Redamancy

A message to my hilarious, passionate, adorable female friends:

I like romance. Most girls do. I fought it for a long time. I made faces at chick flicks, laughed at the sappy songs, scoffed at girls who were so in love at seventeen. And I still do those things, don’t get me wrong, but somewhere along the line I accepted that the desire to be loved, the desire for romance, the desire for unalterable acceptance is natural and perhaps even worthy of celebration. What I don’t like?

“Thank you John Green/J.K. Rowling/Suzanne Collins for giving me completely unrealistic expectations of guys forever.”

Why are they unrealistic? What is wrong with having expectations? What is wrong with desiring someone who will always look out for you? Someone who isn’t afraid of emotions? Someone who will be bold? Someone who doesn’t just tolerate your weirdness but actually embraces it? Someone who is willing to do the hard stuff to make it work? And maybe even sometimes say or do nice/sweet/romantic things just because he likes you, because he cares about you?

Part of the reality is that we aren’t facing life and death adventures that make us face our mortality before we’re 18. We haven’t gone through the fire with a guy before we even admit we have feelings for him. Most of us haven’t had the right guy by our side our whole lives before we even realize he’s there. That’s a little unrealistic. You aren’t gonna fight the Dark Lord with your two best friends and then marry one of them who just happens to be the perfect weirdo for you. Sorry to crush your dreams.

But you can have expectations! You can want all those things! You can have all those things! You can have them and so, so much more because the King of creation is your defender, your friend, and your rock. He made you. He created you specifically, with all your little weird quirks, and he loves you endlessly. He walked through the fire with you, every time, and he’s standing here with you now. He is your support and your comfort when you get all anxious about how you hate how much you need people, or how you can’t seem to feel good enough, or how hard it is to really feel like yourself.

When you stop and realize that you have those things already? It becomes a little less vital to find a guy who has every little thing you fell in love with in a fictional character. And the beautiful thing is, when you’re following God, he’ll bring you alongside other people who are. The right guy is the one who sees you as someone who is beautiful because you are created in the image of the Creator. The one who cares about his own spiritual growth, and pushes you to do the same. The one who knows he can’t rescue you, but he’ll keep pointing you to the One who can. And he won’t be perfect. He’ll do weird things that confuse you, he’ll say things that accidentally hurt your feelings, and sometimes won’t say the romantic things you expect him to say.

Stop settling my gorgeous friends. You are astounding and beautiful women of God. You deserve nothing less than the man whose only desire is to point you back to the Creator.

Redamancy

(n.) The act of loving the one who loves you; a love returned in full.

Annus Mirabilis

You know what's stupid and hard and heartbreaking and beautiful?

This feeling that I'll never quite be whole again. My heart begs to be in so many places at once.

I'm home, and I love it here. I love spending every second with my mom talking about kids, family, faith, relationships, the future and every other possible topic. I love nights out with my dad just taking in his wisdom and advice. I love photo shoots and Salvo shopping sprees with my baby sister. I love late night Taco Bell runs and impromptu WalMart runs with my brother and all the things I learn about him on those short car rides. I love the freedom to spend hours watching documentaries, or read four books in 24 hours, or go for long walks without the looming thoughts of schoolwork over my head. I love catching up with high school friends, reliving those "glory days" and collectively laughing at how much better things are now. I love worshiping at the church I grew up in, being brought to tears by the growth and love that I see there every week. I love random trips to see my grandparents, just to say hello and listen to them tell stories. I love sitting on the front porch listening to rainstorms. I love sitting down and playing guitar for ages. And yeah, sometimes, I even love my crummy summer job. A little.

But even while I try to enjoy this last summer at home with my family (and truthfully, the first summer I've been able to give them my full attention in almost three years), I am eager to return to school in the fall. I miss my friends. Oh I miss my friends...  I can't wait to get back to ministry lunch with my boys. I can't wait to have late night Doctor Who marathons accompanied by my roommate and way too much chamomile tea. I miss having team time until the late hours. I miss getting out of class early and going for breakfast before chapel. I miss "alternative alternative" chapel at the coffee shop when we reached our chapel quotas. I miss staying up until open lounges closed with groups of friends or talking one on one. I miss weekend breakfasts at Johnny's or Nick's with the girls. I miss walking across the lawn, up the stairs, or even down the hall to connect with those I dearly love. I miss the feeling that every interaction I have is not only fun but enriching and life changing. I miss classes that spark the passion in my soul, and the chance not only to discuss it in theory but to practice it through floor events, hall events, and chapels. I'm even missing late nights writing papers in the library!

As my heart aches to return, I know it won't be the same. The hard, crazy, wonderful year that I had won't simply repeat itself. It shouldn't. Truthfully, despite all the incredible things that happened, it was second only to the year I suffered from depression in terms of anxiety and pain. I am grateful for what God brought me through, and honestly, the way He chose to bring me through it, but I certainly don't want to live it again. I can't wait to be back; to see my friends again, to dive back into classes, to build new memories, to watch my brother begin his own college journey. But a little part of me... A growing part of me, is scared. Scared that nothing can live up to the community, the growth, the intimacy, the joy I experienced this last year. I trust that God has more for me; He always does. But still... I am afraid. It's so easy, when I'm away, to let the old doubts return. The crippling fears that I am unloved, unworthy, and unwanted resurface. Thankfully, they are easier now than ever to dismiss, with God's help and a few phone calls, text messages, Skype dates, or even just reliving the undeniable proof of this year's memories.

So I suppose, what I'm saying, is that I'm torn. I love my hometown. I love being here with my family. I miss my friends and my classes, but I'm scared that when I return it won't be the same for so many reasons. My question at this moment is this: have I made too much of the past, or do I really have more to look forward to in the future?

It's a lot of rambling, but thanks for reading. Grace and peace to you all friends!




Annus Mirabilis
n. phr. a remarkable or notable year in history; a year of wonders or miracles, used to speak hopefully of the future.

An Open Letter

I’ve been reflecting. Isn’t that always the case when it comes to these posts?

It becomes more and more true the older I get, I think. This blog becomes less about sharing with you all and more about documenting my own journey, and hoping that maybe my journey can help you travel yours better.

Almost exactly a year ago I posted about fairy tale friendships. It’s one of my very favorite posts I’ve ever made. Friendships are such a vital part of my life, and I love to relive the journey I’ve been on with those people. But this afternoon while I read through it with a smile on my face, sitting here in my window sill soaking in the sunlight, I realized so many of the people who have altered me as a person in the last year were not included in that list.

How odd is it that people who have changed me, who I consider friends for life, who have walked through this year of growth with me, I barely knew a year ago?

I love writing notes to people, and the end of the semester is an optimal time for it. A time to reflect on the growth and memories of the last year. As I started writing I realized that every note I wrote began with some version of “a year ago, who would have thought we’d be here?”

So here is my open letter to those people.

Ben, I had just gotten to know. Everyone knows Ben, everyone loves Ben, and I easily assumed he had enough friends and wouldn’t have space in his life for someone he had very little connection to. Glad I was wrong, because he has proven to be an invaluable friend to me, offering wisdom and comfort innumerable times.

Kody and I had drifted apart and come back together. I couldn’t figure out why were friends. Maybe sometimes I still don’t, because by all accounts we should drive each other absolutely crazy. But Kody, you have inspired me every day to be as passionate, as energetic, and as loyal as you are. I don't know what I'd do without his craziness in my life.

Jacob was just the weird guy who creeped me out the first day of classes. Now he’s still weird, but a solid friend. Someone I can always rely on for an understanding ear and a wise opinion. 

Nicco was just the friend of friends, someone who kind of ran in the same circles, someone who absolutely terrified me but I still really wanted to know. A year later he is a person I greatly respect, someone who walked me through one of the scariest things I’ve faced thus far, and has pushed me to be better in so many ways.

Aaron I hadn’t even met! He was still a high school student waiting to see what kind of adventures college would bring. I had no idea he would come to be a voice of reason in my life as well as the source of so much joy.

I mentioned in that post a year ago that I had connected with the staff of campus ministries and how they had already become a part of my life. I had absolutely no comprehension of how drastically they would change my life!

Brittany, just the girl down the hall who smiled at everyone, has been the best partner I could ask for. Her steadfast joy and optimism astound me more and more every day.

Elisha, the veteran CMC I was so intimidated by, has been a constant source of wisdom and stability in this crazy year. Her insights have guided me and so many others, and I cannot wait to see what God does through her next!

Eric. Oh Eric, you unexpected friend! From the very first moment he defied every expectation I had of him. He is truly a warrior for Christ, an incredible leader, an understanding friend, and one of the greatest people I have every had the privilege to know.

Niles, who even from the moment I met him I knew we would be fast friends, has turned out to be such an indispensable rock in my life. His goofiness and sarcasm have a way of making my worst days easier, and I always know that when I need to hear what God needs to tell me, it is very likely Niles will know what to say.

Anne, who seemed so aloof when I met her, has been the person who understands me best. Within in days of reuniting for training, the people around us thought we’d been friends for years. Her friendship is so special to me, probably because we’re basically the same person. Her love for people and love for God blows me away every single day. I cannot wait to lead with her next year.

So there’s my open letter, to the people who have changed me more in a year than I ever thought possible. People who have had an impact on me in 12 months equal or greater to people I’ve known for  years. To all of you, thank you. Thank you for being the incredible people God has created you to be. And to the rest of you, I hope this makes you think about yourself last year. Think about the people who have changed you. And thank them.

Grace and Peace.

Convivencia

At the end of my junior year of high school, I wrote this in a blog post some of you may remember:

"Which brought me to thinking about how much different will things be in another three years. When I'm a sophomore in college? Will I be studying music like I plan on doing? Will I still like bad scifi movies and techno music? Will my brother and I still be the best of friends? Who will my friends be? What's going to happen to all these relationships I've spent years building when I go off to college?"

Well. Here I am. Nearly done with sophomore year of college. How much did I change?

I'm still studying music, sort of. I'm a worship major, but my focus has shifted drastically. The reason I'm passionate about worship has very very little to do with music now. It has so much more to do with the things that connect the people in a church to each other and God in a myriad of ways.

I still love bad scifi. Sharknado. Need I say more? As for techno music, it definitely brings back a slew of beautiful memories of crazy nights, sweaty dances, and lovely friends. But its maybe not as relevant to my life as I would have thought.

My brother is still the other half of my brain. After being apart for two years, I cannot wait to be reunited at HU next semester. He's been a constant encouragement in every corner of my life. And I'd like to add, that after leaving for university, my little sister and I have bonded, and I now count her as one of the best friends I've ever had.

I don't have the same friends I had three years ago. A very few have stuck around, I hear from them now and again and its always beautiful. But God, in His divine understanding, has brought me such incredible friends at this stage of my life. People to serve and learn with on a deeper level. People who have helped me understand myself better. People to support as much as they support me. People to cry and laugh and pray and worship with. People who surround me in prayer at any moment so entirely that I can feel the weight of it from miles away. People, who in a scary and stressful time of my life, surrounded me with love and prayer and hugs and texts and laughter. I cannot explain my gratitude.

How much have I changed? Well, I just referenced it in my last post... I have changed quite drastically. But whereas three years ago I feared change in myself more than almost anything else? Today, I'm ready to embrace it. God is so much bigger than I am. He has such a beautiful plan that I can't even start to imagine it. So if I'm going to change, I know it's to further His kingdom, His plan, His future for this world.

Convivencia: (noun) literally "living together", in the sense of living or working closely with other people with whom you share feelings, desires, or a common purpose.

Scripturient

I haven't felt the urge to write in a very, very long time. Kind of like the stories had dried up. But suddenly, now as so many things are changing and by all accounts I should be drowning, the urge is back - the need to document, to share, to express.

I stumbled upon some old poetry I had posted on my Facebook, and while I was definitely a little embarrassed by the dramatics of them, I also loved seeing who I was then. I tell the stories of that part of my life, the darkness and pain and fear, but six years later, it gets harder and harder to believe that it was real. Seeing those words on the screen attesting to the fact that those emotions were real in my life, if not at the time of the post then months before, is chilling. Along with that comes the comments I found underneath each piece, the compliments on my writing style and my talent and every so often, a very concerned friend who could actually see what was happening - a friend that I continued to push away.

From there I came back to this blog. I am amazed by the thoughts and feelings I had even a year ago that surfaced here. Patterns of behavior that I have only recently identified are so obvious now! Key moments that would drastically affect my life months and years later are documented so plainly, how did I miss them? This blog also documents a journey; scattered pieces of a much more complex path. I can relive the thoughts and emotions I had at different stages of my life, almost as if to reaffirm that they were indeed real. The older I get and the farther I travel from the now-infamous girl with too-heavy bangs and far too much black makeup the easier it is to forget her. To forget her as well as the girl who just wanted to stay in high school, or the girl who thought adolescence would forever define her, or the girl who felt irrevocably connected to people and places that are now so far away from this girl who sits here now, typing away in her dorm room.

The older I get the farther away all those girls seem, and the more important they become. Because without each of them, I wouldn't be this girl.

Scripturient: (adj) possessing the violent desire to write.

Fairy Tales

I think there has always been a part of me that wanted friendships out of a novel. Kids who grew up together, shared everything with each other, knew each other backwards and forwards, some who fell in love and in the end everyone lived in the same town and their kids all got married and everyone lived happily ever after. Fairy tale romances never appealed to me, but fairy tale friendships? That was my dream. I wanted that more than almost anything. I idealized it and as I grew up and realized the friends I had at 13 were not the friends I had at 16, or 18, and I was definitely not marrying any of the guys I’d been close with growing up, it made me rather sad. But I realize now that my friends are far better than any fairy tale, simply because they defied any boxes a novel would put them in.

In middle school and the first few years of high school, my friends were an eclectic group of “misfits”, at least that’s what we chose to define ourselves as. I don’t think anyone really saw us that way, but we enjoyed the distinction. We reveled in our uniqueness, sometimes exaggerating it. We loved being in plays together and having late night worship sessions under the stars. We watched some really crappy movies and sang show tunes in the car. We had girls’ nights and raves in the school locker rooms, and loved every silly beautiful second of it.

The summer after my sophomore year I was still a part of that group, but a new circle had formed. Outside of school, I had a new sort of family. Mostly boys but a few girls, we had this bond that to this day we can’t completely explain. Severely different people, but we shared something. Days after knowing them, we were starting a band, planning new ministries, forming a Frisbee team and giving each other nicknames. Before that summer, I had one brother and one sister. After that, I had more than a dozen. We played our techno music far too loud and danced under the black lights painted with high lighter ink. We spent afternoons and late nights lounging outdoors or in cramped bedrooms listening to music we’d never discovered before, talking about everything. Nerdy things, stupid things, funny things, life changing things… I learned more about that group of people in one night crowded in my friend’s tiny bedroom than I had ever learned about people before. We played endless games of Frisbee and drank more cans of Peace Tea than I can count. We watched trippy movies and spilled our souls. At summer camp we danced and screamed and cried during worship sessions that tore our souls apart. We shared the deepest parts of ourselves in the heat of Tennessee summers. We became family.

My senior year of high school, inexplicably, things changed. In school, for an unknown reason, I was no longer part of the circle I’d hung out with since elementary school. Nothing happened, no fights or falling outs, just somehow on the first day of my last year of high school, I ended up at lunch with the “popular guys”. My friend Erika and I somehow jumped from two different groups of mixed genders to being the only girls in a group of very different boys. To this day, we puzzle over how it happened, but truthfully? I couldn’t be more happy that it did. The friendships I made that year will be with me for a long time. I love those guys, our little bubble. I love their craziness and their individuality, their willingness to stand up for what they believe in as a whole and their loyalty to each other. I love that we had the greatest final English project in the history of the school and all the insane memories we made doing it. I love the complexity of our group, the relationships we had with each individual; I love the nicknames we gave each other and the inside jokes we shared. I love that we always sat in the same order at lunch and in study hall. I love the late night talks Erika and I had when we were worried over one of them, concerned about something happening in their life. I love that we still have those talks. I love the memories of basketball games with two or three of them, cheering despite the fact I almost never knew exactly what was happening. I love how they would always stack all the trash on one tray at lunch in such a way that it always fell down before we got it to the trash can. I love how even now I sometimes get a text just asking how my classes are going or when I’ll be home next because one of them misses me. We made memories to last a lifetime, memories that continue to define me.

Now I’m about to finish my freshman year of college. I didn’t feel ready. The church family had started to drift, the guy I sincerely believed to be my best friend ripped a hole in my heart that meant we couldn’t remain friends, my school friends parted ways for different colleges and jobs, and I started college feeling very friendless. Oh indeed, I had an amazing family, and immeasurably precious friendships with both my siblings and my boyfriend, but for the first time in many years, I felt very, very alone. I ate meals at a solitary table in the dining commons or out of to-go containers alone in my room, tagged along with my roommate and her friends from the soccer team, and generally felt sorry for myself. I couldn’t seem to find my way out of this isolated cocoon I’d spun myself into. Finally, God brought me a friend, a relationship that grew very slowly, given that we are both bookish introverts, but one that I desperately needed, and so did she. God put me in a place to serve by leading with the campus ministries coordinators and through that helped me build some new and wonderful relationships. Having built a foundation with the girls I lived with, it gave me confidence to make friends in my classes and at work, expanding my still rather small circle to the point where I’m truly sad to be leaving for the summer. I find myself having made new friends as recently as the last few days that I am really going to miss seeing on a regular basis.

I never had fairy tale friendships. My life and my friends are real and changing and ever expanding in ways that God has planned for us, and it is so SO much better than any fairy tale.

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?