I am a Liar, but there is no Lying in Heaven.

I recently found out about a lie that was told about my husband in effort to proverbially save someone else's butt. I was sufficiently annoyed. I wanted to set the record straight.
My husband said no. After a short conversation, I realized that my annoyance was mostly related to pride.

Because I understand lying. I often lie when I am asked if I need help because I don't want to be a burden to someone else. I lie when Tim asks me what's wrong because I don't want to be a burden to him. (But I am a terrible liar, and he doesn't let me get away with it.) And lying always does the opposite of what I actually want- it works towards creating a wedge in the community I desire and encourages isolation- even when I "mean well."

The truth is, I desire community and true love, but those things are awkward. They look perfect and smooth in the books and the songs, but that is a false representation. I feel awkward when I accept help, I feel awkward when I am in the beginning (and middle!) stages of building relationships. I feel angry, disappointed, and sad to the point of (many) tears. But even while I am experiencing discouragement (which is often, because I desire to continue moving forward, and with new ground comes many unforeseen potholes, hills, and turns), I have the feeling that I am living in the middle of something beautiful. Just because I see beautiful things every day. Like the students that are thinking through the messages they are hearing for themselves and asking questions. Like the kids at the Community Center who, after nearly three months, are beginning to understand that I care about them and respond to that. Like the relationships with my kids and "Tim's" family (they're mine, too!) that are deepening. Like the encouragement that I periodically receive that maybe I'm doing ok, and I should just keep truckin'.

Things feel very bittersweet at the moment. But it's hard to imagine not always feeling that way to some degree. There are things that pull me down. Like the unloving actions of the church, the fact that orphans are treated as a last resort, the fact that people treat other people like objects. Like all the pain and suffering and misunderstanding and selfishness. But the sweet part comes because in the middle of it all, God still walks. He cares, he loves, and he is so much more heartbroken than I am. And it just.makes.me.long.for.heaven. Which is fine. Because it's such a reminder to put myself aside for a little while and live like I am part of the kingdom of God.

Lessons

Right now, I am wearing a shirt that has become one of my favorites in the last few hours. It formally belonged to Aymie, and it is beautiful. I feel good in it. Comfortable and a little stylish.

I put it on while getting ready for church this morning, took my time matching the "correct" color pants to it, accessorizing, and all the while feeling...romantic? That's not the right word, but it's the closest I can think of at the moment.

I'm a little bit symbolic. I wear a widow's mite to remind me what it really means to be generous and a wedding ring to symbolize my commitment to my husband and what a treasure he is in my life. And today I am wearing Aymie's shirt as a celebration of all of the things her family has given me. They have given me some of her clothes, which has been a gift in that act alone. The clothes came when all of my things seemed to be wearing out at the same time and I could not afford a new wardrobe. I have been given pies and pizzas...but even better are the intangible things.

My words will not adequately describe my joy when I think about Ann, Eric, Stacey, Kevin, and Alyssa. I feel a little bad about that, but I will feel worse if I do not say anything at all. I have a relationship with a little girl who squeals when she sees me, who jumps in my arms and wraps her own tiny arms around me and gives some of the best hugs I have ever had.

Yesterday, we spent the hour or so we had together running up and down hills, rolling playground balls up and down hills, throwing and catching, digging holes to bury rocks and acorns in, and exploring the grounds at my mother-in-law's house. It is so beautiful and energizing to live life with a 5-year-old. Alyssa just embraces it, finds wonder and joy in "small" things. I love that about her.

I love that I've been able to watch her grow things like thoughtfulness and patience. I love that she shares things about her mom with me, and am priviledged to watch her absolutely beam when I say good things about Aymie to her. I get to be a part of a child's growing up, and I really, really appreciate that. Appreciate isn't the right word. I absolutely treasure it.

I cry tears of joy sometimes when I think about Alyssa, this little girl who give me so much joy. About Ann, Eric, Stacey, and Kevin, who allow and encourage me to be a part of Alyssa's life. Who give me the physically close extended family that I have always wished for.

What's interesting to me is that part of the reason I am where I am right now is because I have worked to push past my fears to do what I thought was and is important for me to do.

I am afraid of *everything.* I am afraid that my actions will be misinterpreted, I am afraid that someone's feelings will get hurt when Alyssa runs for me instead of them, I am afraid of joining a conversation because I might not be wanted.

But I have realized that I cannot govern other people's ideas of who I am. I can't control whether they thing negative or positive thoughts, whether they understand who I really am, or why I do what I do. Because I desperately what to reach for the actions and the attitudes of loving God and loving others, I am often changing, and I am a different person every week. And because I am a different person every week, I cannot viably expect everyone who knows me to understand all of those changes, to know who I am inside and out. I don't even know that.

So I have stopped worrying so much if Alyssa hugs me before someone else. I have stopped worrying if I am unwanted in a conversation and started paying more attention to people instead of my own insecurities. I have stopped worrying so much if everyone else understands my motives, because I know most of them don't, and that's quite alright. I have stopped needing credit for all the things that most people don't see. I have reverted at times to my former habits, but I have still experienced an amazing growth of joy and satisfaction. And I am so exhuberant over that.