Tag Archives: simple


I don’t think I believe in coincidences.

I mean, to a certain extent, I do. But, mainly, I think everything happens for a reason.

Today, I got distracted by the facebook page of a friend that I haven’t talked to in years. It’s not that there was any sort of painful break that caused us to part ways. Actually, she moved away and we just drifted. At first, we tried to keep in contact. But our lives kind of swept us away and we just… faded out.

We were supposed to become roommates my sophomore year of college but she called me two weeks before and told me she couldn’t come back to school. I haven’t seen her since.

She was, I mean, probably still is, one of the good ones. You know what I’m talking about? She’s one of those people that… I don’t know. Made me better somehow. Just by being around her. I think I was always a little intimidated by that– by her goodness. I think, maybe not in a bad way, but that it kind of held me back. Maybe actually in a good way.

It’s just interesting to think of what my life would have been like if she had come back to school and we had been roommates. I don’t think I’d be the same person I am now. But, maybe I’m wrong. But, being her roommate might have impacted me more than I can imagine. For that semester, I ended up rooming alone, which was during an incredibly painful time in my life. That space might have helped me heal in some ways, but it might have just enabled my isolation. And if she had been there, would I have gotten to know who is now my best friend who lived right down the hall? Or would she have become my best friend and would I have spent most of my time with her?

I don’t know. I’ll never know. I think that’s what’s fascinating to me about the concept of the parallel universe. One simple change and the course of my life, your life, our lives could be completely different. Maybe that’s not something to waste time thinking about.

I just think it’s fascinating.




When I was in early high school, I was still riding the bus because I couldn’t drive yet. I remember some mornings, I would walk outside to wait for the bus driver and the air would be thick with fog. The kind of fog that covers everything. We would ride to school and I couldn’t see anything. I couldn’t even see the school until we were pulling into the parking lot. And it seemed like it was popping up out of nowhere.

I think fog is pretty fascinating. I don’t know why. It’s always just seemed to contain some sort of mystery to me. You see, I think there are two sides of fog.

The first is comforting. It wraps itself around you; keeps you to itself. It’s inclusive. It welcomes you in and forms to fit you. It envelopes you with it’s presence and you’re safe.

The second is terrifying. It blinds you to everything around you. It steels your senses from you and forces you to go in blind. It isolates you. It offers no warning for the danger that could be lurking just out of your sight.

I kind of had a family emergency this week. That’s a lot more like the second side of fog than the first. It settles upon you without warning and catches you off guard and, senseless, you fumble through the blinding mist trying to find something familiar. When this happens, if you and your friend and family are Christian, people tell you to pray. And you should, they’re right. But sometimes, I just can’t. It’s hard for me to focus on anything because my mind is either spinning or it’s numb. And, especially at the start of it, I could barely talk about it. My words were slow and I left long pauses in between them because my thoughts weren’t… there. I can’t think. So it’s hard for me to pray, even though I really need to.

And you know what? I really think that’s okay.

Because I think God’s presence can be like the first side of fog. I think He surrounds us on every side and becomes as close as our breath. I think He wraps us in Himself and becomes a think blanket of comfort. In the midst of confusion and chaos, He’s there, holding our heads up or sitting next to us as we stare blankly into space, not being able to think. And, truthfully, in those moments, I think it’s enough to invite Him into that numbness with you. To simply utter, “Could You just sit with me for a while?” and rest in His presence. I think He has more than enough grace for that.

I also believe that, in distress, it’s the responsibility of others to pray for you. I pray for others a lot and so I hope when I can’t pray, they’re stepping up to pray for me. I just think that’s how it’s supposed to work.

“What can I do with my obsession with the things I cannot see? Is there a madness in my being? Is it the wind that moves the trees? Sometimes You’re further than the moon, sometimes You’re closer than my skin. And You surround me like a winter fog; You’ve come and burned me with a kiss. And my heart burns for You. And my heart burns… for You.” // David Crowder



I have been having a lot of problems with my feet lately. We’re not going to get into it right now, but basically standing and walking have become extremely difficult at times and it’s rather unfortunate.

The class it is most annoying in is choir because we are expected to stand most, if not all, of the time, and my choir director is a real stickler. Despite that, I think they’ve realized I really can’t stand, especially after I came with a doctors note because I couldn’t walk to class.

The other day, we were recording and, when we record, we really don’t sit the entire time. There aren’t even chairs for us to do so. As I limped into the room, I worried and wondered over what I was going to do. I could stand the entire time but that meant I would, without a doubt, be in an extreme amount of pain later. I didn’t know what to do.

When I found my spot in the midst of everyone, the boy beside me had gotten a chair for me. No one had told him to. He had seen me come in and had gotten a chair.

The next day I came into choir, everyone was doing back rubs as we always do at the beginning of a rehearsal. Not able to stand and join in the line, I found my seat. The same boy who had gotten me a chair saw as I sat down and immediately broke from the line and came to sit behind me and massage my shoulders.

Tears welled in my eyes as I felt his presence behind me. I cannot express what it means to me that he showed me such kindness when there was no need.

That’s the thing: there was no need for him to do these things because I am fully capable of taking care of myself. I am extremely independent and I don’t need anyone to care for me. I can make it just fine on my own. I’m actually kind of good at it.

But he never asked if he could care for me. He just…did it.

You see, most of the time, I don’t let people care for me. Even when they try or they want to, I push them away. Maybe not in an obvious way or in a mean way, I just take care of myself and I don’t show that I need to be taken care of. Because I don’t.

But do I?

If I don’t need to be cared for, why do I tear up every time he goes out of his way to care for me in the sweet, simple ways he does?

I don’t know. I don’t know how to reconcile the fact that I don’t need people and yet I do. I don’t need to be cared for and yet I long for it, and yet I appreciate it more than I could possibly say. I just don’t know.

I do know I adore those that are sweet to me and I am incredibly grateful to them.