Victory and its King

*** Warning: Deep waters ahead ***

I haven't posted in over a year. Let me give you a picture of what this last year has held for me.

On September 30, 2016, my fighting spirit died. Up until that point I had called myself a conqueror and had not given into my anxiety and depression. That night they took over. I was at a worship night. The irony (and beauty) of this is that the theme of this worship night was resurrection. We were all wearing white and singing praises to our God who has conquered the grave.

I could not stop crying. I was overcome by my depression and anxiety. I was ready to give up. I texted my boyfriend and said,

"I have never wanted to die more than I do right now".

Shortly after that I lost control over my thoughts and slowly the madness descended over my body and I could not even control my breath. 

Saturday, October 1st, 2016, I checked myself into a psychiatric hospital in Franklin, Tennessee. I was lower than I had ever been before. While explaining to a nurse why I was there, I remember she choked back tears as I told her that I didn't want to live anymore and the most frustrating part about having that desire was I knew that I would never actually hurt myself. 

I was in the hospital for 5 days. Reassured that I was not a threat to myself or others, the doctors released me back into my "normal" life. 

Everyone that loves me kept telling me to cling to God. "You can do all things through Christ who strengthens you", "God knows what you're going through", "He's holding you", "Give it over to Him and He will heal you". Blah. Blah. Blah. I was so angry at God. I stopped reading my bible. I stopped going to small group. I stopped serving with the junior highers without telling anyone. I stopped going to service altogether. I stopped praying before I ate. I wanted absolutely nothing to do with God. 

I believe, very strongly, that the Lord has told me that I am going to deal with anxiety and depression, to some degree, for the rest of this life. I've known that for a long time now, but after being in a psych hospital the reality of it began to set in. I have felt trapped and abused by my own mind. I have not been able to see an "out" for my struggle. I don't have a foreseeable end to this suffering. I began to grieve the loss of the life I could've had, had God chosen to heal me. If that even makes sense. I began to believe that I would never see victory over my mental illness. 

This approach to my mental health was incredibly destructive and it took its toll. I have never been through such a dark time in my entire life. Riddled with suicidal thoughts, grief, anger, and sometimes hatred; I knew that I was in the wrong. 

God is a healer, yes. He hates to see us broken and LOVES to set us free from our ailments. But when He chooses not to heal, He is entirely justified. He has told me that I am more useful to the kingdom with the testimony of an ongoing struggle than I am with a testimony of miraculous healing. Somewhere down the line, there will be a person struggling with something similar and I will be equipped with an intimate knowledge of their situation and therefore in a place where I will be able to speak into that person's life. And to God, one more soul in Heaven is worth it. 

I know all this, deep within my heart. I know He is right. I know He is good. I know He is faithful. I know He is just. I know He cares for me. I know that I am single-handedly responsible for the wall that has now been built between Christ and me. But that didn't change the fact that I was in the middle of a grieving process and that I had emotions that Christ also deemed valid.

He is not afraid of my questions or anger or doubt or grief. He just wants me back.

***

I began writing this post about 4 months ago. God has come through all the noise so clearly to tell me that I am not alone in my suffering and that I will not be left this way (He brings healing in eternity). This journey back to Him is difficult. At times, I am still angry. At times, I am still scared. At times, I still do not feel safe in church. I do not pick up my bible every day. I do not pray to Him every day. But, I'm trying. I'm doing my best and God is accepting that with open arms. He will not turn me away just because I'm not where I used to be. This is all that I have right now and He looks at it, smiles, and sees infinite value where I see brokenness and worthlessness.

I began writing this post almost exactly a year after I was released from the hospital. I wanted to say something corny about how God foreshadowed my "resurrection" with the theme of that worship night. But, some days, I still feel like I'm in the grave. And that's okay. Right now, I'm in a valley. I'm learning who I am again. I'm trying to find the girl that anxiety and depression buried. She's here. Somewhere. I hope.

I'm seeing God from a new angle. From here, to me, everything looks like loose ends with no destination. But the King has promised to bring all things to completion. I don't know what that looks like for me, but I'm here. Trying to hang on, while He does most of the work. And that's okay for right now. Tomorrow I will get out of bed, and I will try my best again. That, by itself, is a victory.

The Time that I Thought I'd be Homeless...

Y'all, Jesus is so good. I will never know how much He has done for me. I will never know the extent of what my life cost of Him. Even in seasons where I am deliberately running from Him, He madly pursues me and continues to work things in my favor. And then all of that comes back to glorify Him. HOW?!?! I will never know. He meets with me one-on-one when I pray and listens to every word I'm saying. I will never know how much He cares for me. He is on my team: every time.

The Lord is blowing my mind lately; in the ways that He provides for me and so faithfully teaches me and leads me. He is so good. He did everything for me (which is convenient, given how lazy I am). Wow. Since I've moved to Tennessee, I have seen Him move in new ways. He has grown me in ways I never could have imagined.

This past month, my living situation has been, very uncomfortably, up in the air. I'm not too fond of the idea of indefinitely couch surfing, even though I have amazing people in my life that wouldn't let me sleep in my car. I had two prospective roommates and we were looking for a three person house to live in. I will emphasize the word house. I have no interest in living in an apartment or student housing of any kind. Given that I live in a college town, there are a lot of rental houses available. However, the other two decided to go in a different direction.

After my (quite unnecessary) panic attack settled, I started asking around to see what my options were. I did not want to do the random roommate thing. The very. next. day. I got a text from a girl who is friends with one of the girls in my small group. This girl said her and two other friends were renting a four bedroom apartment and didn't want a random roommate in the fourth room. Given that our mutual friend is an awesome gal and very trustworthy, I figured that these, too, were solid girls.

However, I've already expressed my dislike for student housing and apartments. This four bedroom was both... So, being the stubborn person I am, I ignored the blessing that God placed in front of me and kept looking, while keeping the door open to the four bedroom as a back-up. I can be so ungrateful sometimes.

Over the course of the next week and a half, I was coming up empty. Now I can see why: because God had already given me what I needed. But, since it wasn't I wanted, I turned my nose up at it. Jesus has humbled me so much these past few days (obviously, this was much needed). He so clearly revealed to me that He had already given me everything I needed. And I mean E V E R Y T H I N G. This apartment is incredibly affordable, completely furnished, comes with roommates recommended by someone I trust. This place even has in-unit laundry, utilities included in the super cheap rent, and a shuttle to my school if I don't feel like dealing with the atrocious parking situation on campus.

Thankfully, this door was still open. I filled out an application for the apartment complex last night and was pre-approved! And then I promptly fell on my face and praised the God who graciously gives all things. He is a good, good father who delights in taking care of His children.

Matthew 6:25-34

My incredible boyfriend sent me this passage during my panic attack and my response was "I hate that verse". Yes, I actually said that about the Word of The Living God. I can be so arrogant. (I had A LOT to apologize for in my prayer time following this ordeal). But, the truth of His word does not depend on my feelings about it at any given time - praise Him for that, haha! 

I am so thankful for the way that God works in my life. He has given me so much that I don't deserve and saved me from so much that I probably do deserve. He's teaching me to be teachable through some pretty tough lessons, but I am so grateful that He hasn't given up on me even when it would be totally justified. He's so good. My only response is to try and bring Him glory with my life.

When People Fail You

The most powerful thing we are capable of as humans is loving one another. This is also one of the most important things that we're capable of. Relationship is essential to us.

Friends, family, and significant others assist us through the challenges in life and are also present to celebrate our victories. We aren't meant to do life alone. Community matters. We need people in our lives to help us when we can't help ourselves or to encourage us when we can't see the light at the end of the tunnel. The joyful moments are so much better when we have people we love and trust to share them with. 

Sometimes, though, we put too much on a person: our expectations are too high. We want someone to come through on something and then they just.... don't. They let you down. Regardless of whether it's intentional or not, pain comes with it. Disappointment and hurt accompany it. We forget that the people in our lives are human and we are so abruptly reminded at the moments where it's least convenient. 

People fail us. It's never a fun occurrence, but it's a fact of life. In those moments, all we can control is our reaction. Do I get angry or do I have grace? I have found myself in this position many times before. I've also been on the other side, begging for my friend to see and forgive my humanness. 

It's here where I start to lose faith in my friends and wonder if hurt is just something I'm going to have to cope with forever. It's here where I have began to question whether or not some friendships are worth continuing. It is here where trust has been ruptured and scars have been formed. And it's here, also, that I'm reminded of the perfection of my Savior. He will never fail. He comes through, every time. 

People suck. We all have experience in that. We're all broken. And yet, somehow, we still have a capacity for deep and moving love. It's incredible really. More often then not, that love is stronger after it's taken a hit. Doesn't really make sense, does it? We see the deepest, ugliest flaws in people and we give them more of ourselves. Why?

We empathize with the human quality that's revealed in those moments: imperfection. It's the thing that nobody wants to admit they possess and much less show others. Through the pain of the incident, we see a bit of the truth that we hold as well. The truth that neither can we give it all every time; no matter how badly we wish we could.

But, the question still stands: grace or anger? I think that healing happens more abundantly and and rapidly when grace is extended. Now, there are sometimes where toxic people enter our lives and we have to let them go, but that can be done in grace as well. The natural instinct is to get mad when wronged, which makes it a hard instinct to fight. But, if that can be overridden by grace, how different would relationship look?

Elevating people to a position higher than where they should be is crushing when it inevitably collapses. I know that sometimes I forget that humans are humans and, in particularly difficult periods, I treat them as lifelines. This always backfires on me. We all fall short. Jesus is the only one who upholds and exceeds our standards. He's everything we will ever need. People can't fill that place, no matter how badly I want them too. This is so hard because people are tangible. I can physically hug a friend when I'm hurting. But, Jesus offers more and I forget that.

Here's the cool thing that I've learned recently. Community rocks. I love people. And the Lord still lets us have community even when we abuse relationships and put people above Him. He extends grace when we fail Him. Every time. He picks us up, dusts us off, and shows us how to do it better. He teaches us how to give this same type of grace when we're faced with failure as well.

We can love because He first loved us. He can give grace because he has given it to us. We can move forward because He has made a way. When people fail us, we can forgive and rebuild because that's what the Lord does for us.

Easier said than done, I know. It's just a thought I had. 

Take Two

So, I haven't posted in a while. So much has happened since I've begun my life down here in Tennessee. 

I love living down here; being so close to Nashville makes my heart leap! There are always adventures to go on and interesting people to meet. And I'm finally able to physically step into it.

Around September, I began having knee problems. It resulted in countless doctor appointments, 4 ER visits (one of which began in an ambulance), a mound of medication that caused my stomach to want revenge, and, finally, a surgery. Now that it is all said and done, I can actually start to put down "roots" - whatever that means in college. 

Ideal? No. Not in the slightest. It made the transition next to impossible. When you're in that much pain all the time, making friends isn't exactly on the radar. Being an extrovert, that was a huge obstacle. Especially, since I didn't have an established community physically around me. Although, I have amazing friends back home who came to see me and love me so well, I was so incredibly lonely. 

I have never known depression like this. I have never known anxiety like this. 

More importantly, I have never known the Lord like this. 

Challenge after challenge and He is my constant, my rock. I didn't always press into that, but it was always available to me. He carried me. He provided for me exactly what I needed every time. He is good. 

While I'm not thrilled with my opening act here in The South, I know there's a purpose to it. Don't ask me what it is, haha, I just have faith that it exists. Through the loneliness and pain (physical and emotional) I've grown so much. But, I can happily say that I'm being brought back to myself again,

I can run around. I have the energy for new friends and late nights. I have the desire for exploration. I have my love for people back in focus. I have the strength to open even the heaviest of doors on campus without assistance. I have the eagerness to get involved in new things. And I have a God who has equipped me to do all of that better. 

I'm so excited to be coming out of the woods. My zest for this chapter of life has been restored and I'm ready to get it started - for real this time. 

Thanks to everyone who has been so encouraging to me (near and far). Thanks to the people who took my 3 am phone calls. Thanks to the pals that went with me to the hospital. Thanks to the friends who went out of their way to drive me around while I was on crutches. Thanks to all of you who had patience with me. Thanks to those who dealt with me through all my medication. Thanks for being part of my life even when it ain't so pretty. 

Here's to take two! Let's hope it's a good one! 

Good 'ol Ma and Pop

We all resent our parents at one point or another growing up. Sometimes those things are never reconciled and that is an unfortunate case. However, my parents and I now have a great relationship. They trust me. I trust them. I involve them in my life and they treat me like an adult.

It's funny how much you learn from your parents after you move a few states away. Many, many times I have called my mom to tell her exactly how right she has been my entire life. I relearn their lessons on a daily basis: speak kindly, think before you open your mouth, listen to people that know more than you, listen to people in general, stay in church, find christian community, be a good friend to get good friends, etc. I am so blessed with the parents God gave me.

The most important thing my parents have taught me was never actually said. It's all in the way they live and love. Now, upon entering young adulthood, I can't help but start to daydream about marriage and my future family. Looking at the way my parents love each other and how they have made it 25+ years without calling it quits, I am truly amazed.

Even just the way they look at each other says so much. They have done their best at every turn to keep God as the center of their relationship and as the true head of our family. They sought wise counsel in the particularly rough patches and made sure that my siblings and I not only had good friends, but also adults that we could trust. They kept us in church and set an example of just how important it is to serve.

I am blown away by the way they so intentionally approached parenting. Now that I see it from a different perspective, I'm left speechless. (Not to mention, absolutely terrified that I'm going to be a horrible parent, haha). They payed attention to each of my three siblings and I individually and tailored their parenting style accordingly. Be it punishments, rewards, communication styles, or sense of humor, my parents realized that we were each our own little person and they didn't parent any of us the same way. I cannot even fathom how difficult that must've been.

Admittedly, my family still has issues. There still exist some bumps and bruises from my childhood that I have not completely healed from. However, as I get further away from my younger years, both in age and geography, I start to see why things happened. And I am so incredibly thankful for the grace that God gave my parents to act with. I begin to understand the things my parents hid from me and why. I also begin to understand the toll that life takes on people after a while and the importance of apologies.

Surely, I'm not done learning the wisdom that my parents showed me throughout my life. I'm most definitely not done being humbled by God and His way of showing me to listen to the warnings they gave, probably more than once. I am beyond grateful for the parents I got placed with and I did absolutely nothing to deserve them. I hope that I have a fraction of the parenting skill they have and even an ounce of the marriage they are both so devoted to. Here's to Mom and Dad

A Coffee Shop in Nashville

Sitting down in Nashville my heart is slow, my breath is light, and my spirit is content; peace comes over me and I know that this is where I belong.

Holding a warm cup of my favorite caramel drink, I feel at home. Music City creates an atmosphere of dreams and diversity. The most amazing array of people converge on this spot in pursuit of a lifetime aspiration or simply a good time and funny story to take home. This place is truly one of a kind.

The stories to be heard here, the times to be had here, the songs yet to be sung, and the friends yet to be made all compose the wonder of this town. I cannot wait to be swept up in it. Never before have I felt so called to be somewhere.

I can't help but let my mind dance with the thoughts of what God has for me here. Looking around at the life and color of the city bring a smile to my face and a glow to my eyes. This is my city. This is where I will thrive. This is where I will have the greatest times of my life. 

Walking its streets, I'm simply in awe of the One who brought it all to be. He reigns here. He has guided me to this place and made me capable of feeling the joy I have here. Whatever comes my way, I will stand secure in who He is and His purpose for me. I don't know what's in store, but I know the one who orchestrates all.

Sitting here, at a coffee shop in Nashville, adventure awaits me.

My Beginning to Forever

Here I am. Sitting in the place that I have dreamed of for almost four years now. It's so surreal.

It's been difficult: getting used to living seven hours from everything I know. I don't know many people and that's hard, being an extrovert.

It's odd seeing everyone walking around campus with their friends, knowing that I don't have that option yet. I know it will come, but until it does I'll just be sitting under this tree, watching others' lives go by.

I'm excited! I really am. But, I also kind of just want a hug from a friendly face. I'd never understood the significance of being fully known until the last couple days. I know that friends will come and I will be established eventually. I've been trying to get out and go meet people and spend time with new roommate.
For some reason I just keep crying.

I'm not homesick. Don't get me wrong, I love home. I miss my friends and family! But, my heart is content here. I desire to be here.

I think I'm mourning the loss of everything I knew. I haven't lost it of course: I will keep up with my friends and family and come visit. But the dynamic of everything in the Midwest in relation to my life has drastically changed. It won't ever be the same again. It won't ever be home again.

I'm building my home.

Change. I've always heard that no body likes change: that we are all creatures of habit. I think I disagree. I think we long for change, we just let ourselves mourn our loss. This is not wrong. We need to mourn. But, we also need to move forward.

So I move forward. I walk out of my dorm (making sure I lock the door behind me;). remembering where I've been and looking forward to where I'm headed.

"How lucky am I to have something that makes saying good-bye so hard."

In less than 48 hours I will be saying goodbye to the town where I have spent my entire life up to this point. I've been climbing the walls to get out of here since I can remember! Up until my junior year of high school I didn't know what my future destination would be, I just knew it would be far from here. If I never see a corn stalk again it'll be too soon. When I discovered my passion for music and my knack for selling t-shirts ;), I knew that Nashville is where I belonged. And I haven't shut up about it since!

I thought that I would pack up and never look back: ready to take on whatever life had to throw at me, as long as it didn't include the Midwest. Of course I love my family! They're great! I will definitely make time to see them and continue to invest in their lives. However, I didn't have many close friends in the area so family was the only thing here for me... that is until my freshman year of college.

Last night I found myself weeping during worship at my last service with my companions from my first year of college. They have walked through life with me this past year and have shown me what true community is about. Don't tell any of them this, but I seriously reconsidered staying here so I could continue this journey with them:). But, my heart longs for Tennessee and it is my dream!

My Campus Church (now Encounter) family will always hold a special place in my heart. Doing ministry with them this past year has truly humbled me and opened my eyes to what being the church really means. Each and every one of them lives knowing the truth that God is with them and it shows. They are a light in the darkness of every college campus in this town (and that's a lot of campuses!).

You are the people that I will tell my children about when they head off to college. You are the friends that I will always share a special bond with. Yours are the memories I reminisce on when I'm feeling disconnected. You, the people holding me up, are the only reason I made it through this last year standing. You made this sojourner feel at home in a difficult transition year. And yours are the photos hanging on my dorm room wall.

My heart is heavy leaving them, but my head is held high knowing that we will be together again. If it's not Christmas break then it will be Heaven:).

Thoughts on Thinking

I've recently discovered a great respect I have for talented thinkers. Of course, we're all thinkers! But we're not all C.S. Lewis-es  or Einsteins. It seems that some people have discovered how to use their brains in a better way than the rest of the world. Becoming a better thinker is an aspiration that I have found myself longing after. 

To me, being a talented thinker means to be able to hold conflicting ideas in ones head simultaneously while seeing the validity in each. It means to have a thirst for a deeper understanding of, well, everything. It means being able to hold up ones side of an intellectually challenging conversation. On those same lines of communication, thinking well means to be able to convey ones thoughts and ideas in an way that is received well by audiences. It means not letting ones brain go idle.

I aspire to be a better thinker. I want to be better informed about the world around me. I want not only to know a lot, but to be able to put that knowledge to use in a meaningful way. I want to be able to play with ideas in my head and come up with answers and ideas that rely on other peoples work, but also contain a hint of the capability of  my brain.

My high school world history teacher once told that at this point in time there are no original thoughts left. Everything that I have ever thought about, debated, written, or spoken has been thought about, debated, written, and spoken before. Total bummer, right? I simply don't understand how that can be even close to true. There is so much left unknown about, well, everything. And if there are still things that we have yet to discover, does that not leave things that we haven't  thought about, debated, written, and spoken? I'd like to think that there is still mystery left on this planet.

In pursuit of my goal, I have come up with some things that I believe will lead to bettering the quality of my thinking. Reading and writing are powerful tools for this. They engage the brain in many ways. Reading is a great way of collecting knowledge and writing is a great way of conveying knowledge. Those concepts are pretty easy to pick out, but take time and discipline to develop. I've also discovered that listening is a really helpful technique for becoming a better thinker. I have room to grow in all of these areas, but listening is especially difficult for me. It's a skill I'm still learning.

I really admire people that posses the self-discipline it takes to skillfully think as a lifestyle. This goal is not one that can be achieved necessarily, it 's more a matter of consistently growing in it. I look forward to figuring out what my brain is capable of doing.


 

The Waiting Room

"Experience is a brutal teacher, but you learn. My God do you learn". - C.S. Lewis

Waiting to be delivered from a rough spot is one of the hardest periods of life. We constantly cry out to God: "Where are you?!", "Help me!", "Can you hear me?", "When will this end?".  There always seems to be something that we are waiting on God for. This is not a bad thing, we are called to be dependent on God. It's just that waiting really sucks.

Waiting for healing, for redemption, for the end of a bad life storm: These waiting periods leave us scared because it's bad and we don't know how it's going to end. Not knowing and not feeling like we're in control is absolutely terrifying.

God is in control. Always. No question. And he is faithful. Always. No matter what. These are the things I do know. Even in the waiting, I still know He is good.

When a child gets scared, he runs behind his mother's legs and clings on for life. He doesn't know what's going to happen, but he knows that his mom loves him and she will take care of him.

We are God's children. He loves us and he will take are of us. When I can't count on my friends, I can count on God's companionship. When I can't count on my strength, I can count on God's redemption. When I can't count on my plans to work out, I can count on God's sovereignty. When I can't count on the sun coming up, I can count on God's faithfulness. When I can't count on tomorrow, I can count on God's eternity.

The thing I'm learning is that I don't need to know. I don't need to have the answers. I follow a good Shepard and he will not let me wander from the path. The things I do know surpass those that I don't. Easier said than done, I know. But, I'm learning: leaning on the one who holds me.

"...God is greater than my heart and He knows everything". 1 John 3:20b

The Truth About My Anxiety

Anxiety alters my reality.

No two people see the world the same way, but for people who have anxiety disorders, it's a whole different story.

I don't know exactly when anxiety began to be prevalent in my life, but looking back I see where it was creeping in. Then, about a year ago, I was diagnosed with a disorder.

I just thought I was going crazy! What, with all the panic attacks and the constant, reeling thoughts.
People would tell me, "it's all in your head". And they are right. That's the problem.

The hard thing about anxiety is that it is 'all in your head'. For example: With a broken bone, the diagnosis is easy and everybody knows what's going on and they know how to help. Same with the flu, everybody knows how it feels and they all have a favorite mother's remedy to give you. But, with anxiety (or depression), it's not that simple.

You see, often times people with these disorders get really good at hiding it. So they seem to function like a "normal" person. That is until something triggers it. And then suddenly everything changes: little things become harder, daily tasks are not in the realm of possible, and fear is lurking in every corner of the mind. When this is going on, it's all I can think about. It's almost impossible to see beyond the walls closing in on me. Some days, getting out of bed is my only victory.

When anxiety gets triggered, no one around knows how to help unless they've been there before. And those people just know there's no way to help. If you've never seen someone having a panic attack, it can be horrifying: hyperventilating, crying, shaking. I don't blame anyone for being scared by seeing one of my attacks. Recently, I had one that sent me to the ER. When my mom found me, I was in the fetal position and my fingernails had turned blue because I wasn't breathing.

This is something that is not within my control. It is not something I have learned how to fight yet. I will get there.

I usually don't know what will trigger a panic attack. Sometimes it will get triggered and then the next time that very same thing won't trigger it. It's a hard way to live. Medicine has to be tweaked over and over again until just the right combination can be found for my body specifically.

Two things about anxiety and depression must be understood: 1. They are real. 2. They are medical conditions. Ignorance of these two facts is not an excuse for treating someone with these disorders like any less of a human being. We don't bite. It's just a little bit harder for us sometimes. We don't belong in the psych ward.

Don't get me wrong. My life, even with anxiety, is not the worst. Everybody struggles. And we all struggle differently. This should also be understood. Tolerance is something we often lack as a society.

For a while I viewed taking medication everyday as a bad thing. I often thought, "Why do I have to do this to be normal? Why do I need help to function properly?". Then I realized, we all need help to function properly. We all have to do daily maintenance. We all need water everyday and food. I just happen to have a few pills added onto that list and I'm not alone on that one.

Anxiety is something I struggle with. It does not control my life. It will not take me over. It will not win.

These past few weeks have been a whirlwind for me. I have been sent home from work several times. I have either been late to class or skipped it all together. I cannot complete a homework assignment without my mom sitting next to me or I'll have a panic attack. Being alone is not an option. And on the spiritual side of things, (this is the hardest part) nothing Jesus related is resonating with me right now.

Like I said, anxiety alters my reality. My friends keep telling me to press in and pray hard. This is good advice, but for some reason it doesn't make much sense to me right now. I know in my head that Jesus is the only option. I know that He is bigger than this. I know that He has already won. But there's some days I can't bring myself to believe it. Opening my bible is a tiring and frightening task. However, I'm being honest about where I'm at.

It's not wrong to struggle. I believe with every fiber of my being that this is temporary. Even if it lasts the rest of my earthly life, it cannot follow me to eternity. And I'm trying. I'm trying so hard! I'm just not there yet. I will learn and I will get better.

The New York Experiance

For my first ever college spring break I went on a mission trip with my church. We hit the streets of New York City for a week to talk to people, pray with them, and most importantly, get them connected with Jesus.

I'd never been to the Big City before. I'd also never been on a mission trip. In preparation for this trip, all team members had to go to "story training" to learn techniques for effectively spreading the gospel. No matter how many times I looked through those booklets and practiced asking the questions, nothing could have prepared me for what God was going to do that week.

I met actors, business men, college students, homeless people, atheists, agnostics, passionate Christ followers, people that just weren't sure, and everyone in between. That combination of people makes for a pool of interesting stories and that's exactly what I got. God is teaching me how to listen.

I love to talk and I love to be heard, but I am not the only one with a good story. I don't always have to be the one making everyone laugh, or the one that's giving advice, or the one that's talking about my obstacles. It's important to share life with the people around you! I realized that they knew so much about me and loved me so well, but I had not often enough taken the time to listen to them and learn more about them so I could be a better friend for them. It's not about me.

During the week, there was one day in particular where our group was wandering around Washington Square Park in pairs engaging the people that happened to be there. My partner and I ran into two young ladies who were taking a poll about the environment of the park. We got to talking to them about their thoughts on our four worldview questions that were designed to lead into a conversation about Jesus (How do you think it all began? What's wrong with the world? Is there any hope? And what does the future hold for you when your time on earth is done?). One of the girls had an interesting answer to the second question and I wanted to inquire more about it. When I began to talk, my partner said "just wait". Of course he wasn't being mean. He thought I was going to go into the story of Jesus before we were done asking the questions. It was just a misunderstanding between us, but that was the moment when I realized my tendency to dominate conversation. My comments are not the most important.

Learning to listen is one of the most valuable things I've learned in college so far. I don't have it down yet: interrupting is a bad habit of mine. I also like to turn conversations back to me. I'm practicing listening:) And practice makes perfect!

I got to first hand witness God moving and working in our world during my time in NYC. He is such a BIG and loving God. He designed every moment of the universe and of our lives to bring that group of 31 people together for the sole purpose of bringing him glory. Impenetrable bonds were formed among the team and we all left impacted. It's safe to say we will never be the same people we were stepping onto that plane in Midway Airport.

The Story Wall

Last week I had an amazing opportunity to work a story wall on my campus.


This story wall was a place for people to come and share bits and pieces of their lives with willing and ready to listen volunteers. Three themes arched this past week: thankfulness, struggles, and hopefulness. Each day my companions and I would ask a new question and tell the participants to write down their answer and tell a story about it. They got a free piece of candy in return and we received a collection of words and phrases that represented the hearts of those who wrote them.

For me specifically, this was a learning experience. I'm learning about the value of people. I see these people in the halls and in class almost every day, but it becomes the norm to ignore them and hang out with the people I've already befriended. These people don't simply exist when I see them. They have a background, struggles, celebrations, and a future and they are desperately wanting to  be heard.

Of course some people didn't want to participate and some only told goofy stories so they could get free candy, but even those stories said a lot about the person. I stood there for a few hours each day listening to people talk about what's going on in their worlds! Some people didn't even want candy, they just wanted to tell us a story. Everything from kidney transplants, to stories about Afghanistan, to pets, to a plethora of young men that were especially thankful for their mothers.

My favorite story (not that I'm choosing favorites;) was that of an older Chinese man. He didn't speak English very well, but he still wanted to tell us all about his new granddaughter. He also told my friend Laura and I about his journey as a Christian in China. "Church?! That means you love Jesus?!" This is what he exclaimed when we told him the wall was set up by a campus ministry we were a part of! To hear someone be this excited about the presence of the church on campus made the whole experience that much more meaningful. We were there to encourage people, but we ended being so blessed by our conversation with this particular man. We were able to hear about his baptism and his daughters faith and influence on his. He left to go back to China this month, but his story is one that I will not forget.

Everyone has a unique story to bring to the world. Everyone has friends, hard times, funny childhood memories, and aspirations. All stories hold significance. Every person matters infinitely to God and simply by that fact, every person should matter infinitely to me as well. This experience taught me how to listen better and care better for people. I'm not generally one for small talk. Every time I have a conversation with someone, I like to walk away knowing one more thing about them than I did when the conversation began. I was able to exercise that and meet some awesome new people. The story table was a very humbling experience that opened my eyes to lives and stories that were different than mine.

Why I Love to Write

Writing is a release. 


Something happens when the jumbled thoughts in your head become a coherent story on a piece of paper or a computer screen. You begin to figure things out: things about yourself, your situation, life in general. It all starts to make sense. Even if no one were to read it, there's something empowering about knowing an audience has the ability to understand what's going on in your head. 

I've been writing for as long as I can remember: poems, stories, journals. I was the typical little girl with my journal hidden under my mattress. It sat there for years. Some nights I would spill my secrets and others I wouldn't touch it. As I grew older my writing changed, it went from secrets and crushes, to the complaints of a disgruntled preteen, to daily chronicles, to real life happenings, prayers, notes, everything. 

I faithfully return to writing whenever I venture off for a month or so. It's how I organize myself. It's how I deal with whatever life hands me, or rather hurls at me. It's how I focus my thoughts. The mind is an easy place to get lost in and I have yet to find a gas station that sells that map. Finding my way out can be calming. When I feel trapped, I take to the pen and tell the pages what it's like in here -- while unraveling the nonsense the first time for myself as well. 

Writing is the only thing that truly grants do-overs. I can mess it up until I get it right and my journal will except every attempt -- in full. The backspace button is undoubtedly the best invention. Once pressed, the letters are gone forever, never to be seen again (unless you hit the undo button -- also a great invention). 

Words don't always do the job. We've all been at a spot where there is no way to express the emotion welling up in our chests. However, words can help. Crafting, mending, twisting, refining them until it's exactly what needs to be heard by others. 

Writing provides an avenue to be heard. This is a desire in all of our hearts: simply to be heard. Every story counts. I just tend to write mine out.

My writings have the potential of being a catharsis of emotion crying out to God or a simple thank you accompanied by a list of reasons why my day was great, and anywhere in between. I love writing and sharing my stories.