If I was blind, I would see you.

Once upon a this morning... I got together with my friend Ellie and her friend Heather (who, until today had only been my facebook friend.) For the past few months, since I've been home from school, Ellie and I had been toying with the idea of starting a prayer group or a Bible study of some kind. Neither of us solidly belong to one church; we're poly-churchian at the moment, but we both have recognized our desire/desperate need for more fellowship and communion with the Lord and other believers. Having lived at church for the past two years, I feel it pressed upon me daily that my life at home doesn't nearly afford me the structure I once had. I miss having worship and devo's every morning and being saturated in prayer daily. If I were more disciplined, this would not be a problem. My lack of self-discipline is another matter (another blog, entirely). Back to the prayer group! Early in it's conception, Ellie told me that her friend Heather had expressed an interest in joining the group should it ever be fully realized. And, this morning, it was.

We met at a coffee shop, a comfortable backdrop and equi-distant redevous point for everyone- made more convenient for me being five minutes up the road- and Heather and I got to talk in person, and fell immediately in sister-love. This was the first time, since I've been back, that I've spoken with two Christians (other than my parents) at the same time, about Christian things. We didn't just take about Jesus (not that that would have been bad or unfavorable), but as Christians, and especially when we're together en masse (is three enough to be en masse?), no matter what we talk about there's always a pretty strong spiritual undercurrent. That's one of my favourite things about fellowship; even conversations about grocery shopping and menstrual cramps can turn into a very real prophecy or word of encouragement. Jesus is just so applicable to any situtation.

After we talked, listed off prayer requests, and had a few good laughs with/at each other, we prayed over our group. Even that, just a short little prayer, lifted something off me. A peace, not a full, all-consuming, three-course meal type of peace; but more like the peace you have when you take an aspirin for a headache; you know it'll take a while to work through your system, but you soon won't have a headache anymore. It's the God-is-doing-something-but-I-don't-know-what-it-is-but-it-doesn't-matter-that-I-don't-know-what-it-is-at-least-I-have-an-inside-line-again peace. That peace.

Even though I've let my grip loosen on the Lord, I felt today, for this first time in months, His hand on me again.

On back-sliding after Bible College

Before I left for school, I was a bundle of nerves; anxious at what un-dreamed of adventures lay ahead, and even more anxious to leave behind my seemingly dead-end existence. I was working two jobs, as a librarian and a barista. 50 hour work weeks melted, indistinguishable from one another, in the unrelenting San Diego sunlight. By the time I actually made up my mind to go to Calvary Chapel Bible College, I was so hungry for it, not because I felt drawn to that certain school (though I undoubtedly was), but what I most craved was something other than what I'd been doing for so long. Change is both the thing I crave most and my most feared enemy. School was amazing and unlike anything I could have imagined, it destroyed me and rebuilt me over and over again, for four semesters. As anticipated, I learned things that shook my world and changed me from the inside out. It took me from the desert oasis of Murrieta, to the rainy, gothically romantic York, England. And my last semester was spent in the only actual Emerald City that exists; Seattle. Truths I had never expected to learn unfurled from the pages of books, the lectures from my teachers, and the lips of friends I would still die or kill for. The metamorphosis I've undergone these past two years seemed like the transformation one would expect from the brothers Grimm, or a Hans Christian Anderson fable. Only, instead of the ugly ducking turning into a swan, it turned into a pegasus- something entirely incomparable to what it once was. That's what it felt like to the winged horse, anyway. But most of what the Lord changed in me over the years weren't necessarily such physically discernable mutations. People at home, family and friends I'd known for years weren't looking at me with sidelong glances, wondering who I was and where the hell the real Isabeau was hiding. This was not the invasion of the body snatchers. It was almost disappointing; I thought that having a deeper relationship with Jesus and having a healthier prayer life would result in some kind of holy, pure, external glow. (I wasn't expecting a halo or anything- but more like the visage of Stephen when he was on trial and his face shone "like an angel.") I thought people would see heaven in me. I expected some sort of NT (New Testament) transfiguration. I once considered myself a realist, but saying these things now brings me back to the reality that I am, in fact, a dreamer (or maybe I'm just one of those overly-romantic homeschooled girls who needs to lay off the Jane Austen and Bronte sisters for a while...) And the crushing, foolishly unexpected blow of reality keeps pummeling away, gnawing at my cheekbones like a starving dog on his own leg. Two life-changing years gone by, and here I am. Where am I? Living in my parent's house, working at a coffee shop as a barista, and at a library. Now, if that doesn't sound like Square 1... I know we can never really retreat, go back, it's impossible that I'm back at Square 1, still I can't help but feel disappointed. Disappointment in myself, mainly. However, I can't decide if I'm disappointed in myself because I'm in the same position I was before Bible college, or because I thought I wouldn't be. I feel like my despair is a bad testimony against my faith. I feel if I share these things, people will say in their pious pretense that I "just need to have faith" and I "just need to pray more" and basically everything else I know already, which I'm struggling with at this moment. I don't want someone to come up with a fail-safe remedy or recipe for my problem. That's no one's job but mine. I need you, Jesus, come to my rescue.