i have this friend....

Dear Lord,

I have this friend... You know, the one You sent me. She's really a great gift. I see what You were thinking now, when You introduced us. I guess I forget sometimes to thank You for the amazing ones you bring into my life- I kinda take it for granted as if it were just happenstance that we met, that we live and laugh together. Sometimes, I bet I even take her presence for granted, because I am so used to it. I have named part of her home for part of my heart. I guess I probably should tell her how much I appreciate her, huh?

This friend of mine... I know You'd recognize her. She's funny, in her own unique way- she has her own style with the way she tells her story. She radiates some sort of copyrighted smile that only she can shine. (I am certain You are very familiar with the way she brings joy to the places she graces.) God, I will be honest, I'm pretty jealous of her beauty- because it's so indescribably just hers. It seems as if she couldn't be copied- Lord knows how I try to pick up on little things she does here and there to maybe get one inch closer such an essence.

But here's the deal, Lord. I have this friend... She's strong and she's pretty tough. She has always been by my side pushing and pulling on my behalf when I just didn't feel so strong or tough. This girl has heard me out during many of my over dramatized meltdowns. This friend of mine has even sat with me in the silence when something really was too hard to talk about. She always seems to be looking out for me, but tonight- I want to do something for her. God- she is in need. I am asking on her behalf- because she is still out there, trying to fight the fight that is getting harder and harder. Every day, I see her get back up, no matter how bloody the night before- and she's doing life better than most I know. But I see the limp she's trying to hide, I see her trying to catch her breath.

Lord, this friend I have... She is hurting, but doesn't have the time to show it- she's busy still trying to maintain life. She's trying so hard not to skip a beat. She is rising each morning, give her a sunrise that awakens her heart. When she sleeps, give her dreams that rest her soul. For every thought that tells her she's failing, Lord, give her a tangible truth that she's succeeding. Show her her own beauty in undeniable ways. She can't fall- Lord, You can reach her before she breaks.

I'm telling you about this friend I have.... because I trust You with her. She is irreplaceable. It breaks my heart to see her meet obstacle after obstacle- carrying with her burdens that are not her own. Take what she carries, and give her the tools she needs to climb over the walls and walk the desert. You will be impressed how powerful she is. I have no doubt she can make it.

I have a very serious request regarding this friend I have...take care of her. Pamper her. Give her beyond what she needs. Pay attention to the littlest details so when she least expects it, she is pleasantly surprised. Tell her she is loved. Tell her she is impactful- maybe even give her a glimpse of the things she's impacted. Just do it. For her, for me.

Lord, this friend I have.... she is my dearest and best.

Let me draw a picture for you...

I remember back in the day, watching a Veggie Tales video with Zoe about these lil guys called "Snoodles". It ended up being quite moving actually, not that I was too surprised- it seems as a mother my "toughness" fades whenever you pop one of those moral-filled kiddy programs in. I kinda feel all choked up inside when some profound statement is acted out by little sounding people- as if maybe my daughter were saying such wise things TO ME. (It does happen often in this house when my daughter tries to teach me a lesson or two...)

Part of the storyline of this "Snoodle" animation, was all these mean Snoodle-folk were drawing mean Snooodle-folk pictures to describe this poor little baby Snoodle. He carried around these negative pictures in his backpack and they weighed him down, they held him back and they designed his opinion of himself. In the end- yup, for writing purposes, I AM going to ruin the finale for you- the Snoodle happens upon a "man" who draws a NEW picture of him. This new picture makes this little failing guy look older and stronger and ABLE. The "man" takes the bad pictures and throws them into the fire, and places the new picture in this Snoodle-guy`s backpack. He didn`t feel weighed down! He didn`t feel heavy and burdened! ***AWWWWW*** Really, the story gets me every time- there's quite a few more dimensions to that little storyline- so feel free and look into watching it- I'd like to know if anyone else tears up or if it just happens to be me. ;)

But anyway, I got to have an encounter with a quite similar story the other day. A few friends and I decided to steal away to the beach to seek some peace and as brides, seek some "romance" with the King. We have made a tradition out of joining together and blessing each other with encouragement and beauty treatments- and importantly---amazing prayer times. We have gotten some pretty incredible things out of those times in the past- and this time, we made quite the big deal out of our beach trip. God whispered, "Come away with me" and we were fully prepared and intent on doing just that!

I spent the week prior to the trip trying to quiet my heart enough to even begin preparing for what would happen in our cozy suite at the beach, but the week was hectic, the days were long and in the end, I didnt find myself being able to really shed any layers of the "stuff" Id been carrying around. I hate feeling cluttered with past stuff when Im trying to get excited about dealing with future stuff. But amazingly- the day of, my week slid off and I slipped into something more comfortable- something quite a bit lighter and a whole lot more inviting for pampering and refreshing.

Every part of our trip was special- certainly. We danced on the pier, we shopped, we walked the beach, we picked wildflowers and hunted shells, we talked about old stories
new stories
celebrating stories
frustrating stories,
we made each other dinner and ate with plastic dinnerware on wedding plates by fake candlelight, we swam in the pool, soaked in the hot tub, we even sang in the acoustically perfect "gym"--- it is beyond tempting to sing "The Star Spangled Banner" in every echoing room I encounter. All that lead up to---the night in the hotel room. We retreated back, to settle in, and there we met. With soft songs playing a dance formed in our hands. We had little white poster boards for each of us and markers to create with. In that moment- we began drawing pictures for each other. As we would pass each board around, new words and meanings and thoughts would spring- and you would hear someone ask "Who has Rosie`s board?" "Whose board are you working on now?" Things popped into my head that had no explanation of whence they came, but they were there- and once on those boards, and those boards were in the hands of their owner, made so much sense.
There were tears,
and laughter
and sighs of complete impact because these pictures we were drawings of each other were speaking- loudly- against all the things we seemed to be fighting. They were saying things like "there is a new start coming, a new season" or "be your life`s leading lady and walk through those open doors" or "you feel burdened by others` lives because you are called to wash their feet and ready them to return to their calling". It just made so much sense. 4 people all drawing different pictures coming together to make one big picture that just MADE SO MUCH SENSE. We all kept shaking our heads, knowing we were blessed and pampered.

How often do we get to see a picture of how we really are SEEN by Him without a mirror or a world to taint the picture?

That night, after those conversations, those revelations- I went to the balcony by myself. I felt like God was saying "come away with me". Every one was inside- doing communion, but I took mine and just followed. I went outside- the air, the height of the balcony, the night, the ocean- all of it moved with the beat of a song- a slow dance song. I wanted to pray- I felt like I was supposed to say something. You know, maybe thank God for what He was doing- for what He was blessing me with. But my soul had no words- and He wasn`t asking for any- He wanted sweet sweet silence. A song came to my mind- and I listened to it from my phone- and as every girl wishes- I felt like I was being sung to. Danced with. Loved on.

"Rosie`s Lullabye"
She walked by the ocean
And waited for a star
To carry her away
Feelin so small
At the bottom of the world
Lookin up to God
She tries to take deep breaths
To smell the salty sea
As it moves over her feet
The water pulls so strong
and No one is around
And the moon is looking down

Sayin- Rosie come with me. Close your eyes and dream

You would have thought I wrote that song for myself- I slightly wish I had come up with something so cleverly beautiful. But it was written and there for my discovery- just as cool. Few moments are more perfect than that.

Later that night- I was reading a devotional- my new devotional gifted to me by my dear friend Joan- and on the day of my birthday this is what was written:

THE QUIET TIME

My beloved spake, and said unot me, Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away.
Song of Solomon 2:10

"There may be many times when I reveal nothing, command nothing, give no guidance. But your path is clear, to grow daily more and more into the knowledge of ME. I may ask you to sit silent before Me, and I may speak no word that you could write. All the same, waiting with Me will bring comfort and peace. Only friends who understand and love each other can wait silent in each other`s presence."

So my night ended- with Him reminding me how after my heart He really is. He gave me a reflection on a crooked cut white board, he gave me a song (one I can`t seem to successfully download for the life of me) and written words jotted on the day of my birth- all painting quite the perfect picture, "Rosie, come away with Me".

How the times change

I'm significantly frustrated with myself that I've taken such a long break from this place. This place is where I tell my story- to you AND to myself. I feel as if I don't even remember all the steps I have taken because I have neglected taking the time to regularly retrace them. I like to remember. But, I will admit, I rebelliously refused to recap my life, for myself or anyone, because it was nothing worth rejoicing over. I was in pain and who likes to tell those stories? I want to be the girl that makes people laugh! Not the girl that strikes people speechless out of sympathy. I took my pain and decided walking quietly in the dark. I assumed it would be best for everyone involved- I would be able to slink through this hard time unnoticed and the rest of the world could go on with their own stories. "No one should be affected by one girl's silly story of silly complaints"- I reasoned. I didn't want others to worry- because they would. I also didn't want to have to continuously talk about the unknown that seemed to dauntingly cause my heart to race and my lungs to wish for more and more air. There wasn't one step that wasn't filled with doubt, and to me, it all seemed easier to get myself put together FIRST, then tell the story of how "I made it out"----if I ever could find the "out".
The ironic part of the climb is- stairs still creak in the dark. My loved ones still saw my pain- so they still worried. And worse, I still stayed in the dark- alone. I put myself there with my walls, and my pity and my anger- and no one got to share in my story. I was a one girl show- and I hurt and I believed whatever I wanted to tell myself about where this journey was going.
Here I was, hurting and complaining and asking God- "Why can't this be fixed so I can be who I wish I was and do what I wish to do?" Well, God has answered that question- and I have stepped out of my little pity room to tell you the answer.
I was made to tell a story- and when I tell that story, whether it's a good one or not, then not only am I doing what I've always wanted to do, but I'm being the woman I wish to be.
I figured my sad walk would only suck life out of other peoples' steps. But the other night- I had called an old friend- because she is such a good listener and I needed the shoulder to finally cry out on, to tear a wall or two down, and that conversation ended with her saying something that stopped me before I retreated back from where I came- "you blessed me tonight". She went on to explain how my story, how my pain, how my tears and what I was struggling to grasp touched her and ministered straight to where she also was carrying some unknowns. It broke my heart in a way that made me really regret my little retreat into the dark. I regretted not sharing my story earlier, to others, to you. I regretted not processing emotion for emotion on paper for future reference, or even present reference for that matter. I had no reference, because I refused to process my steps the way I was designed to process them. I did that on purpose- out of rebellion- because I was mad. I was angry that I seemed so confused with life's little blind curves. Instead of telling the story I was made to tell, I would punish myself by locking it away inside and I would punish others (innocent others,by the way) by locking them OUT.
Well- here's my apology- to you, to me, to my Designer: I'm sorry for hiding my story from those who would have been blessed to hear it, from those who would have been honored to help and from myself who really knew healing would come from such a beautiful process as documenting life in its most common form- HARD. And most importantly, I'm sorry for allowing my rebellion to erase my knowledge of what I was made for. My story has God's glory all over it- because He is faithful and His truth is so healing and He blesses me beyond my vocabulary's capabilities- that during my pity party- God's work was still happening, and I wasn't telling of it! Amazing things have happened, even in the dark. Even when I was sad, God protected and loved and LAVISHED me. I'm tellin you now, you're gonna love hearing what He's done :) (and I bet, you're gonna laugh hearing what I was doing all the while, because it's all quite silly.)
God- give me a good memory- because I am ready to tell the story.

I write to bless,

~Rosie

know what you know you know

I know a lot. Don't get all judgmental- I'm not bragging. The only reason I know what I know is because I learn from my mistakes, which I assume, most people do. The thing I'm admitting when I say "I know a lot" is actually, "Folks, you'd be amazed at how many times I've messed things up". Yup, so really my bragging rights fall into sheepish truths I have to face.

On any given day, I suppose I enjoy "knowing a lot". But I seem to also be faced with the fine print of my mistakes on most given days, too. I feel I'm used to the little red print dancing around my life, kinda almost built in to "living on".

I wish I was built another way- like the geniuses of this planet who gain their knowledge through searching and studying. But, this girl was designed to learn the hard way. I'm not using it as an excuse for the messes I find myself in, mind you, it's just a reason. (No authority figure that I've used that saying on has liked the logic.) I don't really find solace in the reason; which is my justification for why it's NOT an excuse. It's just how things are for me- like gravity or geography- they are previously placed, thought out specifications by the Big Man for how things are gonna play out. I definitely didn't vote on it.

I can't say if I regret the design or not. I don't like coming to terms with failing, the rising above is always a neat story ,though (with great background music to boot).

I'm not certain why I'm writing this, it's not to complain about my current method of discovered knowledge or even to vent about past regrets. I think it's just to say: I know I'm not the only one who learns it the hard way. It's discouraging at times, yup. Tough, yup yup. But, at least I can say the lesson sticks pretty permanently when it comes about :)

working it: nursing style

I'm stoked-on a regular Monday. Week 3 at my new job, and I'm in love. I feel that this quick affection is ok, due to the long battle it has been job searching. Right now, I woulda been in love with Ronald McDonald himself if that's where I was working (but thank God, that's something I was spared---although I must admit, I applied there.)

I won't lie, the last year has been job hunting gory horror. I'm not being dramatic-anyone else been job searching in this glorious economy? Call me wimpy, but I feel like the newspapers warnings mean nothing til you're part of the unemployed percentage. This summer was spent in desperation trying to find a job before my parents came rushing out to Oregon to drag my little hiney home to Montana---(unbelievable amount of thanks go out to my Mom, Wes and my amazing Grandparents for all the help they've blessed me with!!!!) Aside from my dwindling financial circumstances, that threat was definite motivation for me! (As much as I miss Montana and love my family- Oregon is where I'm made to be...for certain!) But no amount of determined, slightly fear-based momentum was going to bust through the thick cloud of all the other fear-driven, over-qualified, hurting job excavators. For some reason, what I believed about myself and my impressive resume, just wasn't cutting it for the HR departments of the hundreds (no exaggeration) of jobs I applied for. The thought of being thrown into a pool of hundreds of other people- probably older and more experienced- just made me feel all the more powerless to impress. Do you wanna know what that does to a girl!? Well, for me at least, I constantly was second guessing my abilities, my worth, my capabilities and the appearance of that stupid lil resume (safe to say- that thing was revised more than I bet my first book will be!). I felt like I was the next contestant on the Bachelor: I didn't want to be there (not sure why any of those girls would actually wanna be thrown in the judgmental, dating lion pit like that)... I was desperate, vulnerable to someone else's whimsicle judgement and in competition with tons of other "betters"- constantly comparing myself to these hypothetical contendors (I of course never met any of the other applicants, but you can best believe in my mind they were more professional and prettier with amazing wardrobes and smart glasses.)
I wouldn't suggest anyone allow themselves to hang out in that state of mind- the "am I good enough" state of mind...It forces questions and doubts to the surface that I believe God's promises already have spoken against. But that's where I was.
I kept asking God, "Am I not good enough? Am I being punished? Am I doing what I'm supposed to be doing?" I hate those questions. I hate the wondering (and the WAITING!!!). I hate the fact that when we ask those questions, it seems like God is waiting for us to figure out the answers to them on our own, or realize He's been speaking all along, we've just been too focused on doubting His affirmations to live like we know who we are.
At the end of the summer (and my rope), I was praying and really felt like God was saying "Stop applying for jobs (AND QUIT TWEAKING YOUR RESUME!!!! IT'S FINE!!!)" I didn't quite understand how God would provide a job for me when I wasn't the one doing the ground work of searching, but I guess that was part of the lesson---me getting a job wasn't because of my strength (and that PERFECT resume) but out of His gracious gift and provision. A week after I stopped going crazy on monster.com, my church just handed me a job. A job where I could take my daughter to hang out with me. A job where I got to work with christian women who were all so sweet and encouraging! A job where I could even have time to do my homework for college. Yup, those are the kinds of gifts God gives--- Perfect ones.
There was a lot I didn't understand about why God gave me that particular job: it still wasn't financially meeting all of my needs and definitely was for an area that I didn't seem to have much expertise in- children. (yes, I may have my own daughter, but there's a world of difference between MY child and other peoples' CHILDREN...) Haha. I guess the upside to that was a good deal of patience building exercizes and the support of again, very amazing co-worker women (all worth idolizing!)

But sometimes when God gives us something, and it comes to an end (especially when that end comes sooner than we anticipated), it's a tad bit confusing. I found myself back to job hunting (ugh...seriously) in February. All around, I had quite a few questions for God about this whole merry-go-round. Why would He give me a job that wasn't going to last or really work in the first place??? He knows how much I hate 'endings'...But as I began to re-enter the drownding pool/hole I SOOOO dreaded, yet seemed all too familiar with (unemployed and begging), I felt God do something a little different. My attitude was morphing from this angry, self doubting begger to a peaceful, joyful seeker of God's purpose. I had the same circumstances (actually a little bit worse financially), but it seemed like a switch had been flipped and I was hearing from God- "I got this, you know that, Rosie. Wait in peace not anxiety."
Job hunting still wasn't fun. (I am doubting job hunting will become an enjoyable passtime for anyone...) BUT- this time, I didn't have to force confidence or focus on that stupid resume. I just did what I had to do- keep applying and stop worrying- AND LIVE LIKE I REMEMBERED WHO GOD ALREADY SAID I WAS.
It took 4 weeks. That doesn't sound long, but when you have no income- it's a forever. In that time, I started a prayer/blessing wall in my kitchen. A bare space that originally I planned on painting turned into an everyday reminder that God was still speaking, still moving and still DOING even though I was in a stand-still. I would post little sticky notes and bits of paper of verses that friends gave me in encouragement, or things I would hear from random conversations or sermons that seemed to speak directly to my ever-changing heart. Day by day, God used those to do the dirty work- the ROSIE CHANGING work. The day I went for my first interview, I prayed over the print-out sheet I had made of the job posting. I put it on my wall. I had others pray for it. I wrote on it: "this is how good God is. this could be mine!" And guess what, it is mine now. And it happens to be a job that fits my little Rosie quirks more perfectly than I could have anticipated.
I am a medical assistant for a dermatologist, so I get my fix in the nursing/medical field. I get every other Monday off (everyone hates Mondays and happens to LOVE three day weekends!!!!) and now have medical coverage----FOR FREE. (I haven't had medical coverage for over 3 years--and I definitely need it!!!)
Of course, there is quite a bit of financial catch up I have to do, but I love this place. The place of still-dependant and in need, but the place where the sun is shining and God's path is illuminated and the only place to go is forward. God is good. Good at reminding. Good at restoring. Good at blessing.

(P.s. I work for Silver Falls Dermatology in Dr. Goodman's office---everyone should have a dermatologist- so come in, see me, and get yourself and your skin healthy!)

Vicissitude

I stole this word off a friend's fridge. For many reasons, I do not feel bad for stealing it. One: the guys who originally had it on their fridge have HUNDREDS of words on their fridge. Two: they couldn't define this word. IF they were able to, I'd give it back. Three: this word means more to me than it does them. HA! (And that, folks, is the kind of great debating you'd see from me if we were to ever be at war.)
Words rock my life. (Hence my active role in writing and my obvious obsession with talking.) I love word-play, word-games, word-flurries of expression, word-analogies, and dictionaries...Oh and thesauruses too!
Anyway, in case you haven't already done it, I am going to provide you with two reliable sources of the definition for this word, so that as I continue this blog- you aren't distracted by wondering what it means.

Dictionary.com
–noun
1. a change or variation occurring in the course of something.
2. interchange or alternation, as of states or things.
3. vicissitudes, successive, alternating, or changing phases or conditions, as of life or fortune; ups and downs: They remained friends through the vicissitudes of 40 years.
4. regular change or succession of one state or thing to another.

And then...a less reliable source, but humorous: (trust me, it was a shocker this word was even listed on this site...)
Urbandictionary.com

vicissitude
Quite literally change, or chaotic nature. Vicissitude would be used to describe the emotional state of mental patients or the chemical properties of nitro and glycerin.
Vicissitude is a word that is used mainly to belittle others in that very few people know it's meaning.

I am vicissitude. Not EXPERIENCING vicissitude. I am IT. Growing up, my friend's mom used to refer to me as "her effervescent daughter". I couldn't really deny that description. (If you're now being distracted by wondering what THAT means....–adjective
1. effervescing; bubbling.
2. vivacious; gay; lively; sparkling.
3. To show high spirits or animation.)
So, combine effervesc-ing with vicissitude-ing. Anyone wanna know what we have on our hands? Cataclysm. That could be a little dramatic on the description, but I feel right up there with world disaster.
I know I'm not the only one to struggle with change, or to struggle with a passionate opinion, so again, I'm not worried about you not relating. There have been moments in my life where my effervescence has bubbled right past what could have wrecked me. And there have also been moments where the life shifts have taken my passion and turned it right into my own poison. I'd like to claim some sort of middle ground between the two, saying that I sometimes just skirt through life unaffected and unaffecting, but realistically- I'm not even designed that way.
Right now, and if you can associate with this respond with an encouraging "AMEN, sista", I am in a turbulent season of change, instability, uncertainty and metaphorical disability.
Normally, I thrive off the unknown. I love adventure. Unexpected turns and interesting sights along the ride are adventurous. Exploring a new beginning is adventurous. Shifting of foundations and hidden plates deep under the surface is NOT adventure. That is a life shattering earth quake.
I would say I've learned a LOT about faith in the last 8 months. Probably very confident in the fact that I've gained 90% of my foundational understanding and practical application of the very thing more so now, than at any other point in my life.
The thing that is saving this vicissitudinal effervesc-ing mess? This concept:
I was reading in a bible study I am doing from Sheila Walsh called: Extraordinary Faith and one of the chapters was hashing out the topic of "count it as joy to be testing because in the end you will shine and God will have purified you". I wanted to really, just skip past this chapter. I have had a hard time counting testing as a joyful event let alone being able to see any future of shining like purified gold. But, thankfully I didn't. Because God revealed one more amazing thing about His character and MY season.
There's a million verses that talk about being tested, so it's not a new concept. Back then, the analogy they used a lot was testing from God was like the purification process of a precious metal. A few of the verses kept mentioning a "crucible". I knew what a crucible was from chemistry- the un-meltable, un-ruinable, ugly cup thing you can mess with chemicals in and not worry about them burning a hole through the bottom. It's basically indestructible to handle the chaos happening within it.
That very sentence melts my anxiety ridden heart. God is the crucible. God's faithful, unchanging self houses all the change, all the chaos, all the pain. He is the constant protecting us when life isn't as stable as we could hope. When we're undergoing cataclysmic change, he's there holding it. He even catches the bubbling spills that overflow.
I know I'm going to come out of this deal still a voluptuous ball of effervescing vicissitude. That's Rosie. God doesn't strip us of our personality in the fire. He purifies it. And I guess that's where I get the joy from. The thought of being more pure.