Sunday, November 01, 2015

the haunting of imperfection

Women spend most of our lives worrying that we are not good enough. It’s possible men do too, but I have no firsthand knowledge of this, so I am wiring from my own experience today. This disease of not being good enough has another name: perfectionism. This idea we get in our heads of what we are supposed to be can be debilitating, painful, and relentless. It also robs us of all our joy.

I have made a lot of mistakes in the last few months. I feel like it’s a lot more than I normally do, but the reality is that I have probably always made this many mistakes. It’s just that now one major thing in my life has shifted: I am in a season of complete and total raw emotion, so those mistakes are magnified by the woundedness of my own heart.

But here’s the thing: making the mistake isn’t really all that painful. It’s the haunting the mistake does to you afterwards that is torture. Because you can’t go back and change what you did or what you said. You can’t go back and take it all away. It’s out there, for the entire world to see, and your imperfection is broadcasting in Times Square, just to make sure no one missed it. 

[I may be exaggerating here, but that’s what I tend to do around here if you haven’t noticed.]

But the screw up really does feel like Times Square. It feels big and loud and noticeable. And relentless in its “Notice me! Notice me!” persona. And when your mistakes hurt others, it might as well be shown on a loop across the moon. Because it feels that big and important. And that just kills me inside.

Imperfection is like sandpaper to a wounded heart. Because when our hearts are wounded, part of the process (at least, my process) is continually asking ourselves what we could have done, what we should have done… and thinking about what you can’t believe you did. And all that pain rubs up against an already open and gaping wound, making the pain all the more vibrant. And because the haunting of the mistake is a constant revisit of what you did, the wound can’t heal. The reminder of what you did just keeps rubbing and rubbing against the wound.

I want to avoid this haunting. Because it hurts, and this haunting preventing the healing. And very little is in our control after we’ve made the mistake. We can repent, we can ask for forgiveness, but if the person we hurt won’t or doesn’t respond, we can’t do anything about that. And the haunting gets worse… because we can’t fix or repair it. And revisiting what we did is just an unhealthy manifestation of our desire to control. We can’t control anything else, so our minds and hearts just run it over and over in our mind… perhaps even hoping it will turn out differently.

What will it take for me to live in the reality of Jesus’ perfection for me and God’s grace offered to me? This isn’t God haunting me with all my past sins, if I’ve repented. (Becuase certainly the Holy Spirit is at work in that.) I am already cloaked in the righteousness of Christ. But I berate and berate myself because I screwed up and whoever I hurt won’t forgive me. I am unable to let go and rest in the knowledge that I have done all I can.

Satan loves the haunting. And God’s grace feels too easy, so I punish myself. I may not love the haunting, but I fear I believe that I deserve it. 


Sunday, September 27, 2015

heartbreak and the example of Christ

My new place of employment has a unofficial tag line. "No drama... no avoidance." Things are dealt with honestly and directly, and any drama is not tolerated.

It's taken me awhile to adjust to this kind of environment. And I suspect it will take me a bit longer to find my footing in this. Hopefully not because I thrive on drama, but because I am just not used to things being dealt with directly and without avoidance.

I don't know anyone who likes confrontation. That would make me question if they understand what confrontation means, or perhaps would make me question their sanity. But there are some people who at least understand that while confrontation is hard and challenging, it's also an opportunity. And it's healthy, certainly more so than the alternative.

There's the phenomenon I learned about it one of my classes in seminary: triangulation. Triangulation is when a third party somehow gets involved in the brokenness between two people. It's such an easy trap to fall into, and I've sadly been party to it myself, as well as had a third person get involved in something (in my life) that had nothing to do with them, in their attempts to repair and deal with an issue. (Obviously, it didn’t end well. It rarely does.) This is just an unhealthy as avoidance, though the heart is usually in the right place. This makes it all the more deceiving.

For the last few weeks I’ve had this song in my head:

There is certainly a double meaning in this song when you listen to the lyrics. These in particular struck me tonight:

You're a lovely magician, and I've fallen under your spell
You discern every moment as one who knows how this will end
It's as if you see through me, as if I'm unknown to myself
Your eye finds the aquifer, the static reserve of my tears
So I need a well to my heart, I trust you to break the ground

When Jesus walked on this earth, he was not free from emotion or heartbreak. He was angry when it was right to be angry. He wept when it was appropriate to weep. His example of dealing with everyday life was done perfectly, and we are given that “template” by the example of his life for how we are to deal with everyday life. He didn’t avoid. He didn’t suppress strong emotion. He spoke when he needed to and was quiet when he needed to be. He confronted, and said and did hard things.

Oh how I fall short of this every single day.

[I need a well to my heart and I trust no one but Jesus to break the ground.]

I need this example of Jesus every single day, because the reality is that I am living in a broken world and I know it wasn’t meant to be this way. And so I lash out when shalom is broken and I rage against the injustice and the unfairness of it all. Then the tears come and I say and do stupid things. Jesus gave me his example, but I fail to heed it. I disregard his restraint and his passion, because I am stubborn and going through my own stuff and somehow I think that supersedes what is actually right, and do instead what I feel is right.

I am the reason his grace exists.

“When we have months of erratic emotions, we can go to him and know that he understands. He knows what the right emotions are and he can guide us and help us, and all the while justifies us... Gives us what we need as we stand before the Father forever, whether we are experiencing emotions appropriate or not. What a comfort that is.” – Derek Webb, audio commentary on “Your Heart Breaks in All the Right Places”

A light on the water, like sounds bouncing off every wall
You give me my heading and guide me through dangers unknown
You weep with the weeping and dance when the music incites
You do it for me and I wish now to do it for you
Like salt in the drops from your eyes, it restores and it preserves

I am so glad that God doesn't see the wreck of the person I am and sees Jesus instead. May I learn to see others this same way. Because when I hurt God over and over again, he still sees Jesus, but I seriously doubt my ability to see Jesus in those who’ve hurt me…who’ve avoided me… who’ve done the triangulation dance.

Jesus’ heart breaks in all the right places. I need this to happen to me, too.

Wednesday, September 09, 2015

crisis and transition

Yesterday, someone said this to me:

“The first time we sat down and had a long conversation, shortly after we met, I had a sense of who you were and what you’d been through. Then I called you three weeks later, and you were a completely different person. It was after you’d been with your friends in St. Louis and and were currently with your family in Nebraska. You were a different person because you were in a place where you felt supported and cared for, with people that made you feel loved."

This was new information for me, because I suppose I don’t see what I’ve been through as something that altered who I was, but something I just had to live through and come out on the other side of. All this transition stuff, moving, new job, leaving my old life completely behind… the life stuff, the tasks…  they had overshadowed how my soul has been altered.

I don’t say that last phrase lightly. But it’s true. My soul has been altered. 

There are wounds still fresh. Some scars will start to appear. Make no mistake, I have been emotionally altered forever by this most recent season of my life.

My reply to this person was, “I am looking forward to being myself again someday.” But I really don’t believe that will truly happen. Just like the white towel soaked in mud for hours can never been fully white and the same again (no matter how much bleach) what happened has changed the lens with which I view the world and myself and ministry from this point on.

Now, I could go on with the rest of this post and write about the importance of owning our stories and how they define who we are, but it’s what we do with our stories that make the true impact. And that would be true. Our past has defined who we are, but it does not determine our action or our future.

But it does alter them, because we have been altered. And I need to process this alteration. 

I spent July doing some intentional healing through different methods. I was glad for rest and probably could’ve used more, because even just today, I was reminded in the smallest of ways about what I came from and suddenly I’m right back there, and my heart starts to pound faster. And if I have to talk about it, the lump in the throat forms and I realize… I’m still working through it. Because it’s still so difficult to speak about it and not cry. So I’m not over it. And I’m angry I’m not over it. Since this is officially a trauma, I suppose it will be awhile before this anger will be gone.

These reminders that flash me back to things are the touchstones of how I’ve been altered. Of my scars. I am not willing to label these painful reminders as being part of my story, because I don’t believe they deserve that. Only the really important people and the really important things deserve that label. But these reminders are part of my crises. My trauma. 

When a person goes through a transition, the crises seem to be more present. More sharp. More raw. So you don’t act and react like yourself. And you can make some bad decisions, you hurt some people, and hurt yourself. These are things you would normally never do, because that isn’t who you are. Because things in your heart are skewed from what they normally are, and so you process information differently. Experience the world differently. Even talk and act differently (as proven by the above conversation I had.) I find this somewhat shocking and unfair. That the core of who you are can be shaken so much by something that it alters you forever.

But of course this is true, because it’s no doubt that all of you have experienced it. Maybe in small ways, maybe big ones. And I know I have before this season of my life. But for some reason this one hurts a little bit more, and I feel altered a little bit more. There are lots of reasons this could be - the nature of what I went through, the context, perhaps even how much the people meant to me that are part of the hurt. It could also be my age, my isolation from family geographically, or, as the conversation above implied, that I was in a place without love and support when it all happened. (To clarify, there was one family who supported me wholeheartedly during my darkest season from April to the present. They provided many things for me, in particular many physical needs, like a place to live and help with moving and packing. But my emotional needs were/are HUGE. I had support. But unfortunately I needed more, and a different kind.)

I’m only now seeing the true damage that was done to my heart because I didn’t have the support I needed. I went a very long time feeling unloved, abandoned, alone, and angry. This led to feeling of martyrdom, despair, and depression. That’s (excuse the crass language) a crap-load to overcome. But I’m working on it. I’m just messing up a lot in the midst of it all. I'm a different person now, doing and saying things that are unlike me. I don't know when some normalcy will return, but it's my prayer that even if it isn't soon that the body count I leave in my wake will be kept to a minimum.

Wednesday, September 02, 2015

trauma and grace

Trauma is an emotional response to a terrible event like an accident, rape or natural disaster. Immediately after the event, shock and denial are typical. Longer term reactions include unpredictable emotions, flashbacks, strained relationships and even physical symptoms like headaches or nausea. While these feelings are normal, some people have difficulty moving on with their lives. Psychologists can help these individuals find constructive ways of managing their emotions.

It’s recently been acknowledged to me that what I’ve been through in the last few months is an actual trauma. I didn’t go through a terrible event, but rather a series of challenges that added up to a trauma, according to my counselor.

So basically, for me, this just means that I’ve been screwing up a lot lately. It has not been a good time for me to make decisions or deal with the stress of transition and job change and moving. Plus so much more. I mean, let's go down the list. Unpredictable emotions? Check. Flashbacks? Everyday. Strained relationships? Several. Physical symptoms? Quite a bit. Difficulty moving on? Hell yes.

I could use the excuse that this behavior is all about my response to my situation. And there may even be some truth in that. But I also make my choices. It’s important that I own what I have messed up. That I ask for forgiveness where I need and that I work toward reconciliation with those I’ve hurt. My response is all I have control over, and my response must be repairing what’s been broken.

To be honest, I’m just so tired of feeling sad. I’m tired of keeping record of wrongs (clearly my own sin), thinking about how many hours I spent with people listening and supporting them through their hard times and now when things got bad in my life and needed someone they weren’t there for me. This is part of my trauma. It’s no sprained ankle, my counselor said. This is a car crash will multiple broken bones. So to some extent, my choices are at the mercy of my trauma and how my emotions are handling this trauma.

I guess what I’ve found to be most thankful for in this whole process is the grace of Jesus Christ. When I don’t offer grace to myself and others don’t offer grace to me, I always know that Jesus is extending his.  To be honest, it’s all that is getting me through.

Thursday, July 23, 2015

a love letter to st. louis

For the past five years, I’ve viewed you as my home away from home. Which I realize doesn’t make a lot of sense, because I only lived with you for two years. I was a full-time student, working three jobs, living in a house with five other women. I was in complete transition in my life. I didn’t know it then, but I know it now, what a huge thing this is - to be in transition in life. It affects how you act, how you feel, how you process things. I remember being more worried about how I would adapt to this transition than I actually had trouble with said adaption. It felt like an easy transition, perhaps because I was so excited.

You are an amazingly fun city to live in, and probably even more fun when you actually have money to spend to do fun things. But there is so much to do that is free, so much to enjoy, that I had the blessing to experience you for the two years I did. Visits to the museum and the zoo and the Botanical gardens… authentic English Tea rooms and Scott Joplin’s house… Apple Butter Festivals and spiritual hermitages...Bread Co and the Archway… 
Birds and Bees Kaldi’s Coffee and many many hours
studying at Starbucks while my fellow seminary student 
barista made me the perfect mint tea… I just have so much love for you.

That’s not to say it was all easy. There were certainly parts that were challenging. I didn’t fit it with most people on campus, and I won’t get into the details of why or how I was treated. But it was bad enough that I almost quit after my first semester. It was either “adapt or die.”  I’m not much of a quitter. So I adapted.  

But I wasn’t willing to change who I was, so aside from the few people on campus, I looked for community at my church. And this is precisely why I consider you my home away from home. Because I found it. I found my tribe. found an pastor who shared my love for music and theology, a mentor who was willing to ask me tough questions, a group of part-time children’s ministry staff that made me laugh like no one else did, a small group that shared my loved for buying local and sustainable living. And none of it was an accident, because God ordained it all. I didn’t go looking for these people. God placed them in my path because I was too afraid to go looking. This was such a reminder of how much he loves me.

When I stopped by to visit you about three years ago, for Sherdonna’s CD release party, it was too quick a trip. 
I didn’t get the chance to really enjoy you again. So when I had the chance to visit this summer, I wanted to make sure to make it count. I had lunch and coffee and dinner and all kinds of other fun things for five days. I didn’t just go to see people, I went to process and rest and get some wise counsel from some dear people at the seminary. And some dear people from my old church… people I love and trust and people I lived near for two years, but somehow God gave me these people as friends for life. 

Between Thai Pizza on the Loop and Comet Coffee in Clayton and 5 Star Burgers in Kirkwood, God reminded me why you are my home away from home. Why I love these people and I love you. While worshiping in a new yet oh so familiar way, I found myself homesick for the old and excited by all that is new at the same time. It was confusing and wonderful.You had the best of me and the worst of me and I will always love having you in my life. The people you gave me helped change me, and I want to thank you for providing a safe place for me to grow and stretch and be transformed by God.

You have my heart, St. Louis. I can’t explain it and I can’t deny it. You placed me in a situation that broke me down and then you gave me beautiful people that put me back together again. I can never repay you for all that you did. But thank you. Thank you for the time, the people, the joy, and the love.

 This is me and Sherdonna.

Thursday, July 02, 2015

friendship and INFJs

INFJs don’t form a lot of close friendships in their lifetime… we are very selective. This isn’t about conceit, but really about knowing ourselves. We only have no much emotional energy we can give to another without great harm to our soul, so we make sure we give it to those we truly connect with, those we deem “worth it.” What I mean by “worth it” is those who come close to understanding us. Those who push us beyond our preconceived notions. Those who challenge us and make us think. Those who aren’t afraid of not understanding us, but are willing to go along with us for the ride. Those who try, need to know they will never fully plumb the depth of our complications (we don’t understand our own complications, so we certainly don’t expect others to understand them either.) Those to whom we give our emotional energy have penetrated our surface, which we keep pretty impenetrable. Because we want those who’ve worked for it, because honestly?  We would do the same for them. The thing about us INFJs is that we have some expectations. Because we know humanity can be better. We look for that in ourselves, and we honestly want everyone else to do the same. 

Once you’ve passed this “test” we are loyal to a fault, even when truly wronged. Not just in a theoretical sense, but in a reconciliatory way. If we’ve invested in you, we don’t want to give you up. We won’t simply forgive and then cut you out of our lives (unless we can no longer emotionally handle it) but we will forgive and continue with the relationship because we have already decided you are worth it. 

Take note: this is a high honor, and it should be treated as such. You will be hard-pressed to find a more devoted friend or partner than an INFJ, because we are happy to put so much energy into those we love. We find it satisfying because we take great joy in making those we love happy and safe. 

We don’t fake relationships. If we want you in our lives, we make time for you no matter what else gets put to the side. See this article. ("It doesn’t matter what gets done if you’ve undone a heart.”) We don’t expect quite the same level of devotion from others, but we do need to feel as though you are making some kind of effort. It doesn’t have to be huge, it doesn’t have to be at the same level as ours, but some effort needs to be there. We really just want to know that you care and that we matter to you. And we love seeing your personality manifest itself in showing this care. We fully understand that everyone’s idea of being there for you looks different. And we embrace this. Because to us, it’s the people that matter. And the ones we’ve carefully selected to love mean everything to us.

There is a down-side to this level of commitment we have, because while no one likes to be let down or rejected, INFJs take it harder than anyone else. To reject our love and loyalty is to cut us to our core. (I honestly have not found anything that hurts me more.) We value authenticity and integrity and take offense if it’s suggested that our love is meaningless or trivial -  whether you mean it that way or not. Because your actions mean more to us than your words. If you treat us like we do not matter, any words that say otherwise mean nothing to us.

Because we are so incredibly protective of our inner selves, those to which we open our inner selves are priceless to us. Our love and our loyalty take so much from our emotional center, so we view that love and those we are loyal to as a precious commodity. If you don’t like-wise consider it the treasure that it is, it’s best to remove yourself from our lives. Because taking us for granted is something you will regret. We are the rarest of rare personalities, and thus we are the rarest of friends. We are intense. We are complicated. But we are always worth it. Because we’ll push you, we’ll cheer you on, we will ask you great questions to help move you forward and we’ll love you more than we love ourselves.

Monday, May 04, 2015

blogging thru Scary Close - chapters 15 and 16

“You complete me” is the line that lost me in the movie Jerry McGuire. It’s just such a ridiculous concept. Having this expectation of another person is CRAZY. I mean it. Downright crazy.

But it sounds so romantic. This whole idea that getting married will take away so much of your hurt and your brokenness and make you satisfied and whole… But we live in a broken world! With broken people! That’s just not going to happen... Why don’t we get this?!?

Don writes in chapter 15 about the significance of knowing who you are and letting the other person be themselves. “…and the sleepless nights I’ve spent wondering what they were thinking or how much they liked me or whether I was a good enough man for them. A complete waste of time.” (pg. 207) 

Thinking back to chapter 14, it’s no wonder relationships don’t work out for people who are so worried what the other was thinking about them or whether they were good enough. That’s not about building something together. It’s about the false assumption that we are only good if we are in a pair, and that on our own we are less than. What a destructive belief this is.

As Don looked over the people he knew who were in thriving marriages of 30 or 40 years, it was because they “loved each other as an act of their conscious will” (pg. 211)

I’ve believed for many, many years that love is a decision. And love requires trying. All Don is doing here is reminding me that I’m not crazy. I know the world doesn’t think it’s a decision… that love is just something that happens. Poof! There’s love.


Love takes work. It takes trying. It takes effort on both sides. And it’s not the kind of trying that has you hustling for approval, trying to make the other person happy with you. It’s about trying together, moving forward in relationship together. For love to flourish, it’s a conscious act of the will. “Love is worth fighting for, but something you can’t be the only one fighting. At times, people need to fight for you.” (unknown) There is much we long for in this world, longing that causes us to fight with each other and grow weary with dissatisfaction.  It's easy to grow angry and frustrated at others because they aren’t taking that longing away for us.

Longing is part of life. But it cannot be fulfilled by another person.  “Betsy and I are going to try as hard as we can not to put the burden of that longing on each other. Instead, we will comfort each other in the longing and even love it for what it is, a promise that God will someday fulfill us.” (pgs. 215-216) When we expect the other person to complete us, to make the longing go away, we are making a huge mistake. No one can do that, be that, for another. Yet we far too often go into relationships with the idea that we were missing something (true) and the other person will make that go away (not true). We look to the other person or to the marriage to complete the missing piece. But no. We don't work like that, and the gospel doesn't work like that.

The last chapter of Don’s book is glorious. “Love is a decision,” he reiterates. (See! I told you!!!) “It is as much something you made happen as it is something that happens to you.” (pg. 224) This chapter is so glorious that I’m going to say the least about it of any other chapter he wrote.

Scary Close is a book that I will read and reread many times. Don’s writing does that to me, but this one in particular has helped me grow through my fear, my vulnerability. It’s helped me push through my comfort into risk and toward grace in loving people who need that grace. The book has felt like peeling back layers of an onion (and not just because of the tears) but because he started with our outer selves, helping us understand the fallacy in our armor. And that peeling back these layers more and more are scary and the tears will come. But we must do the peeling. 

Because love is about trying together. Not for their approval or for them to complete you, but about building together to make something beautiful out of this mess of a world. This trying involves vulnerability, risk, and most of all, knowing yourself and being known by another. This is scary. Scary close.

Friday, May 01, 2015

blogging thru Scary Close - chapter 14

Chapter 14 is called Do Men Do Intimacy Differently?

This is the longest chapter in the book, and the one all the women will run to in attempt to understand the men in their lives. Will it accomplish that? I’m not sure.

The first sentence is one that struck fear in my heart: “Men move towards what makes them feel competent.” (pg. 187) Don thinks this is likely why men run from intimacy – because they don’t feel competent in intimate relationships. This struck fear in my heart because my immediate thought was, “I already have a lot of expectations on me, now I have to make sure men feel competent around me, too? Sheesh. Am I their mother?”

But men aren’t bad at intimacy, he claims. He’ll talk about his feelings because that’s how his wife connects with him. But it is not something that comes naturally to Don, and most men. So men are led to believe they are bad at intimacy. This is closely tied to feelings of masculinity, because as men are drawn towards what makes them feel competent, they are also drawn toward careers that make them feel masculine, he says. He lost me a little at this point, and never really fleshes out the masculine concept (which is probably a good thing, because I think there are many ways for men to be masculine. But that’s another post for another time.)

Don moves on at this point in the chapter and doesn’t really connect the dots for me just yet. He begins to tell the story of Dan, a guy he hired to help grow his company.  Their conversations didn’t start about a business plan for the future; they started with a life plan. Particularly a plan for Don and his marriage with Betsy. Slowly, Dan begins to show Don how asking what you want your marriage to look like is about two people working toward a fixed point. As all relationships are living and moving and becoming something, two people, in romantic relationships or otherwise, should walk together with the same goal in mind. This is about building… and nurturing and growing.

This nurturing and growing concept in relationships is interesting to me. Because if we allow things to “take a natural course” then as Christians, we know that will lead to a more sinful place. We are broken people in a broken world, so for us to just “let things happen” in our relationships likely means what will happen also be something broken. So it makes sense to me that we must make an effort together to direct the relationship away from our natural tendencies of brokenness, ultimately to a healthy and God-honoring place instead. “I let friendships, business relationships, and even my relationship with Betsy take a natural course rather than guiding them to a healthy place.” (pg. 194)

So “building” is how men do intimacy, I guess. Though Don never comes out and says that in plain language (again, that’s not really his style.) But this makes sense to me, because as all women have probably experienced in their lifetime, men like to fix us when we feel broken. 

Fixing is not that different from building, if you think about it. Metaphorical fixing is far more likely to happen in a world that already has a lot of assumptions built. Cultural assumptions, historical ones, gender-based ones. These expectations and assumptions are built into us and the world, and are part of what makes us feel broken. They are definitely part of what makes us experience brokenness. When a man sees a woman they care for sad and broken then I imagine all they want to do is build something to make it better for us. Or simply fix the thing already built that is causing us the pain to begin with.

It’s sweet, really. I get that. Not always necessary. But it’s sweet.

If men are wired for building, what can we do as women to foster and nurture this, rather than make them feel like they are bad at intimacy, because it looks different than our way of connecting? How can we help men build without dismissing our own way of connecting, not making them feel incompetent?
“Men like to build and create and feel their power, and if they don’t do it in healthy ways they usually do it in unhealthy ways.” (pg. 203)                                                                                                                            
I’ve seen men with the desire to create and feel power build it in unhealthy ways. Through a relationship with a woman who is needy and weak, a job that builds them up so they want to spend every moment there, a hobby they are exceptional at so every extra cent of their paycheck is poured into it. It’s pretty normal, actually, once you start looking around for it. Now I just have an understanding of why.               

Men are from Mars and woman are from Venus. Both we’re both still planets, you know? And that means we can both try. Try to understand each other and figure out some way to meet in the middle, so that intimacy isn’t just a series of let-downs and disappointments, but about two people moving together and toward each other at the same time. For the sake of love, for the sake of friendship, for the sake of healing.

Because this world needs oh so much healing.                                                                   

loving a person... it's no small thing

This pretty much sums up the last couple of weeks for me. It's the "reaching out and trying" part that hits me pretty hard right now.

Loving a person just the way they are, it's no small thing
It takes some time to see things through
Sometimes things change, sometimes we're waiting
We need grace either way

Hold on to me
I'll hold on to you
Let's find out the beauty of seeing things through

There's a lot of pain in reaching out and trying
It's a vulnerable place to be
Love and pride can't occupy the same spaces baby
Only one makes you free

Hold on to me
I'll hold on to you
Let's find out the beauty of seeing things through

If we go looking for offense
We're going to find it
If we go looking for real love
We're going to find it