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I have a picture.

This is my little friend Elijah. I haven't seen Elijah in months. He's probably so much bigger, and all the more adorable... I miss him immensely.

But I thought this picture was fitting for this entry. We were having so much fun when we took this picture - laughing and laughing - so much, it was difficult to get a picture that wasn't blurry. A little over a week ago, I posted an entry about a "joy journey" I would take. I would like to clarify that what I'm about to list is not my main source of joy... rather, these are the things that when I am down, frustrated, sad, angry, annoyed... fill in the blank... that I look to, that help me remember the little things in life worth celebrating. My brother's friend Shauna wrote a book called "Cold Tangerines: Celebrating the Extraordinary Nature of Everyday Life." I love the title for this book, and I love the contents of the book even more. Shauna is so good at loving life, and celebrating even the simplest of things.

And that was the purpose of my joy journey - to exercise my ability to focus on celebration rather than frustration, to recognize beauty in life, rather than ugliness, and to remember that being a kid - or rather, enjoying the life-giving activities of children - is sometimes far more fun than being an adult.

So, without further introductory rambling, I present to you my joys list from the past week:

- Listening to the "Curious George" soundtrack at work.
- Coloring on my lunch break.
- Random invite out to lunch by a favorite co-worker
- Spelling out words one letter at a time in the email subject line
- Wetsuit-sporting rubber duck my boss brought back from her business trip
- Uncontrollable-laughter-which-leads-to-crying
- Facebook messages from people I haven't seen/talked to in a while
- My co-worker Kate, and all our weird quirky jokes
- Friends who encourage me to pursue what I love
- This amazing coloring book I found at Barnes and Noble, that one day, I will own
- Dreaming about planting a church
- Friends who suggest children's books for me to read
- When a person brushes about 8 inches of snow off my car... anonymously
- Snow days
- Nerd glasses - especially when worn by a one Mr. Nigel
- M. Night Shyamalan movies
- Little kid giggles
- Funny miscommunications (still wondering how "Nelson-Rowe" = "Nosow")
- Unexpected thoughtfulness from others
- New music playlists

I'm sure there were more, but these were the "documented" ones. I had a great week. Lots of events, lots of people, and lots of moments that contributed to a what I would consider a week filled with joy.

It was interesting to see, how when I made a conscious decision to focus on the positive, how much more quickly the negative seemed to disappear. I found it interesting how much my attitude changed the more I chose to celebrate, rather than sulk. It didn't always work. I still found moments where I was down, or frustrated...

But I started to wonder what might happen if I made it a habit of doing this daily? Instead of it being some sort of experiment for a blog post, if it were to become a lifestyle? I am both excited and challenged by this joy journey, and where it has taken me. I can only hope that as I move forward, I am able to continue the journey in a way that goes beyond a one week experiment, but rather, something that will forever transform my ability to celebrate the extraordinary in every day life.

commitment

Earlier this week, as I was sitting at my desk at work, daydreaming about how glorious a snow day would be, I received an email from my friend. It simply said,

“Deep.

Ham and eggs. A days work for the chicken, a lifetime commitment for the pig.”

Deep.”

Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. I laughed pretty hard, and thanked my friend for providing me with a humorous intermission during my somewhat monotonous day. However, this quote kept replaying over and over in my head, and I began to think about the truth behind it’s statement.

I know, I know… Gosh Tory, why do you have to make everything so serious and deep? Well, simple answer: Because I can. I love humor, and I definitely enjoyed the humorous angle to the above statement. But I also love when I discover profound thought and truth in simple things, especially when it smacks me over the head, as it often does.

I began to think more about this quote, and actually found some interesting alternatives. One such alternative reads:

"The difference between involvement and commitment is like ham and eggs. The chicken is involved; the pig is committed.”

I use the term “committed” so loosely sometimes. I’m committed to eating healthier (which is why I’ve eaten too many pieces of banana bread today). I’m committed to writing a “quote series” on my blog (which is why I haven’t written for three days). I’m committed to becoming a better photographer (and yet, ask me how many photos I’ve taken in the past month – it’s pathetic, really). I’m committed to following Jesus (which is why I daily have to remind myself of that commitment). So often do I say I’m committed, and so often do I fail to truly understand what that means.

However, I don’t think commitment is something to take lightly.

I’m not always so flippant about commitment… In fact, it is a trait I strive to own. Take when I worked at the Mission… I worked so many hours off the clock, spent so many dollars of the money I made while actually punched in, and gave a huge piece of my heart away to children and friends I adored. I lived and breathed everything that was going on while I was there. I loved it. It was my passion, and I was committed to it 110%.

However, I started to think about the things I’m NOT so passionate about… Where I currently work, being one of those things. I am committed because I signed an agreement that said I would be an employee of ASQ. I am committed because working there pays my bills – if I don’t work, I don’t have money to pay rent, which would mean I ultimately wouldn’t have a place to live. I’m committed because I gave them my word that every day, I would show up at 8, and work until 5. However, I’m not passionate about it. It is just a commitment I have made that day in and day out, I keep to because I have to. It’s not really an option.

The thing that stuck out to me about commitment in the story of ham and eggs though, and the difference between situation one and situation two is this idea of sacrifice. How far does my commitment go, and what am I willing to sacrifice for it? This became tough when I started looking at other areas of my life, and how committed I am to them.

How committed am I to going to and being a sacrificial member of a church?

How committed am I to loving my neighbors, no matter what the cost?

How committed am I to loving my co-workers, even if it means I don’t like my job?

How committed am I to following Jesus, no matter how messy it gets?

How much am I willing to sacrifice for these things?

I began to wonder if I’m more like the chicken – simply a donor of minor proportions; or more like the pig – who gives his entire life for the cause. Sadly, I think more often than not, I’m a chicken.

I wonder if that’s where the taunting phrase came from. You know when you’re a kid, and you’re afraid to do something – they yell “Chicken!” To some extent, what they’re really saying is, “You’re scared to commit. You’re scared to see what could really happen if you let go of it all… You’re too afraid to sacrifice it all for this one, big thing.”

That’s me… all the way. I’m scared to commit to what I don’t know or understand. I’m scared to see what could happen if I really let go. And I’m scared to sacrifice it all, even though I know it’s for something far better. Basically, I’m scared to be the pig.

But scary as it may be, commitment requires that I be the pig. It requires that I move beyond being a passive donor, and move towards being a sacrificial contributor. It requires that I no longer give just part of me, but all of me.

May I be a person who provides the ham, not just eggs.

(ps. check back later this week for a drawing I created in my journal to go with this post... should be up in the next couple of days)

joy

One joy scatters a hundred griefs.
- Chinese Proverb

Today, I was posed with a question: Why do we - humanity in general - tend to use what we’re against to define us, rather than what we’re for? It was a good discussion, and it was interesting to hear the different answers we came up with. I’m still chewing on this idea a bit, and hope to tackle it soon, but this question lead me on another rabbit trail of thought as I drove home after conversing with my friend.

For some reason, my mind began to drift towards the idea of joy, and why it is we let grief consume us rather than joy. I had a frustrating weekend. Nothing major or of any great consequence happened, but due to a few different circumstances, I found myself incredibly frustrated, and at one point almost angry, over things that were happening. While I could rationalize to myself that in the grand scheme of things, what happened over the weekend really didn’t matter all that much, I couldn’t seem to shake the frustration, or the sadness that I was feeling.

Today, I really began to think about just how much I allow grief, or frustration, or pain to grip my soul. I become so stuck in those moments, that I can't seem to see anything beyond.

A while back, I used to create a “joys” list whenever I felt stuck like that. I know that originally, I got the idea from a fellow blogger. I read through their list of “joys” – the things in life they were choosing to celebrate – and was inspired to create my own list.

In my search this evening to find a quote for this series, I came across the above Chinese proverb. Originally, I was turned off to the idea of writing about it. I continued to search for other quotes, but kept coming across it. Finally, I resorted myself to the idea that maybe – just maybe – my repetitious discovery of the quote meant I need to sit with.

So here I am… Sitting with it.

I am curious to see how true this statement is. I wonder, if in the midst of frustration, in the midst of sadness, in the midst of whatever it is that I’m feeling that is the opposite of joy, what that might do for my soul? I wonder if I took a moment to reflect on what brings me joy, if I took some time to genuinely soak in the life-giving nature of that joy, how it might transform me? What shifting my focus, choosing to dwell in the brilliant things in life – might that do to that moment? That hour? That day? That week? That month?

I wonder what would happen, if in those moments, I wrote down something that gives me joy – whether it be something with great depth and meaning, or something incredibly simplistic.

My friends, I have a plan.

This week, I am going to carry a little notebook with me everywhere I go (well, almost everywhere…). Throughout the day, I’m going to write down joy as I see it. And in moments of frustration, or hurt, or sadness, I will look for the things that bring me joy. While I can’t take a break every 15 minutes at work (and sometimes, I feel like frustration can come every 15 minutes), my goal is to document my “joy sightings” or my decisions to choose joy over grief, and see what kind of difference it makes in my countenance, my demeanor, and maybe even my ability to spread joy.

It’s a bit of an experiment, if you will. I have no idea if I will be successful. My joy journey may only last one day… But that one day, is better than no days, right? And at least I can share with you how one day affected me.

So stay tuned… I will attempt to provide a joy journey report at the end of the week. My hope is that in between now and then, I will post more blog entries… But I am also sans-iBook right now, so we shall see when the next blog post will arrive.

As always, I appreciate your thoughts and comments. It spurs me on to write more, and it also makes me feel not so alone in this journey. Thanks for taking it with me.

being

“If you would create something, you must be something.”
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

This quote scares me. A lot.

For the past year or so, I’ve been on the “hunt” for inspiration. In the very conversation that led to this “quote series” of blog entries, my friend and I also talked about inspiration – what inspires us and drives us to create. Both of us like to consider ourselves “artists,” and compared the ways in which we feel inspired. My friend is inspired by other people’s creations – when he sees a photo he likes, reads a challenging book, sees a well-crafted movie, or hears a quote that resonates well with him, he is inspired to create. I, on the other hand, am typically inspired by nature – the ocean, a beautiful sunset, a crazy storm… I am also inspired by really good conversations, and watching human interaction. I explained to my friend that for the past year, I’ve felt uninspired – I’ve been looking, and finding little to none.

However, if I fall back on this quote – that in order to create something, I must be something – it seems as though inspiration may be spurred on by who I am, not what I experience. Sounds a bit narcissistic, but track with me here…

I realize that unless I’m God (which clearly I am not), that my creation – whether it be a piece of writing, a photograph, a painting, a piano melody, etc. – has to come from somewhere… And that it’s very possible the things mentioned above can trigger my desire to create. However, I cannot create from nothing. What if, in actuality, we create from who we are – not what we experience. I create because I am a lover of beauty (nature), or because I am a lover of thought, or a lover of people, or because I was designed to reflect a creator… Maybe it’s who I am, how I was designed, and what I’m being, that is the pure force behind what I create.

This brought me back to my journey for inspiration… What if I’m looking for the wrong things? What if it’s easier for me to place my faith in things like the ocean, or my little friends from the Mission, or a girl talking about selling an organ to get an iPod – what if it’s easier for me to place my faith in these things, than it is to look at who I am for inspiration? The things I just listed are separate from who I am and what I’m “being” – things that can very easily disappear and no longer exist. I’ve blamed those missing things for my “lack of inspiration,” that because I no longer work at the Mission, because it’s winter and I can’t sit down by the lakefront, or because I’ve become a bit of a hermit who doesn’t seem to engage in really good conversations anymore, I don’t have any “inspiration”? What if I don’t like who I’m “being” and what if my creation reflects that? I’d much rather create something that reflects beauty, intrigue, and love than I would all the messy places of my soul I so desperately try to hide.

I welcome any thoughts you have on the topic… My goal here is not to make it sound as if everything I create (or we as a collective whole) is based solely on myself and who I am. What I’m saying is that what if who we are, and what we’re striving to be, are the real drivers behind our creativity? I think that for me, it’s made me realize that maybe I should stop trying so hard to find inspiration, and figure out what it is that makes Tory, Tory… and how I can share that with the rest of the world through my creations.

After all… we are all a part of one big story, all of us – our lives, our creations -bringing beauty (even in its ugliness) to the ancient story.

Thoughts… please…

dirt

"Every flower must grow through dirt."
-- Anonymous

I think flowers may just be one of God's most stellar creations. I mean, just think about them... brilliant in color and scent. Delicate, and yet fiercely beautiful. And such an intricate process in order to live and grow.

I know a lot about the intricacies of plants, and the process of keeping them alive. Rather, my experience has been the opposite. I'm TERRIBLE at keeping plants alive. My poor plant at work goes from dry, to wilty, to watered, to dry, to wilty, and continues this cycle on a weekly basis. I'm so neglectful.

However, I'm fascinated by plants and flowers... how they require so many elements working together in order to sustain them, and that they require a lot of work - especially under human care... Such delicate things, those flowers...

Recently in my life, I've had a few people point out what would seem to be, to them, errors in my life. Areas where I am broken, lacking, failing... While there can be some validity to these sorts of "light casting" sessions, I struggle a great deal in believing them to be errors, or something that's "wrong" with me...

I love the above quote. It is so encouraging to my heart and soul, and I think it allows me to wrap my hands around people's comments regarding my character and my life a little bit more easily.

There's no question that a flower needs dirt to grow. It needs all the nutrients the dirt has to offer. Is everything about the dirt beneficial? Probably not. And the dirt isn't necessarily good for much more other than growing things. However, the dirt is absolutely necessary for growth. How often do we neglect our "dirt" or try to cover it up? Sure, we put flowers in cute flower pots, and sure we try to make them look as "homey" as possible... but the fact still remains: there's dirt. It's there. Everyone knows it's there. Everyone can see it. So why do we try so hard to mask our dirt? And how often do we prematurely cut the flower, put it in a vase with only water, and expect it to continue growing in it's new, sans-nutrient environment? I know for me personally, I've gone the vase route too many times. I've been disgusted with the dirt, sick of the clay pot... and decided the vase would be the best place to plant myself. But soon, my water supply becomes depleted, and I suddenly have nothing to promote my growth.

We need the dirt. We need all of the hurt, the pain, the raw emotion, the irrational fears... all of those stretching moments when we learn that we are much smaller and more incapable than we realize. Those moments - as ugly and dirty as they may seem - are really the things that drive our growth; they help us move forward, learn, and change. Sure there is a time to be uprooted... but we need to learn to embrace the dirt, and not look for the quickest route out of the pot.

The cool thing about flowers? Dirt alone won't do the trick. Flowers also need water and sunlight to survive, breathing life into them. How great is that? Our growth is not all about dirt, and we don't have to deal with just dirt 24/7.

I love this idea... Embrace the dirt. Know there will be sunshine.

May I learn to live everyday comfortable in the dirt, beaming amidst the sunshine.

series

I admit it.

I've failed.

I've failed to keep up with this blog.

I've failed on finding inspiration, finding the things in life worth writing about.

I used be so good about posting. I used to have such a deep desire to write almost every day. And recently, it's felt more like a chore.

But I want to write. Really I do.

Even though my actions tell you all otherwise.

However, my good friend S.McConico spewed forth a bunch of "inspirational" ideas to try and jump start my noggin'. Originally, I was a little annoyed because he had a ridiculous amount of ideas, and really, I wanted to find my own inspiration. And none of his ideas seemed similar to the ways I'm normally inspired anyway.

However, I decided to try one of his suggestions: quotes.

I found a whole slew of quotes that resonated well within my soul.

So, I've decided to try something - write a series of blog entries based on quotes. That is my goal. That is my decision.

Let's hope I can stick to this new mini-series of blog posts.

Here we go...

Distractions

Distractions

I got into an interesting conversation with a good friend of mine last night. This good friend of mine has had a goal for quite a while now, but has found himself unable to attain that goal. Just recently, he decided to take some very solid steps towards achieving his goal, and in doing so, hopes to avoid or dismiss any distraction that may arise, keeping him from seeing his goal to completion.

He described a few factors that exist in his life that serve as distractions. Obviously, we all have distractions – things that come up that derail us from accomplishing what we’ve set out to do. Sometimes distractions can be bad. However, I challenged him that I think sometimes, distractions – or derailments – can be good. This then launched us into a huge discussion about what exactly constitutes a “distraction” and are all distractions bad?

I gave him an example from my life:

I was a senior in college. I was 26, a late graduate, having taken 3 years off to “figure out what I want to do with my life.” At age 26, I was ready to begin life. I was ready to have a career, I was ready to begin paying back all the debt I had accrued over the years, and I was ready to move away from the city I’d known my whole life. I wanted something different, something new… I graduated from college with a degree in English, with a focus in media/film studies. My goal was to work my way into the film industry, starting out as a production assistant. My last semester, I met a girl who’s father was the head set designer and stunt coordinator for Paramount Pictures. I found myself with an incredibly promising networking opportunity, friends in L.A. to live with, and an opportunity to live out my dream of being in the film industry.

Then, my plans changed.

Sonlife Ministries is an organization I had worked with for the 4 summers prior to my senior year. I had always been a believer of the organization, and loved the things they were doing. During the same time I was making plans to move to Los Angeles, I was approached by the director of Sonlife Ministries, and offered a temporary position. They needed help running their junior high and high school events, and asked if I was interested. This was something I’d always thought about, but never had the opportunity to pursue. I weighed my options, and after much thought, decided I would switch paths mid-course. I would take the position at Sonlife, and hold off on my thoughts of movie-making.

While at Sonlife, I began to realize that it was not everything I had hoped for. In fact, I knew it was not where I was meant to stay. So after only three months of working there full time, I decided I needed to look into other options. That is when the position at the Milwaukee Rescue Mission fell into my lap… and my life was forever changed.

The Milwaukee Rescue Mission was one of the best things that ever happened to me. It shaped and molded who I am today, and I am forever grateful for that opportunity. While I was only there one short year due to unforeseen circumstances, I fell in love with the city, and now have a clearer picture of what it I am truly passionate about.

Sonlife Ministries was a distraction from my original goal of movie-making. Sonlife ended up not being what I wanted, but it led me to the Mission – something that, had I moved to Los Angeles when originally planned, I would have missed out on.

My friend suggested all of the things that could have happened if I HAD moved out to Los Angeles. I could have found a great job that paid a lot of money, helping me get rid of my debt. I could have met someone, gotten married, and had kids. There are a lot of “could haves” but that doesn’t mean that the Sonlife/Rescue Mission distraction weren’t worth it. It was COMPLETELY worth it. The kids I worked with at the Mission will forever be in my heart, and have changed my view on life a great deal.

As my friend and I continued our conversation, I challenged him to take his “distractions” seriously, and to not just brush them off. I told him, “You never know when what you deem a distraction ends up being life-changing.”

If only I could learn to look at all my “distractions” this way… That where I am might just lead me to where I want to be, even though it doesn’t seem possible right now. Who knows where this path might lead me? And who knows when I will be asked to change paths?My hope is that I, along with my friend, know which path to take when it crosses our current one, and that we learn to be thankful for all the “distractions” that come our way.

showdown

Welcome to the Graham and Tory Music Showdown.

I have a friend named Graham who is crazy creative and has amazing taste in music. I look forward to our chats because we usually end up swapping music suggestions, telling each other about the tunes that are currently tickling our ears.

Tonight, we had our first music showdown ever.

I like to call it a showdown... it's more dramatic.

Anyway, for your ear's sake, take note of the amazing tunes being swapped back and forth. Here are the results of the showdown.

Round 1:
Graham: "One Life" by Kalai
Tory: "Stars of God" by Northern Room

Round 2:
Graham: "Fake Empire" by The National
Tory: "Heaven" by The Fire Theft (Thanks Jo!)

Round 3:
Graham: "I'll Believe In Anything" by Wolf Parade
Tory: "Inside Your Head" by Eberg

Round 4:
Graham: "Is There A Ghost" by Band of Horses
Tory: "In Passing" by Company of Thieves

Round 5:
Graham: "Fans" by Kings of Leon
Tory: "Mr. Blue" by Catherine Feeny

Round 6:
Graham: "Valentine Heart" by Tania Tikaram
Tory: "Home" by Martinez & Guthrie

Round 7:
Graham: "Better Than" by John Butler Trio
Tory: "Hallelujah" by Cooper

Round 8:
Graham: "See The World" - by Gomez
Tory: "It's Not True" - by William Fitzsimmons (thanks Simon!)

Round 9:
Graham: "The Story" by Brandi Carlile
Tory: "Changing Your Mind" by Bob Schneider

Round 10:
Graham: "Finch On A Saturday" by Horsefeathers
Tory: "The Land Between Solar Systems" by Mum

Round 11:
Graham: "Much Farther To Go" by Rosie Thomas
Tory: "We're On Fire" by Northern Room

There you have it. The first music showdown for your listening pleasure. Thank you to my friend and fellow music junkie, Mr. G. Shepherd. I now have a "Grahamalicious" playlist to tide me over for a while.

Until the next showdown...

world

There is so much swirling around in my head and my heart right now that I can't really seem to put it into words. I have been sitting here at my computer for a good hour now trying to figure out how and what to write... and it won't come.

The picture above is of my friend Craig and his son Elijah. I love the sky in this picture and their silhouettes against it. It makes me think of a song I've been listening to nonstop all week. In some odd way, this song has been good for my soul. I realize the first line is a little jarring, but the song is so beautiful. If you get a chance, check it out on iTunes.

But this idea... of the world spinning madly on... it's exactly how I feel right now. That life is so crazy, and the world is so messed up... but, the world will continue to spin... No matter what happens, no matter how things unfold... life will continue.

With that, I leave you with the lyrics for "The World Spins Madly On" by The Weepies.


Woke up and wished that I was dead
With an aching in my head
I lay motionless in bed
I thought of you and where you'd gone
and let the world spin madly on

Everything that I said I'd do
Like make the world brand new
And take the time for you
I just got lost and slept right through the dawn
And the world spins madly on

I let the day go by
I always say goodbye
I watch the stars from my window sill
The whole world is moving and I'm standing still

Woke up and wished that I was dead
With an aching in my head
I lay motionless in bed
The night is here and the day is gone
And the world spins madly on

I thought of you and where you'd gone
And the world spins madly on.

on writing

The act of writing is interesting to me. I have so many odd quirks when it comes to writing. I've been thinking about it the past couple of days. Here are a couple of my musings...

Space is everything.

I am totally and completely spacially oriented. Some may go as far as saying I'm obsessive compulsive about it. But space - in every way - is so very important to me. I make sure I have enough space to spread out when I am in a cafe, or, if the cafe is crowded, I make sure I have a corner where I can tuck myself in. I also have to be facing a very specific direction. For those of you that have dined with me, you will know that I usually pick the seat that faces the most amount of open space. Usually, I will aim to have either my back or side against a wall, and I usually try to face the door, or at least the front counter. I'm not necessarily concerned about needing to know where the exits are, but I need to be able to see the majority of the space I am occupying. Lighting is also another deal maker or breaker for me. I absolutely HATE flourescent light, and I love rooms that are lit by natural light. However, there is another element of "space" that is really hard to explain...but I'll do my best.

I'm sitting here at my parents house, the place I grew up and the place I lived until 3 weeks ago. I've written many a blog entry in this house. However, I am sitting at my mom's computer, in my mom's room, and in a house that is no longer my main place of occupancy. For whatever reason, this is causing a huge creative block in my brain. I find it extremely difficult to think creatively (hence a post on writing). Another example of this - I sat outside during my lunch hour today. I work downtown Milwaukee, and our building is right on the Riverwalk. So, I picked up my Potbelly sandwich, headed over to the river walk with journal and iPod in hand... the wind was blowing, the sun was shining, people all around me, huge, historic buildings towering over me... and nothing. Absolutely nothing came. All I could do was daydream, and wonder why the woman sitting behind me clipping her nails had to sit RIGHT behind me, and not on one of the 8 other benches that were open around us.

Space and comfort are everything when it comes to writing... well, mostly everything.

A phrase escaped me today that surprised me little bit. I had sent an email to someone telling them that often times, it is quite easy for me to spill all of my thoughts out in an email, even if I don't know the person I'm emailing all that well. The person responded by telling me the opposite is true for them. I then answered with the following phrase: "I often show great courage through written word, when really I'm just cowering behind a screen/pen & paper." I didn't really realize how true that is of me until I wrote that. But it's so incredibly true.

Often times, I write about the things I am learning, or the things I'm experiencing, and I express them with an attitude of confidence - as if I've got it figured out. I've written about this before - how writing often gives me some sort of false confidence simply because I don't have to deal with the immediate response. But in some ways, written words are more detrimental, harder to take back. With written words, you don't have the excuse of not having "thought it out." Written words seem so much more, well, permanent. And that's scary... I don't know how many of my words I want imortalized.

Anyway, those are my random Monday night thoughts on writing. I wish I had something more profound, something more creative to write. But I've been reading a lot and hoping to write so much more, I'm just not there yet. These were the few thoughts that came to my head today about the topic of writing.

I do hope to write more. Both old school and new school style. I miss my computer. But, I think my pen and journal are happy it's gone for the time being.

alive

Yes... I'm alive...

But still without internet.

Next Friday... hopefully, a week from today, I will be up and running again. I will be able to post more blog entries and more pictures. I will be able to communicate via email, IM, and other forms of online "connectors."

But for now, here's the update:

Job = Good.
Confusing status (am I staying a temp, are they buying me out?). But good.

Condo = Lots of work.
There were a lot more things wrong with it than we first thought.
But it's getting there. Another few days, and it should feel more like home.

Church = Great.
Haven't met a lot of people, but feel like I'm building some relationships with some very amazing people.

Love life = Non-existent.

Oh well... Can't have everything, right? :)

Hahaha...

More to come soon.

path

Well friends, I am on a new path in life... Lots has changed over the past month or so. I now have a new job working as an administrative assistant for a company called ASQ (The American Society for Quality). I now have a new home - I moved in with my ex-coworker and friend Brittany. And I have a new church... well, not entirely new. I attended Metrobrook for a few months last summer, but I've now decided to be a "regular" attender.

And I couldn't be happier.

Now, I will give you a disclaimer. I'm EXTREMELY tired. I haven't had much time to do much of anything over the past couple of weeks. I haven't been near my computer. I haven't taken any pictures. I haven't done much writing or reading. Hopefully, as the dust starts to settle, I'll be able to do more of that...

For now, I just wanted to give you a quick update as to where I am at. I will probably be MIA for the next week or so as we do not have internet access at our condo, but I'm hoping that by early next week I can post some pictures of the new place.

I hope you are all well. Love you, friends.

push me

As I sat listening to my friend Tim preach a sermon, the first time I’d ever actually heard him preach, I was taken back by his acute observations and eloquent retelling of an experience he had just recently. Tim and his wife Vicky are on a journey to do a church plant, and have teamed up with Metrobrook to envision what God might have for them and the city of Milwaukee. Metrobrook Church, where Tim is now on staff, is currently doing a series called “God Is Closer Than You Think: Seeing God in the Ordinary.” This idea was coined from John Ortberg’s book, “God Is Closer Than You Think” and the pastors of Metrobrook have tapped into great teachers such as Rob Bell and Rabbi Lawrence Kushner. However, it was Tim’s detailing of his experience that spoke to my heart. Often times, when Tim needs to do some thinking or dreaming, he heads out to the place where he believes God is calling him to plant a church – a part of town referred to as Bayview. He will venture out to a coffee shop, or some other local place in order to be a part of the area he is being called to. On one particular day, he was drawn to a park where he sat and observed families enjoying their time at a playground. He watched as these children were playing, hearts seemingly filled with joy.

I listened to him talk about how anything is possible at the playground. To quote part of his story, “The playground is a place of wonder. Where slides turn into mountains, and sand is set on fire and turns into lava. A place you take your shovel in the summer and your sled in the winter. You go there to catch fireflies at dusk and you only leave when your eyes are shutting on their own. Mostly you go to the playground to play. To throw yourself into anything beyond what you could ever ask for or even imagine.”

The last two sentences are what struck me. “Mostly you go to the playground to play. To throw yourself into anything beyond what you could ever ask for or even imagine.” After Tim told us about his story, he had us turn to the people around us, and share our own observations. I couldn’t help but share a story about my little friend Mimi.

As has been the story of my life over the past year, I cannot tell you how much I have learned from my little friends at the Mission. And Mimi is no exception. Every Friday, we’d take all the City Camp kids on a field trip somewhere. One week it was rollerskating, another week it was the zoo. But common to most field trips was time at a park. Whether it be eating lunch there, or taking a break from animal gazing, most of our field trips included some sort of play time on a playground.

On one particular field trip, I can remember a few of the kindergartners on the swings, trying to get their little bodies swinging as high as they could. It wasn’t long before I heard, “Miss Tory, Miss Tory – push me!” There were a few voices, but as I looked over, there was Mimi, desperately trying to get moving on her swing. I wandered over to her, and began to push her. I believe I’m probably going to be a somewhat over-protective mother because I found myself not wanting to push her very high. However, she kept shouting with glee: “Push me, Miss Tory! Push me!” As soon as she was high enough, and her little legs seemed to keep her moving, I started to walk away. I wasn’t more than a few steps away when I hear, “Miss Tory, push me!” I said, “Mimi, you’ve got it now… You can do it by yourself.” But she insisted that I continue to push her.

The thought struck me: She doesn’t want me to push her just so she can keep moving. She wants me to be engaged in what she is doing – she wants me to partake in her joy of swinging. Really, I could have just stood behind her, cheering her on and she would have been perfectly satisfied. In fact, for a while, that was all I did. The point wasn’t my actual pushing, but rather my presence. She wanted me there while she enjoyed her time on the swing.

It made me wonder how often I ask God to engage with me in this way. How often do I ask God to “push” me, but then let him walk away? How often do I ask him to join me in my joyful moments, sharing with me in the beauty I’m experiencing? How often do I say “Push me!” not just to get God to do something for me, but only to know that he’s there with me, enjoying the moment?

My little friend Mimi taught me how to swing. As I was thinking about this idea tonight, I went to a park I where I spent a lot of time growing up. It was late, and the park was fairly dark. But as I moved back and forth on the swing, I thought of Mimi shouting “Push me, Miss Tory! Push me!” As I sat there, moving my feet in and out, reaching new heights, I whispered in the dark, “Push me!”

May I be a person who in moments of beauty and joy learns to engage with the Creator of everything, who cries “Push me!” even when I’m already in motion.

(For Tim's entire story, go here. It's titled "Playground.")

clarifications

I believe I may need to make a few clarifications regarding my last blog post.

First, I didn't even realize that you guys still read my blog regularly. I just posted a new blog entry today, and I've already received a few concerned phone calls and emails. I suppose I ought to give you guys - especially those who have not been "in the know" the past few months - what is going on and how I'm doing.

First, let me explain the work situation. I loved where I worked. I had two of the most amazing bosses, and I made some really great friends there... people I've gotten really close with. However, back in March, things began to change in my department. The director of our department left (it's a sticky story) and then in May, one of my co-workers Brian left, only to be followed by our associate director. Within a 3 month time span, our department which had 7 people was down to 4, and we were left without a director. During the summer, we have a huge summer program for kids in K5-5th grade, and there were two of us to run it (the other two focused on the teen program). The "higher ups" hired another director for us, but he was a man who came just out of retirement, had never worked in youth ministry, and really did not have a good grasp for the happenings of our department. Therefore, my co-worker Brittany and I felt as though we were running the program alone. We were to oversee 120 kids, 19 college and high school staff - neither one of us being what I would consider "qualified" to do so. But we made do, and ended up having a great summer with the kids and staff.

However, the "higher ups" and I did not see eye to eye on a LOT of things, and I spent the better portion of the summer fighting for what I believed to be good for our ministry. Because of these disagreements, they saw me as being disrespectful to authority and it caused a lot of problems between them and me. There is a LOT more behind that story than what I am giving you, but detailing the story is unnecessary. Basically, it got to a point where in order to keep my spiritual, mental, and emtional health in tact, I had to make a decision - I had to leave. It was an incredibly hard decision - one I'm still hoping was the right one - but I have a strange peace about it, and so I believe that it was.

And I want you all to know that while I have a deep sadness about where I am right now, as well as a bit confused, I am doing ok. I'm not in some sort of deep depression nor am I on some sort of spiral path downward... I'm just in a place where I'm really trying to figure things out, and not seeing any indication as to where I should go.

I appreciate your concern... thanks for the emails/phone calls. It feels good to know I'm loved.
I'll keep you all posted as things happen, and as I begin to figure things out.
Love you all.

familiar

This place seems oh-so-familiar. Maybe it's because I was here almost exactly a year ago. Maybe it's because I've been in this place more than once. But it is definitely a familiar place, and yet, I still have no idea how to navigate through it.

It's been quite a while since I've written a blog that reflected a letter moreso than an essay. When I first started blogging, I felt as thought my writing was more personal - as if I was writing letters to the world. And in these letters, I would express my dreams, my frustrations, my excitements, my disappointments, and everything in between. However, when I started writing for Relevant's website, suddenly my blog entries shifted too. I tried to make them sound more philosophical and deep, almost as if I was trying to make them more read-worthy.

But today, in this moment, I feel as though I want to embrace the type of writing I was once more familiar and comfortable with. I want to share with you this "familiar" place in hopes that maybe someone out there will want to journey with me, and maybe even help navigate this crazy life of mine.

This past year, I had the honor of working with the best kids on the planet. Those kids brought me more joy than I would have ever imagined. And Thursday, I had to say goodbye to all of them. As I stood before them with my co-worker Brittany and it was annouced that we were leaving, I was taken with emotion as I heard a loud "NO!" ring throughout the room. At the end of our program on Thursday, I was approached by all my little friends... some of them just wanting hugs goodbye, while others wanted consolation. This one little girl stood before me just sobbing. I had only met the girl 3 weeks prior, and had no idea where her strong attachment came from. But I cried along with her. And as I looked around the room at all the little friends I had made, tears came to my eyes as I knew I may never see some of them again.

Tears have also filled my eyes recently as I have tried to figure out what the next destination is in my journey. I find myself now without a job, without a place of my own, and without a church - three things that are fairly imporant to one's identity. I mean, as much as we don't want to be defined by what we do but rather who we are, there is still a lot of weight put on what it is we do for a living. And if I were asked that right now, I'd have to answer with a big fat "nothing." I have decided that I want to eventually go back to school and become certified to teach, and I have started to take action in moving towards that, but no doors have opened yet. Right now, I'm just trying to locate an open door in a huge hallway of closed ones.

But my biggest desire is to get plugged into a local church. Part of that will depend on what ends up being "local" for me. Over the past couple of years, it has become my desire to attend a church that is in my "neighborhood." When I attended Ridgewood, I lived about 20-25 minutes away, and most of the people who attended there lived further away in the opposite direction. This made "community" outside of church somewhat difficult. I think it'd be amazing to be next door neighbors with some of the people I attended church with. So part of my hesitancy to "plug in" comes from not knowing where I will be located because of a job or living situation.

As many of you know, pluggin into a church has been a constant struggle for me. I wish I could give you the reasons and explanations as to why this is so hard, and there are times where I wish that everyone would have an extended amount of patience with me. This is not like trying to find a new pair of shoes, or even like picking out a new car. Finding a church to commit to and become a part of is a HUGE thing for me, and I want to make sure that my decision is God-driven, not based off emotion. But sometimes, it is SO hard to seperate that. I can't even begin to tell you about the anxiety I've felt regarding church, or how hard it's been to feel uncomfortable every time I step into one... But know that it is a priority to me, just something I haven't quite been able to figure out yet.

As I said, this place is so familiar... I've been here numerous times before. You'd think it would get easier every time.

But it doesn't.

I still don't know how to navigate through it all. I'm still lost.
And I have no idea where the directions are.

mother may i

When I was a little kid, I used to love playing games with the neighborhood kids. Red Rover, Capture the Flag, Statue, Kick the Can, Ghost in the Graveyard… for each of these games, we’d gather together in the street and play as long as our parents allowed us. But as much as I loved each of these games, there was one game in particular I hated: Mother May I.

While games like Red Rover or Statue often showed signs of favoritism, nothing showed favoritism and unfair play like Mother May I. While in some games kids got picked more often than others, Mother May I worked a little differently. Winning the game depended on one thing – the good graces of the person playing “Mother.”

For those of you unfamiliar with the game of Mother May I, here are the basics so that you can get an idea of what this game is like. There is one person nominated to play “Mother” who stands at one end of the “field.” Typically, our field was a driveway, and the person playing “Mother” would stand at the top of the driveway. The rest of the players then stand across the playing field from Mother. One by one, each player asks the “Mother” if they may go a certain distance in a particular fashion. For instance, if it were my turn, I might say, “Mother may I please take 3 leap frog jumps towards you” or “Mother may I please take 10 baby steps towards you.” It is at this point the “Mother” determines whether or not she will grant you your request. This can be tricky because if you ask for too big of a distance, you may not get it and may even be required to go backwards. But, if you continually ask for small distances, you’ll never make it across. And if you’re not in good standing with “Mother” (aka – you’re not the coolest kid in the bunch) you’re pretty much screwed.

I hated this game because during my childhood, I was always younger than the rest of my friends. Therefore, they would often take advantage of the fact that I was young and more naïve, and I never really got much of a chance to “succeed” in such games. And in games such as Mother May I, my winning the game rested on whether or not my friends wanted to see me win – something that was a rare occurence. I had great friends. Really.

For whatever reason, I thought about the game Mother May I the other day. Be it that it’s summer or that I work with kids and am constantly around children’s games, I couldn’t help but reminisce about the games I played as a kid. However, it wasn’t until I got to my memories of Mother May I that I cringed.

I began to think about the concept of Mother May I, and for whatever reason, a connection began to form in my head. Sometimes I feel as though I treat life like a game of Mother May I, with God functioning as “Mother.” Track with me if you will…

How often in life do I stand on one edge of the field with God on the other and ask “God, may I…” and fill in the blank. “God, may I please have this job?” “God, may I please have this new car?” “God, may I please have this dating relationship?” “God, may I please have no more pain in my life?” I think sometimes, in life, I act the same way I used to act during those games of Mother May I. I am afraid to ask for something seemingly too big, but don’t want to get left behind by asking for things too small. I ask for 3 leap frog jumps because I’m too afraid to ask for 10. I take 5 baby steps when the person next to me seems to get 50. And I think too often, I feel like I did during those childhood games of Mother May I – that my happiness, my success in life, depends on whether or not I’m in God’s good graces and whether or not he “feels” like giving me my requests.

I am TOTALLY frustrated by this realization. I’ve put God into a game of “Mother May I.”

It’s so easy for me to look around, seeing where other people are going and what other people are doing, and ask God, “Why did you only grant me so many steps?” There are so many things I want to see, so many things I want to do, and so many things I want to be, and I feel as though God is granting those things to everyone but but me - that somehow, I'm not in his "favor" to win. So often, I resent God for putting me through the game so slowly, and often times complain about other’s “victories.”

However, I came realize that God is giving me the right amount of steps for each day. Trust me, this is a daily realization and it's usually fought tooth and nail. So often, I want my "steps" to be more than they are. So often, I find myself wishing I was somewhere else in life. But I've come to understand that God has a different "pace" for everyone. I have no problem understanding we are all designed differently, so why wouldn't that include how we move through life? There will always be people in front of me, and always people behind me… Maybe I'm exactly where I need to be.

Now, if only I could learn to stop asking about how to move and start enjoying the movement… even if it’s only baby steps at a time.

(photo taken from www.stamfordjcc.org)

conclusions

A few weeks ago, I made a decision that I wanted to blog at least once a week. I had a shakey start to that goal, and even now am not keeping to it very well.

Part of me wonders why it's so hard for me to write on a regular basis. I was thinking about when I used to write a story a week for Relevant, and I used to blog on a daily basis. I wondered what is different now...why I can't seem to do it anymore.

I came to a few consclusions. One: I don't spend enough time observing. When I was a student, I had quite a bit of time that I spent in the Union or the library where I would just sit and observe people and hear bits of conversations. I learned a lot about people, and ultimately, about myself just by observing the things that went on around me. Another thing about being a student was that I was always meeting new people, learning new things, and being challenged in new ways. I don't feel as though I have that influence as much anymore.

Another conclusion I came to: I don't have a lot of really deep conversations with people anymore. When I was involved at my old church, I had a few friends who were really deep thinkers and always posed interesting questions. I always had something I was thinking about. That created for some interesting thoughts and blog entries.

Third conclusion: My old places of employment didn't leave much room for processing. Where I currently work, I am able to verbally process a lot more and talk through a lot more issues/thoughts that are plaguing my brain, which elimnates my need to write about them on here. When I wasn't able to process stuff as much, I used my blog as an outlet for processing.

And lastly... I have been too emotional lately. Normally, that would provide some material to write about, but recently, I feel as though I have had too much to process. I sit down to write, and I have NO idea where to start. Everything seems so jumbled and confusing. So, instead, I just avoid writing about it, which has proven to not be entirely healthy.

So now what? Well, I think I need to take more time for observation, I need to find some people to surround myself with who are asking tough and intelligent questions, I need to stop processing things so much with the people I work with, and I need to learn to work through some of my emotions a bit more. Hopefully, as I begin to do some of these more and more, my desire to write will get stronger and I'll become more dedicated to it.

Here's hoping...

a letter

Dear Friend,

I am writing to you because I have not been myself lately. My words, my actions, my thoughts, my speech... all of these things have not reflected the person I want to be. I have reflected a spirit of hate, of hostility, of frustration, of hurt, and of vengeance. These are not things I wish to possess. But alas, it is the place I find myself in. I have allowed my tongue to control me, I have allowed my emotions to get the best of me... And you, my dear friend, have taken the hit. You have been the one that has been deeply wounded by my actions. You are the one who hears the angry roars and the evil whispers that escape from my mouth. You have been the one to give, and give, and give... when all I do is take, and take, and take - never giving back. You have put forth 110% effort to build our relationship, to encourage me, and strengthen me. You have given me a vision and passion... which I have bypassed for temporary gratification found through petty and selfish behavior. You are the one I have been inconsistent with, despite your undeniable loyalty. You are the one who I talk big about, but show little to nothing in action. You are the one who walks by my side day in and day out, whether I recognize it or not. And your continued patience... it astounds me, really. I would have given up on me years ago... But you didn't. You stuck it out. You waited and are waiting to see what I can become. You're waiting to see what decisions I make. You're waiting to see if maybe - just maybe - someday I'll turn the tables and respect you in the way you deserve. You're waiting for me to recognize just who exactly it is you created me to be, and what you created me for. You were there in the beginning, and you'll be there in the end... No one else can say that but you.

Dear friend, I write this to you tonight to let you know that I want the tables to turn. I want to put forth the effort. I want to change. I want to grow. I want to become more... well, more like you. But I need your patience, your grace, your strength, and every ounce of wisdom you can pour into me. I need you to continue being who you are, and I need you to change me. Thank you for who you are... Your friendship is worth more than my small words can ever give measure to. I love you, dear friend. Thanks... for everything.

Sincerely,

Tory Jane

fear

Clowns. Heights. Thunderstorms. Spiders. Scary Movies. Failure. Being alone. Dying. We all have our fears. For some, it strikes deep within us, paralyzing us, keeping us from being able to move and function in a normal, healthy way. Some people have what seem like irrational fears. I have one of those - I am terrified of clowns. Pretty much anything that has a scary painted face freaks me out. But while some fears seem irrational, there are other fears that are a bit more serious and debilitating. Fears such as failure, being alone, and dying… all of which seem to plague my soul.

Over the past few months, I’ve really come to grips with these fears. I’ve thought a lot about them. It’s crazy to me how many fears I have, and I often wonder if it’s an abnormal amount. And I also wonder what has caused these fears. There have been many times I’ve looked back at my childhood, and wondered if there were things that happened that have caused me to feel the way I do now as an adult. In any case, here’s my random trail of thoughts on some of my fears…

The fear of never accomplishing anything worth noting. For as long as I can remember, I’ve always wanted to accomplish something big. When I was little, I was constantly making TV shows and movies, newspapers, fashion magazines… all of these big “entertainment industry” type dreams rolled up into little girl art projects. As I got older, my dreams shifted a bit. I wanted to become a writer – write a famous novel or screenplay. To this day, I have a dream to write AND illustrate a children’s book. It seems as though I want to do a lot of “big things.” And yet, there is this fear inside of me, that I will reach the end of my life, look back, and see nothing but small things. But I wonder if my fear isn’t really a fear at all… if it’s really an inability to see value in the small things. I wonder if my fear is actually ignorance… Maybe I’m just can’t the small things as significant, when those are the things that should matter most.

Fear number two: The fear of being alone. I’m not really your typical girl when it comes to the subject of weddings. I know that most girls have these amazing dreams about what they want their wedding to be like. They know how many people they will have stand up in their wedding, they know what color dresses they want, they know what kind of flowers they want to have, what song they want to dance to, and all that jazz… I can remember my friends when I was little telling me their “grand plans” for their wedding. And I would play along, giving them my thoughts and ideas. But truth be told, it never really mattered to me. I’ve never really cared about what the actual wedding would be like – what colors I’d pick, where it would be, what kind of cake we’d have, and whether or not we’d have a dance. There are two reasons why I think this is the case. First, I think that for the most part, when we get older, we recognize that marriage is more than just a wedding… it is about a commitment and a lifetime of work. It is about a love that goes far beyond a one-day celebration. I’m also a pretty simple girl, so elaborate and expensive weddings don’t really gel with my soul. But I have a second reason why I think I’ve always sort of felt the way I have. Most little girls never question whether or not they’ll actually get married – they just seem to know that they will. This has never been the case for me. I’ve always wondered if it’ll happen for me. I don’t know why – I’ve just never been convinced. Maybe it’s because, ever since I was little, I’ve heard the phrase “God sometimes calls people to be single.” I remember the first time I hear that, I ran straight to God and pleaded with him, “PLEASE DON’T LET THAT BE ME!” But here’s the interesting thing… I’ve come to realize that getting married doesn’t make the “alone” feeling going away. Getting married doesn’t always quench that fear… and often times, it can heighten it. I’ve realized that as much as I want to get married, I need to seek community amongst people – plural. I cannot place all of the weight on one person. I need to surround myself with people who encourage me, challenge me, and spur me on to be a better person. People who will listen to me, and who will tell me when I’m being lame. Do I still want to get married? Heck yes! Do I still have a fear that I won’t? Unfortunately, yes. Do I still have a fear that I won’t find community? Yes. Do I still think it’s important to pursue community? Most definitely. I think both are possible, especially the latter. Our world is composed of many hurting people seeking community… I just need to meet up with them, and hopefully both of our fears of “being alone” will be abolished.

Third fear (thanks for hanging with me this far): The fear of dying… I’ve learned that my fear of dying again comes back to my fear of failing – failing to live a life that is worthy of living… a fear that maybe I’m not living my life to fullest, soaking in every ounce of joy that surrounds me. This past week, a good friend of mine was spared from an untimely death. When he could have died, God spared his life, and he continues to move, breathe, and live. This man is one of the greatest men I know, and he is a life-liver. He soaks everything he can out of each day, and even though I only see him on occasion, he is still one of my favorite people in the world. He inspires me to look for reasons to rejoice, and to live my life to the fullest…

As I think about each of my fears, I’ve come to realize that maybe they’re not really fears. Maybe they are just skewed perceptions. I mean, being afraid of accomplishing big things is really just blurred vision – I’m unable to recognize the value in small things. The fear of being alone may just be hope in the wrong thing – hope that a marriage will abolish my “aloneness” instead of recognizing the multitude of people around me who, if asked, would be willing to pour into my life. And my fear of dying might just be the realization that I don’t always live each day as if it is my last.

I wonder how many “fears” I’d actually have if I simply learned to change my perspective, and change my way of living. If I chose to rejoice in the small things, seek out the community around me, and as Thoreau said “live deep and suck out all the marrow of life!” I wonder if I might be able to squelch these so-called “fears” of mine.

God, help me to be creative, to shift my thinking and my perspectives. Help me to realize that all things start small. Help me to seek out and pour into those around me. And help me to live deeply until my dying breath.



(Photo taken by oh no, nilla at Flickr.com)

words

Words.

We use them every day. We use them in conversations and in emails. We see them everyday on billboards, in memos, and in the fine print of a document. There are words that are simple and common. There are words that are more obscure and are rarely used. But no matter what words are used, there’s no denying that words abound.

I’m reminded of a David Crowder song that goes, “I need words, as wide as sky. I need a language large as this longing in side. And I need a voice, bigger than mine. I need a song to sing you, that I’ve yet to find. I need words…” Every day we use words to convey what we are feeling, thinking, and wondering about. And yet often times, we find ourselves lacking the right words and using words that might not be the most beneficial or accurate. We desire to express ourselves correctly, but so often find our own voices inadequate.

The interesting thing to me in all of this what kind of weight words can carry. The more I journey through life and the more I discover about myself, the more I realized how much weight words carry with me. At times, I think of it as a positive thing. I love literature, I love to write, and I love to express words of encouragement to others. And of course, I always enjoy a good game of Scrabble! However, I’m realizing that my attachment to words also goes the other way; that words – or lack thereof - can be unbearably painful.

Over the past year or so, I’ve learned a few things about how hurtful words. First, I’ve realized just how easily I allow words to bruise and even scar my soul. One of my strongest love languages – one of the greatest ways I feel loved – is through words of affirmation. Therefore, it would only make sense that it could go pretty strongly in the opposite direction. While words of encouragement make me feel incredibly loved and lifted up, harsh words of disapproval, anger, or mistrust can strike just as deep. People often tell me, “Tory, you’ve got to let these words just roll off your back.” The interesting thing is, a lot of people will tell you they believe strongly in the idea of love languages – that there are certain ways we feel more loved. Couldn’t there exist the opposite though – a certain way we feel unloved? Isn’t that just as valid?

The second thing that I’ve learned is that my words are just as hurtful. So often, it’s easy for me to get stuck in a rut where all I can see are my own bruises and scars, and not the ones I have inflicted on other people. Being a lover of words has it’s curse too – you always have just the perfect negative word that will cause the most amount of damage right on the tip of your tongue. I am no stranger to this behavior. There have been times in the course of my 27-year journey where I very easily could have chosen to keep my mouth closed or used words with a little more grace. Unfortunately, my tongue doesn’t always match up with my brain, and I have inflicted my fair share of wounds. Maybe that’s what causes my own wounds to hurt a little more… knowing that at some point in time, I have been the cause of someone else’s pain.

The third thing I’m learning is probably the one that’s been most difficult for me to swallow, and that is how too many words or the lack of words can affect a person. I was talking with a friend the other night, and we were talking about belief. I told her that you cannot force yourself to believe something, but that if you hear it enough and it is constantly reinforced, the likelihood of believing it becomes much greater. For instance, take belief in God. If I don’t believe in God – if it just doesn’t make sense to me, and I can’t make that leap of faith to believe he actually exists, my forcing myself to believe that isn’t really going to get me anywhere. However, if those around me continue to express their belief in God, keep sharing stories with me about how he is working in their lives, and continually tell me about his amazing character, sooner or later, I’ll begin to question my belief more and more. I’m not saying it is a deal maker – I’m not saying that just because I am consistently being fed with words about God that I will 100% for sure come to believe in him. But I do believe that words have the ability to sway us one way or the other. Therefore, I’m realizing what the lack of words can do as well. When I don’t consistently encourage those around me, when I don’t tell people how much I love them, when I don’t make my concerns known, when I don’t speak out against injustice, when I am silent and I should be screaming… this can be just as hurtful as if I had said a thousand terrible words to them.

What I’m finding is just how much weight words can carry. They are not to be taken lightly and should not be used without serious consideration. I find it interesting how often the Bible talks about the use of our tongue. It’s CRAZY. Check out Proverbs, it’s all over the place. And James… whew! Some serious stuff in there. And our tongues are directly connected to words. I am ashamed by my tongue as of late, and am seriously challenged to take a look at how I use it.

It’s such a delicate thing – using words properly. I definitely have not mastered the art of when to speak and when to stay silent. Growth and wisdom are definitely needed. And I can only hope to eventually heal more wounds than I inflict.

(picture found on website for Massachusetts Institute for Technology)