My Tumblr: Greener Pastures

This is a more consistent place to keep up with what's going on in my life right now. Nothing kills blogging like college.

Anyway, I have gotten a Tumblr, and you can follow it here: http://rachel-aldrich.tumblr.com/

little graces (that turn out to be big graces)

Sorry. You get another post on how beautiful life is. Why? Because it's true, and yet so easy to forget. And because writing these things down helps me to remember also.

My friend asked me how I was doing today, and for the first time, I was actually able to articulate what God has been slowly teaching me and working in my heart.

Our attitude towards life should and can be quietly content. Not because life is not hard... because it is hard. Really hard. But in the midst of some really, really hard things going on, God has been gracious enough to send me little reminders of His grace about every 5 minutes.

In the midst of heartbreak, confusion, loneliness, unfortunate circumstances, strife and the occasional panic attack, God drops little blessings in my lap to remind me that He is there, He is powerful, and He loves me. Whether it's a friend who randomly stops to say that that they've been thinking of me, a shooting star flaming across the sky, a rainstorm to wipe away the humidity, a butterfly, mist on the grass, swing dancing, or a song on the piano, God fills this life with small, shining moments of pure love for us. These are all little things... but these small graces turn out to be big graces because they remind me, again, that God is, and that He is a rewarder of those who seek Him. And that knowledge changes everything.

I don't believe in coincidences... especially highly improbably ones. I think it is God's grace that, during a time in my life where I could be severely tempted to complain or worse, despair, He puts me in a play where I spend hours rehearsing and committing to memory reminders of what makes life beautiful and challenges to not overlook those things.

Life is hard. Life is confusing. Life is disorienting. Life is painful. But our good God has also made life beautiful.

and all shall be well

The wind whispered softly through the leaves around the lake. The sun shone down through the crisp air, dancing through the grass. The girl sat contentedly, back against brick wall, face toward the water, book in lap. It was a perfect afternoon.

She sat there quietly happy for a time. Suddenly, her ears pricked up to noise. A siren in the distance built slowly to a crescendo until it was right on her back doorstep. She froze, heart pumping. Perhaps it was paranoia, but every time she heard a siren coming in their direction, she wondered…

It passed. She breathed again. The sun shone as before. The wind still laughed.

She sat back and thought.

A siren seemed out of place on this idyllic day. Sirens ought to be on rainy days, stormy days, or at least cloudy days. Days like today ought to be reserved for dancing and laughing and reading a book under a tree.

Ought to be.

No, this world is not as it ought to be. One person’s perfect day could be the day another person’s world falls apart. The sun shines on both the joyous and the horrific, and the rain falls on the comedic and the tragic. What a confusing, upside down, crazy world she lived in.

She lifted her eyes to the clear, infinitely deep blue sky. A bird sang. Her heart warmed to the day.

One day, she thought, all shall again be well. All shall be well.

One little thought that changes everything

I can’t say where the thought came from. Its first entrance into my consciousness was so unobtrusive so as to be barely noticeable. And yet it would change everything.

It seemed so innocent and unique – it piqued my curiosity, like hearing a single strain of music from an unknown location. It was quiet, barely recognizable as a thought; more of an intuition really.

What started as a gentle whisper, like a breeze on a summer day, soon became discontent with being ignored. It grew into a gnawing discomfort, prodding the deepest, most tender parts of my heart and soul, still whispering, “See me… don’t you see me?”

I nodded at it, then moved on. Maybe if I didn’t speak to it, it would go away. I didn’t find it pleasant anymore.

But the thought was persistent. It grew and grew until I couldn’t see past it – it affected everything; the way I thought, the way I felt, even how I saw the world around me. And every day its whisper grew louder until it was a voice, a shout, a roar like a waterfall pouring through my insides, screaming, “Acknowledge me! Why won’t you acknowledge me?!”

Finally the thought grew so monstrous, so pervasive, so all consuming, that I could hold it back no more than I could hold back the tide. It burst from me in a cry that was so agonized and yet so relieved for finally being spoken, “I WANT TO LIVE!

“And not just exist, like a tree or a flower lives. I want to live as only a human can – fully engaged in every moment, every sense and sentiment of this fleeting life. I want to fully know life before it is gone. I want to do more than see, I want to taste; I want to experience the colors, the music, the light, the utter miracle that is life. For we only get one life, and then eternity. I don’t want to forget life until it’s over. I want to live.”

What had once been a nagging thought became a completely intoxicating spoken word. What were once the most significant mountains became only small, irritating pebbles in my path, incapable of distracting my focus for long from the great adventure I finally saw. And what were once the “little things” -- the moments of laughter, the sun on the leaves, the sparkle in the eye, the mist on the water, the broken smile, the hugs goodbye, the seconds of silence, the music, the relationships – I suddenly realized were the substance; the very fabric God uses to weave this beautiful, haunting tapestry. They were never really the little things; they were the significant things overlooked.

But no more.

Never more must I be chained down to the inconsequential or the petty. I have found the chains are unlocked, the wings unfurled, the eyes opened with one remembrance; one simple prayer:

I want to live.

reflection on friendships in Heaven

Paul implies that those in Heaven will not think much of their days here on earth. And who can fault them for it? For who dwells upon the dull, feverish nightmares once the morning has broken?

Still, this always caused me some distress. Will loved ones gone before truly forget me? Will they recognize me when they get there? Would not seeing me again cause them to think again on the painful life from which they are finally free?

But perhaps memory in Heaven is different than memory on earth. Perhaps it is not like looking at a picture or memento that takes us immediately back to the thoughts and emotions of the past. I have often felt of the people who have impacted my life that their soul left an imprint on mine. Certainly the mark of one immortal soul on another is something that would last past the gates of eternity. Perhaps it will look more like one liberated soul coming up to another and saying, “Your heart and soul feel familiar. We must have truly loved each other in the before days. Thank you for walking beside me in the darkness – let us now dance together in the Light.”

Hard Goodbyes

If someone has failed to pick up on this yet, I love this song. One of my favorite parts is the bridge, when he starts listing things that “make us feel alive.” After listening to it for about the hundredth time, I finally noticed something. Most of the things in there are intuitively happy moments – dancing, Christmas lights, babies, etc. But one item on the list stands out.

Hard goodbyes.

It seemed kind of strange that he would include something as painful as goodbyes in his list of blessings that make us feel alive. Especially in this season of my life, when nothing affects me quite as much as the dozens of tearful goodbyes I’ve had to make, it caught my attention.

So I thought about it for a while… and realized he was right.

Hard goodbyes are painful – but it is a pain that is indicative of a blessing. After all, in order to have a hard goodbye, one must first have something wonderful that made saying goodbye so hard.

I hate goodbyes. Right now, I hate goodbyes more than just about anything. Even as you read this, I am probably on a plane flying across the country. But even so, I would rather have hard goodbyes than have never had people in my life that made goodbyes difficult. Hard goodbyes are a blessing in disguise.

Goodbye couldn’t be put off anymore. I held my friend close, as if I would never let go. I had never known anything could hurt this much. My heart tore as I said goodbye to my friend for a very long time, knowing that even when we were together again, it would never be the same. It hurt. It hurt like all the brokenness in the world, because our hearts were not made for goodbyes. But even in the midst of my heart breaking, a quiet, warm knowledge crept stole into my heart like a beam of hope.

“I love you and this hurts so much, but...” I whispered, “Knowing you is worth the pain of saying goodbye.”

Any similarities between the above scene and a real goodbye I have said is not coincidental at all. This is every goodbye I’ve had to say – to the people I only knew for a week, but still managed to change my life forever, to the friends who have walked beside me for years and know me better than anyone else, to the friends I won’t see until Christmas, to the friends I won’t see this side of eternity. I am so thankful for you. How lucky I have been to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.

Hard goodbyes reminds us that we are alive, because it reminds us how much we have loved.

I discovered this song today, and it really encouraged me in the midst of all the separation. So you should listen to it right after you have finished listening to "Life is Beautiful."  

This is Not Goodbye - Sidewalk Prophets

Life is beautiful

This summer, the song "Life is Beautiful" by the Afters was playing in my head almost constantly. This summer was filled with moments of light and love and laughter that will be stored in my heart forever. Not like pictures -- silent, flat and unmoving. These moments are like snow-globes -- colorful, three-dimensional, and come alive with a little stirring.

This was a summer of change and transition. When I came home for Christmas break, all I wanted was for things to be as they were when I left. And for one perfect month, they were. This summer was not like that. I encountered many changes and endings. But I found that it was not bad. It was immeasurably good.

It was a summer of easy reconnecting with some, and of elbow grease just to talk with others. It was a summer of carefree days and long, sleepless nights. A summer of work and play. A summer of remembering, forgetting, and looking forward to what is to come. It was a summer of holding on when everything in me screamed to let go, and of letting go even when I thought it would break my heart. It was a summer of joyful reunions and painful goodbyes. A summer of questions, answers, and resolution. A summer of finally acknowledging that some things had to change, and of promising that some things never would.

It was a summer of closing a door I had been fighting to keep open... but not locking it.

There were so many moments where I suddenly realized that, in spite of everything, we really do have it all. These are the times that make us feel alive, and make us realize that life truly is beautiful.