sweatpants and stilletos

Wouldn't you know that just when I thought I had this figured out, I'm back at my first day at school...
Something's changed today, what it is I just can't say. I don't seem ok. But I'm ok.
I can't run from you. Oh what did we run in to? Regardless of what I choose, we both lose. This isn't the way it's supposed to be. Where is my head?
I can lead a horse to water, You can even make him drink - but you can't change his point of view. Your way is not my way - but today's another day.
What if I don't just want coffee tonight?
-Caedmon's Call

Those two first lines describe my enlightenment this weekend. God has been telling me to shut my mouth a lot lately. Sometimes I listen. He's fueled passions within me. Sometimes I feed them. I feel like I'm finally starting to rest in Him. He says he knows the details of my life. He says that I am precious. That my name is written in His hand. He should be enough for me. I choose to say that He is enough for me. I will rest in His love. Rest. Rest. Rest.

I feel a freedom that I haven't felt in a long time. I thank God for that. His love for me is astounding. Astounding. Sometimes I forget that God knows me so intimately. He tells me that I do not have to strive or perform for his approval. If I don't need His, than I need not to strive for ANY approval. It's all air.

Do you ever feel like a split personality? There's that girl that is a free thinker. The creative, think outside the box type. Then there's the strict task-master. I get caught between the modern and post-modern thinking. The democrat and republican. The tech-no and Nick Burns. The traditionalist and the new. The fashionista and the i-just-want-to-be-comfortable. The enviromentalist and the user of aerosol hairspray. The materialistic and the minimalist. The traveling heart and the plant-roots type. I feel often at war within myself. Rest. Rest. Rest.

Society always wants to put a label on us. I think it makes them more comfortable if we are a "type" they can define. They have us figured out then. We are classified, labeled, put in a drawer and filed away. We can then be inserted into statistics whenever it's convienent. I've come to the conclusion that I'm just not one type. I'm undefinable. I don't even dress a certain way- I can't categorize my whole life into a adjective! I used to want to put a label on myself. I would think, "I am this." But then, I would slip away and prove myself wrong by the end of the week. I now think of it as a great thing to be undefinable. I feel more open. More open to ideas, movements, creative thoughts, leopard stilettos - whatever hits me at the moment! I feel a freedom with this thinking. (that's my non-commital self rejoicing). I am me and nothing more, nothing less. I don't need to impress anyone. I don't need to strive for approval. (Something I'll need to tell myself ten times a day). I am me. No excuses. I think I like that.

No more my God; no more my God, I boast no more.Oh my soul may be found in Him. (RESTING!)
I come to you with empty hands...

Jordan Weiland