Tag: courage

Your goodness shall follow me

Tina 3 Comments

01.

I talk about being brave, but sometimes I think I really don’t know what it entails until it stares at me right in the face. I haven’t watched the movie We Bought a Zoo (although I probably should), but I remember this one quote from the movie that always comes up when I search for “bravery” and “courage” in Google: ((Sidenote (or, fine, footnote): I wish it was that easy, just enter the thing you want or need and Google and you get results. I wish it was that easy.))

You know, sometimes all you need is twenty seconds of insane courage. Just literally twenty seconds of just embarrassing bravery. And I promise you, something great will come of it.

Twenty seconds, huh?

How about five?

Image from we heart it
Image from we heart it

02.

There was that one mass, where I fell to my knees after receiving communion and started tearing up. Okay, that isn’t really new, because sometimes I find myself crying a lot while at church, which often feel like the safest place for my tears. I knelt down and prayed, and my heart cried out. I don’t know what to do, Lord. I don’t know if I should go forward or forget about it. I’m scared, I’m scared. I just don’t know. Please tell me what to do.

Those were my prayers, but I realize later that underneath all those prayers is this one more urgent, pressing prayer: Please tell me what’s going to happen if I do this. Please, please.

And then, the answer: I will not tell you what’s going to happen. Remember that even your mistakes are in My plan. Will you trust Me?

By the time I went out of the church, I know what I was going to do. Okay, I didn’t know how I will do it, but I know what I think I should do.

God, I’m scared.

03.

I came across this post as soon as she posted it, but I didn’t want to read it the moment I read the first few paragraphs. Not now, not yet.

Now I read it and read it and read it, not because it contains the answer I need but because it’s one of the few things that I can hold onto now, as I prepare:

You must look that answer in the eyes and listen to it, and let it ache, and let it roam around, and let it lead you. Because the truth will always lead you somewhere.

04.

“You know how when you eat a sundae and have tequila after, you expect LBM…but not too soon?” My friend made me laugh at that statement, but there is truth in what he said.

When you’ve come to the point of no return and then you are asked to wait again, it’s frustrating. Let me say that again: it’s frustrating. It’s even more frustrating when some things you sort of expected to happen later happen too soon, before you’re completely ready for it. What results is you, a complete mess, breaking down at random times in the day while you try to hold yourself together, try to not take offense, try to not over think things, try not to jump to conclusions.

It’s not like you can turn back, anyway. Or you’d want to turn back.

“The only thing you can do now is be strong, and wait.”

05.

This must be what free-falling feels like. How long till you get to the end?

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Subtle Shifts and Trusting People

Tina Leave a comment

I was writing a letter to a friend last night ((Because you can never write enough letters. And, you always need a pen pal in your life.)) and I wrote something about how I am able to recognize subtle shifts in my mood, and my thinking. Like, how I was so busy last week that I barely had time to think about anything else, and now that things are winding down, I suddenly find a lot of free brain cells that started thinking of things again.

Being aware of these subtleties and these shifts is a blessing, because I can force myself to slow down and eventually, stop. Over thinking is my number one sin to myself, and this awareness helps me stop it before it starts. I realized that when I go on that mode, I become a selfish little brat because I tend to think that everything is about me. Things are happening (or aren’t happening) because of me. People are mad at me, or are talking about me. I need to do something. I need to say something. I, I, I, me, me me. But now, I try my best to stop and remind myself: hey, it’s not always about you.

This reminds me of one of the early lessons I got back during my birthday week. Remember how I said I tend to be especially bratty when it’s my birthday month? Well, as it turns out, being bratty doesn’t always work, and is not really a good thing to do. Especially when it’s with people you care about. Maturity, and all that. Sometimes you don’t get the things you want, and you probably never will, but it doesn’t mean that everything is ruined. You just have to grin and bear it, because it’s the right thing to do. ((And sometimes, you get something better in return. But that’s for another post.)) So I see this way of recognizing these shifts as a way of maturing, of being a grown up and in return, relating better to people.

I think one of the sure signs of maturity is being able to trust people. Not just with things or thoughts or secrets, but you know, yourself. Your heart. That’s one of the lessons I’ve been trying to learn in the past weeks. Some people who know me in real life will probably laugh at this, given that I can probably get into a conversation with anyone but the people who really know me know that this openness is my defense mechanism. I talk a lot because it gives me control of the conversation, and I get to pick what the other person knows about me. And I get to laugh about too many things, too, so I can avoid those things that can actually show my weaknesses.

I’m trying hard to get those guards down, because…well, I want to have a brave heart.  You know, a heart that isn’t afraid of vulnerability. This reminds me of this amazing TEDx talk I watched recently, thanks to one of my new favorite blogs. Apparently, I’m not the only one who thinks that we need to be vulnerable if we want to truly love, and it gives me hope that maybe, I am in the right place. What I didn’t really count on is how trying to be vulnerable can just really hurt. Too much, sometimes. I know it’s not easy. Sometimes I just want to pull up my defenses again, and fight. Fight, because I don’t feel safe. Fight, because no one can hurt me first. Fight, because nothing is sure, and and I can’t handle it. Fight, because when things aren’t assured for you, you must do everything in your power to make sure it’s yours, especially when others seem to want to take what you want from you.

But fighting is exhausting. It may keep me safe, but it stresses me out. Sometimes I feel like learning to trust other people is harder than learning to trust God. It makes trusting God easy all of a sudden. Okay, maybe not easy, but easier, given the nature of who I am trusting. God is trustworthy and faithful and He has good intentions for me, so I will definitely trust him. But other people? Who knows what their intentions are? How can I trust them with even just a small piece of my heart when they can easily crush it?

I honestly have no easy answer to this, because like I said, I’m still trying to learn it. There are days when I feel so ready to trust another person and I actually really do so, but then some things change — there’s a subtle shift somewhere — and I pack up and go again. Sometimes it feels like it’s one step forward and two steps back. Sometimes, it feels like I actually got it and I can hopefully move on to the next lesson, ((I imagine God laughing at me whenever I think this, and then He puts a hand on my shoulder and says, “Not quite yet, my daughter.”)) and then I get hurt and I crawl back into my hole.

But I have to have courage. If I am to have a brave heart, if I am to be wholehearted, I have to learn how to trust people. To be seen and known, just as I am.

There’s a lot of adjustments, many things to learn and unlearn. It is all completely messy but also beautiful, and I think it’s just how relationships are. Right?

Be Here Now

Tina 1 Comment

April has been strangely hard so far, for some reason, and I can’t really point out why. It shouldn’t be, especially after a quietly victorious Holy Week, and how the first three months of the year has just been really good. Why would April be so hard when I’ve got so much fuel to keep me up?

Anyway. I went surfing with some friends last weekend. I wiped out more times than I was able to stand, but that few seconds of being on the board and actually riding the waves felt almost surreal. I know most first-time surfers had the same sentiments that I have. I understand what makes it so fun, why people want to do it over and over again. Truth be told, I almost wanted to quit after wiping out for the nth time…and then, I actually managed to stand up. It was just a few seconds — few, precious seconds — before falling off again, but it had me whooping like an excited idiot when I surfaced again (not that the water was deep, anyway). Then I ride the again to try one more time. Again and again, against the waves, with other surfers, while the sun beats down on everyone.

I was thinking of a corny analogy for that — you know, compare life with surfing? But it already sounds corny in my head, so let’s not get to that. Instead, I think of how surfing requires so much…hereness. You know, focusing on where you are, right now.

Let me elaborate. I’m not a huge fan of deep water, even if I can swim. I admit that surfing made me apprehensive because the ocean is so big, the waves are so strong and what can a small person like me do against something that big and powerful? Anything can go wrong, and I can imagine all the accidents that could possibly happen, and how I may never, ever want to do it again. ((Hello, over-thinker!))

Being out there, however, with the instructor telling me what to do, taught me that lesson on being here. There’s no room for over thinking there, there’s just room for now. You can’t wonder endlessly about what happens next, because before you know it, a good wave comes, and the instructor pushes your board and the only thing that can have room in your mind is “This is it, let’s do this”. There are no guarantees if you’ll be able to stand, or if you’ll wipe out in the most embarrassing fashion, but you can’t possibly care for that anymore because the wave is here, and you just have to ride it now.

That’s the thing: in the midst of all the crashing waves and the fear of things going wrong, sometimes the best way to deal with it is to just be at the present. There’s no way for us to know if things will go our way or not, if we will be able to stand up or wipe out. Stop thinking of what could be, of the what-ifs, and just be here now.

Image from we heart it
Image from we heart it

My heart in the past two weeks was like the ocean I experienced in that weekend. There were too many things, too many questions and too long silences that made my emotions as turbulent as the waves in La Union. It rattled me because I wanted to get back to that highness and wonderfulness that is March, and I worried of what will happen in the future. But if there was anything I learned in that weekend where I first rode a wave — as corny as this may seem — it’s to just be wherever I am. Be in the present, not in the past or in the future.

Be here now. 

Sometimes, when everything is too noisy or messy or when everything seems broken, the best thing we can do is to sit and revel in the now. Sometimes, the bravest thing we can do when nothing makes sense, when the waves are stronger than us, is to lie down on our board, wait for that wave and that push. Feel the motion of the water and then try to stand up…and then laugh in glee as you feel the exhilaration of being fully where you are, riding that wave, before you gloriously (and sometimes, embarrassingly) wipe out.

But it’s okay. And then, you go back up and try again. And again. :) Because sometimes, there is no better place for us — for me — than to be where we are right now.

Be brave, love. Be here now.