His eye is on the sparrow...

During a fitful late afternoon nap, I dreamed I was in a battle between good and evil.
Those fighting on the side of darkness were quick and elusive, with equally dark countenances and
bat-like wings. Those on the side of light were swift and valiant, with blindingly white and majestic wings.

Except for me. My wings were grey and brown, like an ordinary sparrow. I couldn't engage with the enemy; I wasn't strong enough. All I could do was flit around. I was scared, but the more pressing emotion was an overwhelming sense of frustration. My comrades were slaying the creatures with power, while I was using all my strength to stay one step ahead of their greedy clutches.

I didn't think much of this dream until tonight. I've been struggling lately, burdened with loneliness and longing. The thought creeps into my head that I'm invisible, and it's easy to believe. Who is seeking me? It seems as if no one is. I go through the motions of my day and stay up at night until my eyes can't stay open, that way I can fall asleep quickly and avoid those thoughts that only come at bedtime. It isn't true that I am never happy, that the sun never shines upon me. That warmth just seems to be a rarity rather than the norm: it feels like I've lost Kaleigh...that my confidence is gone like a robin in winter.

As a follower of Christ, my identity is supposed to be centered in Him. Sadly, I'm not very good at this. I flit around, trying to please everyone else, trying to get noticed, trying to gain affirmation from people. When all of this fails, as it is prone to do, I come back to Christ, a broken little bird. "'Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside your Father's care. And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. So don't be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.'" Matthew 10:29-31
I have a tendency to dislike myself, and sometimes I think, "My problems are so silly. They are insignificant."  What a great promise to know that I am worth more than many sparrows. He cares for a common, plain bird: when I fall, He cares. He longs to be gracious to me, and to show me mercy. He cares when His child, a little red-headed bird who stubbornly holds fast to her desires, nurses a broken wing...a broken heart.

What a strange and wonderful and wild thing a life in Christ is! Every day I have two choices: to fly to Him or away from Him. Every day I have to surrender my desire. Every day I present to Him my broken wing, and allow Him to heal it. Of course, this will not be easy: I will see others who seem to have it all together: those who beat the air with brilliant and mighty wings. I will want to escape to the familiar dreariness of my ragged nest of selfishness. However, I know in my heart that He cares for me, and He will make all things beautiful in His time. He will feed me and cover me with His own wings. I know that His eye is on the sparrow...

and I know He watches me.

Road rage in the church parking lot.

I woke up on the wrong side of the bed on Sunday. Thirty minutes after Marillion began squawking "Kayleigh" (Why yes, that is an epic 80's song from which my name is derived) I rolled out of bed and turned on my Christian music playlist to accompany my Sunday morning toilette. However, this morning, Phil Wickham and friends were grating on my nerves. I became more agitated, nearly stabbing myself in the eye with my mascara. I'm sure it was an interesting scene, Shane and Shane harmoninzing away while I threw clothes around, all the while telling God how frustrated I was.

I finally made it to church, ate a delicious donut (it's the small things), and sat with Kendall at our usual table in Sunday School. Normally, when someone pipes up during discussion, all the other people nod their heads in agreement, a sort of unspoken amen. Except when I open my mouth. In response to a question about the relationship between knowing God and serving Him without knowing Him (confusing wording, I know) I answered: "I think it's harder to know God than serve Him. I know a lot of the time I don't want to sit down with Him because He tells me "No.". His plans are different than ours much of the time, and we don't want to hear that no. You can "serve" Him and feel all fuzzy, but it's harder to sit down and listen to the resounding no's." *Crickets chirping* My fellow college students looked at me with an awkwardness that was palpable. "Well, He doesn't always tell me no. Just lately it seems like it and I get irritated with Him..." *More crickets* I pretended to be very interested in the tablecloth.

I sent a text message compactly detailing my ire to my dad. He sent me one back that said, "Sounds like Solomon." I wondered why he said this aloud to Kendall who promptly said, "Well it ain't because your wise!"  She said this jokingly, but she was completely right. Turns out I'm more like the Solomon in Ecclesiastes: "Yet when I surveyed all that my hands had done and what I had toiled to achieve, everything was meaningless, a chasing after the wind; nothing was gained under the sun." Ecc. 2:11

Wishin' on someone else's star

Sad country music is not conducive to academic success. Try memorizing a Russian dialogue while Vince Gill pours out his heart's lament. It's not easy.

"Let's pray." *Oh no. Stay awake. Stay awake. Stay a...zzzzz*

I fell asleep. I couldn't help it. I vainly struggled against the creeping fatigue and heroically fought to keep my eyes open. However, the second the guest speaker said "Let's pray. Then, talk to the Lord and think on meeting with Him intentionally," I was a goner. I even had one of those mini-dreams, where everything has a fuzzy soap opera halo and you feel like you have no bones. I abruptly woke whenever my foot slipped off the seat in front of me. Hence, erratic bird movements while people around me were engrossed in sweet time with the Lord.