i want it all.

But, what if you've used up not only your courage, but your bravery as well, with a feat that (you feel) resembles Frodo taking the ring into Mordor? Yes, I am referencing The Lord Of The Rings. No, you are not allowed to laugh. If you haven't figured it out by now, I'm a complete nerd. Also, I adore Tolkien (not to be confused with my deep love for Lewis) and if I could sit down in a pub with him and have a beer while talking about how dang hard it is to do life and write, I would. If I could sit and talk about life with he AND Lewis, I could safely say that I'd be ready to die and go home thereafter, because what more could you possibly want?!

Seeing how that's not likely to happen anytime soon in this life, I am hoping to have long drawn out conversations with them in Heaven. Also, I for now must settle with referencing and admiring their works, while trying to not ever compare my seriously lacking literary knowledge to theirs. Whew.

Back to courage.

Running seriously low in said courageous department and generally would like to borrow a hole (if you have one I can utilize, please, leave me a comment below) to crawl into for the next few weeks. Life is hard. Really hard. And as much as I don't care what people think, I struggle with really caring what people think. Does it dictate my actions? No. Does it still get to me? Yeah. It does.

For example: I'm standing in the kitchen and this completely random woman, whose thoughts on my life I could care less about, pulls back and shoots in my general direction after about a minute of conversation, "Well, YOU just need to decide what you want!" 

:ouch:

My reply: "Well, I just want it ALL." While thinking, "Thank YOU very much!" Followed by an intense desire to stamp my foot like a two year old.

It's the truth though. I want it all. I want to do it all. I don't want to look back over the span of my years and regret what I haven't done or what I have done or what I possibly, maybe, might have done. Up to this point, I can honestly say with complete sincerity, I don't regret anything. I'm 28 years old and I don't regret anything. Yet. I would like to not start building regrets at this point. I want to live, breathe, travel, eat good food, work hard, write better, love harder, care deeper, put others first, put myself last, be a swinger of birches, run with abandon, drink beautiful wine, laugh with pure joy, think outside the box, and know my God far more than I do in this moment.

I want it all. I want to truly be a picture of what Jesus is like. All of Him. To be transparent and unguarded, just loving Him and letting that spill  out to those around me. I want to just simply do life with those in my little corner of the universe at the present moment, living out the Gospel and when necessary using words to explain it. Life. I want to do it well.

I may be lacking courage because of things feeling like they're floating in mid-air, but when my feet hit the ground again, I want to run the race before me with eternity in sight, as fast and as hard as I can. Because the sand runs quickly through the hour glass of time and the grains flowing away will never be caught up again. So, I want to let them run through my hands with each grain being felt.

I am not courageous. I'm human. But, I want to be brave and face the things that scare me most, standing my ground and not ever backing down. I want to live with the knowledge that this life is temporary but eternity is not.

This knowledge has made all the difference.

I want it all.

So was I once myself a swinger of birches.

And so I dream of going back to be.

It's when I'm weary of considerations,

And life is too much like a pathless wood

Where your face burns and tickles with the cobwebs

Broken across it, and one eye is weeping

From a twig's having lashed across it open.

I'd like to get away from earth awhile

And then come back to it and begin over.

May no fate willfully misunderstand me

And half grant what I wish and snatch me away

Not to return. Earth's the right place for love:

I don't know where it's likely to go better.

I'd like to go by climbing a birch tree,

And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk

Toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more,

But dipped its top and set me down again.

That would be good both going and coming back.

One could do worse than be a swinger of birches.

~Robert Frost~