My issue with self-help books.

Just knowing this book exists makes me want to cuss. I saw it in a bookstore in Bangkok last week and almost cried...not because I'm not in love, but because this is the kind of book that makes people hate love. This is the kind of book that trivializes something beautiful and makes normal people do crazy things. Have you seen He's Just Not That Into You? Did you see the insane lengths the girl went to to hook her man? Oh, the obsession. It's because of books and movies and messages from every side telling us there is a gimmick to finding love. And before I address the gimmick, let me say this quickly before I explode:

THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH YOU (ME) JUST BECAUSE YOU ARE (I AM) SINGLE.

I refuse to play the role of the bitter, single girl because I'm not bitter. I really love my life. Sure, there are days that I really struggle with wanting to be married. But I'm not bitter. Truly. What I am is sick of being treated as if my life is not valuable because I'm not in a long term relationship. I'm exhausted from trying to explain to people why I'm 31 and not married. (The answer, in case you were wondering, is "I don't know why I am single any more than I know why you are married.") And if I have to hear one more person say something to the effect of "As soon as you stop looking, you'll find him" or "When you get to the place where you're OK with being single, he'll show up", I will scream. I realize these comments are meant to be an encouragement, but they are not. They are maddening. And almost everyone says things like this as a married and cusses people that say it as a single. I have a girlfriend who always complained about people doing that to her. She was livid every time. Two months after she got married, guess what she said to me. Uh huh.

Here's the thing...are you ready for the divine revelation? There is no trick, scheme, or ploy to make love happen. There are no cool patterns or legitimate 12-step programs to follow. There is not a single book in the self-help section of any bookstore that will help you create love. I do not know why some people find love and others do not. I have no idea why some people meet the love of their life in the seventh grade and others in their 50s. I haven't got a clue why sometimes even people who believe they are in love do not end up together. But though I am single and have not been in a relationship in six years, I still love love. I am a lover. I love hard and fast and full. And I want to get married, to share my life with someone. But it's not a game.

I stood in a room a few years ago with 1200 single people for a Christmas party. I couldn't believe it, honestly. I watched for several hours as women and men in their 20s, 30s and 40s prowled the room in search of their next date. I've never seen so much hair twirling, lip gloss applying, lame joke telling, or blatant flirting going on in all of my life. But at the end of the night, there were still 1200 single people. And it got me to thinking...what is the matter with us??? We've made it so hard! We approach potential mates with our checklist in hand, ready to dismiss them as soon as they don't live up to the impossible standard we have applied to "The One." Did it ever occur to us that we, ourselves, could never possibly live up to that same standard?

"Dear God, I'll have a tall, super hot man with kinda dirty hair, kind of rocker-style, and intense eyes. He needs to be incredibly spiritual, while not being boring or judgmental. He should play the guitar, sing like Josh Groban and will obviously serenade me to sleep each night with original love songs he will compose daily because he'll be so entranced by my beauty. He must be hysterical, but not needy in his humor - every one will love him and I'll beam with pride as he takes the center of attention in any room. I'm sure he'll want to travel the world, helping the poor, oppressed and sick and he'll never want any praise. He'll, of course, be independently wealthy, but very down-to-earth. He'll write me poetry and be the best father in the world. Oh, and he will have to dance. Oh oh, and cook. And do laundry. And..."

NO NO NO NO NO!!! I am not these things. Well, I may be some of these things but why do we do this to each other? We are so attached to the idea of what we do or do not want in a person that we probably wouldn't even know it if something great, if not unexpected, was staring us in the face. We all decide what we want and we call it independence or confidence or any number of other seemingly positive, but often negative, words. What's wrong with depending on other people? Maybe there's a point where confidence in ourselves blinds us to the greatness in others? But if I'm looking for Mr. Perfect, I'm never going to find him. What might happen if I (read: we) stopped listening to the negative messages all around me? What if I stopped acknowledging the insane voice in my head that forces me to obsess over a phone call or what I'll wear to a party in case "The One" might be there? What if I was actually open to the possibility that love is all around me (Go watch Love Actually immediately!) and that I, in fact, might be my own worse enemy in this scenario? What if it's me that is afraid to commit, only I don't know it because I push people away so that I don't have to end things? What if I am the one with baggage from relationships past? What if I am so terrified of being fully known and loved unconditionally by another human being that I am the one sabotaging everything that comes my way because it's safer to be single than vulnerable or worse...known? We are all a mess and acknowledging that is so important to loving and being loved. We can't expect perfection from others - we don't expect it from ourselves. Nor can we expect members of the opposite sex to complete us in any way, though many of us do. (By this I mean that many people believe they will be happy, fulfilled, safe, secure, confident, etc. once they finally get married. Maybe that's a blog for another day.) There are aspects of loving flawed people that are difficult. But love in general just isn't supposed to be this hard.

Love is patient, kind. It doesn't get jealous or arrogant - it isn't proud. Love isn't rude or self-seeking and it doesn't get mad easily. It doesn't keep a list of wrongs. Love rejoices in truth, not evil (aka. self-help books preying on innocent, albeit misguided, men and women who just want to not be alone). It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails. Not this kind anyway. I love love. From the top of my head to the tips of my toes, I believe in love and want it and love love. Really.


* I also love the use of italics.

My musical absence part 1.

I was reminded this morning of the pain of loss and how it keeps us paralyzed, often unable to move past it. Let me explain:

From as far back as I can remember, I was always singing. I sang at church. I sang at school. I sang in the car, the shower, my room, the yard, the street - it didn't matter. I loved it. And because I had also always been overweight, I believed that music was the only good thing about me, the redemptive quality to my otherwise meager and unlovely existence. I never got compliments on my looks or my clothes or my contribution to class projects. I was a singer and I felt good about that. And then I picked up the French Horn and excelled. My parents musical abilities were passed on well and I found my identity in that microphone. And honestly, I loved the attention it got me and the compliments that I didn't get anywhere else in my life. When someone asked me to sing for an event, I would throw my hands up in mock protest, knowing full-well they were going to ask me - why wouldn't they? I ate it up. While all of my friends were getting asked on dates, I was getting asked to stand in front of people and sing. It didn't take effort, it just was.

In college, I performed in a musical ensemble with Campus Ministry and quickly took the lead role from the group's shining star. I won't lie, I loved it. And when I quickly learned to play the guitar at the end of freshman year, I was asked to not only sing but play. All of a sudden, my stock soared and I was very popular, from weddings to retreats. It was tiring, being in the limelight so much, but I adapted quickly. And then, it happened. I met First Love. He sat next to me on a retreat and sang with me and quickly asked me for guitar lessons and singing pointers. He was beautiful and popular and I couldn't believe he was interested in me. Yet somehow, our relationship developed over lifegroup guitar sing-a-longs and late night movies. We dated for the better part of two years, singing and playing everywhere together. It was some of the most amazing times of my life to that point. It seemed perfect and I knew we would get married and be traveling musicians for the rest of our lives. Like Waterdeep. But as you would expect from his blog moniker First Love, he broke up with me. And my world fell apart. Two days after we broke up, I had to sing and play at our weekly bible study and, with exception to a few weddings, it was the last time I performed publicly. It was 1999. Something died in my soul that day and it's only over the past few years that I've been able to name it and begin healing from it.

From years of observation, I'd say most breakups work like this: guy seems to move on quickly, girl sits around for months trying to figure out what she did wrong. I am no exception to this pattern and spent the next few years (yes, I said years) trying to explain to myself that I was, in fact, lovable and that I would someday find "the one." In that process and in that place of deep insecurity, the questions that would haunt me for years surfaced: "Did he only fall for me because of my music? Did he just love the idea of me because of the musical roadshow we would rock all over the nation? Wasn't there something more to me in his mind than 'Girl Who Sings'?" (Interestingly, my next boyfriend would, very sweetly, give me an old book of collected poems, one of which was entitled "My Girl Who Sings" and I couldn't breathe.) These questions and others like them kept me from sleep at times, from beginning new or substantial relationships, and from singing. I'm not sure I picked up the base guitar again after that, until I sold it to move overseas six years later. I didn't want to play the guitar anymore, where I had once sat for hours in my apartment, fingers bleeding, heart full, Jenn Knapp lyrics belting their way into my neighbor's living room.

At some point in the midst of all of that, music lost it's joy for me. Or to be more specific, music for the joy of music disappeared. I still loved to worship and continued to be on worship teams for Campus Ministry and Barn Church. I even lead in North Africa for our team worship times. And through all of that worshiping, I was learning how to become an "Invisible Worshiper" like Matt Redman reminded me to be and God was transforming my heart. It wasn't about me, but how I could usher people into His presence. And I almost forgot that I used to write songs and that music used to overflow out of every part of me. I tucked away that fear that I was only as good as the notes that came out of my mouth. And I never thought about First Love or how deeply our relationship had wounded me years before. But then I met someone who ruined my life, in an incredibly painful but beautiful way. After knowing me for about five seconds, he had more insight into my heart than I'd had in years. He said, "You have to let go of the fear that you're only worth that. There is so much more to you than music, though it's an incredible gift. And it's not that you're prideful and it's not that you aren't hurting, but you have to let it go. You have to sing." (That's an incredible generous paraphrase as I don't remember exactly what he said. But that's what I remember about it.) A few weeks later, his close friends even prophesied over me in a sports bar, having met me two hours earlier over tapas, that I had a new song to sing and that I had to keep singing. I have never felt more exposed. Trying to deflect the conversation from me and my issues, I told him he needed to paint, that there was creativity in him that needed to come out on canvas. He said, "As soon as you write another song, I'll paint." Crap.

That was more than two years ago. No song, no paint. Just the healing remnants of a broken girl.

My 25 things.

Since the last post was somewhat painful, I decided to share a bit of myself with you in a more lighthearted way. Enjoy.

1. I am a total homebody. I'd rather eat dinner at home any night of the week than go to a restaurant. Except for Mexican because I don't have enough of the Latina in me to make good tortillas. And while I do enjoy going out with friends and doing things at other people's homes, I'm just as content to stay home and read or watch a movie.

2. I often surprise myself with my athletic prowess, because I never thought I had any. My best sport is roller skating, not blading. But it turns out, I'm pretty decent at many sports including: ultimate frisbee, volleyball, freeze tag and chase-the-kid-to-get-my-key-back. And I can dance.

3. I hate when people misuse words or when they look at me all crazy for correctly using a word that is more commonly misused.

4. I love water. I love to drink it, sit in it, swim in it, ski on it (frozen, that is), kiss in it (rain kisses are excellent), get clean in it. I do NOT love when it melts in my Diet Coke.

5. I think people who give themselves nicknames are lame.

6. My favorite scent is Lever 2000 Antibacterial soap. After a shower when I catch a wiff of myself, all is right with the world. (I'm a simple girl.)

7. I am drawn to raw honesty and repelled by anything fake or contrived.

8. I love strong discussions with someone passionate about their beliefs. I do not love people with no opinions or worse, those that don't share their opinions because they are either apathetic or scared. It's ok for us to disagree. You're probably right. The Good Book didn't say we had to agree on everything or even like everyone. We're just supposed to love each other in spite of all of that. Let's debate!

9. I still dream of singing the National Anthem at a Rangers' game.

10. I love tattoos. I have three, am getting another soon and totally love this tattoo, which is not mine. I do not love this guy. And it gets worse.

11. I call myself a theoretical linguist. I mean that, on paper and in theory, I'm awesome at languages. I am excellent at grammar and all of the parts of language that most people struggle with. (I made 4th on the National Spanish Exam in the 9th grade - all written.) Because I've been a musician most of my life, I hear tones and mimic well so I'm generally great at pronunciation. I'm terrible at speaking, mostly because my memory is awful. (I grew up by enormous power lines. No really.) I understand far more than I can actually recall. So Arabic took awhile, but when I got it, people often confused me for a local, though that happened more on the phone than in person. Southeast Asian Tonal Language beats me down on a regular basis.

12. I love trampolines - big ones. We used to sleep outside in the backyard under the tramp fort we would build. Occasionally, we would cover it with liquid soap and turn the sprinklers on under it. It. Was. Awesome.

13. I always believe in the goodness in people. Sometimes I get burned. But I think I'd rather get burned every once in a while than live believing that people are always awful or mostly untrustworthy. That hurts my heart.

14. I'm pretty sure I'm not the best at anything. And I lack discipline to be the best, especially if someone I know is better than me at that thing. It's not about competition. It's more like "they're already really good at that thing, I'll be their biggest fan."

15. I love my hair. I realize that as a woman, I'm supposed to not like anything about my appearance, but I love my hair. So there.

16. I am addicted to Web Sudoku.

17. I spent most of my high school and college years deeply insecure and as a result, built a wall around my hardened heart that couldn't be penetrated. Now, I bruise easily and am far more sensitive than I even think I am. And I'm totally fine with it.

18. I am often overwhelmed by the horrific need and injustice around me and am disappointed in myself and others for doing so little about it. I cry a lot.

19. I love watching people discover things - new places, new cultures, new foods, new depths in their own hearts, new ability to love. Love it.

20. I hate excuses.

21. I have a love/hate relationship with technology. I love the life it affords me and I hate it when it doesn't work.

22. I do not receive gifts well. I want to give you a gift, but I don't want you to give me one. I know you love me because you spend quality time with me. Also, hugs are better than gifts. (What is your love language?)

23. I hate money.

24. I am completely happy to let someone help me with things I can't do. I don't have that innate "NO! I have to figure it out myself!" thing. I don't have time for all that.

25. At my core, I just want to love people and be loved back. Sounds simple, right?