Missing

I consider myself to be a pretty positive and energetic person. But, sometimes I go through a phase of the journey that feels really still. In the quiet moments, when I allow myself to dwell in the sacred spaces I reflect on my life and all of it's special moments.

Lately I've been feeling low. Blue. Not like myself. 2009 has been a particularly difficult year for me and maybe I'm just tired. But I WANT to be filled with joy. That is who He created me to be.

As I fight these feelings and struggle with my own thoughts I find myself remembering things of the past, and missing them. Many of them are petty. But, they are my feelings. I mostly miss writing- my outlet and connection to the spirit. I figured maybe if I write everything down I can let it go. Move on to the future, to my dreams and passions. Here goes...

I miss being a kid. I'm feeling overwhelmed with responsibilities and challenges and I want to go back to living at home and getting allowance. Babysitting. That was a good job.

I miss being a soccer player. I battled for years to let that identity go, but I miss it. I miss tournaments, trophies, my face in the newspaper. I miss being REALLY good at something. I miss my muscle tone. And I miss thinking about soccer and not having my mind flooded with images of my dad dying on the field during practice. I miss my dad.

I miss having my brother around. The last few years have been so tough- choosing not to see him until he got help. Questioning myself everyday if I made the right decision. I miss him making fun of me. And calling me with girl drama. And, I miss being needed, depended upon. I don't miss his rage. But I miss his heart, the place where God dwells.

I miss speaking French. I miss Paris, and the Eiffel Tower. I miss my dedication to learning and to being fluent.

I miss old friends. The ones who have moved away. The ones who know my soul. The ones I love. The ones who made me who I am today.

I miss my long hair. I still can't believe I cut it off. That I was so inhabited by the fear of finding out I had cancer and loosing my hair from chemo that I just cut it all off. That way it was my choice. I miss the long strands of sun-bleached blonde. I miss messy knots on the top of my head on Saturday mornings.

I miss gluten. I hate having an auto-immune disease. I loathe it, actually. I miss eating regular food. I miss not having to ask about every ingredient before I can eat anything. I miss feeling like everyone else. I don't miss being sick all the time.

I have lived an incredibly full life. I am nearing the end of my 28th year (omg. I'm almost 28. That's late 20's right??) and I have had more opportunities in that time than most folks do in a lifetime. I've had more love, more laughter, more crazy moments than I can even recall. I want to be able to look back and smile. To remember how amazing my dad was- knowing half the reason I'm still not married is that I had the best example of a man that there could be. I can't WAIT to meet the one who WILL measure up! Mostly, I think about how much I'm like him, about how I'd love to know what heaven is like, and hear him say "I love you, Beth" just one more time. But, days like today I just feel sad. I feel the loss. With holidays just around the corner- I'm feeling stuck in reverse. And I do not want to be going this way.

When I think about the gifts that God has given me, I think about the things I hear most often form friends around me. I'm fun, enthusiastic, passionate, encouraging, honest and joyful. I think in these moments where I feel defeated and stagnant I am letting the enemy win. Defeat is not a fruit of the spirit. So I don't want it.

Lord- I just want to crawl up into your lap and have you hold me. Fill me with your visions and light and wipe away my tears. Comfort me and heal me, and refine my character. Let this time not be in vain. Pull me close and whisper your peace. I ask for abundant favor and joy. Restore me. Let me be more like your son with every passing day. You are good. Don't let me forget this.

I'm missing the old me. Or, maybe these are just anticipation pangs for the new me that is emerging.