I've been praying. Not the "Lord please show me...." but the "Oh, dear God, I have no idea what is  my next prayer...."

God's timing is not my timing. I thought I knew that until I tried to plan something myself. When I pray I don't ask God for stuff, things, possessions or my way...

I ask for his way. I ask for a better way of understanding his way. I crave his way. I crave knowing what he knows and how he loves me enough to force me to wait.

I cleaned and organized and threw more broken toys away than I know what to do with to regain some control tonight. I cried as I shoved a bookcase one way and sorted through GI Joes and trucks. I needed some sort of control. I needed to feel like I had a say in something.

I suppose I have a say in my household decorations.

I imagined my Savior watching, smiling and then shaking his head, longing for me to meet me where he is at... he meets me where I am at constantly...

I met him there tonight. And I let it all go. My expectation. My need for control. My need for answers.

ENSF signing off....

Grateful someone else has the wand. Someone else has the dance. Someone else has the perfect moves.

I don't.

I know.

Yes.

Ok.

Started

I've found myself reading a lot more blogs recently. I have been picking up more books and casually skimming the pages. I've been reading every billboard, bumper sticker and road sign. I carefully listen to the radio and instead of talking around friends... I find myself just wanting to listen.

I am in a season of listening and reflecting. I always have something to say. I am highly opinionated about my passions and with every seething second I can pounce on someone, I do. It's just who I am.

Recently though, not so much.

My mouth stays shut and I find myself yearning for more information. More food for thought. More intrinsic details on everything. Listening, reflecting, hoping, expecting, desiring, waiting...

Waiting.

Yes.

Waiting.

So I suppose I haven't much to write about. I am doubtful of my own progress. Doubtful that I am making a difference in myself. Doubtful that I am confident enough to write a blog post about what I learned, who I am, what I value, what I discern....

I don't really know right now.

It's utterly raw. It's not a typical blog post. It doesn't start with a story, laugh it's way through some ironic discourse and end with a moral.

I'm kind of over that.

Aren't you?

I search for the rawness in life. The nitty gritty. The hopeless and the immoral. For some reason, those for real to me. Suburbia, smiling and a perfected schedule seem so.... lame? fake? unreal? cathartic?

Trying to find the word.

Not coming to me.

Instead, I will listen. And continue to listen. There is something inside of me, deep "soul like" substance that has taken ahold of who I am. It doesn't care for perfection, for laughter, for happiness, for sensitivity, for labels, for perfection, for cares, for perspective, for character...

Just rawness.

A seed that was planted long ago... probably when I was born... stunted by society, by expectation and by my own desire to be who I'm not.

So...

I wait.

I read and reflect. I rummage through my old thought patterns and embrace them. Apart from what I think I should feel or say.

So...

I wait.

I'm not done yet. I haven't even started.