gratitude.

I've had quite a few blunders in my life. The great thing about my life, though, is that it resembles an after-school special. I always seem to learn a lesson.

I like to think of these lessons as epiphanies.

My most recent category of blunders includes the incident that led to my last blog post. It also includes my most recent epiphany.

Epiphany:
Through all of my missteps, screw-ups and heartbreaks, I've learned to be extremely thankful of my ex-boyfriend (henceforth referred to as "Boy").

It sounds strange, right?

I've had so many mistakes since him; each time I was a little more intent on finding love; each time I was reminded that it wasn't real.

Boy was my only real relationship: my first date, my first kiss, my first love. I've recently come to be grateful that he taught me how a real relationship looks.

In every blunder I experience, I'm reminded that Christ should be at the center. I'm reminded that I should be respected. That I should respect the guy. That we should help each other grow. That I should get giggly and goofy and walk into doors when I see him. (Yes, I walked into a door on my first date with Boy.)

Of course, none of this exists in a blunder.

So, I'm thankful to Boy for teaching me that I deserve better. I'm thankful for his love, his direction, his compassion, his encouragement, his compliance when tolerating my ridiculous endeavors . . .

To Boy: Thank you. I pray my husband treats me like you did and loves God like you do. Thank you for teaching me what to expect.

worth.

Every time someone says "Beauty comes from within," I want to tell them (and you'll have to excuse my language here) "You're full of crap." Because, honestly, no one believes that. It's nice to hear when you're having a fat day, but they're just fluff words.

I have a friend who is everything "beautiful" is supposed to be - skinny, tan and blond. But she hates herself. She always thinks that she needs to lose just five more pounds and then she'll be happy with herself. Or maybe if she had clearer skin she'd be pretty.

It's ridiculous.

I know from other people's experiences and my own that when you don't feel beautiful, you create victims: boys, food, friends who always have to listen to you complain about yourself . . .

It all comes down to worth. Daddy issues, nicknames from junior high that left scars, relationships that left you jaded - they all tend to make us feel worthless.

So we try to find our worth in guys. "Maybe, if I dress this way, he'll ask me out, and that means I'm pretty."

Or work.

Or school.

Or anywhere else that has never created worth.

And I'm one of those people. I'm currently grasping at straws trying to find my worth. Yes, I know the true source of my worth. But I don't seek it.

I kind of ignore it, actually.

Aesop once said, "Outside show is a poor substitute for inner worth."

I've taken that message to heart. So, after years on a self-esteem roller coaster, after always trying to make myself prettier so boys will like me, after countless self-deprecating conversations with the best friend, after several meltdowns before walking into a gym, and, finally, after a three-hour conversation with a wonderful friend outside Whole Foods (with ice cream, no less), I've decided something: I'm tired of hating myself.

Again, you'll have to excuse my language, but it kind of sucks. There is no true joy when you hate yourself.

Yeah, you can pretend to be happy. And, yeah, I was born and raised Baptist and am world-class at pretending everything is OK. But, what good is fake joy when there's a true, unequivocal joy just a few blocks away?

It doesn't matter how many people tell me I'm beautiful . . . or which people tell me I'm beautiful . . . or amazing, or hilarious, or smart or whatever. Because I don't quite believe it yet.

So, this is my creed, my vow, my commitment, my declaration: I'm going to find inner worth.

I'm going to stop hating myself. I'm going to stop thinking that losing weight will make me a better person. I'm going to stop thinking that not landing that perfect job right after college will be the end of me. I'm going to stop beating myself down.

So, let it be known to the great void of readers: I, Lauren Cathleen Brown, will love myself. It will probably take a while. A long while. But it will happen.

And, when it does . . .

Honestly, I don't quite know.

But, I know it's going to be wonderful.

what a Savior.

"Both the one who makes men holy and those who are made holy are of the same family. So Jesus is not ashamed to call them brothers. He says, 'I will declare your name to my brothers [or sisters]; in the presence of the congregation I will sing your praises.' . . . And again he says, 'Here am I, and the children God has given me [that's me!].' Since the children have flesh and blood, he too shared in their humanity so that by his death he might destroy him who holds the power of death - that is, the devil - and free those who all their lives were held in slavery by their fear of death. For surely it is not angels he helps, but Abraham's descendants [us believers in all our imperfections]. For this reason he had to be made like his brothers in every way, in order that he might become a merciful and faithful high priest in service to God, and that he might make atonement for the sins of the people. Because he himself suffered when he was tempted, he is able to help those who are being tempted."
-Hebrews 2:11-18

And I sure need some help.

yep.

opening up.

I half-expected the binding to creak and dust to fly from the pages when I opened my Bible a few moments ago. But it didn't. The Word is always good and true, no matter how much I ignore it.

You know, I talk a lot about God. A LOT. Why shouldn't I? I love Him.

But, lately, I've abandoned my God. I'm ashamed to call Him "Father" for fear of my behavior besmirching His wonderful name. I'm shamed knowing I'm a representation of Him.

Sometimes, the inch-long Ichthus on my foot is my only reminder of who I am, how I should behave, who I serve.

I've been like this for more than a year.

It's time to climb out of the pit I've begun to call "home." It's time to stop trying to run from God. It's futile.

I know improving one's life is always easier said than done. But, this time, I've got to get it done. I've got to get something done.

I've got to pursue Him.

Earnestly seek Him.

Pray.

Read my Bible.

I've got to get back to Christ, because, honestly, I don't know who I am without Him.

"When I got tired of running from You, I stopped right there to catch my breath. There Your words caught my ears, You said 'I miss You, Son, come home.' And my sins watched me leave, and in my heart I so believed the love You felt for me was mine (the love I've wished for all this time). And when the doors were closed, I heard no 'I told you so's.' You said the words 'I knew you knew.' Oh God, oh God, I needed You."
-Relient K

mess.

I just read over the first post on this blog.

I talked about inner beauty and loving yourself as God created you. What a conviction.

To be completely honest, I feel a bit hypocritical right now. Lately I have been so down on myself in so many areas - I don't look right. I work too hard. I don't work hard enough. I don't study enough. I study too much. I'll never get an A in that class. I don't show Jesus enough love. I don't give enough of myself to my friends. The self-deprecation goes on and on.

I don't think I'm alone in these feelings, though.

What woman doesn't think she's not good enough at some time or another? I don't look like Jennifer Aniston so I must be ugly. I'll never be as successful as my male coworkers so why even put forth effort? I'm not as spiritual as Beth Moore so Jesus must not love me.

Pack. Of. Lies.

Lies that are constantly fed to us by the enemy through the media, teachers, bosses, friends, family - anyone and everyone who has some kind of influence in our lives.

Why do we feel like we have to look like a celebrity to be pretty? Their job is to be the essence of the world's perception of beauty. So they work out three hours a day, seven days a week, and never eat meat.

I don't know about you, but I can't handle that lifestyle. I have neither the time nor the desire.

Why do I feel like God can't possibly love me because I've messed up His masterpiece so much? This is a thought that plagues me.

I know He loves me. No matter what. His love is unconditional. I've even blogged about it.

Shauna Niequist (again, that fabulous and insightful woman that I would love to meet) talks about such feelings in "Cold Tangerines." She mentions how she and her husband have always lived in new houses, but she's always felt like an old house kind of person. So they get an old house. It has no bells and whistles but is full of bumps and bruises.

She loves their old house and they constantly work to fix it up. One day she visits a friend in her new home and is overcome with jealousy. She's jealous that her friend doesn't have leaky toilets or an infestation. And suddenly she wants a house that's shiny and new.

She realizes that this is a mirror representation of her life.

"On my worst days, I start to believe that what God wants is perfection. That God is a new-house God. That everything has to work just right, with no cracks in the plaster and no loose tiles. That I need to be completely fixed up. . . . On my very best days, as an act of solidarity with my house, since we're both kind of odd, mismatched, screwed-up things, I practice letting it be an old not-fixed-up house, while I practice being a not-fixed-up person. I wear my ugly pants, the saggy yellow terry-cloth ones with the permanently dirty hems, and I walk around my house, looking at all the things that I should fix someday, but I dont' fix them just yet, and I imagine God noticing all the things about me that should get fixed up one day, and loving me anyway and being okay with the mess for the time being."

So, love yourself. Even on your worst days. We all have terrible days when we somehow gained 20 pounds overnight, the humidity makes our hair look like we're headed to the Class of '85 prom, we can't think at school and can't do anything right at work.

Those days happen. Much more often than is comfortable.

Get used to them.

Embrace them.

Embrace you.

Love you.

Just as God loves you . . . even if you are a mess.

"Cause you're amazing. Just the way you are."
-Bruno Mars

edamame.

Life is . . . difficult.

Wonderful, yes. But incredibly difficult.

It is so easy, commonplace even, to let ourselves get bogged down with all that the world throws our way. And it is much easier to try and take it on ourselves rather than giving it to God.

But, if we don't give it to God, we get too busy to hang out with friends. Too busy to call mama and daddy. Too busy to read that Jane Austen novel we've been working on for months and have only gotten to Chapter 2. Too busy . . . to blog.

It takes a conscious effort to choose celebration over tasks. But, hey, I believe it's possible.

People say that God never gives us anything we can't handle.

They're full of it.

God gives me stuff that I can't handle all the time. The real truth is this: God never gives us anything he can't handle. And that's the beauty of it. That all the day-to-day, the monotonous, the strenuous, the things that make you want to pull out your hair (not to mention the hair of the person stressing you out) . . . we simply can't handle it. But God can.

Now, the trick is to celebrate the little things. Like best friends. And love letters from a Savior. And the brief moments that we do get to read that Austen novel. And edamame. Oh my word, edamame.

In her book "Cold Tangerines," (quite possibly my favorite book of all time and one that I will probably quote often) Shauna Niequist, a beautiful, wonderful, exuberant guru of all things celebratory and joyful, sums it up pretty well:

"I believe in a life of celebration. I believe that the world we wake up to every day is filled to the brim with deep, aching love, and also with hatred and sadness. And I know which one of those I want to win in the end. I want to celebrate in the face of despair, dance when all we see on the horizon is doom. I know that Death knocks at our doors and comes far too early for far too many of us, but when he comes for me, I want to be full-tilt, wide-open, caught in the very act of life."

So, the challenge I issue to the millions of people I like to imagine read my blog when in reality I only have four followers who don't read it is this: Celebrate.

Something.

Everything.

Learn to throw every bit of darkness back where it came from.

And celebrate.

Even if it's just edamame.

life.

There's a certain fact that I've known for quite some time. I sometimes drift in and out of believing it, based on what's happening, how I feel, the weather (oh, those Winter Blues), etc. But, it's a fact that I believe is worthy of sharing, worthy of remembering and worthy of being a mantra:

Life is wonderful.

And it really is. Sometimes, we get so bogged down in all we have to do, everywhere we have to be and everyone we have to talk to that we forget the beauty in the chaos, the simple joys, the ones we love and to rejoice in our Creator.

We tend to think that life is about our tedious tasks or the things that make us drag our feet. And it's not. Not at all.

Life is about lunch with your best friend.
It's about opening the windows, taking a walk, letting your hair down, drinking incredibly sweet tea from a mason jar and taking day trips with your friends just because.
Life is about loving your parents, listening to your grandma when she starts a story with "When I was young," going fishing with your dad and grandpa, not fighting with your siblings, going shopping with your sister and having a great conversation with your brother.
It's about being thankful for what you've been given, loving the people who really really get on your nerves, appreciating the fact that the woman in the pew behind you is singing off key because it means you still have your hearing and she's praising Jesus.
Life is about loving your Jesus, thanking your God and living this life (not your life) for Him and not yourself.

So, for those in Baton Rouge, today is a beautiful day. Take a walk and absorb the beauty and splendor of God's creation. Admire His handiwork and everything He's done for you.

"For from Him and through Him and to Him are all things." - Romans 11:36

agape

I'm the first person to admit that I'm a hopeless romantic. Every day I secretly hope that Mr. Darcy will come sweep me away to Pemberly and marry me and take care of me and love me. Even though this would be incredible, I know that I have to keep at least a mild grip on reality . . . and that's where I've always had trouble.

When I was growing up, I formed my own opinions about love. Though I never believed in love at first sight, I always believed in soulmates. I proudly committed myself to the idea that once two people fell in love, they were in love forever, that there was no such thing as falling out of love. If they divorced, they obviously were never really in love in the first place.

This morning in church, my pastor preached on God's love, and I realized how wrong I've always been.

I realized that every thought I've ever had on romantic love has been based on agape love . . . God's love for us. Man's love is not God's love. Man's love could never come close to God's love.

God's love is unconditional. Never-ending. All-encompassing. Unfading. Undeserved.

God's love is not based on merit or character qualities. Mr. Darcy loved Lizzie because she was smart, funny, beautiful and caring. God loves us because we are His. The end. No questions asked. Unconditional.

Man's love is absolutely conditional. Because man's love is a choice made every day, he can choose to not love. If one person in a relationship unspeakably wrongs the other, you can bet your bottom dollar that they can fall out of love.

Man can fall in and out of love multiple times. Sure, two people can stay in love forever, but it's an everyday, conscious decision to love.

I realize this sounds hopelessly unromantic. But, again, man's love is not God's love. I disappoint God every single day, but He never stops loving me. I know the same can't be said for man.

The question now is this: Why do we seek the temporal love and affection of men over the incredible and infinite love of God?

I'm sure it would be wonderful to find a husband who loves without condition, merit or end. Wonderful, yes, but impossible.


How wonderful it is that we DO have someone who loves us unconditionally! How marvelous to know that a beautiful sunrise is painted each morning for us. How exciting that every leaf, every flower, every animal, every blade of grass, every breeze that blows through our hair speaks God's love to us.

His unconditional love.

His without-fail love.

His just-because love.

His blind love.

His unique agape love.