Here's to 2012...

A chance to forgive, to do better, to do more, to give more, to love more...and to stop worrying about "what if" and embrace what would be. -New Year's Eve.

Just yesterday I was sitting in class counting the weeks to fall break; then the classes left until Thanksgiving. I bought a great sweater on sale on Black Friday and woke up again on Christmas morning- or at least that's how it feels.

The sad part, or maybe just the true part, is that I don't even remember fall break. I remember thanksgiving day, but not much more of that week either.  Christmas is still fresh on my
mind because I have not yet accepted the reality that it is over already. 

I didn't even have time to make a New Year's resolution, not that I would actually have kept it. I have seriously considered joining the gym and dreamt... Again... About running that marathon. Of course, I'm an excuse maker, so there's that. 

But here's to another year. No resolutions this year, but here's to the possibility. Here's to the Hillary Swank- smile-into- the- air of hope, new beginnings, and remembering the weeks that go by. Here's to walking slower, listening more, and taking in the days that whiz past. I don't think the world will be ending this year, but here's to living 2012 like the Mayans were right. 

Seasons

For every thing there is a season, a time for every activity under heaven. Ecclesiastes 3:1

Seasons are inevitable. I'm not talking about summer and winter (though those are inevitable too). I'm talking about the good and sometimes bad times in our life that come, quietly and without notice, and become a way of living. Then we wake up a few months down the road and realize all we have of that time is just the memory, and just like that, those times, those seasons are gone, quietly and without notice- just like they came.

Like a Memphis spring, some seasons of life aren't too noticeable. But, like a Memphis summer, some seasons are full of memorable events, good and bad, and seem to last forever. Then, just when we get used to them or adjust to their pace, they are gone and we aren't sure how, or what to do in their wake.

Though my life has been full of these seasons, and I've taken something away from each one that I am thankful to have learned, there are three particular seasons that stick out to me.

The first one is summer of 2008. I had just gotten my mountain bike as a graduation present, and it was the best gift ever. My dad, brother, sister-in-law, and I would go and ride all the time. Maybe that's why I love MTB so much. That summer was hot, but we spent what seems like every weekend on our bikes. After that summer, I started working for Student Life so that was my only summer on the trails, but I still think about those days all the time, and I am thankful.

Even though those summer days faded, a new season came. It was the season of Starbucks. Every Tuesday afternoon, my mom and sister and I would meet at Starbucks. We would laugh and gossip and discuss things of importance, like Thanksgiving meals and sales at Target. This season lasted for a long time, but eventually school schedules and jobs got in the way. One day, I might live too far away to meet my sister and mom at the coffee shop, but I am so grateful for those Tuesday afternoons!

The season that has lasted longer than any other is the lunch club. When I was a freshman in college, my dad would eat lunch at the Subway across the street from school every Friday. So, for a free meal, I started joining him. Little did I know, 4 years later I would cherish those lunch dates. Sort of like religion, we follow the guidelines and meet every week; usually Subway, sometimes mexican, and lately, on Thursdays. The lunch club has gone through the days of the week, and occasionally we'll have honorary guests, but my Dad and I are the only true members. My sister tries but just can't stay faithful (which is understandable with a 4 year old at home), and Mom has a hard time sitting at lunch for an hour (because teachers only get 25 minutes for lunch), but is normally at work anyway. So, just me and Dad. It's my favorite and longest running season. When school starts back, we'll have to move Lunch club to Fridays, and then, in the summer, it might change again. I know one day I probably won't make it to lunch every week, but I sure have learned a lot during these meetings over the past four years, and I am so blessed to have that time with my Dad.

These seasons are the moments we'll cherish. These are the moments we'll remember, the conversations we learn from, the moments that define our relationships and our lives. These seasons are the ones that get us through each day and make the weeks go by. Be grateful, whatever season you're in, and take something away from each one.

Whatever the season, however long, be thankful.

2011 by month

My plans for myself have never worked out, thankfully. God cares too much for me to let my plans work out. 2010 was a big, hard year in my life, and 2011 was the aftermath. I have been thinking about it, how this year has changed me, or rather, how God has changed me throughout this year. Here are some of the highlights:

In January I started a new relationship for the first time since I ended my engagement.
In February I really, finally let go of an old relationship and let myself heal.
(In March, nothing memorable happened, but I'm sure God did something during this month, too.)
In April, I quit the job I'd had for 5 years and started a job that would lead me to one of the best friends I've had.
In May, I experienced Cinco De Mayo working in a Mexican Restaurant... no description necessary.
In June, I took my first family vacation since 6th grade. I realized that I was alone for the first time since I could remember- alone, just me and God. I also realized that I've never been more care and worry free than I was in that moment... and every moment since. God opened my eyes that week to his love in a way that I'd never seen before.
Then, in July, God brought me to a new place with my faith. For the first time, I've taken it and made it authentic. I am living MY faith, not my mothers. I don't know how He does it, but if you let Him, God will change your heart and mind in a way that makes you realize who you really are.
In August, I went to a wedding and saw, for the first time since our breakup, the boy I almost started a life with. God is so good- the way he opens our eyes and heals our hearts.
In September, I started a "real" job and the major that would rekindle my love for school. I also bought myself a car- a really nice car that doesn't break down and has a working cd player. I met my new niece and God showed me, again, the blessing of family.
In October, I realized why my dad told me never to have a car note, and what being an adult feels like. In November, I filed my intent to graduate and realized how far I've come over the course of three different majors and two different schools.
In December, my hard work at school paid off- I got my scholarship back. God used this to show me, yet again, His faithfulness and how he will always provide.

Maybe the details that shaped my year aren't really important. Maybe what's really important is that, some days throughout this year, I cried. I was heartbroken. I was lonely. I was mad. Some days throughout this year I was happy. I was excited. I was indestructible. But every day throughout this year, God was faithful. His love overwhelms the happiest memories of this year and the most painful. I have no idea what God has in store for 2012, but I will go confidently into the new year- no worries or cares- because I know whatever God has in mind, it's going to be greater than any plan I could have for myself.

Merry Christmas. Happy New Year.

Petition. For school.

For those of you who have as much as issue with school as I do, here's my petition:

Papers should actually really begin to write themselves after a certain amount of time spent staring at the blank document upon which they shall be written.

A strict "No Dieting/ healthy eating" policy will be enforced at all hours during a paper writing/ mid-term studying session. Cokes and chips are necessary for clear thinking.

Creative writing majors should not be forced to write research papers. It hinders our creativity, which is a problem, hence the name of our major. Nor should any other major be forced to write research papers, seeing as they are useless.

As long as a paper is for the grade and neither for sale nor public credit, no proof of originality shall be required.

Attendance should, in no circumstances, be mandatory, as long as the student maintains a grade that meets his or her personal criteria.

Group projects, to be done in class and not outside, should make up the majority of the weight of the grading scale.

No class should exceed the time limit of one hour. Limits above one hour force a student to choose between paying attention to the professor or wishing they were elsewhere, in which case, wishing they were elsewhere always prevails.

No professor shall assign reading over the length of 10 pages per class period, in order to prevent students' eyes from crossing, or closing, while trying to complete the reading assignment.

Textbooks shall never be paid for, only checked out when needed, especially at institutions in which tuition rises every semester.

Attendance to school sporting events, wearing school-spirited apparel, and participating in school events should count largely toward a student's gpa.

The amount of time between scheduled classes should allow for food breaks, printing breaks, nap breaks, and any other type of breaks that might enhance a student's learning abilities.

Classes that encourage physical activity and those most pertinent to one's major should be much more weighted than general education courses required by the university, as they will be much more pertinent to the student's future than those general education classes.

I forgot myself

Psalm 46:10 He says, "Be still and know that I am God...." 

I have forgotten myself. Or atleast that's what it feels like. And then I got sick.

In the past two or three months, I have been so busy with a new job and a new school semester and a new relationship and a new... I could literally go on and on with all the changes in my life the past few months. I am so thankful for every single one of them, but I'm sitting here tonight, and I've been sick since Friday, and now finally, on Wednesday, I have turned down plans and sat on the couch in hopes of getting better. But you know what, sitting here on this couch for the first time in... I can't remember... I've finally realized that in the midst of all the new and the busy, I have forgotten myself, and it seems the things I've forgotten are the really important things.

I have forgotten about this blog and all these silly words I write that bring me joy and relief. I have forgotten about reading my bible, and how much I love the scriptures, yeah as the Word of God, but also just as an amazing piece of literature. I have forgotten what it feels like to lay on my couch and be in bed before 11.

Life gets really, really busy. In fact, I think sometimes life gets so busy that God uses sickness to make us slow down. He allows us to get sick in order to force us to say no to plans and obligations, and to make us sit and stop and think about ourselves for a second. Lately, it seems like I've found myself making a list of all the things I want to do, but that list keeps getting longer and nothing is getting marked out. But here's my question: if I don't even make time in my own life for myself, how am I supposed to make time for God or anyone else?

This is the first blog I've posted since September 7th. That makes me so sad. This is the first night I have sat and actually read my bible, not just to look up a certain verse in passing, in quite a while. This is the first night I've thought about where I am now and how I got here. This is the first night I've remembered myself and who I am and who I want people to know me as.

So here's my thought: Make time for yourself. Because if you aren't making time for yourself, you're probably not making time for God or anyone else either.

A love story

And we sat there, on my parents' couch, whispering into each other's ears and laughing to ourselves; filling each other's heads with promises that we, or I at-least, knew would never be fulfilled. But when you're young and life is still black and white, heavy promises seem easy to make, and thought of breaking them is never a real concern.

We'd stay up late and ignore wondering parents, and we'd reminisce about days past and dream of what we thought was to come. We'd plan it all out and swear to make it happen, even though, secretly but mutually, we knew with each passing day, those plans would be less and less a possibility. Kind of like a favorite song that makes you want to live out the words, we made big plans to a great tune that was only going to sound good for a while.

And we'd continue on in a youthful bliss with only a small, lingering thought that with each new season came another lost promise; holding tightly to each other's hand because soon, we knew, would be the last time we'd reach out for one another. We'd play the part and it was sweet, but things changed a little every day, and then we noticed that the way our hands fit together changed, too.

Then finally, one autumn when all the leaves were falling and the warmth of the sun had fallen short and so had the days, we realized we weren't the starry-eyed kids on our parents' couches. We started feeling the weight of those promises that had seemed so light and easy before, and the way our hands had changed became too noticeable to hold on to, so we let go. One before the other, but simultaneously in thought.

We sat for a while, discussing the inevitable and laughing about the days when life was simple and making the promise was the hardest part. Then the night came, colder and darker than the nights before, and finally he turned to leave with a bag of his things and the memory of young love. As I watched him walk away, I studied his familiar sway and the way he looked so strong, even though I knew, on the inside he was broken and weak, and I felt a twinge of regret and a  longing for the days when I knew his walking away just meant it would only be a few hours until I saw him again. But then I looked at my hand, and at myself in the mirror, and I knew in the morning I would be a new girl and he, a new boy, and we would understand why a little more every day.

And then I carried on with the realization that, in time though unsure of when, I would eventually make those heavy promises again after I fully understood their weight, and I would take the hand of a boy, and that over time our hands would grow and change, but the changes would make them fit tighter. And I knew that those heavy promises would never be broken, but fulfilled and made good. But I knew also, that one day I'd come back to the starry-eyed boy and the girl I was once.

I knew I'd have to come back to those two, and though I would know that we were just kids, I'd have to smile at the simplicity of being young and in love. I knew I'd come back to that time after seeing him on the street, and the life he would make for himself might always somehow be connected with mine, but it might also be different and set far apart.

I know, though, that I'll always want the best for him, and though the love I once had for him and shared with him faded away with the fall leaves of school days, I'll always feel the space in my heart that a first love leaves, and I'll always wonder if he is okay, and I'll always want him to be.

And though I'll give my heart away to a boy whose hand will always fit in mine no matter how they change, I'll smile at the memories and share stories of those starry-eyed days, and I'll always be thankful to the boy who showed me a little bit of what life would hold and a lot of what I didn't really know.

And I know, then, I'll go home to this new boy and I'll see him smiling, oblivious to the girl I was all those years ago, but so in love with the girl I've come to be, and I'll stand in the door and smile back at him. I'll be aware for the first time that I haven't a clue about the boy he used to be or the promises he once made with a girl whose hand had changed. At that moment, I'll fall even more into the freedom of forever. Then I'll take my spot next to him, more thankful now than ever for the boy and the girl that shaped our hearts and left a space, because without them, we would not be us. And it will be our couch where we sit, holding hands that fit perfectly together, whispering into each other's ears, making promises that we know will be fulfilled in only a moment's time, each of us, secretly but together, feeling an excitement that only comes from the real promise of a forever love.

And I'll know I am finally the woman I'm supposed to be, and I'll finally have found the man to make my life beside. The man who I'll live out the promises with- thankful so and understanding why it could never work out with those who came before.

Two or three things I know for sure.

One of those two or three things I know for sure, is that there isn't much I know for sure.
One of those things is that, the older I get the less I know.
The more I am aware of, the less I know.
The more I learn, the more I grow, the less I know,
And this is something I know for sure.

But surely there's more than two or three things I know for sure.
I know a car salesman is never going to give you a "real steal,"
And I know that even fat-free food is not good for you.
There are two things I know for sure.

But surely there's more I know for sure,
Like the strength found in numbers whether you're dealing with poker or friends.
I know for sure about always cooking with a secret ingredient,
And not talking bad about your boss at work.

Surely I know for sure about speaking at just the right time,
whether for comic relief or to prevent a fight.
I know for sure about laughing at yourself,
And I know for sure about deeper things, too.

Surely I know about love and forgiveness.
I know about being proud of who  you are and where you've been.
I know about real love and it's rarity,
And I know about confidence in uncertainty.

So surely, of all the things I know for sure,
And the many things I do not,
They can all be summed up by two or three
Of love, forgiveness and hope.