Hi. My name is Amanda. I am a girl who has always struggled to maintain a work ethic that my family could be proud of.
Hi, My name is Amanda. I shirk the mantle of responsibility my family yokes on me unfairly, because I recognize that even if I did something amazing with my life- there would always be something my mom would see in me that needed fixing.
Hi, My name is Amanda. I'm a woman afraid of her own power. I am capable, I am intelligent, I am knowledgeable and artistic, and influential. Yet I am incapacitated by my own fear.
Hi, My name is Amanda. I despise the concept of taking ownership of "my own power"- because I know my own weakness. I refuse to make myself out to be something I'm not simply to acheive goals other people put in front of me, or because I am attempting to cover up some insecurity that I harbor about myself. I don't want to be a millionaire, or a huge success, or make everyone else proud, while I lose myself, lose the chance to do something that makes me a better person. I don't want to climb over other people to make my life better, or to become so abrasive in order to acheive some personal perfection that I can't empathize with other people, and they can't empathize with me.I don't want to become soulless, broken, to become one dimensional, and lost.
Hi, My name is Amanda, secret overachiever. If I can't do it 100 percent well- I struggle to do it at all. I get an A or I get an F. I find it stomach turningly hard to maintain anything in between.
Hi, My name is Amanda. I am lazy. I think about doing things all the time- the laundry, the housework, searching for another job- but I'm tired. I do it for ten minutes, and then I get frustrated, and then I get bored, and then I give up.
Hi, My name is Amanda. I just want to love people. I find joy and enjoyment in watching people grow. The smallest story of redemption brings an upwelling of tears that I have a hard time keeping back. They aren't sad tears. They are very happy tears. Hearing about redemption reminds me of experiencing redemption in my own life- of a God that saves.
Hi, My name is Amanda. I'm not any of these things. I am all of these things. And I am afraid of ALL of these things. I don't know who I am. I know that there are some things I do really really well. And the rest of my life I feel like I don't do well at all.
Hi, I'd like to ...try...this...again. Like an AA meeting. Lets start with the things I know are true, when I break through all the lame psycho babble crap that I inundate life with on a regular basis to try to make sense of how I feel.
Okay. Let me introduce myself again.
.
Hi...I'm Amanda. I'm Amanda Jean Yorke.
I am loved.
I am held
I mean something, because I was made by someone
to be special
to be funny. and quirky
to love a certain way, and be loved in return
to snort a little when I am caught off guard and laugh unexpectedly
to sometimes pretend I am in a music video when I am bored at work, and dance around the store as I put out inventory.
to help people.
to be helped by people in return
to be humbled
to want to keep being humbled.
I am not defined by what people think of me
I am not defined by what I think of myself
I am not defined by my acheievements
I am not defined by my failures
I am was created with purpose.
I was made with delight by a God who cherishes me.
I am defined by his love.
And he defines my practical world.
Hello, I am Amanda and I don't know who I am. I only know that I am loved. I only know that I am Held. I only know that I am His.
I struggle to know more....but maybe the point is, that right now....I am only meant to let THAT define me. To not be
"Amanda, the singer/workerbee/familymember/friend/patronsaintofeveryonebecauseIneedvalidation."
Maybe I just need to be broken down enough to be here, right now, meeting God in this moment.
Maybe he doesn't expect me to change the world, to get an amazing job, and be the modern day mother Teresa.
Maybe he just wants me to be His. To not be sidelined by a goal I'd run 100 percent after if I had one, or the job I'd blow him off for, or the pride I'd feel if I was prettier, or smarter, or more successful- the pride that could separate me from him.
Okay. So here I am. Amanda. Undefined, individual, jobless, dreamless.
Relearning what Hope looks like.
Jesus, keep waking me up. Keep teaching me. Keep me off kilter, until I find my center in you.
I confess that I struggle with my own hypocrisy on a day to day basis- that maybe I'm not representing you truly to the people in my life. Jesus- I thank you that, even though I am imperfect and weak- that you always glorify yourself despite that- you provide hope and redemption through imperfect words, awkward moments, stilted conversation. I pray that I might learn how to operate in a way that defines YOU instead of me. Let me find a reality in you that satisfies my need for an identity by making YOU my indentity. My key stone. My foundation.
Amen.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Monday, May 9, 2011
So...Its been a while
Since I wrote in a blog.
Since I shared my thoughts (*the serious ones*) with other people.
Since I trusted other people. Since I trusted myself.
This blog is supposed to be a sort of new start for me. But even as I write this, I am assailed with doubts. Its such a risky thing, to write about how you want to change, and how you are working for change, and how you believe you are capable of consistency, when you feel otherwise.
Today, for example- I am in the process of cleaning up the ridiculous mess I have made of my room. I moved some furniture around- and somehow managed to leave the majority of my clothes dumped into the middle of the room- most of the dirty- in a huge heaping pile that overwhelms me. I moved the furniture approximately a week ago. I have let it sit for a week now, and even though i want a clean room- I want a fresh smelling, large looking, organized room- what it is right now is NOT that. And I want to really start working on it- but looking at it makes me feel like its going to be an impossibly long process. So...for the majority of the day, I have done what I have always done. I let it sit- while I watched TV downstairs. Away from the place I'm supposed to love being in.
You say "Oh Amanda, its fine, its just a week, its just a room, and you just need to get over it".
But I guess my point is that it is NOT just the room. This is the way I have conducted my life up until now.
If it is messy... I leave it. If it is scary...I run away. My life, right now, is a messy room that I don't want to clean. But its not dirty socks, or an unorganized pile of laundry- its student loans- frustrated parents, no car, and a job that doesn't support me.
And the bottom line is....I am still Amanda Jean Yorke. I am still a messy room on the inside too. I struggle to be truthful about my reactions to things because I don't want to offend other people- or worse yet- I don't want them to dislike me. I obsess over wearing the right thing to the right place, because I am a big girl- and I am afraid people will judge me harshly if I look sloppy, or I will stick out like a sore thumb if i am under dressed or over dressed -if I don't carry myself with confidence, people automatically assume its because I'm fat, and not because I'm having a bad day, or I have a pimple. I feel like there is something wrong with me, because I don't pursue anything hardcore- I don't have a goal or a dream, or an ambition. I don't want to be an opera diva, or a pop star. I don't want to save the world through politics, or fight a war. I just want to love individual people, and encourage them on a person to person, day by day basis.
And Today, I am having a bad day, because today has been a day just like any other, when I wanted today to be the day I really showed myself that I can do more than I've been doing.
So...messy mind...messy heart...messy room. Messy Life.
This is what is constantly going through my brain. I look around me every hour, on the hour, and the panic ridden voice inside my head says "WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH YOUR LIFE! WHAT ARE YOU DOING!!!!!!"
That's why I watch so much T.V. why I'm so FB obsessed. It easy to forget about my problems, when I'm doing something else.
But.... BUT.
I took the TV out of my room. I started this blog. I've started...talking about how I feel. I've started praying again.
Oh. Did I not mention that? Maybe that's the first thing I should said.
I am a christ-follower. I hesitate on the word follower...because I am also currently an avid follower of myself. I am in the process of wrestling out an honest relationship with God. Its a one on one match- not with God- but with myself. I had a genuine relationship with Jesus a few years back- and I let myself push him out. For anyone who might be reading this who sees that last sentence and goes "What? who is this weirdo." Well...its the truth. I felt the presence of God in my life daily, hourly, sometimes by the minute. I talked to him through out my day as I went about buying groceries, eating lunch. I sang to him. Sometimes, I'd just walk down the street, and see a stranger smile at me- and I'd feel the love of Jesus, and I'd start crying at the miracle of that love, right in the middle of the grocery store, or on the sidewalk.
But there were also things I did that I wish I could take back. I hurt people I loved by seeing the world in black and white only- but not understanding the mercy needed to speak to those people living in gray areas- in places where they just didn't know or see what God was doing in their lives. I find it ironic that that's really kind of what I'm living now. That my mind can be ambiguous- that I can both love and almost hate something or some situation dually. That I can feel so utterly lost- without direction. That I can have a moment of clarity in one minute- and then feel totally spun around the next.
So for the last few years- some of it spent in real misery- I have looked back at that relationship- that intimacy with God- as something I both wanted back, and didn't want again at all. I believe that what I experienced was real - that that palpable experience I had with him in my everyday was honestly real. But I also believe that I never again want to so narrow myself that I lack the grace to speak to people who struggle, or don't understand.
I'm coming again to this point with God where I want to be real with him. I want to say "I don't understand. And I don't know if I have enough faith to get through this" and then watch him provide it- watch him show up, like he did before. I want to have a relationship where I talk to him daily again, like I did.
But...messy mind. messy heart. messy life. It keeps coming back. It doesn't stop. Its the same horrible patterns- the same self hate- the same crimes against myself and God that I couldn't bring to him before, because i was to afraid of what would happen if I did. That it would be PAINFUL. That I'd show everyone, again, how truly messed up I could be.
Today, I didn't just not clean my room- I also didn't pray. I didn't talk to Jesus. I didn't WANT to. I was angry with him for not giving me some instant feeling of transformation. It was like I was expecting the messy heart of mine to be instantly perfect- like when you're a little kid , and you ask Jesus into your heart expecting some Sailor Moon transformation song to start so that somehow I would be swallowed up in sparkly smoke, and popped out squeaky clean and perfect.
And that, I'm realizing- is a habit- a cycle in my life as well.In the last two years, I've been so mad at God for not making me a better person than I am- that my automatic, irrational response to his love in the face of my own failure is ANGER.
God I'm angry at you for not stopping me from falling into my own horrible cycles.
I'm mad! Over the fact that I am Still messy, inconsistent. That I am not self-motivated or ambitious. That I made this contract with you, believing that you had the best for me- that future and the hope bit- but that here I am, still jobless, still dreamless, living in my parents house where I am repeatedly told, daily, that I am disappointing them by not having a dream or a job, or money enough. That I'm this heartless mooch who wants to live on her parents money for the rest of her life.
God- I'm mad at you for not giving me the strength to change, when you said you would.
but...
maybe you're in the process of doing that now? Maybe this time was preparation? Maybe...all this time, when I've been screaming so loud that tears fill my eyes, blinding me... you've been with me the whole time- I just didn't see you?
Maybe- I've been a child, throwing a temper tantrum, for two whole years.
Jesus.
Jesus.
Jesus.
Let the fog lift. Let the bridges burn. Let the fire consume me. Wipe my eyes....so I can see you here.You are bigger than my messy room. You are bigger than my fear. My failure. My petty anger. My jealous rage.
I am just not that strong. I can't change on my own. I can't use willpower to make myself a better person. I can't will my heart to be yours. But you've already taken my heart before- you've already laid claim to it. While I was wrestling with own self....you were creating in me a heart for the gray shades- for the people in between. For your people, lost and found alike. You were building up compassion in my heart. While I saw the ugly...you were creating the beautiful. Building relationships that you'll use for your glory. While I was struggling with my faith-you still gave me the words- your words- to strengthen the faith of other people that I love.
So, Jesus- I'm sorry. Sorry that I didn't look to see you working in me. That I didn't believe that you were constant in me. That I've been spinning myself in circles, when all you wanted was for me to look up- to crane my neck up as far as it was go, so I could study the laugh lines at the corners of your mouth... those people who were still honest and loving with me while I was struggling- the sunshine on the days when I needed it - the people who came in to work on a day I was struggling to remind me that you're around, that you exist. The compassion you put in my heart for other people that CONSTANTLY reminds me of you. Those things I call laughlines...because they spell out "I love you" to my this vagabond heart of mine.
I just want to tell you I'm sorry...and I love you.
And I might struggle to remember that tomorrow, or even in an hour- but Jesus....keep reminding me. Keep loving me. Keep showing me your crooked smile, your endless heart.
I think I'm going to stop whining and clean my room now.
Since I shared my thoughts (*the serious ones*) with other people.
Since I trusted other people. Since I trusted myself.
This blog is supposed to be a sort of new start for me. But even as I write this, I am assailed with doubts. Its such a risky thing, to write about how you want to change, and how you are working for change, and how you believe you are capable of consistency, when you feel otherwise.
Today, for example- I am in the process of cleaning up the ridiculous mess I have made of my room. I moved some furniture around- and somehow managed to leave the majority of my clothes dumped into the middle of the room- most of the dirty- in a huge heaping pile that overwhelms me. I moved the furniture approximately a week ago. I have let it sit for a week now, and even though i want a clean room- I want a fresh smelling, large looking, organized room- what it is right now is NOT that. And I want to really start working on it- but looking at it makes me feel like its going to be an impossibly long process. So...for the majority of the day, I have done what I have always done. I let it sit- while I watched TV downstairs. Away from the place I'm supposed to love being in.
You say "Oh Amanda, its fine, its just a week, its just a room, and you just need to get over it".
But I guess my point is that it is NOT just the room. This is the way I have conducted my life up until now.
If it is messy... I leave it. If it is scary...I run away. My life, right now, is a messy room that I don't want to clean. But its not dirty socks, or an unorganized pile of laundry- its student loans- frustrated parents, no car, and a job that doesn't support me.
And the bottom line is....I am still Amanda Jean Yorke. I am still a messy room on the inside too. I struggle to be truthful about my reactions to things because I don't want to offend other people- or worse yet- I don't want them to dislike me. I obsess over wearing the right thing to the right place, because I am a big girl- and I am afraid people will judge me harshly if I look sloppy, or I will stick out like a sore thumb if i am under dressed or over dressed -if I don't carry myself with confidence, people automatically assume its because I'm fat, and not because I'm having a bad day, or I have a pimple. I feel like there is something wrong with me, because I don't pursue anything hardcore- I don't have a goal or a dream, or an ambition. I don't want to be an opera diva, or a pop star. I don't want to save the world through politics, or fight a war. I just want to love individual people, and encourage them on a person to person, day by day basis.
And Today, I am having a bad day, because today has been a day just like any other, when I wanted today to be the day I really showed myself that I can do more than I've been doing.
So...messy mind...messy heart...messy room. Messy Life.
This is what is constantly going through my brain. I look around me every hour, on the hour, and the panic ridden voice inside my head says "WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH YOUR LIFE! WHAT ARE YOU DOING!!!!!!"
That's why I watch so much T.V. why I'm so FB obsessed. It easy to forget about my problems, when I'm doing something else.
But.... BUT.
I took the TV out of my room. I started this blog. I've started...talking about how I feel. I've started praying again.
Oh. Did I not mention that? Maybe that's the first thing I should said.
I am a christ-follower. I hesitate on the word follower...because I am also currently an avid follower of myself. I am in the process of wrestling out an honest relationship with God. Its a one on one match- not with God- but with myself. I had a genuine relationship with Jesus a few years back- and I let myself push him out. For anyone who might be reading this who sees that last sentence and goes "What? who is this weirdo." Well...its the truth. I felt the presence of God in my life daily, hourly, sometimes by the minute. I talked to him through out my day as I went about buying groceries, eating lunch. I sang to him. Sometimes, I'd just walk down the street, and see a stranger smile at me- and I'd feel the love of Jesus, and I'd start crying at the miracle of that love, right in the middle of the grocery store, or on the sidewalk.
But there were also things I did that I wish I could take back. I hurt people I loved by seeing the world in black and white only- but not understanding the mercy needed to speak to those people living in gray areas- in places where they just didn't know or see what God was doing in their lives. I find it ironic that that's really kind of what I'm living now. That my mind can be ambiguous- that I can both love and almost hate something or some situation dually. That I can feel so utterly lost- without direction. That I can have a moment of clarity in one minute- and then feel totally spun around the next.
So for the last few years- some of it spent in real misery- I have looked back at that relationship- that intimacy with God- as something I both wanted back, and didn't want again at all. I believe that what I experienced was real - that that palpable experience I had with him in my everyday was honestly real. But I also believe that I never again want to so narrow myself that I lack the grace to speak to people who struggle, or don't understand.
I'm coming again to this point with God where I want to be real with him. I want to say "I don't understand. And I don't know if I have enough faith to get through this" and then watch him provide it- watch him show up, like he did before. I want to have a relationship where I talk to him daily again, like I did.
But...messy mind. messy heart. messy life. It keeps coming back. It doesn't stop. Its the same horrible patterns- the same self hate- the same crimes against myself and God that I couldn't bring to him before, because i was to afraid of what would happen if I did. That it would be PAINFUL. That I'd show everyone, again, how truly messed up I could be.
Today, I didn't just not clean my room- I also didn't pray. I didn't talk to Jesus. I didn't WANT to. I was angry with him for not giving me some instant feeling of transformation. It was like I was expecting the messy heart of mine to be instantly perfect- like when you're a little kid , and you ask Jesus into your heart expecting some Sailor Moon transformation song to start so that somehow I would be swallowed up in sparkly smoke, and popped out squeaky clean and perfect.
And that, I'm realizing- is a habit- a cycle in my life as well.In the last two years, I've been so mad at God for not making me a better person than I am- that my automatic, irrational response to his love in the face of my own failure is ANGER.
God I'm angry at you for not stopping me from falling into my own horrible cycles.
I'm mad! Over the fact that I am Still messy, inconsistent. That I am not self-motivated or ambitious. That I made this contract with you, believing that you had the best for me- that future and the hope bit- but that here I am, still jobless, still dreamless, living in my parents house where I am repeatedly told, daily, that I am disappointing them by not having a dream or a job, or money enough. That I'm this heartless mooch who wants to live on her parents money for the rest of her life.
God- I'm mad at you for not giving me the strength to change, when you said you would.
but...
maybe you're in the process of doing that now? Maybe this time was preparation? Maybe...all this time, when I've been screaming so loud that tears fill my eyes, blinding me... you've been with me the whole time- I just didn't see you?
Maybe- I've been a child, throwing a temper tantrum, for two whole years.
Jesus.
Jesus.
Jesus.
Let the fog lift. Let the bridges burn. Let the fire consume me. Wipe my eyes....so I can see you here.You are bigger than my messy room. You are bigger than my fear. My failure. My petty anger. My jealous rage.
I am just not that strong. I can't change on my own. I can't use willpower to make myself a better person. I can't will my heart to be yours. But you've already taken my heart before- you've already laid claim to it. While I was wrestling with own self....you were creating in me a heart for the gray shades- for the people in between. For your people, lost and found alike. You were building up compassion in my heart. While I saw the ugly...you were creating the beautiful. Building relationships that you'll use for your glory. While I was struggling with my faith-you still gave me the words- your words- to strengthen the faith of other people that I love.
So, Jesus- I'm sorry. Sorry that I didn't look to see you working in me. That I didn't believe that you were constant in me. That I've been spinning myself in circles, when all you wanted was for me to look up- to crane my neck up as far as it was go, so I could study the laugh lines at the corners of your mouth... those people who were still honest and loving with me while I was struggling- the sunshine on the days when I needed it - the people who came in to work on a day I was struggling to remind me that you're around, that you exist. The compassion you put in my heart for other people that CONSTANTLY reminds me of you. Those things I call laughlines...because they spell out "I love you" to my this vagabond heart of mine.
I just want to tell you I'm sorry...and I love you.
And I might struggle to remember that tomorrow, or even in an hour- but Jesus....keep reminding me. Keep loving me. Keep showing me your crooked smile, your endless heart.
I think I'm going to stop whining and clean my room now.
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