Fight

This story actually comes from over a year ago, when I was (Shock!) at church camp. We had watched a documentary about the persecuted church overseas and it was immensely powerful. The group gathered in our spot in the warmly lit gazebo, some crying, some talking quietly, others silent, staring into the middle distance at something the rest of us couldn't see. As our youth pastor started the discussion and people shared their opinions, this nervous ache in my stomach materialized and got continually worse as time passed. The conversation became heated, people raging against the injustice done to our brothers and sisters in other countries. Many of my friends were crying, unable to contain the horror they felt after seeing what was happening. Kids talked about how this film should be shown everywhere, how people needed to know, how they needed to stop it, and stop it now! Anyone who didn't feel need to change this was messed up and wrong.

And I felt more and more sick. Why didn't I feel angry? Why wasn't I raging? Why didn't I feel anything? I knew I had a problem with empathy, but this seemed wrong. There had to be something deeply wrong with me that I wasn't about to jump on a plane and die for the cause of Christ in Iran or China.

The final straw was when someone made a comment about the funds our church back home was raising to build a new church, as we had seriously outgrown our current one. He said it was selfish of us to be spending money on ourselves when we could be doing things overseas. That made me angry. I didn't even have time to process why that comment made me more angry and more fired up than the documentary did before someone else spoke. Ironically, it was the missionary's kid, who had grown up in Taiwan, who spoke up in our churches defense. He talked about how overseas missions was important, but people in the U.S. often lost sight of what was important in their own homes. The mission field of our own country, our own people.

That's where it began to click. I had felt God's lead to music ministry in my life less than a year before that night.I mulled this over in my mind, the stomach ache dissipating, and my heart lifting as my youth pastor reiterated what our friend had said. I made some comment after him, I don't remember what exactly, it doesn't seem important. I realized completely, that I wanted to help people in the American church. I wanted to bring the broken to healing in the same way God had used music to change my own life. I wanted to hear the stories like my own, stories that maybe no one else thinks are important, but can still change lives. My heart is here. My heart is for the American people. I feel for the needs of the people overseas! I want to be part of supporting those brothers and sisters in their fight for our Savior!

But my fight? My fight is close. My fight is here. My fight is for the children of Atlanta and Houston who have been forced into prostitution. My fight is for the fatherless generation of our country, who don't know what it means to be loved and cherished by a father. My fight is for the teenagers who lost themselves in the world, lost themselves in loneliness, self-pity, self-destruction, and depression. My fight is for the people of this country who don't know what it means to be truly loved by a masterful, all-consuming, all-knowing, wonderful God.

My fight is here, and it is now.

Where is yours?

What Makes Me Happy

            The beautiful things in life are almost always immaterial. Things like spring breezes, summer nights, the magic of winter, and the crisp smell of fall are what inspire people the most. Stories told, poems written, pictures taken, art painted, songs sung all in an effort to capture the beautiful brevity of these things we hold so dear. From experience, I will tell you, the things that bring me the most joy are almost never tangible.

                I have a fascination with the picturesque. The simple but astounding beauty of this world my God has created for his children to enjoy. Beginning in the winter, when children (including myself) gather around windows to watch the first snow fall from heaven. The puffy white swirls float quietly down from the clouds high above, making no announcement of their arrival, just simply coming down to rest on the grass, the bare branches of trees, and the roofs of homes. Even I, who hate the chill of winter with a deep passion, love to sit for hours at a time watching the world change outside my window. The cozy pleasure of that moment brings me such deep joy.

                After winter comes spring, which in my opinion is the most magical season on this earth.  The way the sludgy snow begins to melt away, leaving the still bare trees and frozen homes dripping as winter leaves for another year and spring peaks her head out again. There is a certain scent in the air that promises glorious adventure. The heads of flowers begin to poke their way up from the ground like impish sprites come out to play and trees begin to bud with new life that will shade them in their games. I love more than almost anything to sit in the muddy green grass and just smell the air. I lean my head back and bask in the sweetness of all the new life just beginning.

                From the mystical wonder of spring comes the shining days of summer. Time seems to stands still in the glory of sun-soaked days and hazy nights. The smells of summer, they are more intoxicating than they are numerous. Blackberries ripening in the sun, honeysuckle and lilac bushes mingling in harmony, and bonfires sending their smoky offerings into the sky, they all define the glory of summer in my mind. Summer rains are one of the keenest pleasures in life. To dance and twirl in the warmth of a summer rain is pure joy to which nothing else compares. I hold so many dear memories of summer nights next to a fire that I cannot begin to recount them all. I have spent many an afternoon with family or friends walking the downtown street of my little hometown in the summer, enjoying an ice cream or chilled coffee as we enjoy local art and the privilege of time together.

                When summer’s rays begin to fade, autumn quietly sneaks in to take his place. The chill in the air begins as a sneaky ghost in the breeze. The sun is still warm and inviting, even more now as it competes with the nip in the wind. The leaves turn golden yellow, burnished brown, vibrant red, and fiery orange, decorating the streets in their splendor. I relish the chance to drag out my collection of favorite sweaters and hats to bundle up in for a soccer game with friends. Bonfires hold a different joy now as the weather turns cool and people flock to the warmth with cups of cider and crisp apples to munch.

                 God's majesty is never more evident, than in the effortless perfection of the seasons.

My Life is NOT Over

Psalm 40:12
"For troubles without number surround me. My sins have overtaken me, and I cannot see. Tey are more than the hairs of my head, and my heart fails within me."

"It feels like life is suddenly moving forward to the future so quickly all I can do is ride along. Decisions have to be made that I can't handle. Suddenly relationships are so very temporary unless I decide right now that they are going to be part of my life in very permanent ways. I'm thankful for the chance to go to college where I have chosen, but I'm scared to death I've chosen wrong. That I can't do it. That I'm not strong enough, not mature enough. The people I've grown up with are soon going to be part of my past and not my present. "growing up" will be a time period of the past. Being a kid is over, completely and fully. I can still have fun, but everything takes a backseat to staying on track in college and in my career, for which I'm grossly unprepared. The foundations of comfort and normalcy I've built my life on is gone. I'm leaving, moving on, growing up. No matter how you say it, the idea is there. Nothing will be the same. Nothing is the same. Everything is different. Nothin is sacred. Nothing is safe. Nothing feels constant. The whole world is spinning and jumping and falling around me and all I can do is say...
Today, I am 18. And nothing. Will ever be the same."

I wrote that paragraph, obviously, on the afternoon of my 18th birthday a few months ago, saved it to my phone, and left it there. I must have thought about it some soon after I wrote it, but honestly I dont even remember writing it. I remember the feelings involved very vividly though. Feeling like the world was going to drown me. Like the future was too huge and overwhelming to handle. Like the choices I had made were going to haunt me for the rest of my life. Like my life was ending.

After a long couple of months, I can say honestly that my life is NOT ending. Good news. :)

I'm still scared. Life is still sort of overwhelming. But I have made some choices and taken some steps that God has used to show me that He really is in control. I changed my major before I even started classes. I prioritized my relationships, started spending time with my family, key friends, and boyfriend. Despite having made those relationship choices, I still lost some really important friends in the last couple weeks. Most importantly, I got back to daily conversation with God, and made it a point to read at least a chapter of my Bible a day. In addition to choices I made personally, just the simple passing of time has made college seem a lot less daunting. I've made contact with my roommate, and already I know that we're going to be fantastic friends. I've registered for classes, started looking into books. I've bought things to furnish my dorm room, as well as planning for all kinds of fun things my roommate and I will be doing there. I've made plans with my mom, my boyfriend, and my best friend for when I'll be able to come home and when it's best for them to visit me. I have plans for a college age group to keep the graduating seniors of my youth group together after we leave.


Moral of the story is, my dear readers, nothing is as awful as it seems in that moment. I put on the mask to hide how scared I was. I made it through the end of the year, made my peace with growing up, and now, I can't wait for school in the fall. 


Jeremiah 29:11
"'For I know the plans I have for you', declares the Lord, 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and future.'"


My life is NOT over. And neither is yours. Don't give up.

Books

I have weird books.

Considering how much I adore reading, one would think I'd have a huge number of books, but in reality, I have one bookshelf in my room, and it's really only two-thirds full. There are children's fantasy, outdated sci-fi, Christians historical romances, Bible study books, silly pre-teen romances, trivia books, a few modern best-sellers, and all my favorite classics such as Lord of The Rings, The Once and Future King, To Kill A Mockingbird, and Jane Eyre among others. A random collection of stories that fill my small shelves. The thing these particular volumes have in common? I have read each of these books at least ten times (with the exception of the four that I put on the shelf just today with the intention of actually reading them, since they've been sitting in a box for years). Each book has a story, separate from the one written on it's pages.

The writer's prompt book that I've gone to a hundred times when I'm pressed for ideas. The book about a chess player and a ballerina that I really didn't understand the first time, but has aged with me so that I feel like Nikolai and Daphne are dear friends. The silly love stories that I read when I can't sleep after a scary movie. The suspense story that I was thrilled to realize I had figured out within the first few chapters. The lonely book about a girl abandoned on an island that I re-read for more reasons than I can list here. The fairy stories that make me want to believe in magic. The series I grew up reading, and will stick by no matter what every one else thinks about it. All of these books I keep on my shelf, no matter how many years pass. Occasionally I'll add one or two, when a new favorite arrives, or when something seems important enough that I'll need to read it. My books have grown with me, each one is a friend and confidante, a friendly face when it seems like my world is changing took quickly for me to keep up.

When everything else changes, Nikolai still plays chess, Artemis and Holly still save the world, Jan's baby still has blue hair, Arthur is still king, Jane and Rochester still fall in love, and Karana is still on her island. It's a silly thing, but when I started sorting through books, I couldn't bear to take more than two or three books off the shelf. They're all too important to be put in a box somewhere, and I know that day will come soon, because I can't possibly take them all to college with me. But for now, they sit on my shelf, patient friends, there when I need them, when nothing else feels constant.

I'm weird about books.

Way Too Much Reflection

Well, it's a bit late for a New Year's post, but what the heck, why not?

It's my senior year, and I spend way too much time thinking about how immeasurably different I am than I was four years ago. At fourteen, I was diving headfirst into teenage angst, drama, relationships, and pressures. I was a wannabe emo with too much makeup and an obsession with all things black and depressing. I had a group of friends who were just as diverse as could be, and yet at the same time they were just as cliche as I was, in their own ways. I tricked myself into thinking I was accepted, and upon realizing I wasn't, I spun into an illogical and selfish depression that required a profound encounter with God to pull me out of.

Now, a few months before my eighteenth birthday, I am still amazed by my social transformation. I'm still that awkward and insecure kid at heart a lot of the time, but most days I can overcome those tendencies. I still have relationships with the people I hung out with as a freshman, but my core group of friends is completely different. Ironically, the guy who threw erasers down the back of my cargo pants in eighth grade and the girl who thought I was a complete freak freshman year are two of my best friends at school now. Instead of play practice and hanging out at the mall, most nights I just ride around with a friend or get a group together for movie night. Our "bubble" is comprised of the super-musical new kid, the ever-classic, always popular guy, the artistic jock, the guy that everyone thinks hates the world but is really just an immensely nice kid, the sports freak with the best sense of humor, the spaz who is more loyal than anyone else I know, the sweet girl with a kind heart, the dedicated worship leader, and the anti-hipster that has a passion for life that I wish I had. All of that to say that these are the people I spend my days with, who accepted me for reasons still unknown to me, and although I'll be sad to leave them behind next fall, the memories we're making aren't the kind that will fade quickly.

Sometimes I compare myself to who I was, and think I should hate myself. I quite literally am the dork who somehow became popular. Isn't the moral of that story that popularity comes with a price, that's when you figure out that it's the old friends who really loved you, and you run back to them because popularity wasn't what you always imagined?

Thing is...

I never imagined it at all.

I was completely content with my random assortment of friends as a freshman. We had fun! I figured we'd all be the way we were all through high school. We'd have the same parties, watch the same movies, tell the same jokes, until we graduated. Now I look over to the table where they all still sit and even though I remember those jokes and parties and smile, I don't regret the friends I have now. I realize that I'm not the girl who loved musicals and wore all black anymore. They were the friends I needed, the friends I wanted, when I was that girl with heavy makeup and bangs, but that isn't me anymore. I'm different. And happy. I have more amazing people in my life than I ever thought possible, from my friends that I grew up with, to my youth group family, to my new friends at school, I am so blessed to have them all!

Looking back on the relationships I've had, I come to this conclusion: As much as I've changed over the years, and over the last few months especially, God has given me the friends I needed for the place I was in. When He was trying to teach me to rely on Him, I had friends who would have been there for me and were there for me when I finally put my trust in God and started putting my life back together. When I had to learn to love other before myself, He gave me an incredible group of younger friends for me to love unconditionally and learn to protect and help, as well as learning to live in a real community. And now, I can't say what lesson God is trying to teach me exactly, but I know I'll look back on my senior year and smile, because it's only halfway through and I have had some of the best times of my life so far.

*Sorry this was sort of (Who am I kidding, "sort of"...) rambling, but it's been a while and I just needed to write again. Thanks for indulging me.*

M