She was a tricky one. I don't even remember her name, but man, she was a tricky one. My college physics professor. You had to watch her. She liked nothing better than to throw you curve balls. You think she was teaching you about velocity and gravity, but instead you'd find yourself learning something about life. You'd listen to her lectures on physics and science, and find yourself walking away feeling like you'd been to church where a 70 year old Korean scientist was the preacher. I'm telling you- she was clever. She wanted you to know your physics- that was important to her. She truly taught us about science, but also she taught us about life.

I'll never forget her favorite trick. I'll never forget it because I always fell for it.

My biggest problem in college physics was the math. So many complicated formulas and equations and I'm not really a math person. I would get so worked up and stressed about them, that I would make them much more complicated than they should be. I remember she kept telling me, "You got the right answer. But you could gotten there in 5 less steps."

And it never failed that somewhere on every exam, she would disguise a simple addition or subtraction problem that a first grader could solve as a complex physics question. She would disguise it as difficult and intimidating, when really all it required you to do is something you learned at the age of 5. And every time, we all fell for it. We made it so much more complicated than it should be. We tried working calculus problems and algebraic expressions, when all she needed us to do is add the numbers.

She would scold us, "Start with the basics. Go back to what you know you know. Try the simplest solution first. Start from your foundation."

I think that's pretty good life advice disguised as fairly good physics advice.

These days I find myself going back to my foundations. Going back and relearning what I learned so long ago. Re-familiarizing myself with the most elementary of lessons.

After 4 years of complex theological thinking and putting efforts and energy into teaching others about God, I find myself needing to relearn the most basic parts of my faith.

I find myself having to relearn the fact that faith is not circumstantial. Belief should exist and faith should prevail, despite what the landscape looks like.

Grace is not dependant upon what I do. Grace is dependant upon who God is. I don't receive grace because of anything I do, I receive grace because God is gracious.

And most of all, I find myself being retaught that I am loved- not for what I do, think, produce, look, act, feel. But I am loved simply for existing. I am loved on my good days, my bad days, my crazy days, and my level headed days. That love is not dependent on my mood, my character, my obedience, on anything. That I am simply loved for being me.

And I think these are lessons that I needed to learn. And probably could only learn by coming home again for awhile.

And I guess that even after all those physics exams, I still sometimes miss the simplest lessons. And that sometimes the answers are the most obvious and the easiest.

I am loved- despite everything. My faith will last- in the face of everything. And grace is there- no matter what and no matter who.

Sometimes I really think we are all just kindergartners in the school of life.

I am both a perfectionist and a people-pleaser. Because of these two aspects of my personality, on my best days I am cooperative and driven. On my best days I pursue excellence and make a great mediator. The good days find me knocking my to-do list out left and right and trying to make the lives I'm around a little bit easier. On my best days, these personality traits enhance who I am- making me a hard worker and a good person to be around. On my good days, I keep all the doubts and demons trapped within the truth I am assured of- that I am ok.

But on my worst days, these two aspects of my personality make my life a living hell. They make me insecure, self conscious of all the flaws I see, frustrated because I can't seem to please every. On the bad day, I drive myself mad trying to figure out how to make choices that will satisfy all the people I feel I have to be perfect for. On the really bad day, the perfectionist in me will constantly beat up the flawed human I really am. On my worst days, this makes me overly OCD and worrisome, plus just plain unhappy with myself. On bad days, all my doubts and demons fly freely around my head and I can make myself pretty sick.

Most days however, I go back and forth between the two spectrum's.

How come most of the stuff in life can be both good and bad? A joy and a curse? A gift and a nuisance? Must everything contain polar ends of the spectrum?

I guess that's why we all try to live on the plateaus. In the middle. Finding a happy medium. Because its easier. Because if you stay on the plateau, you may miss the mountain top, but at least you're assured you won't end up in a valley.

But is that really how we should live? Isn't the mountaintop worth the risk of the valley? If we don't experience the depth of the valley, how can we truly appreciate the levelness of the plateau or the height of the mountain top?

I'm not really sure what I'm striving for or saying here. I guess I just wanted to remind myself that the bad days are as essential as the good days. The valleys mean as much as the mountaintops. And if you spend too much time on the plateau, you mind just find yourself getting stuck there.

I had to take a break from blogging.

I had to take a break from life.

I just needed time to breathe.

Because there for a few days, even breathing hurt.

I feel like my life has been taken apart, and the pieces have been put back together all wrong.

I'm homesick for people and places that aren't home.

I am mourning the loss of a job and life I choose to leave.

And I'm missing people who I never even knew mattered.

And logically, I know that in a few days, weeks, months, year...whenever- I will look back on it and see the beauty and the wonder that the abstract art of my life is. But at the moment, its just weird and disjointed and unsettling and somewhat uncomfortable. Its something that I expected to look one way and looks an entirely different way. And even knowing that eventually, it will all work out and seem right- doesn't necessarily ease the pain of the present.

But abstract art is beautiful. And part of its beauty is the tension it creates. The problems it stirs up. The discomfort it offers.

So I'm trying to embrace it. I'm trying to find the beauty in it. I'm trying to have faith that with some time and perspective, I'll see why my life is supposed to look like it does right now and what beauty might be found in t .