Grace Upon Grace: Freshman Year

     As I look back on my first year of college all I can do is smile.  It was one of the hardest things I have ever done but it was also by far the most rewarding.  I like to say that I don't regret anything.  That's hard to do.  There are things that I could have done much better and things that I should not have done, but everything I learned from.  Every mistake I made grew me into who I am now.

     I realize that as I was going into college I didn't know myself.  I was holding on to a piece of all that I am, but there were so many more layers that I had yet to uncover.  Even now I'm realizing there is so much more to me than I think.  There are parts of me that are so underdeveloped it almost scares me but then are parts that make me confident and proud to be who I am.  I think it's important to know who you are, the ugly parts and the polished parts of yourself that you let others see.  We are broken, but that's what makes us beautiful.  We are a mosaic of God's creation, allowing His light to reflect through us and create a beautiful display of all that He is.

      I want to be the best broken piece of His majesty that I can be.

      The morning that I first went to Cornerstone; the very first day of freshman year, I knew my life would never be the same.  That one day clearly separated the first eighteen years of my life from the rest.  I had no idea what to expect.  I thought I was so prepared and I knew exactly what college would be like, but it was so much more than I ever imagined.  Sometimes I wish I could go back to that day and tell myself how amazing it all would be.  I could point to different people and say, they'll be your friend, they'll help you through a hard time, they'll pray for you, they'll laugh with you, they'll make late night Ihop runs with you, they'll teach you something about yourself.

      And while I don't regret anything, there are a few things that I wish I would have done.  I wish I would have been more selfless.  In a time of self-discovery it can be easy to forget those around you and the impact that one person can have on many.  I'd like to think that I had a positive impact overall, but I know there were times when I acted selfishly and I chose my happiness over someone else's.  I felt in that sense I lost myself.  I have always tried my very hardest to please others, for better or worse.  I firmly believe that I am here not for my own good, but for the good of others.  Sometimes I chose to deny that part of myself in favor of something more pleasing.

      I dealt with people that were disappointed in me, which was almost a foreign concept.  It was a challenge for me to accept that I could hurt or disappoint people.  To have others tell you that there is something you need to work on hurts.  My first reaction is to make excuses, to justify my actions, but sometimes I just need to accept that I'm wrong.

      The unofficial official theme for my dorm, Pickitt Hall, was "Grace Upon Grace."  I didn't think about it until after I left, but that is a reflection of what I've learned in living with hundreds of other college students.  When you live together you see each other at your best and worst times.  It's pretty easy to assume things about situations, about people, and to think thoughts that aren't really true.  We all need grace.  I need grace, you need grace.  No one is perfect and everything would be so much easier if we could all just remember that.

      But back to the good, because there was so much good.

Do good.

     One lone seashell was carried by the waves rolling up on the shore.  It was visible through the translucent ocean water but not fully, just barely, as though it was more of a mirage than an actual shell.  As the tide continued to churn, the shell was constantly in upheaval, moving forward and back and forward again. 

     I watched it intently.  With a hand full of shells for some reason, I was drawn to this one.  It wasn’t perfect, in fact, it appeared to be broken in half, but still the part that remained was beautiful.  There’s something oddly poetic about a broken shell.  Clearly, it was once whole, but there was a specific moment in time when it wasn’t anymore.  Or maybe there were many moments; times when it was broken by one thing or another.  Regardless of how it happened, it causes one to wonder, how?  As the shell has followed the ebb and flow of the ocean, where has it gone?  If it had eyes, what would it have seen?

     I watched this one roll in and out with the tide and something inside nagged me to go grab it.  But it was submerged beneath the waves.  I didn’t really want to get my feet wet when there were mounds of shells on the dry sand, without the threat of waves.  I continued to watch it for a bit, waiting for the waves to roll back and bring it to dry land.  Once, when my attention was diverted, the waves did begin to bring it to the shore, but once I looked back, it had begun to sink back into the clear blue water.

     Finally, I gave up on the shell.  I continued on, picking up several other shells that were probably just as or more beautiful.  But I couldn’t get my mind off of the one shell that I had left behind.  This shell wasn’t inherently worth any more than the other shells as far as I knew, but then again, I didn’t know.  I hadn’t given the effort to find out. 

     This created a striking paradox in my mind.  That shell was worth going for just like every person is worth helping and every goal is worth achieving.  I think that sometimes, I settle for the easy way.  I make great goals of all the things that I want to accomplish and the people that I want to help, but when it comes down to it, I am not willing to put in the 110%.  When the going gets tough, I pull back.

     I settle for a false sense of fulfillment in fake achievement.  I know I am capable of so much more, but sometimes my feet become numb and I can’t get them to leave the dry sand to venture into the waves.  Doing anything worthwhile is going to have its unknowns and its sacrifices.  It’s not worth it to settle for the many things that are easy to attain when there are so many more riches to be discovered in the unknown.

     I had another experience like this recently.  I have been working for Urban Family Ministries; a non-profit that serves primarily black families living largely in rough neighborhoods and struggling with poverty and instability.  As I climbed the stairs back to my cubicle, my arms loaded with craft supplies for the after-school program, I dropped a container of plastic gemstones.  They scattered everywhere on the carpeted floor, their many colors reflecting light on the ceiling and walls.  Dropping to my knees to pick up the gem stones, I was struck with a realization.  These stones were just like the children that I was serving.  Each one so full of its own unique beauty and potential, but scattered by the inept hands of others.  Each of these children goes through so much in their young lives.  They are exposed to things that age them considerably and make them hardened to kindness or help of any kind.  It isn’t their fault, but they have to deal with the consequences of others’ actions.  Without a loving hand to scoop them up and care for them, they are often left on their own to deal with their anger and hurt.  It’s not fair, but it’s their life.

     The majority of people that will read this post most likely would not be able to relate to the struggles of these children.  Yes, every person experiences their own kind of suffering, but how often do we move past that suffering to help someone else.  We have been so blessed to lead (for the most part) prosperous and full lives.  The problems that we face, while still problems, are minimal in comparison to many around the world.  We have so much.  Why can’t we remember help those with less?

Imperfectionist

  I'm a recovering perfectionist. All my life I have been driven by the desire to be the best I could be.  Maybe just to prove it to myself or maybe because I cared what everyone else thought.  Either way, I've realized that it's not healthy.  Beneath the layers of self righteousness and achievement there was sin and brokenness, like a wound that was festering, the infection spreading to other parts of me.

     The problem is that I didn't think this wound that perfectionism created needed any medication because to the world and to me, I seemed perfectly fine.  I was this put-together package tied up with a pretty bow.  I compared myself to others and when I saw all of their problems, I thought I must not be so bad.
     Recently, I had a class assignment about vainglory.  If you're confused about what vainglory is (like I was), Merriam Webster defines it as "excessive or ostentatious pride, especially in one's achievements," and "vain display or show."  I read the assigned text and I felt as though the author was speaking directly to me.  One of the things he said that really resonated with me was that often times, people who struggle with vainglory put up a front of fake achievement because deep down, they're worried that they will never be enough.
     I like people to think that I'm impressive, talented, beautiful and any other string of complimentary adjectives, and I do all of these great things to get their praise under the guise of serving God or being a "nice and sweet" girl.  But if I'm being honest, I am a pretty selfish person.  I know how to pray the prayers or say the best things to make people think "she's so spiritual."  But really, I have so much to learn.
     Don't get me wrong, I love to help people and I genuinely want to make a difference, but I'm naive to think that I don't do some of that for my own benefit.  I think, within each of us there is a little voice whispering, "You'll never be good enough."  The difference is that some of us allow it to make us better and others allow it to drag them down.  I allowed it to drag me down, thinking that it was making me better.

February 14

                                                          February 14.  Valentine's Day.  It's a day that celebrates love.
     Love means a million different things and can be demonstrated in a million different ways.  Somehow, our feelings towards this day of love have switched.  Instead of feeling love, I think many of us, especially single, young women or men, tend to feel less than lovable.  The couples post pictures of their perfect happiness, filtered and edited to look just right.  Meanwhile, the rest of us scroll, begrudgingly doubletapping.
      If you relate to this, then I am just like you.  Young.  Single.  But not unlovable.  Not unworthy.
     We are more alike than we are different.; all searching for meaning and validity.  At our core, we were given a desire to be loved and to be known.  And that's not a bad thing.  The problem is when we allow our desire to feed us lies.  Your relationship status does not reflect your value.  You are more than enough.  You are one in a million.  Don't doubt it.
      This Valentine's Day, I felt loved.  I had no prospects; no hope for a fun valentines day date, but I felt so unbelievably, undeniably, overwhelmingly loved.  I went to chapel and sat alone, attempting to study for a test I had that day.  As the service began, golden shards of light streamed in from the stained glass window.  In those stolen moments, I saw the beauty of God and felt the warmth of His love shining on me.
     Throughout the day, I got texts and letters from family and friends.  That afternoon, my Mom and Gram stopped by campus to drop off some things that I needed and they surprised me with gifts, flowers, and a balloon.  As I sat to talk with them, Gram commented on how happy I sounded.  And I was happy.  I was so happy to be surrounded by love.  Love from a faithful Father and love from amazing friends and family.
     I don't plan on being single forever, but every day I'm realizing that this is not a time to rush through, yearning for future relationships and feeling less than for not having one now.  My God has so many lessons to teach me and so many ways to show me that His love is infinitely rich.  He's reminding me that His second commandment is to love my neighbor.  I am called to love others rather than seeking love from them. If I am secure in myself and who He made me to be, I am in a much better place to love them well.  I cannot pour out of an empty cup.

Uncomfortable Growth

     WARNING: HONEST POST AHEAD

     

     This past weekend I went to Washington DC.  I went to the March for Life and spent a day in the city.  It was hard.

     I normally jump into experiences without thinking and usually without fear.  I made a conscious decision at the beginning of high school to seize opportunities and live a life full of experiences; to value experience over almost anything.  I've lived with that philosophy and it has served me well.  This weekend, it was different.

     I moved back to school this past Wednesday and left for the march on Thursday afternoon.  I had debated for months before about wether or not I wanted to go on this trip, but I felt like it was the right thing to do.  But as the day of our departure came, I was filled with anxiety.  I became very panicked and tried to get out of going.  I stayed in my dorm room and called my Mom.  I asked her advice.  Then I called multiple people, trying to get out of it, but nothing worked.  About an hour before we left, I resigned myself to the fact that I would have to go, but I wasn't super happy about it.

     That weekend was the first weekend back at school.  On top of that, I was going to miss several things that I would have otherwise been excited about.  I didn't really know anyone on the trip and I would miss spending time with my friends.  I was angry.  

     I tried to have the most positive attitude possible.  I tried to be okay.  But I wasn't.  I sat in that bus for hours, speeding away from the place that I wanted to be.  I slept in a cramped bus, waking up at short intervals.  I was unhappy.

     That Friday, we got to DC and were walking around at 6:30 that morning.  I tried to have a positive attitude, but I felt like I was half there.  I wasn't fully invested in the moment, and it plagued me throughout the day.  

The Perks of Driving a Minivan

     I drive a minivan.  Yeah, but let me back up for a second.  A month or two ago, I started praying that God would give me a vehicle and I trusted that He would.  He has provided so much in my life, especially in bringing me to Cornerstone.  I had no doubt that He would provide again.  I prayed, "God, I truly believe that you want me to have a car.  I know how much more I could do to serve you if I had a car.  If you provided this for me, I would know it was an I love you, a gift straight from You."
     There was no way that I could pay for a car and insurance and gas.  It's already enough work to try to make money to put myself through college.  Yet, I fully trusted that He would provide.
     After talking to my parents, I began to look at cars.  Nothing really seemed to work out.  But I wasn't worried.  I knew that God had a car for me.
     One morning, I got a call from my Dad.  He told me that after talking about it, he and Mom had decided that they were going to give me a car that they had gotten recently.  It was a red Mazda Tribute and it was literally the exact kind of car that I had wanted.  I was so excited.  I gushed to my friends about how my prayers had been answered, and I just knew this was His I love you.
     A couple of days later, I got a call from my Mom.  She told me that things weren't going to work out for me to drive the tribute, but she and Dad would get our old minivan fixed up for me and I could have that for free.  I agreed that this would be better; that it would work.  I knew it would, but I was still disappointed.
     I knew how much God had blessed me by giving me this vehicle, it just wasn't what I had expected.  I had prayed but I had not been fully prepared for what He was actually going to give me and how He was going to teach me.  You see, sometimes when we pray, we're not ready for the answer.  We often pray expecting the best and are unwilling to accept the unconventional way that God sometimes answers.
     He has already taught me.  That night, I had an internal struggle and I knew that I had to be alone (something that is much easier said than done in community living).  I shut myself in the prayer and study room and sank into a bean bag.  "Why is it that I always get the worst things and some girls just get the best handed to them?  And I work so hard, yet my hair is a mess, I'm scared the freshman 15 may be a reality, there's no boy for me, I'm struggling to pay for college, I have so many little idiosyncrasies, and I'm going to drive a minivan."