It’s been a while…and this one is sad.

I can’t believe how long it’s been. I’m dealing with a lot of things. Mostly the end of my engagement. Yeah… I had gotten engaged to this wonderful man and then I realized I was being told no by God. Actually, it was more like God repeatedly telling me no and me ignoring Him. I didn’t trust that He had plans to prosper me and not to harm me. As far as I was concerned, I had been harmed two years ago and I wasn’t going to trust Him completely.

I know I’m the one who ended things. I know I gave him back his things, told him when he could get the rest. He’s been so kind, so sweet that I almost want to take it all back and change my mind. Almost. It doesn’t matter how hard it is to focus on just remembering to breathe. It doesn’t matter how swollen my eyes are, or how putting on makeup is a chore because it hurts. It doesn’t matter how empty and cold my apartment feels now that all of his things are gone. It doesn’t matter how much I miss his smile and touch, or his embrace, the kisses on my forehead, holding hands. It doesn’t matter how my left hand has an indention from his ring or how it’s already starting to go back to normal.

This is the hardest bandaid I’ve had to rip off. And I feel like I’ve left some traces of the glue behind. I’m still finding his stuff as I pack up my own. A sock, some shoes, a stupid empty water bottle. And each time it breaks my heart a little more. I realize I left a journal in his car and I want it back, but then I realize it means I have to contact him. So I do, because I just want one more hug. One more glimpse of his face, a small smile. I know that it’s just making the healing process take longer, but I’m not strong enough to say no to those opportunities.

And I know that God is right beside me, rubbing my back like the good Father He is. I know God is letting me cry into His shoulder and hugging me while I’m finally following His direction. It doesn’t make this hurt any less, it doesn’t make me accept it any easier. Not right now when it’s still so fresh.

I keep listening to that Sarah Evans song, “A Little Bit Stronger.” And I keep waiting to get a little stronger. Maybe I have been? I didn’t cry again until he took the last of his stuff. But maybe that was because I knew he had to come back and that was going to be one more hug and smile and face time. And I don’t want him to be hurting, I don’t want him to shoulder all the blame. Things just didn’t work out the way I wanted them to, the way I planned. And that’s okay.

I’m still so sad that we didn’t make it to one more holiday. We didn’t get to throw a Halloween party or even share a Halloween together. We’re not going to have a Thanksgiving together (he was deployed for the last ones.) We’re not going to have another Christmas morning together. Or New Years Eve.

And I just have to trust that God has something in plan for both of us. I have to trust that there is good in this goodbye. That I’ll be able to think of him and smile and know that we grew from this relationship and will treat the next one better. God is shaping us for the people that we’re supposed to become.

And maybe one day we can be friends. We can share where life is taking us, where God is leading us. I pray for that. I pray for him. I pray that he continues to allow God to speak to him, to guide him, to come to learn God’s love for him.

He was the first guy I really let into my life after…things I’ll post about in the future. He was the first guy to make me feel like it was all okay. And I know it will be okay again. So I thank him for that. It hurts like hell right now, but we’ll be okay again.

Lord,

Thank You for being close to the broken hearted. Thank you for binding up our wounds. I know I’ve done a crappy job of trusting in You for all of my desires and needs. And I know that You still love me, You still want to guide me, You will still heal all of my hurts. I need You, Lord. I know I’ve said it a thousand times before, but please help me keep breathing. Help me keep my focus on You and where you are guiding me. Lord, I ask that you guide others who are hurting and seeking wisdom. I don’t know what others are going through, but I pray that their hearts will open to you. I pray that they will accept the peace, love, and healing that You offer. And, God, thank you for this lesson. I may not appreciate it as much as I can right now, but I know that my future and his will be better for it.

 

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Seven Times Seventy

I’ve been wanting to write about forgiveness for the last two weeks. Okay, that’s a lie. I haven’t wanted to write about this which is why I haven’t posted in two weeks. It’s been heavy on my heart and I’ve been struggling because I don’t think I’m really one to talk.

It’s a difficult thing to do, to forgive someone who has hurt you. How do you know if you’ve truly forgiven them? Do you just accept the apology and stay friends? Sometimes you know that the friendship isn’t healthy for both parties, but if you don’t stay friends did you really forgive?

The answer is yes. You don’t have to maintain a friendship just to forgive someone. You can part amicably and never have the cloud of unforgivingness over your head, or even worse, the resentment toward them in your heart.

What happens if you forgive someone, but they continue to mess up? Do we forgive even after they come to us asking for forgiveness for the fifth or twelfth time? In Matthew 18:22, Jesus says, “I do not say to you up to seven times, but up to seventy times seven.” If you don’t have a calculator handy and are as terrible at math as I am, that looks like this:

7 x 70 = 490.

Jesus says to forgive someone four hundred ninety times. Now, should we attempt to keep track of how many times we’ve forgiven someone?

What if Jesus did that? What if, throughout our entire lifetime, God was counting the amount of times we apologized for our sins? Do you realize that God views all sins on the same scale? We as humans don’t. We feel certain issues are worse than others. But it’s all a sin against Him. Jesus did not die on the cross to only save us when we lie, cheat, or steal. He forgives murder, abuse, and rape. He was on the cross, telling His Father, “Father, forgive them for they know not what they do” (Luke 23:34). Those people hadn’t even started to ask for forgiveness. They were dividing Jesus’ possessions instead of apologizing for crucifying Him.

I know forgiving someone who has hurt you is hard. It doesn’t matter what the deed was, how easy it should be to get over it or not. If you claim to love the Lord and trust in Him, you need to forgive. “For if you forgive men for their sins, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive men for their sins, neither will your Father forgive your sins” (Matt. 6:14–15).

Onto part two of this struggle: Accepting Forgiveness.

 I thought forgiving someone was hard. I thought that trying to move past sins committed against me was hard. I thought writing about forgiving others was difficult. Admitting your own struggles is more difficult. Nothing is more humbling than realizing you are wrong and having to apologize. Nothing is worse than someone telling you that you are forgiven but you still feel guilty. You still walk around feeling that nothing you do is good enough. That you’ll never be forgiven entirely. That what you’ve done is too big of a deed to ever be completely forgiven.

For me, it’s not something that I’ve done against a friend or a stranger. It’s something between God and me, as a result of things that I am working on forgiving others for. It really calls into light Matthew 6:15, “if you do not forgive men for their sins, neither will your Father forgive your sins.” I have lost sleep praying and crying. I have spent days in bed, not feeling strong enough to get up. This guilt, shame, and hurt just hangs on my heart, holding me down.

I’ve recently started going to church again. I thought everyone would just know what my shames are, what my fears and struggles are. But they didn’t. They welcomed me and I thought I could just keep hiding things. But God’s been working on me, more like in me.

The messages I’ve been listening to keep repeating in my head. I’ve opened my Bible more times a day in the last few weeks than I have in the last twenty years. Verses that I’ve heard in church before, so many times, are still being repeated—but I’m understanding them now. And on days where I’m feeling so low that I wonder if I really have any worth, that I’m afraid of not being valuable, Scripture starts running through my mind by the grace of God. Matthew 10:29-31 (my favorite Bible verses) says,

“Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? And not one of them will fall to the ground without your Father. But the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Therefore do not fear. You are more valuable than many sparrows.”

And 1 Corinthians 6:19-20:

“What? Do you not know that your body is the temple of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God, and that you are not your own? You were bought with a price.”

Our God sent His only Son to die for all of our sins (John 3:16), not just the minor ones. We have to accept that the Jesus who forgave those who crucified Him is the same Jesus who forgives us. Then, we have to release that guilt that burdens our hearts and live.

Lord, 

I pray that whoever reads this can have a sense of peace in their life, over their struggles and hurts. Lord, I know I have a lot of growing to do. I know that I am not perfect in any sense of the word, but I ask that You help me to accept Your forgiveness and that You help me forgive daily. Every time resentment stirs in my heart, every time the same people apologize for the same mistakes, I will forgive and move on. I will not carry guilt or shame in my heart after I lay my troubles out to You and seek Your forgiveness. 

In Your name, amen.

Things They Don’t Say About Growing Up

Back when I was so excited to grow up!

I remember being a kid, being told to enjoy my life because it becomes more complex when you get older. I remember being in elementary school and developing my first (of hundreds) crush on a boy—and being told that there will be time to like boys when I’m older. I remember running to the mailbox and hoping I would receive one of those pretty envelopes that my parents received, being disappointed on an almost daily basis (thank you to my grandparents and Toys R Us for mailing me something for my birthday!), and being told that those letters weren’t fun. I remember watching my parents swipe their plastic to purchase something and being told that I should never use the creditcard for things. I remember all adults telling me I should do as they say and not as they do when it came to certain things because habits are hard to break.

Fresh college graduate!

Now that I belong in the young adult category, I must say that all of those pieces of advice were actually useful. Things are definitely more complex now. Boys have become men, but I’m still trying to figure out when the time is right to like them. And while they don’t throw a crayon to tell you they like you, they also don’t just tell you that they like you (at least the ones you wish would… long story). Those letters that arrive in pretty envelopes, those are bills. Those are not fun. I miss my Toys R Us and grandparent’s letters, although now I get ones from Starbucks and Joanne’s. Credit cards are a beautiful evil, and when you’re tempted to buy something you should always make sure you can pay it off that same month/week/day. I’m also glad that I didn’t pick up some bad habits, although coffee is an addiction I’m okay with.

 

However, with all the advice about growing up I received, I was never told a few important things.

My little brother before he started school

Number one: it hurts. When you finally get grown up enough to move out of your parents’ house and receive the pretty envelopes, it is so exciting. You have daily phone calls with your parents, sometimes talking on the phone two or three times a day. It’s not quite the same as being there, but it helps. After a while though, the phone calls aren’t as long or as often. And you’re a little sadder when you hang up because you weren’t there to get that goodnight hug or kiss. Then come the days that you’re not feeling well. All you want to do is lay on the couch and have dad bring you soup and have mom rub your head while your little brother goes and picks some flowers and says he hopes you feel better. Then comes the day that you meet a boy and things were great but then they’re not so great. And all you want to do is have your mom hug you and your dad get you chocolate and your brother make a house in Minecraft, dedicate it to said boy, and throw in so many explosives that the world has a huge crater in it (in the game, that is). And you want your friends from back home to come, make you get dressed up, take you out, and show you all the much more attractive boys the world has to offer the way they did the last time you had your heart broken. Then comes your first birthday without your family. And you miss them so much that you practically spend the whole month crying—at your desk at work, in the car on the way home, curled up on the couch on the weekend, etc.. Every time you notice the countdown to your birthday, you die a little inside and wish you could postpone it. Growing up hurts.

Favorite home-cooked meal

Number two: it’s beautiful. Yes, it hurts. It hurts a lot and you have days that hurt more and days that hurt less. However, you also have these beautiful moments when you do things you never thought you could. You buy your first bed, first couch, first dining room set. Your apartment starts feeling like a place you really can call home. Then it becomes messy and it is just like your room back home (sorry, Mom and Dad). The first time you make a meal from a random recipe you found online and it tastes incredible, for instance. You take pictures, post it all over Facebook and Instagram, and call your mom to tell her. And your dad, and your aunts and grandparents. And your friends back home click the like buttons and you are so incredibly proud of yourself. Granted, it took a few months and some really terrible meals to get to this place, but you had a kitchen all to yourself to experiment in. Then come the second and third meals, and soon enough your Facebook and Instagram is full of pictures of home-cooked meals. You get your own animal and start training him and feel a sense of pride in that. You play with him, walk him, have a companion that licks your face when you’re crying, and you don’t feel so lonely. You go back home often enough  (it’s so fun to surprise your family and just show up when you miss them a lot!) and make it a point to see some of your old friends. Those moments are even more special because they’re rare. You start making friends at work, you get introduced to their friends, and you start hanging out with them outside of the office. Granted, these people are not the same friends you had back home—no one can replace that group—but it’s time to accept that. It’s time to see how you are growing up and how beautiful that really is.

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My fluff ball, Rupert, and I.

Number three: it’s an ongoing process. This part is kind of annoying. Growing up comes in phases, and when one is finishing the next one is beginning—and it’s hard to tell when that moment is occurring. Writing things down on a never-ending to-do list is important. Doing laundry is important. Forgetting to do laundry sucks. Forgetting to make a payment/change the account number on payments sucks. You find a new apartment, maybe with your spouse, maybe alone but less expensive than your first place. You get to make the new apartment start feeling like home. You learn what events and holidays need to become priorities in your life, and sometimes you change those around. You meet the new guy who makes you smile and want to get dressed up, and you thank God that the last relationship didn’t work out. We are constantly changing, learning, relearning, meeting people, feeling sad, feeling happy… We’re constantly growing (up).

Minor Irritants

Just when I thought I was getting the hang of keeping my blog updated weekly, life happened! I am so sorry, dear readers, for not posting as regularly as I had planned. I can list my hundred excuses, but I know excuses only satisfy those who say them. Sadly. In other news, I have made my business cards! A professor suggested it to me and I took it into consideration, then went for it. I think they look good, just a little flair and an incredible quote about editing on the back that says: “A good editor doesn’t rewrite words, she rewires synapses” – S. Kelley Harrell. She writes for the Huffington Post and has several books about animism, shamanism, dreams, and the everyday paranormal things. I haven’t read them personally, but they are on my BOOKS TO READ list. That list is ever-growing.

Now for the meat of this post, my irritants in the past month pertaining to the English language. Aren’t we excited?!

First off: People who say the word they are using is in the dictionary. Please take a moment to view this image:

Can we appreciate the beauty of this image. I wish I could take the nonsense words out of the dictionary (ya’ll, ain’t, irregardless), but they have become too accepted into speech. (Thank you Sarah Palin.)

Second: Incorrectly using commas and apostrophes. We have all seen the memes about how commas save lives, but I haven’t seen many dealing with apostrophes.  We cannot use an apostrophe to create a plural word unless… NEVER! I don’t understand how it became so popular to misuse this beautiful grammatical tool, but people… PLEASE STOP.

Oh! I have to get ready for a meeting with a person about a potential editing gig. I’m so excited. I’ll blog again later and hopefully I’ll make it a part of my weekly routine.

 

 

To summarize my grievances, and show the ones I didn’t get to:

Could You Be My Memory?

Memory is becoming an increasingly addictive subject for me. Not just what we remember, but how, and when, and why. I remember how to write, but I have never actually been tested on my writing ability (meaning, do I know how to put the pen/pencil on a blank sheet of paper and create legible words that have meanings). I know how to formulate a sentence, I know the use of gerunds (now), phrases, clauses, modifiers, hyphens, semicolons, etc. But I have not been questioned on my knowledge of these things. I remember them when I am in a situation that requires my skills, but in everyday conversation, my knowledge of these details is as useful as a wet paper bag (that’s a simile!).

Last year, or so, I had a class called Science and Literature with one of my favorite college professors. (Remember my use of “or so”, I think it’ll be important later in this blog). We read this novel :

senseofanending

that has made a larger impact in my life than I expected it to. It’s about this man who is looking back on his life and his friendship with Adrian. I don’t know how much to say without ruining the story, but it is an incredible novel. I picked up on a connection between memory, time, and water — a symbolic necessity that I want to share. I actually typed a paper about the novel and the relationship it details about time and water and the way we remember things according to both. The more time passes between an event and our memory of said event is like a river. Minute details change, and over time, become an entirely different memory/river. Deep, right? My professor thought so too!

Anyway, since reading this novel, I think about the way I remember things. Last year, or maybe it was last semester, the semester before that… I knew “or so” was going to be important in this blog, because I wonder if the timing is really important. But, it is! The timing of my memory is everything. It determines when I started changing and thinking about these things, it determines what really happened. Now that I have run off on a tangent, I should return to my intention with this paragraph. But, I can’t remember.

I have that Sugarcult song stuck in my head now, Memory.

Oh, yes! I had to read through what I wrote to remember what I wanted to say. Why and When we remember things evolve the memory entirely. I remember we had that one guy, who I thought was a cute psychology professor, come into the class and talk about this. We give ourselves false memories when we try to remember something we are hazy about. We become so sure about being in Kroger when it was actually Publix, (this was part of his speech, but I don’t remember if those were the two places he mentioned) that we refuse to admit we were wrong, even if there is tangible evidence.

I’ll be thinking about impaired memory now, and what happens when things out of our control affect the way we remember things, or the ability to remember things at all.

Follow me on Twitter! @AneishaMercedes

Leave me a comment on your thoughts, memories, or ideas for future posts.

Words and Things

I am almost done with college! I have six more months before I join the elite Class of 2013. What do I have to show for it, as of right now? I think I should narrow this down to the past year. The past four years of college would be a lot of work;  going back to high school would be crazy. 

I have written over 1,000,000 words. Essays, short stories for class, research paper proposals, and projects all tallied up to create this feat. Over 1,000,000 words in one year. I never knew I had that much to say about things I was told to research. My favorite essay (yes I have a favorite) is the one in which I highlighted feminism found in The Little Mermaid. I had so much fun watching the movie for rhetorical aspects that promoted feminism, down to listening to the soundtrack to pick up words I sang along to as a child without understanding the meaning. Did you know Ursula promotes using your body, your sexuality, to get what you want? But, she gets skewered, and so do all her anti-feminism beliefs!

I wrote a short story for class this year, Like Vines. It’s about an elderly man, widowed two years ago, and living with Alzheimer’s disease. He walks through his house, trying to remember the life he shared with his wife, recites lines from her favorite poetry, and visits the rose garden she cared for and he pruned. The story involves a lot of symbolism and imagery, and I was praised highly by my professor and peers. The bittersweet-ness of this story was inspired by my grandfather, who lost his wife and lives with Alzheimer’s, and I wish he could understand me when I speak (English is his second language). 

Enough with sad things. I’m almost graduating! I have 3 jobs as of right now. I have edited 4 books (technically 3, but I’m on my third read through of the fourth). I work in retail at the mall, so I meet new people every day and I love getting to know these strangers; even if I only know them for a few minutes and then I never see them again. I am taking summer classes, for the second time in my life by choice. I have a great internship brewing, and I’m learning all about the History of Rhetoric. This history class is nothing like I imagined. We aren’t just following Greek history, we are doing an updated version that involves Asia, Africa, and Women’s rhetoric. 

More on that class later! I’ve got to get ready for work! Have a great day, readers!

That’s Punny

Perhaps it is my love of nerdy jokes that allow me to understand puns. Perhaps it is my love of language that allows me to laugh at puns. Regardless, here are some that I have heard/read throughout the years. Q & A are obvious; J should be obvious too. 

J: The coffee tasted like mud because it was ground a couple of minutes ago.

Q: What did one ocean say to the other ocean?

A: Nothing, it just waved! 

Do you sea what I did there? I’m shore you did!

J: When William joined the army he disliked the phrase ‘fire at will’

Q: Have you heard about the magical tractor? No?

A: It went down the road and turned into a field.

J:I’m glad I know sign language, it’s pretty handy.

Q: What kind of government would Shakespeare run?

A: An authoritarian government!

J: I used to have a fear of hurdles, but I got over it.

Q: What do you call a french fry with no money?

A: Po-tato

J: I once heard a joke about amnesia, but I forgot how it goes.

Q: Why was the grandmother scared by a text?

A: It read: We’re going out to eat grandma!

That’s all folks! For today at least!