The best policy

Here's the thing. You are always going to be you. So what I don't understand is why people feel the need to tell me to act different than the way I am in order to attract other people. This pertains to both platonic and romantic relationships. "Act like the kind of person you want to be to attract those sorts of people" they tell me. Which makes sense if you don't think about it. But what's to say that the people you're trying to attract aren't doing the exact same thing? They could be as big of a phony as you're being at yet there you may sit wishing you could be more like them. Why on earth would I want that? What is so wrong with being raw and honest and truthful about who you are? I am a sinner saved by grace. What I don't want is people who make the same mistakes I've made tell me maybe ill do better next time. I want someone who is going to sit with me in the muck and say this sucks and I'm right here with you - but how thankful Re we that we have a savior that loves us despite our shortcomings and encourages us to show others his infinite love. THAT'S the sort of person I want to be. And that's the sort of person I want to be around. Not the person who sweeps truth under the rug. So you go farther with a member of the opposite sex than you wanted to. I'm not saying proclaim it to the world but don't lie about it. I'll say it before and I'll say it again - I am a sinner saved by grace that is bound to wander but my loving savior continues to pursue me. It's okay that you're not perfect. Nobody is. Our saviors strength is made known in our weakness. Be honest with people. You may be surprised to find out that they're just as messed up as you are.

i'm not your star

Today I read an article on Thought Catalog that, as per usual, really struck home with me. The title was “I Can’t Tell You.” The premise of the entry is that the author has an acquaintance that they wish they could come clean with. Confess that they think about the person every day, and despite the fact that they don’t see much of each other – the author misses that person. The writer yearns to tell the admiree – get a yes or no answer just so long as there is an answer. What the writer doesn’t know is that sometimes the answer never comes.

You call the person crying about something, just hoping they’ll ask what’s really wrong because this shouldn’t be that upsetting. They don’t. Maybe it’s because you had just met their girlfriend a few days ago and they think you should know better than to think things would be like they were. But that can’t be it – he’s tried to convince you for years to marry him. He’s just tired like he said he was.

You finally muster up the “courage” to type out a text - it’s not eloquent, it’s actually quite self deprecating – and it’s definitely not the scene you imagined. You know the one. Where you show up at his apartment in the pouring rain and you look so pathetic that he has no choice but to take you into his arms and murmur the nickname that he had always had for you. Instead you ignore the pit in your stomach that is seemingly screaming at you not to send it and it floats off into cyber space to be delivered to his phone.

It’s late, so it isn’t weird that he doesn’t respond immediately.

24 hours pass. He’s still thinking it through.

48 hours go by. He still can’t think of what to say, right? Planning the perfect response.

It’s been four days and he comments on your facebook status – what is that supposed to mean?

You text him when you’re at a bar with friends because there’s a guy there that looks just like him and he’s dancing with somebody else.  The first one is a playful text, “hey I’m at a bar in Alabama and you should be here!” and then it gets later and you’re demanding that he respond because you need an answer – and there is still nothing. That screaming stomach pit is back and its arms are crossed with the “told you so” look.

Another week passes and there’s still noghint. And you have a breakdown in a bathroom when you’re out with friends and they’re trying to set you up with this guy. He’s cute and he’s great but it’s not the same. Your friend takes you by the shoulders and says “if he hasn’t answere by now – I think that’s an answer in and of itself.” And you realize you’ve been holding on to the hope that he would call and tell you he chose you. But that phone call isn’t coming.

Then a text comes – but it’s a mass text and it’s that he finally got a twitter account. And you reply, because you need to hear from him. It’s like a drug. And you tell yourself that being friends is better than nothing because he means that much to you.

So you go on a few dates – one of them even makes you think you’ll get over it. You think about it and realize it’s because he reminds you of the one and he’s just a temporary replacement - a consolation prize. Then you read the thought catalog article and you’re back to square one.

The worst part of it is that you saw it coming. How? Because in your song they don’t end up together. But you still sit there in that deep true melancholy wishing things had ended differently for you two because you two were different.

Even worse. You know you’ll see him at your brothers wedding, and you keep imagining the scenario in your head. How he’ll ask you to dance. And he’ll tell you he’s sorry. And he’ll kiss you and it will be perfect.

You’re a train wreck. And you know it. And it’s probably worse that you did tell him.

on your porch - the format

something that breaks my heart during the christmas/holiday season is when people complain about going home and having to "deal" with their families. my family was far from perfect, and we still don't come anywhere near functional. but looking back at my freshman year of college, the only year i came home from college before dad got sick, i am beyond grateful that i did not dread but rather so looked forward to coming home to spend time with my family. as wildly dysfunctional as we are, i am assured with all of my being that my family loves me and i love them right back. we're a group that recognizes how messed up we are and we can laugh about our imperfections. absolutely we had screaming matches where one member of the family would leave the house to take a drive and you didn't know when they would come back - but the point is they came back and all was forgiven. but these days i don't get to come home and spend time with my dad for thanksgiving, my birthday, or christmas. and yet people grumble about having to spend time with their families. people have no clue how lucky they are that their family is going to be all together this season. but despite the fact that i don't have the pleasure of having my daddy here for a third christmas, i am beyond blessed by the people that are still here and i will cherish every single moment that i have with each person because you never know when it could be the last time you see them.

hopeless wanderer

As a human, I would like to state that humans are the absolute worst. Here we exist with this Creator that loves us unconditionally and desires for us to find our value and significance in Him, and we continually forget it. Why do we constantly stray from the fact that we have a savior that wants to love us unconditionally without end? There's no sound reasoning behind it. Yet here I sit, a week after a beautiful quiet time where I was reminded to seek my value from the one who gave me life, and that fact has already strayed from my mind. Matthew 10:29 & 31 states "What is the price of two sparrows - one copper coin? but not a single sparrow can fall to the ground without your Father knowing it [...] So don't be afraid; you are more valuable to God than a whole flock of sparrows." And yet here I sit, eagerly awaiting wall posts and retweets in order to fulfill my need for a sense of worth. We are beyond flawed. But despite my shortcomings, I am ever grateful for a savior that unceasingly chases after my heart.

Rest

Tonight I had a nightmare that woke me up. Once I was awake I couldn't fall back asleep because I was scared. Typically when this happens I say a prayer and my fears alleviate and I fall back asleep. Such was not the case tonight. I fervently prayed for God to help me overcome my fear, but my fear remained. I finally reached a point that I realized I was just asking for God to do something for me because I needed it, and in the morning I'd say "Hey, thanks." and move along with my life until the next nightmare. So I began to pray that I would actively change this aspect of myself. That I would begin to actively seek him and have a two way relationship with him, us talking to each other rather than me just talking to Him. My fear remained. So I turned on the light, and found my Bible (sadly, after a little searching). As I opened it I turned to the Concordance and looked up "fear." I was expecting things along the line of "Perfect love drives out fear" - feel good fuzzy junk. What I found was that most passages on fear refer to fear of the Lord. Not so strong on the fuzzy warm feelings. So I get to thinking, 'hey - I'll just get started on reading John since I'm starting a Bible study on that.' I open my bible and my book marker is in Lamentations so it automatically falls open there. 'All right. Not my first choice but we'll give it a shot.' As I'm reading about how Judah has divorced herself from God, I hear this small voice. It said, 

"THIS is how I communicate with you."

That's the moment it all ended for me. In that moment I knew that in my past I had chosen to divorce myself from Christ and it was time to remember, as the author does in chapter three, 

"The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; 

his mercies never come to an end;

They are new every morning;

great is your faithfulness."

Lamentations 3:22-23 ESV

It is in these truths, that God is a force to be Feared and a God that does not give up on me, that I will choose to find my rest in.

fathers day

it's been a year and some odd months. the worst feeling in the world is having a dream about the loved one who passed away. it's even worse when you remember in your dream that they're no longer there and they become a ghost before you even wake up. then you do wake up and it's fathers day, and it's all you can do to roll out of bed.

still blessed

courtesy of weheartit

the past couple weeks i have started doing something i haven't put that much effort into throughout the course of my samford career. and that's putting time into being the sorority girl i dreamed of growing up to be. my first two and a half years i had mostly focused on developing friendships with the people it was easiest to do so with, the ones that would be stuck with me for the rest of my life because the majority of them live in orlando. but now i've been investing my time with a group of girls i call my sisters, and i could not be any happier about it. i had never made a conscious effort to reach out to them and let them see who i am as a person, or let them see my pain. this past week i finally decided to write down one of my prayer requests on the sheet of paper we pass around chapter. just a simple little phrase. the one year anniversary of my dad passing away is coming up. as soon as the email went out i received letters, emails, and text messages of people letting me know i, as well as my family, were in their prayers. wait a minute. the same girls i hadn't invested nearly as much time in as i should have? the ones i would abandon in order to spend time with my other group of friends? they all know i've considered dropping on more than one occasion, and i may not be the best Alpha Delt, but they are choosing to love me anyway and lift me up in a time of need all because i wrote one sentence on a sheet of paper. that's sisterhood. that's why i'm an alpha delt. that's why i love my sisters.

lit nerd

via Tattered Cover

The other day I had to annotate a monologue from Shakespeare's The Tempest, and it was quite possibly the angriest I had ever been. Why on earth am I supposed to care what word Shakespeare used at this particular time and why he did it? He didn't write it so that half a century later college students would curse his name. He wrote it to make our hearts feel something. I don't care what the authors of anything actually meant, how it applied to society in their specific time of living. Isn't it the dream of a true artist to have their audience relate to what they did? I shouldn't have to focus in on one word in one passage and focus on what that means. I should be focusing on the beauty of the entire work, and how it's still applicable in my own time.

comfort

i miss my dad. all the time. every day. and it still makes me cry thinking about the fact that i can't just write him a letter to say hey i love and miss you, or call him on the phone, or skype him, leave a funny video on his wall and laugh about it later. and it hurts so bad. i curl up in my bed and think about how much i miss him. but tonight i'm trying something new, rather than curling up in my desolation, i'm seeking comfort from the One whose care i'm in on earth, just as my sweet dad is in heaven.

Psalm 34:18

The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit

Psalm 71:20-21
Though you have made me see troubles, many and bitter, you will restore my life again; from the depths of the earth you will again bring me up. You will increase my honor and comfort me once again.

Lamentations 3:31-33
For men are not cast off by the Lord forever.Though he brings grief, he will show compassion, so great is his unfailing love.For he does not willingly bring affliction or grief to the children of men.

Matthew 5:4
Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.

blessed beyond measure

these are the faces of the people that have blessed me more than i could ever imagine. when my dad got sick, i had people in my life that i considered my "best friends" abandon me when i needed them the most. i had gone through times where i didn't try to invest in the guys in the picture at all, and they were the ones who came up beside me and lifted me up in prayer. some of the people who first knew when i was going home for potentially the rest of the semester are in that photo with mr beeson. (and yes, they're the same guys that i've written about before. i'm clearly obsessed with the boys of Smith 2E i've come to know as my family.) as for the girls on the right, they rock my world. we were all roommates at one point, and i have a photo with the exact same girls from the day of my dads funeral. on a day when sadness could have overcome me, they brought me laughter and joy. i may or may not get tears in my eyes when i think about the fact that these are my lifelong friends; and i know that if i should ever need anything at all, i can call up any single one of these fabulous people and they would drop anything and everything to come help me out. 2E and the sweethearts have blessed me beyond measure.