Something...New. And Kind Of Boring.

I need to write, and I need to stop stopping myself from expressing what I am thinking about and feeling. Most things I write won't be funny or especially deep...but I need to write--I want to write--for me. So the tone of this blog might be slightly different for a while. It might be a little bit more of me just...talking about my days and/or my week.

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It's been a long week. It's been a week full of changes and unknowns and long days, late nights, and not enough sleep. I've single-handedly financially supported the chocolate industry this week (the chocolate-covered raisin industry, to be precise.) I've consumed both too much and too little caffeine, not spent enough time with God, and said too many goodbyes and not enough hellos. I procrastinated too much about important things and used so much bleach yesterday that I lost all sense of smell and taste for 3 hours (I scrubbed my floor and tub and tile within an inch of its life.) Oh, and I've eaten a lot of gummy lifesavers. Can I just say...who the hell decided it was a good idea to add 39857 cherry flavored lifesavers and only 5 orange flavored lifesavers, to each bag? It's like when you buy a can of mixed nuts, and you get 3 pistachios, 13 almonds, 8 mystery nuts, and 5000 peanuts. No one one the damned peanuts!!!

so, earlier today, I went to a park near my house to sit and think and try to talk to God. I've been putting off talking to God. It's just like every time I sit down to talk to him....I just don't know what to say. But it is because there is so much to say. I just don't know where to begin. But I'll probably expand on that later.

In other random news... I accidentally sent a text message to the dad of the kid I nanny for (instead of my friend who had just texted me saying she had dyed her hair) which said, "Send me a picture!!!" This was my first week working for this family...so talk about awkward. I quickly realized what I had done, and tried to correct my mistake by saying, "Oops! I sent that to the wrong friend. Unless you just died your hair?" Ha ha ha...so smooth, Lauren. So smooth. Or not...because I had to send another text to correct myself yet again when I realized I had said "died" and not "dyed". Face in my hands

Manna

OK. So I don't really know what the heck this is. Sometimes it rhymes...other times...it doesn't. If I were a poet, I would call this a poem. If I were a musician, I'd make this into a song. But I'm me. So this is just a thing.

 

  Manna 

When I can't see 

How you're going to provide for me

What you've given me for today
I always try to save
To ease the pain of a different day

I think that perhaps I should wait
Hide the manna away
To be prepared and ready
for the hunger of a future day

                           But it doesn't work like that                             

          Because what you've given me for this specific moment        

               Is not what my soul will need          

                           To be sustained tomorrow                            

The bread doesn't last

The grace for yesterday's pain 
When saved, rather than engaged
Won't help ease tomorrow's troubles

Yet I starve myself in the moment

In order to have a sense of control 

For a more secure tomorrow

Because I'd rather have the assurance 

Of a stale crust stuffed into my pocket

Than trust that you'll provide

Fresh grace to my soul every morning 

Because it's hard to trust

When I'm hungry in my soul so much

That you'll continually provide what I need 

So instead I keep asking to see 

Exactly how you plan to provide for me

While I'm still swallowing my lunch

So I try to save it

Or refuse to partake in it

Afraid you didn't mean it 

When you said not to save it

The Israelite

In my life

Is me 

Well That's Awkward

Here's a little story for you.

Valentines Day 2013.

It was rainy and overcast the whole day--which reflected beautifully the state of my cold, dead, heart.
Per usual, I spent the day dressed in black and writing hateful notes to the general male population.

Just kidding (Hopefully obviously)

Around 8pm, I was home alone. I was sitting on the kitchen counter, looking out the window, and talking to Jesus. I leaned against the side of the refrigerator and thought,  "Aw, this is almost like leaning against a person and/or Jesus. Except that this is a refrigerator. And it is cold, hard, and shiny. Whoa...is this how Bella felt when she hugged Edward?!" (Okay, so I didn't actually think that last part.)

As I was contemplating the differences between leaning on Jesus and leaning against a refrigerator, I heard a knock on the door. I hopped down from the counter, told Jesus I'd brb, and walked to the door. But before I could I get there, I heard a car door close and someone drive away. When I opened the door, there were flowers sitting on my doorstep. I knew they were for me. How did I know, you ask? Well, let's be real...I'm pretty awesome--of course they were going to be for me.

They were pretty amazing flowers. Along with the flowers was a note.

Lauren, 

"You are beautiful my darling, you are beautiful. Your eyes are like doves" (Song of Solomon 1:15)

There was some scribble of a name at the bottom. But I was pretty sure I already knew who they were from.

I mean, there is a pretty short list of people who A.) recognize/appreciate my awesomeness B.) know where I live, and C.) would give me flowers. But, I couldn't quite read the signature. I wasn't sure whether I was supposed to be able to read the name or not...but again, I was pretty sure I knew who they were from, anyways. I wanted to say thank you, but what if they weren't from this person? Then I would look so stupid for thinking they were. But what if they were from this person? Then I would look like such a jerk for not saying thank you.

Risk looking stupid...or risk looking like a jerk?

A few hours of intense contemplation passed.

Would I rather look stupid or look like a jerk? Which is worse--to be perceived as a jerk for not saying thank you, or exceedingly vain for presuming to think they are from this person? What if it's not that person? What if it is someone just being super creepy? That IS a borderline creeper verse. How are eyes like doves, anyways? What if someone is about to kill me? Have I come across any strange people the past few weeks? I mean, I have had some weird encounters with people...

I decided I'd rather risk looking stupid than looking like a jerk. So, I sent the person I thought the flowers might be from a text message saying, "Thank you?"

During this time, I sent a text message to my younger sister and a few friends that she was hanging out with and to my best friend, telling them that someone had left flowers on my doorstep. I also explained who I thought they might be from. Now, I had a note from this (unnamed) person who had given me flowers two other years on Valentines Day. I was determined to figure out who the flowers were from, so I found the note from the previous set of flowers from this person, so that I could compare the handwriting.

Now, before you think I'm super weird from saving a note from two or three years ago, you should know that I sometimes just save random stuff. I have a corsage that I saved from my sister's prom that her boyfriend gave her. I mean, she was going to throw it away, but I thought it was pretty, and I guess that's what you do when you don't have a (love) life of your own? That's not that weird, right? (Total transparency--I still have the corsage in some random box at my parent's house.) Okay, I don't know if that particular story really helped my case against me being weird, but the point is, I save things. So, I as I compared the notes, I noticed that the handwriting was pretty different on each one. But, there was a few years between each note--and I figured that handwriting can change. Right?

But, I knew it had to be from the person I thought it might be from. I mean, the note that I was reading from a few years ago from this person said, "I may note be able to get you flowers ever year, but every year that I can, I will."

A little bit later I receive a text from a random number asking if I liked the flowers.

I was a little creeped out, but I decided to roll with it.

Me: Ew, who likes flowers?
Creeper: Well usually pretty girls do.
Me: Aw, creepiness--just the way to a girl's heart.
Creeper: Well, compliments didn't seem to work

I then proceeded to ask who it was. But they didn't answer. I went to sleep. I had a good laugh the next morning when it finally dawned on me that my sister and her friends were hanging out together the night before...and know where I live. So, I asked them. Sure enough, it was them.

Well, I guess I don't really have eyes like doves. Dang it.

Oh, and dear person who didn't give me flowers...you've missed two years now. I'm keeping count.