This car hears my confessions

After having the Garden State Soundtrack on repeat for a few days, I swapped it out for a Dashboard Confessional CD on my way home from work today. It has become a proverbial muse for me and every other song brings to mind some sort of topic that would make for an interesting blog. This is quite nice because I feel I have been lacking interesting blogs lately. And, really, what is the point of blogging if all of your posts are boring and you lose your readers. Or worse, you have people that consistently come back to your blog out of pity and skim the posts. These skimmers do not really care what you have to say (and that is fine, I suppose, if that is you) but they feel they have some sort of obligation to keep up with your latest posts.

So, this is me, apologizing, for having posted boring blogs. Despite the boring text, I hope you have been enjoying the photography--particularly birdie and summer daisy.

But I did not intend on staying up late to write about writing (or photos, as the case may be).

I was leaving the house of the singles' pastor this evening with my windows down and my sunroof open. The clammy southern summer night air breezed in as the voice of Christopher Carrabba breezed out. "The Swiss Army Romance" is the particular CD that was spinning rapid pace and sending heart wrenching lyrics from the speakers to my ears as a foggy memory came to mind.

I was in the latter years of highschool and was newly introduced to Dashboard--one of the major loves of my life. The term "emo" was new (at least to me) and the only thing I knew about it was that my oh-so-cool older brother spoke of it with an air of disdain. Because of this, I adamantly did not want to be emo and denied the fact that Dashboard was any such thing.

But of course it is.

But who really cares?

I did. Why? Because I wanted some person to think I was cool. That mattered to me. I desperately did not want to be this "emo" thing (whatever that meant) because my brother thought it was ridiculous.

I used to care so deeply about what my siblings though of me. I desired greatly not only to be liked by them but to be like them as well. I desperately sought approval. This lasted for quite some time--especially with my sister. Gripped by fear of man, I was eager to please and I had no idea how much this idol ruled my life.

My transition (which, I think, is still in progress) was a general weaning away from my desire to receive the approval of my siblings to my realization that I do not have to prove anything to the One who already knows me.

I do not have to earn favor or merit. No acting a certain way just to please Him--after all He can see right through any cover ups. It is okay if I have a huge zit on my face or if my hair has gone all frizzy and triangle. If I am a poor swing dancer or if I listen to "emo" music, He does not care! If I fall down and mess up...for the hundredth, He loves me anyway. It still grips me all the time that the Author of the universe created me exactly the way I am. He knows the lovely things about me just as well as the gross things. Yet even though He knows all this...all my screw ups...everything...He chose me. He picked me up out of that nastiness. He has taught me a heck of a lot (and is still teaching me). And one thing I am learning is that I am HIS creation and He does not make mistakes. He LOVES the work of His hands.

So should I.

My devotional this morning had the following verse at the beginning:
I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well. (Psalm 139:14 ESV)