Rhonda’s Ramblings

It’s 3:56 a.m. and I am still awake. listening to some Andy Osenga.

I started organizing my cds, and that let to cleaning out some drawers in my room, which led to me finding some frames that I have been wanting to find pictures for. So, I almost opened up that Pandora’s Box of going through my photos, but then decided that would not be a wise choice..

I have way too much junk. I’m not sure how I have accumulated so much stuff in my short little life. And my sister and I just had a yard sale about two months ago. Much of my junk consists of craft items. Most of these haven’t been used in a while. But I save them because I don’t want to have to go out and buy them again when I am doing a craft project that needs that particular item. And I always think I will spend more time doing crafts than I actually do. I can’t tell you how many projects I have that are half finished.

Sometimes I wish I weren’t an American consumer. I wish that I didn’t have so many possessions and that I would be content with just a few things. Every year or so, I go through a stage where I really want to simplify and go “back to essentials, a chair and a lamp and the book that You wrote to me” (Margaret Becker). But the fact is, I like my stuff. If I had to live without it, I would. And probably wouldn’t be overly upset about it, but I do enjoy this stuff. And I continue to accumulate more stuff. Today, I got a really cute and fun picnic basket at the thrift store. Totally unecessary, but I love it.

Tomorrow is my only day off this week. And I don’t have any plans, which makes me happy. Of course, there are lots of things I need to catch up on. Bills, and cleaning and laundry and fun stuff like that. But I don’t have to be anywhere at any certain time. And I can just do stuff around the house and listen to all the cds that I rediscovered after reorganizing my cds.

And

Last night, the families that live in the houses next to me came to eat at the restaurant where I work. Then I saw them at church this morning. And while I was walking home from church, one of these same neighbors asked me if I could watch her two kids for a couple of hours this afternoon. Which I happily agreed to, in exchange for her letting me borrow some milk. Then about 30 minutes later, another of my neighbors brought over some lilac suckers that she had dug out of her yard, thinking that I might like to plant them. I shared some of the bounty of my garden with her. While I was watching the girls, I baked a cake for the son of one of the ladies that I work with. (He is 4 years old, and this was his first birthday cake )

This is community to me. And I love it. It makes me want to stay here.

And a story to reinforce what an old lady I am.

I never take Friday nights off. I did take one off the weekend of my sister’s wedding. And for a few other important things, but it is rare. Sure, it’s because usually I have nobody to cover for me. But this week, despite being super short on waitresses, I was able to tweak the schedule, so I work lunch instead of dinner. And what am I doing on Friday night? Going to a Taste of Home cooking school.

During the entertaining 2-hour presentation, you’ll hear humorous anecdotes plus handy tips, garnishing ideas and much more to make meal preparation easy and fun. Every guest will leave with a gift bag full of product samples, valuable coupons and the newest Taste of Home Brand Name Recipe Cookbook with over 150 recipes.

I think the cookbook alone is worth the $12 entrance fee. (I bought three of the past year’s cookbooks at the thrift store and I love them.)

I could tell you all the details of the last few days. (I got my hair cut, I made zucchini bread, I made some new Russian friends.) But instead, I’m gonna talk about singleness again. know, I know. I talk way too much about singleness. But I’m single. If I were married, I’d probably blog about marriage. But after all, I am the poster child for perpetual singleness.

As my new friend Oksana and I were in the car together for a couple of hours, we got to know each other, and asked the usual questions. She asked me what I really wanted to do in life. (Because she just guessed that I didn’t want to work at the Northridge forever.) And what was my answer? Well, there are SO many things that I would like to do. Too many to list. But at the top of my list is being a wife and a mom. That’s what I’d really like to do. She kind of looked at me with a confused look…expecting me to add some other important thing, like being the high ranking employee in the corporate world or something like that. She gave the common response, a version of “Is that all?”. And no, that’s not all. I would love to do so many things, like start a garden classroom and get my Master’s. But I really want to be a wife and mom. I don’t think it’s that crazy of a goal.

The thing is how I approach it.

I am a goal setter in general. I don’t reach a lot of my goals. But I do reach a good number of them. I achieved most of the things on my “Things to do before I’m 25″ list. I’m the type of person who really thinks that I can accomplish most things if I just apply myself enough and have enough discipline. Of course, I am often not disciplined enough. But if I want something badly enough to be disciplined, I can achieve that goal.

But I don’t think that way about getting married. I think of it as something that I don’t really have much control over. It’s not a goal that I can set, and can make a list of the things I need to do to accomplish that goal. It’s something that is very dependent on other outside factors. Like the guy. So, maybe I need to change my mindset. Or maybe I need to think about it a lot less. Or maybe it’s just a different type of goal. One that I don’t have much control over.

Yesterday I went to the river with Colleen and her two boys. A river day with them has been long overdue…with the crazyness in both of our lives. (Her house recently burnt down, and she has an almost 3 year old, a 10 month old and another on the way.) It was great to catch up with her and play with her adorable kids.

So, after leaving her house, I decided to stop by the Salvation Army on the way home. (I love thrift stores.) And guess who I ran into? My mom. Which is more random than it may seem. I rarely see her, since I work evenings and she works days and we live in totally different towns. So, after we both completed our shopping, we went out to dinner together. (I got a dress and some overalls, and some red boots??…at the thrift store, not for dinner.) And I think I got a love for thrift stores from my mom.

We had a wonderful time at dinner discussing our struggles in life and jobs and love and guys and beating them up. Okay, maybe we didn’t talk about beating them up, but we did talk about giving them a good talking to. And my perpetual singleness. Which seems to be a hot topic lately. At work and on the board and at dinner with my mom.

And if you think you might know the/a reason why I am still single, then tell me (I mean something that is “wrong” with me, not “because it’s God’s will”). Seriously. I want to know what my glaring flaws are. Because I really am baffled that I’ve never been on a date. (This is not a “I suck, I’m single, and life is horrible” statement. It’s just curiosity.) I like to ask for trouble.

So, a couple of years ago, I made a list of 30 things that I wanted to do by the time I turn 30. I ran across this list the other day, and realized how much I have to accomplish in the next year and a half.

They are in no particular order. Some are vague and some are specific. And only a few of them have been accomplished. The ones in bold, I have accomplished. The ones in italics, I am on my way. The other ones…not even close. So I had better get cracking.

1. Visit 30 countries (I’m at 17 right now, I think)
2. Make a quilt
3. Visit Africa (I went to Kenya for 2 ½ months last year)
4. Visit South America
5. Learn to knit
6. Make sandals (I have the leather to do this)
7. Visit all 50 states (16 to go, I think)
8. Learn to play guitar
9. Pay off student loans (I’m on my way)
10. Learn Spanish
11. Get married (not even close(
12. Memorize the book of Philippians
13. Take a pottery class
14. Take a photography class
15. Share the gospel more
16. Read through the Bible
17. Have no credit card debt
18. Make a mosaic
19. Read 300 books
20. Read 50 of “The Modern Library’s 100 Best Novels”
21. Lead people to the Lord
22. Buy a house
23. Plant a garden
24. See a Broadway show
25. Visit local swimming holes and waterfalls (it’s a process)
26. Go on a backpacking trip
27. Learn to kayak (I bought a kayak last year)
28. Whitewater rafting (I had the opportunity to do this for free the other day, but couldn’t fit it into my schedule. )
29. Make new friends but keep the old.

30. ?????

I only have 29 things on my list. So, maybe that one could be: Get addicted to an internet message board. Get my heart broken. Grow beautiful flowers. Clean my house. Make meaningless posts on my blog. Things like these that I have already accomplished should fill that blank.

Or maybe it should be filled with something that I have never done. Or rarely do. Like get a manicure. Wear makeup. Turn in my library books on time. Have a beer.

What do you think should be number 30? What are some of your goals? How many do you think I will reach by the time I’m 30?

I am kind of a pack rat. I save everything. But a lot of it has meaning. I have been going through some old boxes of stuff that has been packed away at my brother’s house for the last 7 years. And it has been fun. There are lots of old letters that people wrote to me…some hilarious ones that Vanessa wrote. And I found some crazy old pictures. Though I didn’t find my prom picture which is what I was originally looking for.

I was trying to be good and get rid of a lot of junk. But it’s hard to do. I did pretty well, but there are some things that I probably should have gotten rid of that I ended up keeping.

My last semester of college (which I not so affectionately refer to as my “semester from hell”), I worked in a first grade classroom. That same semester my dad died. So, I found 20 letters from the little first graders. Most of them copied the words off the board, but some wrote their own notes. You can’t help but smile when reading the painstaking printing saying: “I’m sorry that your bab bieb.” That whole b and d mix up is great. Also, the drawings can only make you smile. Such as the one that looks like a man with really long armpit hair.

Needless to say, I kept those letters. Maybe in another 5 years I will be able to get rid of them. But not yet.

I have been mulling over the idea of community lately. Well, it is always a dominant topic in my thinking, for some reason. And I have lots of thoughts, but never take the time to write them down.

But today, I witnessed an amazing example of community and the body of Christ. And was very encouraged by it. I have been attending a tiny local church for probably 6-8 months. (By tiny, I mean there were 15 people there on Sunday.) My sister has been living with me this summer, and has attended church with me for about a month. And the ladies of the church threw her a bridal shower tonight, though they barely know her…and they really don’t know me that well. And I thought that was such an amazing blessing. These ladies, who I’m sure have SO much else going on in their lives…took the time to come to the shower, and spent money to buy her gifts. And I was very blessed, as I’m sure my sister was.

I read this on Sarah’s blog today

My mom admonished me a while ago (maybe freshman year of college) not to just “lap up the crumbs from _____’s table” - sort of taking what I could get, really “lapping up” every single tiny bit of encouragement or flattery or “maybe he likes me” bit of possibility from the guy I liked, instead of looking realistically and seeing that all I was getting from this guy (and, when I look back on it, from the guy I liked in high school) was “crumbs” (in a sense).

Oh my gosh. I have been so guilty of this. Being content just with getting crumbs from under the table. And taking those crumbs and hoping and believing that they mean something, instead of just moving on. This is a quote from one of my journals.

And I can’t believe I’m letting myself be the girl on the side. I have so turned into the girl I never wanted to be. I like him a lot, so I’m willing to sit under the table and take whatever dregs he is willing to give me. How dumb is that of me? I deserve better than that. Crumbs are what I’m willing to get..if it’s all I can get.

Will I ever learn? I hope so. I have settled for crumbs with a couple of different guys. But I don’t deserve crumbs and I don’t want to settle for that. I want to sit at the table with them. I want to be the main dish. I don’t want to constantly be looking for little things to convince myself that I’m important to him. Sarah’s mom gave her wise advice.

Just a few random thoughts.

I am by no means as spontaneous as I once was. When I was 21, I was planning on going back to school in the fall. Two weeks before I was to leave, the opportunity arose to go teach in Honduras for a year. So, two weeks later, instead of moving the two hours to Chico, I got on a plane for a country that I knew next to nothing about. But I don’t know that I would be nearly as willing to just jump up and go these days. Though I really do love being spontaneous. But I think as I get older, I have more responsibilities and commitments that I feel like I can’t just leave them on a moment’s notice. But I don’t really have responsibilities and commitments. I don’t have kids or a husband, so there is nothing keeping me from being able to be spontaneous, except for my job. But that’s somewhat flexible. But maybe as I get older the desire to be footloose and fancy free is replaced with a desire to settle and put down roots. Or maybe next week, I will be announcing that I’m getting on a plane for Djibouti or taking a walk across America. Who knows?

I love living in a small town. I have always been torn between my wanderlust and my desire to put down roots in smalltown, USA.

Right now I’m leaning toward the small town.

I love my small town life right now. I work in a restaurant where I get to know a lot of the “locals”.

I attend church with my neighbors. People who literally live next door or a block away. Of course that also means that when those same neighbors are fighting and cussing at each other, I get to hear all of the drama.

Friends and neighbors give me tomato plants and squash plants. One man who comes into the restaurant came over and rototilled my garden for me. Another guy from the restaurant is lending me his weed-eater. The neighborhood kids charge 5 bucks an hour to weed-eat my backyard. Granted, they don’t do a great job, but it’s still worth it.

Not to mention the computer and digital camera that customers have given to me.

At church on Sunday, Sue, one of the ladies who lives up the street told me about her favorite memory of my grandma. Every summer, my grandma would have a Vacation Bible School in her front yard for the local kids. My grandma would go around the neighborhood ringing a bell and announcing that VBS was happening, and Sue was so fascinated that she had to send her kids to VBS.

I entered a pie in a contest at the rodeo. And when I came to work the next day, everyone at the bar already knew that I had won first place in the contest. (I also won a $100 gift certificate to a kitchen store!!) I was SO stinking excited…about having the best pie, but also for the gift certificate. (It was a strawberry-rhubarb pie.)

I moved to this little town over 3 years ago, never wanting to stay. But here I am three years later loving it…and unfortunately probably having to leave it…well at least this house.

But I’m enjoying it while I can. I’ve been spending a lot of time gardening. Yay! And maybe getting chickens soon! And I have been reading the Anne of Green Gables series, and the Little House on the Praire series. Both of which make me want to be more industrious and homemakey (it’s totally a word ) .

I’m such a country girl at heart.

This week, I really let go of something that I have been holding on to tightly for far too long. God gives me gifts and I hold on to them so tightly, afraid that if I don’t he might snatch them right back.

Often, I hold onto things too tightly. I have all of these hopes and dreams that I cling to. Not that it is bad to dream and hope and desire certain things. But for me, there are certain things that I need to surrender to God. But instead, I grab onto them and wrap my fist around them and hold on tight, afraid that if I let go of them and give them to God, that he won’t let me have them. But this week I decided to let go. To open my hand and let God do what he will. Whether he takes them away from me completely or gives them back, I am holding them with my palm upturned. I am holding on to these hopes with an open hand rather than holding on tightly.

And you know what, it’s amazing what freedom that brings. It’s not my job to connive and scheme to try to fulfill my hopes and dreams. It is God’s job to take care of me. And I think I know what’s best. But the fact is, God really knows what’s best for me. He created me. Who better to know what my hopes and desires are and how best to fulfill them?

Not that it has been easy to give up these things, not knowing whether or not God will give them back to me. I have cried many tears this week. My heart is broken. But I need to give them up without expecting that he will give them back to me. I need to trust that his plan is perfect. And though my heart is broken, I am resting in the freedom of the knowledge that God holds me in his hand.

I promised some people that I would update my blog. Though I don’t have anything profound to say, as usual.

It’s been a rough couple of weeks. My grandpa passed away recently. He was 92, so it wasn’t totally unexpected. But it was still hard. He has been a huge part of my life the past couple of years, so it leaves a big void. But what an amazing man. He rarely complained. He was very positive even when life was hard. And he loved Jesus with all his heart. I could learn a few things from him.

And here is a bunch of my family with him at easter:

In other news, I really want to get chickens. But I don’t think I will anytime soon. First, I’d have to build a coop. My brother is making raised beds for my garden, which I’m very excited about. Hopefully it will thwart the gophers and moles.

Boring update. Sorry. I have lots to say but don’t have the energy to put it into words right now.

I am currently reading Myth of the Welfare Queen: A Pulitzer Prize-Winning Journalist’s Portrait of Women on the Line. I saw it while perusing books at the library…and the title jumped out at me and I had to pick it up. I am not finished with it, but basically, it paints a portrait of real life families living on welfare in the 1990’s, when welfare reform was a hot political topic. Though the families it followed lived in inner city of North Philadelphia, much of it hit home with me.

I think there is a prevailing thought in America that people on welfare are just trying to work the system and are taking advantage of other people’s money. While I know that happens, I don’t think the majority of people that are on welfare are happy about it.

I remember well the waiting room in our counties’ welfare office. It seems we went there quite often when I was a kid. I’m not really sure what exactly these trips to the welfare office were for. I assume to discuss the details of the forms that my mom had to fill out regularly. She had to report every bit of income that came in.

My mom didn’t just sit around and wait for the welfare check to come every month. She cleaned houses. She went to school. At Christmas time she would make wreaths and centerpieces and we would sit in front of the grocery store selling them for extra money.

My mom did not want to be on welfare, but the circumstances of life led her there. She had three children, no specific education, and a husband who didn’t have a job and who was addicted to drugs and alcohol, and at three or four different times, she didn’t have a home for this family. There weren’t many options.

But we were not necessarily your typical welfare family (whatever that is). All 3 of us kids attended private Christian schools. But we didn’t take advantage of the government to pay for our private education. My brother’s tuition was paid by an “anonymous” donor. And for my and my sister’s tuition, all of us kids and my mom worked after school a few days a week cleaning the bathrooms and the classrooms. Which, I must say is kind of embarrassing for a kid. But I think it taught me a good work ethic…and it led to all 3 of us paying our own way through high school.

We were these really poor kids who didn’t find dumpster diving all that foreign, yet we went to school with a lot of kids who had money. Kind of a strange dynamic. I remember being a bit ashamed that we were on welfare and that we had to use food stamps. But looking back on it now, I realize that we did not just get a handout. We definitely got a hand up. My mom was able to attend the community college while on welfare, and from her work study job she worked her way up to different jobs at the community college, and has now been working there full time for many years. My mom was able to buy a house a few years ago, which I’m sure was only a distant dream in those times of homelessness. Her 3 children all have bachelor’s degrees. (Well, Rebecca will have hers in a few months.) We are a welfare success story.

But, more importantly than that, we are also a story about the grace of God. His amazing grace

I just found this in some of my old stuff. One of my great friends wrote it a few years ago. We had just flown back into Australia from Thailand. And he wrote it while we were on the 6 hour bus ride back home from the airport.

~~~~

Remember the sun setting
In a thousand different colors
The silence
Unheard of in former countries

Lush valleys with steep waterfalls
And we fall slowly asleep
Your head against the window
My head against yours

The movie playing a second time
Doesn’t interest us
And while the highway stretches out

We dream of sunsets in faraway countries
And where yet unknown ridges pierce
The rising morning clouds

A new day has just begun.

~~~

He is absolutely the cutest boy in the entire world, and I haven’t heard from him in while. I wonder how my incredibly romantic and idealistic Dutch friend is doing. He and I dreamed of discovering yet unkown tribes together someday. I’m thankful for all the people that I have found…that have impacted my life in little ways.

Well they said boy you just follow your heart
But my heart just led me into my chest
They said follow your nose
But the direction changed every time I went and turned my head
And they said boy you just follow your dreams
But my dreams were only misty notions
But the Father of hearts and the Maker of noses
And the Giver of dreams He’s the one I have chosen
And I will follow him.

-Rich Mullins

Finally, I can access my blog again. And I know I should write about the amazing weekend that I had in Nashville. Or share some thoughts on being another year older. And maybe I will…soon.

But for now, I am gonna post a story that I memorized for a speech meet when I was in Jr. High. I got an email tonight that reminded me of this story…and so I’m sharing it, for no good reason, really.

Appointment with Love (Author Unkown)

Six minutes to six, said the clock over the information booth in New York’s Grand central Station. The tall young Army lieutenant lifted his sunburned face, and narrowed his eyes to note the exact time. His heart was pounding with a beat that shocked him. In six minutes he would see the woman who had filled such a special place in his life for the past thirteen months, the woman he had never seen, yet those written words had sustained him unfailingly.

Lieutenant Blandford remembered one day in particular, the worst of the fighting, when his plane had been caught in the midst of a pack of enemy planes.

In one of his letters, he had confessed to her that he often felt fear, and only a few days before his battle, he had received her answer: “Of course you fear…all brave men do. Next time you doubt yourself, I want you to hear my voice reciting to you: “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil, for Thou art with me”… He had remembered and it had renewed his strength.

Now he was going to hear her real voice. Four minutes to six.

A girl passed close to him, and Lieutenant Blandford started. She was wearing a flower, but it was not the little red rose they had agreed upon. Besides, the girl was only about 18, and Hollis Meynell had told him she was 30. “What of it?” he had answered. “I’m 32.” He was 29.

His mind went back to that book he had read in the training camp. Of Human Bondage, it was; and throughout the book were notes in a woman’s writing. He had never believed that a woman could see into a man’s heart so tenderly, so understandingly. Her name was on the bookplate: Hollis Meynell. He had got hold of a New York City telephone book and found her address. He had written, she had answered. Next day he had been shipped out, but they had gone on writing.

For 13 months she had faithfully replied. When his letters did not arrive, she wrote anyway, and now he believed he loved her, and she loved him.

But she refused all his pleas to send him her photograph. She had explained: “If your feeling for me has any reality, what I look like won’t matter. Suppose I’m beautiful, I’d always be haunted by the feeling that you had been taking a chance on just that, and that kind of love would disgust me. Suppose I’m plain (and you must admit that it is more likely), then I’d always fear that you were only writing because you were lonely and had no one else. No, don’t ask for my picture. When you come to New York, you shall see me and then you shall make your decision.”

One minute to six… Then Lieutenant Blandford’s heart leapt.

A young woman was coming toward him. Her figure was long and slim; her blond hair lay back in curls from her delicate ears. Her eyes were blue as flowers, her lips and chin had a gentle firmness. In her pale green suit, she was like springtime come alive.

He started toward her, forgetting to notice that she was wearing no rose, and as he moved, a small, provocative smile curved her lips.

“Going my way, soldier?” she murmured.

He made one step closer to her. Then he saw Hollis Meynell.

She was standing almost directly behind the girl, a woman well past 40, her graying hair tucked under a worn hat. She was more than plump; her thick-ankled feet were thrust into a low-heeled shoe. But she wore a red rose on her rumpled coat.

The girl in the green suit was walking quickly away.

Blandford felt as if though he were being split into two, so keen was his desire to follow the girl, yet so deep was his longing for the woman whose spirit had truly companioned and upheld his own; and there she stood. He could see that her pale, plump face was gentle and sensible; her grey eyes had a warm twinkle.

Lieutenant Blandford did not hesitate. His fingers gripped the worn copy of Human Bondage which was to identify him to her. This would not be love, but it would be something precious, a friendship for which he had been and must ever be grateful…

He squared his shoulders, saluted, and held out the book toward the woman, although even while he spoke he felt the bitterness of his disappointment.

“I’m Lieutenant John Blandford and you — you are Miss Meynell. I’m so glad you can meet me. May - may I take you to dinner?”

The woman’s face broadened in a tolerant smile. “I don’t know what this is all about, son,” she answered. “That young lady in the green suit, she begged me to wear this rose on my coat. And she said that if you asked me to go out with you, I should tell you that she’s waiting for you in that restaurant across the street. She said that it was some kind of a test.”

Cute story…but one that sets us up for the “happily ever after”. But I do love how the guy chooses to go with what he knows is a wonderful friendship, rather than with the hot girl. Of course, he ends up with the wonderful friendship with the hot girl.

I also have always loved how the woman is described as “springtime come alive”. Such a wonderful description. I would love to be thought of like that.

What kind of Christian school has this in their list of poems for the jr. highers to memorize for a speech meet? I just want you to imagine me, a chubby 12 year old, trying to act this line out…

“a small, provocative smile curved her lips. “Going my way, soldier?” she murmured.”

Yeah, not so much. I couldn’t even do it now. But how funny would it be to have a videotape of me trying to do it then?

“My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think that I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road though I may know nothing about it. Therefore will I trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.” -Thomas Merton

Thanks to Matt who posted this recently. It definitely encouraged me.

As I was driving to work on Wednesday, I saw three things that hit me. They inexplicably brought tears to my eyes and made my heart swell with the joy of living.

None of them seemed very significant, but for some reason they impacted me.

Children riding their bike at the park.

An elderly woman, in her skirt with her gray hair regally swept into a french twist. As she walks along (to meet somebody, I presume), she is making sure that each piece of her hair is in place.

An elderly gentleman waiting to cross the street where there is no crosswalk. This is the same man that I see working in his yard, raking leaves on a regular basis. After I pass, I look in my rear-view mirror and see him running across the street. Obviously not as spry as he was in his younger years, but still able to run.

I know I’m a cheesy girl. But it’s the little things that make life wonderful. Like last night when I came out of the store and the hills covered in pine trees were gilded by the sun. It was beautiful.

~Cast your burden upon the Lord, and He shall sustain you. He shall never permit the righteous to be moved. Psalm 55:22

~In times of trouble, remember that God is too kind to be cruel, too wise to make a mistake, and too deep to explain himself.

~Heart shattered lives ready for love don’t for a moment escape God’s notice. Psalm 51:17 (msg)

You saw my mistakes and watched my heart break
Heard when I swore I’d never love again
And when I was weak, unable to speak
Still I could call you by name
And I said, Heartache Healer, Secret Keeper,
Be my best friend
And You said, I Am.
-Nichole Nordeman–I Am