Learning.

Mornin'

     Well. It's early. I've actually been up for about a half an hour, depressingly enough. I had the weekend off and I forgot to call in on Saturday and see what I worked. So I woke up at 6:45, assuming I worked at eight. I work at ten. So I now have all kinds of time to blog! Hooray. Well this weekend had all kinds of things. I'll explain.
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     I was in Omaha this weekend, visiting my girlfriend who was in her school's version of the "Little Women" Broadway musical. My girlfriend was on Bible College Broadway, if I can call it that. And while her role wasn't the biggest, or one that she'll probably look back on super fondly, it brought a lot of joy to my heart seeing her up there, big false nose and all.

    What I'm realizing is just how much I've learned in the last month we've been together, and don't get me wrong, this isn't a gushy blog about dating and feelings. I'm still me, whether I have a girlfriend or not. However, I've been learning more and more just how being a boyfriend works.

     Now you might be thinking,

 

"Jon, you've had a girlfriend before. You SHOULD know how this works."

 

     And you're right. And wrong. The thing is, that this is the first relationship that I've been a part of since I came back. You see, I've tried so hard to detach myself from the old Jon, and all the crap I was involved in before, that I really don't remember it. I've been praying earnestly for forgetfulness the last few months. Yeah, that's right. Praying for forgetfulness. That God would take away all the stuff from my memory that used to define me. And it's been working. I've been remembering less and less about the man I was, and naturally a big part of that involves my past relationships. Not to sound corny, and believe me, I'm aware that this is slightly out of context, but this verse was on my heart this morning,

 

 ^"And He who sits on the throne said, 'Behold, I am making all things new.' And He said, 'Write, for these words are faithful and true.' Then He said to me, 'It is done. I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end. I will give to the one who thirsts from the spring of the water of life without cost. He who overcomes will inherit these things, and I will be his God and he will be My son.' "

-Revelation 21:5

     

     I've read this verse a few times in my life, and never really gave a lot of thought to it, but I'm living proof that this is true. He's made a new creation out of me. A "me", that not a year ago was still pretty heavily rooted in sin. A "me" that was living dishonestly and didn't care. A "me" that wanted to jump back into dating thinking I was a hot-shot Christian Fonzie that was just going to be some kind of lady killer. But more importantly he took away the suicide. He took away the loathing. He took away the desire to drink until I couldn't see, and "party" like it was my last night alive (which it could've been, time and time again). He drew me from the pit and allowed me to overcome. And the verse makes my inheritence sure. Because of his goodness, I will be given the spring of the water of life. He will (and is) my God and my identity is that of his child. And my relationship has been a big redemptive analogy. I'm literall re-experiencing things for the first time. God has a way of genuinely making things new.

     

     Being a real Christ centered boyfriend is a new experience for me. I take new joy in little things, like having a hand to hold. I have a new sense of responsibility, like finding ways for us to connect with God together. And while I'm new at this in a lot of ways, leaning on Christ and learning from him have been the most encouraging and exciting things that I've experienced. And while I may seem like some sappy "Churchie", I want you to know that this is all very real. I want to offer you that same hope. The same regeneration. God may be knocking at your door, and I'd hate for you to miss it, like I did for so long. If you ever feel the need to talk about it, I'll talk to you. I don't care where you are in life and I have no judgment or condemnation for you. Just the same love that was shown to me when I was at my worst.

 

      Thanks for stopping by, friend. You bring me a lot of happiness.

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          P.s. The three of us are the proud owners of a cat named Tyrone this week. There's already been enough happening to write a blog about, so I'm sure before the week's end there will be updates galore. See y'alls later.

 

   

 

     

    

Out With the Old, In With the News

I never really know how to start these things. So I'm telling you that.

Thanks for reading this today. The fact that I still average over 70 reads per blog is truly a gift in my life. You're great reader. And you should know that.
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     Well I'm still on vacation. And as this is my first vacation of the new year, I really want to feel like a vacation. So I've been dressing like this...

 

 

     Yep. That's me. In a Hawaiian shirt. In the middle of January. The two times that I've left my apartment since I've been back to Ames, I've gotten looks and comments about dressing this way. Friends have called me a hipster, which is probably untrue, as hipsters are usually seen as cool by somebody. I've also been called an old man, which is probably closer to the truth. It dawned on me, however, just how much more I feel like I'm actually on vacation when I'm wearing clothes like this. Because no one should feel like they're on vay-cay in sweatpants and a mustard stained v-neck that I've had for five years. They should feel unemployed. Well that's what my vacation update. Moving.

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    My day hasn't consisted of much. I woke up and drank coffee. I read some John Owen. I watched Anchorman with my roommate Orion (he'd never seen it before, what?) and I talked to my mom about our trip to Omaha tomorrow so my parents can meet my girlfriend.

 

Yeah. I have a girlfriend.

    

     And I don't have any illusions that I have anyone who reads my blog that isn't my friend on Facebook or Twitter follower, so I'm guessing this isn't news to anyone. But I just wanted to announce it, because well,  it's a pretty positive thing you could say. I'm one of the last people that deserves a girlfriend. I've messed up in life and I've lied and I've hurt peoples' feelings and I've just been a mess. And yet I get to have a girlfriend. And she's lovely, to boot. Her name is Whitney. She loves Jesus. She's hilarious. She's short. And what may be one of her best traits is that she's chosen to identify herself with me, which I can only assume is rare gift.

 

     Today marks the two week period in our relationship. I actually originally typed out "two week anniversary", but I think when people use anniversary for anything less than a few months, they're just trying to make their relationship look more serious and committed than it is. We've dated two weeks. And what's been a recurring theme in our discussions is that we've really just ruined each other's lives. See, she was entirely content with being single. In spite of her being surrounded by friends who were married, engaged, or dating someone, she was at a point where she was truly OK with being single. Enter Jon. Not two months ago, I swore off women. I was EXCITED about being single forever. I'd never have to worry about getting a good job, and I'd be free to go wherever I wanted. I was free and untethered. And then she walked into my life. Now we knew each other for 14 months before we started dating, so it's not like she just showed up. But she's here now. If you're interested in how it all went down, get at me, I'll be happy to tell you.

 

    While I do really like her and so far this blog has pretty much just been about her and Hawaiian shirts, neither are my point. In my last blog I mentioned a person who used to be very important in my life. He was the Old Jon. He ran my life and dictated most of my decisions. Fortunately, and by God's grace, he's dead (or, at least terminally ill). It's just been so polarizing to look back at who I used to be and then see where I am now. Realizing that all those times I swore off women with spite in my heart and beer in my belly, that God had different plans. Those nights I lay collapsed on my bedroom floor weeping into the rug (it's currently in my living room, and I'm looking at it) despairing about being alone, God had other plans. Those days I would sit and ponder just how fun it is to be single, and that I wasn't going to play into all that Christian nonsense about dating and I was just going to be serving the Lord alone until I was dead, God yet still had other stuff planned. And I'm not here to say that marriage is an inevitability, because a lot can happen. But it took me this long to realize that since I've been redeemed by the God of the universe, that I'm okay. I didn't need to be single, but eventually I wanted to be. I don't need to have a girlfriend, but I'm choosing to. And I think therein lies the secret. That God desires our contentment, and as long as they glorify him, he loves our decisions. He puts up blockades in our lives to keep us from having the things we want before we're ready. You see, Whitney and I could've potentially started dating in November of 2011. And if we had, I have little doubt that we would've broken up by now. We were both in terrible places, carrying more baggage than the other would've wanted to handle. It took fourteen months of God pushing, prodding and pruning to get us both to a place where we were okay where we were, and then by his sense of humor he drew us together. He's funny.

 

     And so while I'm going forth into the first Godly relationship I've ever been in, I'm constantly reminded that it is God that must be saught. That while I'm blessed with having a woman in my life, that God must be my first love. If I'm ever again reduced to a sniveling pile of tears on this rug, he will still be my redeemer. And if I ever again submit to the Enemy and the Old Jon rises once again, God will be the one who will again tear me from the hand of sin and evil. He is my first love and my last and everyone in between simply points to those truths. .

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     Well, both of my roommates are here now and I have yet to hang with both of them simultaneously, so I'm going to do that. Thanks for stopping by and we'll see you again real soon.

 

    

Old Jon and the Idle Wednesday

Good morning.

 "2:10 AM", says my computer.

2:10 in the morning. And I'm awake. Me. Jon Dziurawiec. It's not right. I should've been to bed at least 3 hours ago. An old guy like me can't afford to be awake this late, right? Wrong.

I have the week off Fareway. Now, when most 24-year-olds have a week off of work, it's called a vacation. They usually do something. Take a trip, fix something around the house, drink copious amounts of alcohol. Something. But I have nothing planned...

     If you were sitting in my living room just now, you would've heard one of the loudest and most satisfying sighs in all of time. I have a week. To do nothing. I've noticed though, that since I'm not like a normal 24-year-old, that psychologically this week doesn't feel like a "vacation", but like a "break". You know, like when you were in grade school and you had "Spring Break" (my school still called it Easter Break, but whatever). I can do whatever I want, and I simply have this feeling that this will be an immature week for me. I'll probably not put pants on unless absolutely necessary. I'll probably spoil at least one meal a day with junk food. I might even watch an "R" rated movie or two (sorry, mom). I'll keep you updated on how it's all going. Onward.
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     As some of you know, I plan on pursuing a job with CRU next year. If you didn't know that and want to know more, ask me. So I'm really excited for possibly going back to the Iowa State campus, with the intention of sharing the Gospel with people. I've seen God move the last semester, and I can only see His faith staying a constant, and therefore his hand doing greater things than I saw last semester. However, I believe every coin has two sides. If I'm with CRU full time next year, working upwards of 50 hours a week on campus, what's going to happen to my old job with Fareway? Well, I can tell you. I won't have it. If God's allowed me to be hired with CRU, the moment I get my first check, I'm out of Fareway like a bullet. I'm not here to say I don't love my job, but I just have so many things that I can't wait to do that Fareway won't let me.

     As I'm hopefully on my way out of Fareway, I think I'll share a little story. It may be my all-time favorite story from my time at Fareway, as it epitomizes not only the last 7 1/2 years I've spent in the grocery business, but speaks to a big part of my testimony as well. Here it goes.

     Last summer was not the greatest of times for me. A good chunk of my friends were getting married. I was invited to six weddings, and was in three. I didn't like that, because I was alone. And when you're alone and no one else is, then you're really alone. I had issues in my life academically, spiritually, emotionally, and relationally and I was a wreck really wherever you looked. My one real escape from it all was Fareway. I'd work 38 hours a week in the summer, and really just detach from life with whatever time I had left. However, a string of unfortunate events caused me to be consistently late at Fareway. On July 21, 2012, the day before my 7 year anniversary with Fareway, I was an hour and 20 minutes late for my shift. I walked in and my manager looked at me and said, "Do you have an excuse?"

     "No", I replied, "my alarm just didn't go off, and I overslept." I worked out the rest of my shift, and as I was leaving, my manager pulled me aside and has a heart to heart with me. He was concerned with my consistent tardiness (a trait that I was never known for) and asked if I was having any problems. There were two things that he asked about. He asked if I had been drinking a lot. I said no. He asked me if women were a problem in my life. I said no. He guided me up to the office and there on the desk sat the thing that I had so dreaded and lived in fear of the last 6 years and 364 days at Fareway. A pink slip. I had to sign a little slip that said I was being noted as struggling with being to work on time. As I was walking down those creaky wooden stairs, my manager looks and me and says

"I just want the old Jon back."

 

     I really was crushed. My entire identity that summer had been destroyed. The "old Jon"? Had I strayed so far from the model employee that I was? From the shining glimmer in the Fareway shield of quality that I would claim to be? Had I really changed? In my wreckage, I turned to God. I asked him over and over to make me a better employee. To bring back the old Jon and restore my manager's faith in me.

 

     I realized, right then and there, how wrong I had it.

 

     If I had gone back a year from that very date, do you know where I would've found myself? In a pit of alcohol abuse, self loathing, sexual immorality, and a hatred of the God whom I'd claimed faith in since I was four. My goal was to kill myself before the summer's end. But by God's divine Grace and providence, I somehow survived that summer. God took me out the filth I was basking in and had thrust me in to the plans he had for me. Plans for redemption. God brought me out of 2011 a much different man than I had been when it started, and somewhere in those 365 days, the old Jon was torn asunder by the depth and gravity of the Cross of Christ. And now, here I was, smack dab in the middle of 2012, worried about a pink slip? I was lucky to even be alive. If God hadn't redeemed me, people, I'd have been dead before 2012 was wrung in. And yet, I was allowing my identity to be defined by a little man behind a desk, and pink sheet of paper. He's since reminded me of just who I am, and that it's the world and all the enemies of Christ that would beckon me "Come on, I just want the old Jon back. Be him again."

   

     The old Jon is dead. Dead he will stay.

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     The reason I told you that story was not simply because I'm hopefully leaving Fareway soon. It's because today I've realized just how far I've come. See, when I say that I was going to kill myself, I meant it. I was literally saved by the hand of God, and with whatever life I have left, it doesn't belong to me, but to he who ransomed me. There's a lot to my story that I'm going to fill you in on in my next blog. A story that the old Jon never could've had. Stay tuned.

 

"3:20 AM", my computer says now. Grandpa needs his sleep. Goodnight, reader.

 

P.S. I love you. I'm not entirely sure if anyone had said that to you today or not, but you deserve it. You deserve it.