I’m a big believer in making your day what you want it to be. I don’t like the concept of having to simply respond to whatever cards are dealt to me. I deal, and I get to pick through the deck and make my own hand. It’s cheating, but the deck is mine… so… that’s how I see life.

But dang it, fam. Some days are hard. It’s like they’ve been coming all along for years, like you’ve been standing in the ocean facing the shore and not realizing what’s building up behind you. All of a sudden, the whoosh is over you, and it’s simultaneously ruined your hair and makeup, stolen your sunglasses, and gone up your nose. Salty tears and coughing and flailing ensue. Today I feel like I got washed over.

The good part is that I’m not numb. I thought I was numb on my way home from work, when all I could listen to was one of Beyonce’s not-so-classy new songs, on loop. I’d best describe it as calloused music, invoking no feelings whatsoever while maintaining a beat and something along the lines of a melody, maybe. The lyrics meant nothing. I managed to find one song that I wanted to listen to, and this to me was a tiny victory. I didn’t sing along.

I had to ask the Lord why I felt so indignant. He gently reminded me, for the billionth time that He’s got unfailing love for me, and He’s the only Dealer of that love. Other people can love me well through Him, but not so perfectly. And I’m in the same boat, dealing the love I get from Love as well as I can, oftentimes fumbling it. Hey, we’re trying.

I felt frustrated that people say one thing and do another, and I’m in that boat. I felt frustrated that people don’t always choose what’s best for them, to press into the process. Instead they bump to the next thing, as if they’re any different. I can’t buy that. I have to ask God for a lot more grace than I thought I would need, and to take away a lot more of the cares I have, because I obviously care a lot. I care about people who have all these walls up. I care about people who keep running into walls. And I keep running and I run into their walls. I’m learning to back up, because their walls are messing with my freedom. I hate that and it hurts.

I want freedom for people, but I can’t put more effort into it than they’re willing to. I can’t be the leader that pushes and tugs, that dunks the horse and tries to make it drink. I can’t be the one that hurts and says “it’s for your good” and is impatient with people who are unwilling. God leads perfectly, but He isn’t forceful. I want to be as gracious as the Father. I want to have compassion and survive it. Is that even possible here? I wanna find out.

In the mean time, sometimes my heart gets a little bit broken, and I feel a little bit disappointed. There’s a cry in my heart that groans “it could be so much better” and “whyyy” and has to make peace with the fact that I can’t fix it all. I can’t go back in the past and undo. This kind of holy discontentment makes me wage war in prayer. I paint my face like a warrior (figuratively) and roar and lift my spear to the sky (I don’t actually have a spear, but come along with the concept). I want them to be happy. I want my loved ones to be so happy and I get tired of seeing them torture themselves. What can I do in that? I stand by. Sometimes it still affects me. And God knows I do the same thing back to my closest friends, when they see me making decisions that are way less than God’s best. It’s not easy to rain on a loved one’s parade, fam. So I find myself clapping along and marching in, and praying under my breath for a cloud to please show up, through a gritted-teeth smile.

I hate that there’s sickness and cancer here. I hate that I make a living partially because people are dying. I hate that I have to see their blood cells under a microscope, the ones that mean they have leukemia, the ones that confirm malignancies. It makes me sad when another patient’s name disappears from our regular board. We were never made to perish, but to partake of the tree of life and walk with the Lord in the cool of the evening. Living in the tension of the disconnect is challenging, especially when I know it’s part of my purpose on earth to bring heaven down. I have to constantly look at things with different eyes, and tell myself that what I am seeing isn’t the reality of the situation. My normal has to realign with God’s normal and His possibilities. It’s a daily realignment.

I wanted to share this because as you well know, my life isn’t all butterflies and rainbows. I carry joy with me, and probably by the time I wake up later today (I sleep during the day because I work night shift) this wave and the burning of salt in my eyes will have subsided. I wanted to share with you anyway, fresh from the whoosh. I know these kinds of hard days push me to a new level of intercession aka prayer. I get mad again. I get zealous. I declare crazy stuff over my people, about their healing, especially the healing of their hearts. Somebody came along and hurt them and taught them a lie that they’ve chosen to believe this whole time. With my aching heart, I cry out that Love is bigger than any lie. I pray that my heart fully accepts that truth, the Truth that overcame it all for the sake of His people. We are loved beyond measure. On days like this, I know that Love holds me together. Glory to Him, always.

Oh and I bought myself a gift, because I am loved and I’m really pumped about turning 28 and graduating my first year of ministry school… I’m going to San Francisco for the first time in April! God’s been giving me words and visions about this city, and I am gonna just see what happens. The bridge nerd in me is freaking out excited about seeing the Golden Gate bridge. I will see dear friends there as well, and on days like today, I see the treasure in front of me.

I choose joy. I choose fire. I choose more. It hurts, but love is worth it.