Oh, the places you will go (but have no clue about now)!

I'm beginning to realize that if you truly love something, while you will still have to work at it like everything in life, it will come much more effortlessly and flow freely.  I love writing, I really do.  I love it because it has always been the way I process thoughts, feelings, and those moments of creativity.  It's in those creative moments that the words just come and I am able to process and learn through revelations.

But...  Here I sit.  I sit here and it's been almost a year since my last published blog post.  No, it's not like those creative moments haven't come in the time since then (and they really do come at the most inconvenient times like bedtimes or during work hours!).  They have come and I would either start writing but not finish or put out an idea just beginning to light on fire. 

Why?  Why have I quieted my love for writing?  Why have I stopped strengthening that muscle?  Why do I stop it before I begin?

I think I have stopped loving it for what it really is: for me.  I've stopped seeing it as something that I come alive doing and started seeing it as a career option that I'd never truly succeed at or might not really want.  I've grown to have an almost disdainful attitude towards it as I've been preparing for college because I've chosen to get a communication studies degree.  I didn't even apply for UNC's journalism program, didn't really give it a second thought.  Now, to be fair, I really thought having a communication studies degree (with global studies as well) would give me a rounded education that would allow me to do more than "just write".  When I did briefly consider the Journalism program it seemed too focused on the structure and my writing style has always been more creative.

To be honest, I've just been lost.  I have so many things that I love and I have no idea how to figure out what that would look like in the future.  I've always wanted or, rather, loved the idea of writing for a magazine or missions organization but I don't know if it's something I'd succeed at or only do.  But apparently a communication studies program is all rhetoric and a bit too broad.

Unfortunately, as well-intentioned friends and family are telling me now that I should pursue journalism (after it's now too late) I've grown almost bitter towards writing.  I don't blame them at all. I understand their viewpoint (only wishing they had said something or I had asked the right questions sooner).

I don't know if I made the wrong choice.  I don't know if I'm going to regret it or I didn't listen to God or my not choosing the journalism program was an act of fear.  Maybe I'll regret it or maybe it will end up opening more opportunities for me (because, let's face it: writing is the ONLY form of communication that I'm okay at...speaking is NOT one them).  So maybe it will grow me and open me up to more career options and push me further.  And maybe I can get my masters in journalism if I realize that's really what I want.  I think that's the way I'm going to choose to look at this decision because I can't live believing that I'm pursuing something that is wrong for me.  I can't live constantly pushing my love for writing away simply because it's not what I've chosen to study.  In fact, I should embrace it all the more because it isn't.

When you love something it comes naturally so I'm going to begin to love writing again...not as a future goal filled with expectations and finality but as it always has been: a way to understand, to be understood, and to creatively express everything that goes on in this ol' head and heart of mine. I'll let the rest work itself out.

Stop Apologizing

You know those moments when you run into someone or you need to get by someone and you both say "excuse me"?  Well, it took me a few times to realize it but I actually say, "I'm sorry."  I say I'm sorry to everything, from burdening someone with my problems to inanimate objects that I run into!  Apparently I did it back when living in Texas because the girls in my room made me wear a rubber band and snap my wrist every time I said I was sorry for something that I had no reason to really be sorry for.

I read an article about the 23 things women should stop doing and found apologizing was not only on the list but number one on the list.  Well, at least I'm not alone!  Ha!  But why?  Why do we apologize for things?

For me, it comes down to being sorry for being myself.  I know that's silly to think about but as a recovering people-pleaser (haha) it is definitely something that I have to work through.  And girls growing up battle with insecurities and self-doubt so even as we get older the things that are still sensitive areas for us generally are the areas that we are apologetic over.  For instance, if your parents always pushed you to be perfect and to make the best grades, subconsciously anytime you don't measure up to a certain standard, you may apologize for not being "enough" even if others are not actually holding you to that standard.

You know that quote that says in some variation, "The right people will love you for you and if they don't, they're not the right people"?  I believe it holds a lot of freeing truth in it for those of us who apologize for not being exactly what we think other people need.  I think about the Taylor Swift song that says, "She wears short skirts, I wear t-shirts..."  This guy obviously only sees her as a friend and she is dramatically wishing that he would notice her.  I would be the one to apologize for something like that.  While I love to dress up and I love the way heels look and make you feel, I'd choose comfy flats over heels any day.  I don't wear a ton of make-up (I know, I know, it really helps and it's probably more apathy than anything ;)) and I don't need to be the center of attention.  I've just never been that person.  I've been silly and a bit innocent and hesitant.  And for the longest time I was like Taylor Swift in that song.  I apologized for being me and my self-worth was tied into what I wasn't and what I didn't measure up to, with guys or friendships or whatever.  But, keeping this example going, it's not that Taylor needs to apologize for not being the girl who wears the short skirts and she doesn't even need to be pining over the guy who is into those types of girls.  It just means that that guy is probably not the one she should be with.  It means that she shouldn't change who she is so someone will notice her worth.  

And I think in grasping that I will stop feeling like I need to apologize for everything. I think when you grasp the fact that being you is a beautiful and unique thing and that your worth really isn't determined by how people see you or how you measure up, it will free you to love yourself and allow the right people to love you for being you.

Dreamer at Heart

Have you ever wanted to write a huge disclaimer on everything you write that says, "I HAVE THE CREATIVE BUG. IT DOESN'T MEAN THIS IS EXACTLY HOW I THINK AND FEEL. SO PLEASE DON'T READ INTO IT."  It makes me want to get a separate Twitter account where I can just spat out 140 characters of creative juice without anyone thinking I'm being an emotional blob for the world to see.  I guess that's why there are things like journals for all creative purposes.  ;)  Anyways...

I love reading other people's blogs.  Their creativity and different writing styles make my creative side flourish.  I suppose it's because they inspire me and allow me to tap into a side of me that I often bury inside.  Don't get me wrong, a lot of people are more of a realist in nature.  And a few doses of realism are needed to keep the dreamers from never touching ground.  But I know I'm a dreamer at heart because every time I start to read a blog that taps into a piece of my heart I've buried or I start to talk to someone or do something that causes my heart to stir and come alive I realize how much of a dreamer I really am.  Or perhaps we all have a dreamer buried inside us.  See, my realist side takes over when my insecurities take over, stemming from a long history of feelings of worthlessness and self-bullying.  My realist side takes over when I quiet my dreams, when I quiet what God has told me because I'm tired of making people feel like they need to help me in accomplishing my dream.  It's pride mixed with feelings of unworthiness that stifle my dreams which leaves me lonely and uncertain.

Because I want my heart to come alive.  I was born to be a dreamer, to chase daylight, to dream bigger than I could imagine, to find where my heart comes alive and do it, to love and risk and give it my all.  How else would a 12 year old fall in love with a country called Thailand knowing nothing more than its name and relatively where it was on the map?  How else would a girl find herself in a small town in Texas doing an internship that stretched her more than anything ever had, finding a missionary kid who spent the majority of his life in none-other-than Thailand where his family still was?  How else would she then spend 3 and a half months in that country along with a random decision to venture to Vietnam as well?  All the while having different parts of her heart's pieces sewn in?

How?  By following Jesus and a dream that was not randomly dreamt up but placed into her.  And the most beautiful thing?  Every-time this girl has needed some encouragement, has needed or didn't even know she's needed reassurance that she was on the right path, that something bigger was going on than she could ever know, it came.  Prophesies she simply found herself in or were randomly given to her kept coming along the way.  These prophesies all echoed each other in one way or another.  And the crazy thing about it?  They were all nothing that she could be on her own, and yet, they all tapped into her heart, into a place she didn't know was there, into a place she wasn't fully but would one day hopefully be.  It all stirred her heart and confirmed what was being birthed.

And so the trick to continue being a dreamer, to continue living the dream and being fully alive in it?  Quieting the insecure fearful realist that tries to show its face.  It's to keep the heart open and alive, to constantly stir it even if it hurts, to continue to tap into fully living, fully loving, and fully dreaming.  The trick is staying dependent and staying open.  It's telling the lies where they can go and opening your heart to the truth that longs to wash over you.  It's painful but it's beautiful.  It's the hardest thing you'll do but it's the most rewarding way to live.  There will be seasons where you can't see movement and your heart feels dry but as you continue to stir it you will find rivers and movement all around you.

It's the best decision, to be a dreamer.  It's child-like in its faith and courageous in its dependence.  While it would be easier to live as a realist, you will never fully come alive until you take a leap of faith.

When life gives you lemons...

For those who don't know, I have a mild case of cerebral palsy.  Just a quick google search and you'll realize just how blessed I am.  And I know it.  I did my Senior Project on this topic and met and interviewed one of the most inspiring people I have ever met living in a wheelchair, audible, but you must listen close, and unable to control his movements who teaches a form of martial arts to others with disabilities.  I have a different form of it that affects my balance, coordination, and fine motor skills.  It is also mild so it can be unseen.  I am blessed.  I know it.

But sometimes, sometimes, I forget.  Sometimes I wallow.  Because sometimes my fingers just can't work a necklace and sometimes I look like an idiot because I can't stand on one foot in yoga and sometimes boys ask me why I limp and sometimes all I can see is what I can't do.

Because life is imperfect.  And life gives you lemons.  And life doesn't make you the prettiest or the most perfect or gives you the best day everyday.  Because life is messy and we're sinful and imperfect people.

But dwelling on your imperfections and your have-nots?  Well, that's like living like the men in The Allegory of the Cave who never knew of the sun and grass and flowers and life outside of their world in their cave.  That's like refusing to go out and see and believe their friend who experienced it for himself and came back to tell about it.  It's a life without color and three-dimensions, only shadows of the real thing.  It's a world without truth and light and hope.  It may be painful adjusting to the light after the many years in the darkness but it is well worth it to really live.  .  

While I was stretching the parallels of that story, there is so much to be and do outside of your cave, so much to be thankful for, so much to experience far past our imperfections and limitations.  So much laughter to be had in-spite, and rather, because of our limitations.  Because since when was taking yourself so seriously something that was okay?  Life is to be experienced fully no matter what comes, living means to love with everything in you and to laugh and cry with others in their trying times and to give all of what you were given away.  It means risk and pain and living in moments and constantly moving forward.

Because I know one thing and this one thing covers over my imperfections and my bad days and the things I can't do and don't think I can be.  This one thing gives me sweet peace that it will all be okay no matter my lot in life.  It is the one thing that makes me rejoice in the lot given to me no matter the possible suffering or future sorrow to come.  It's this hope, this hope that reminds me Someone greater is leading and life is meant to be really lived no matter the uncertainty of the future...

"More than that, we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us."  Romans 5:3-5

And when we stop and reflect on that we consider the painful times to be joy!  I may be blessed because I was given two legs to stand on but the man I interviewed those years ago is blessed where he is now because he didn't see his imperfections and wallow in them, he asked himself how he could use the lot he was given and help others despite them.  And that's exactly what he did.   And in that way, he is the blessed one.  Because lemons are just a part of life and in one way or another, it can all be used for the better.