Well, Here We Go... Another Post Election Blog

Obviously, I'm going to write something about this election.

I don't understand a whole lot about politics. I do more so now because of researching during this election and because of the great educator known as Leslie Knope.

But I have spent the last four years learning about culture and people... and the last 20ish years living as a human.

I am saddened that we have reached this point.

Saddened that we nominated these two people to make choices for our nation. Saddened that we have been so divided and hateful towards each other. Saddened that potentially votes were wasted on a dead gorilla, as if this is really a joke.

What I do know, is that people will show you their true colors.

That those who want to change the way life is for the marginalized will do it regardless of the leader of the county.

That those who shout words of hate will do hateful acts regardless of the leader of the county.

There are people who are now afraid to live in this country. Legitimately afraid that their parents will be forced to leave. Afraid to wear a head covering that is part of their religion because of possible backlash.

It may prove in the next four years that they have nothing to fear. But that doesn't matter. It doesn't matter that I am not afraid for my own well being.

I did not vote for Trump. I don't understand how people did. But I am proud of people voting. I am proud that people stood by their convictions and thought that they were voting for what was best for the country, even if I disagree with them.

What matters now is what we do, what I do.

It matters that I work hard at my job and work hard to get another one. It matters that I save and spend responsibly (even though I currently suck at it). It matters that I make smart investments and donations. It matters that I learn and vote and volunteer about local issues. It matters that I still use my voice to stand against things that I don't believe in and let my legislators know. It matters that I show love and compassion to those who are afraid. It matters that my actions and my words speak louder than just my vote. It matters that I believe that those who are marginalized need to have a voice and that it is my responsibility to speak up for them.

Hey Christians, I don't care if you voted for Trump. I don't care if you voted for him because you believe that we needed to get career politicians out of Washington. I don't care if you voted for him because you believe that he will "Make America Great Again". I don't care if you voted for him because you couldn't stand to vote for Hillary Clinton or a third party candidate. I don't care if you voted for him because you believe that he is a great businessman. You know what I do care about?

I care that you see that his approach to sexual assault is wrong. I care that you see that his words have been horrendous. I care that you see he is disrespectful to people in all walks of life. I hope that you see that, act against it, and hold him accountable. His policies and stances are important but so is the way he treats others. Do not make excuses for his behavior.

Hey Donald Trump, Congratulations on winning. While I did not vote for you, I respect that you now hold the title of President of the United States of America. I ask one thing of you, prove us wrong. PROVE US WRONG. Tame your tongue, put policies in place that benefit more than one group of people, treat people with respect, humble yourself. YOU will NOT make America great again. That you cannot do on your own. Listen to the people, this is not about you.

Hey America, we are divided, there is no denying it. People are scared, heartbroken, enraged, happy, indifferent and so many other things. This is our reality, it's our job to live in it well. Don't you dare become stagnant and angry and bitter. If this is not the America you want, then you use your voice and your hands to make it better. This is not about political parties. This is about your neighbors. This is about whether you are going to do what's in their best interest. You need to show up. You need to advocate for others. You need to do so calmly and kindly. You need to be an ear, a helping hand, a voice. Your freedom isn't freedom unless it allows others to be free as well. Use your freedom well.

The next four years are going to be interesting. Be kind to your neighbor. Fight for those that are different than you. I beg of you to learn from these next years. And I beg of you, LOVE. This country is amazing, love it. Love that you get to be free and to exercise your freedom. But most of all, love your neighbor as yourself. Love those that are Muslim. Love those that are LGBTQ+. Love those that are women. Love those that are Mexican. Love those that are disabled. Love those that are seeking refuge. Love America, the melting pot of cultures and people. Love everyone. But especially love those that in recent months have been downtrodden.

America, you are great and you are free. Act like it. Show your true colors, bleed the red, white and blue.

A Cold and Broken Hallelujah

I am white.

I am female.

I am middle class.

I am Christian. 

I am not in law enforcement. 

I am not gay. 

I am not transgender. 

I am not Muslim. 

Most of the things that make up the core of who I am are not things that I will ever be afraid to lose my life because of them. 

I am female. I am Christian. 

But even the fear that I live in because of being those things is minuscule. As a Christian right now in America, I will not die because of that identity. As a female in America right now, I live in more fear because of cases like the Brock Turner rape case. 

But I will never put on a uniform and wonder if this is my last day because someone has decided to enact upon their vendetta. 

But I will never know the painful cycle of trying to get out of my ghetto or project or community so that I have a chance at something above the poverty line. 

But I will never wake up to my reflection in the mirror believing that my life didn't matter to the world because it's too dark for their liking, fearing that someone might do something about it when I walk out the door, especially the ones that are supposed to protect it.

But I will never walk down the street afraid to hold my partners hand because someone may decide that spewing hateful words and flying fists is alright because my partner is the same sex as me. 

But I will never know the identity crisis of those that identify as transgender or misgendered and I will never worry if someone will harm my life because of the gender of the bathroom I walk in. 

But I will never walk through an airport watching parents holding onto their children as their eyes dart around me because they believe I will blow up a plane because of inaccurate views of my religion. 

But, I still know pain. 

I know great pain. In the past and present. I have struggled with death and life and others' pain and the world's pain. 

And recently, it's been a lot to bear. Wondering where God is in all this brokenness. Wondering how I can call God a good good father when all of this is happening to his children. Wondering what way we have sinned in order for this to happen. Wondering how I am supposed to offer hope to people when I don't have any left. Wondering how I am supposed to be joyful when I am angry at God. Wondering how much longer we have to suffer. Wondering how much longer we will argue before acting. Wondering how many deaths it will take before we act. Wondering when we'll stop turning the finger to everyone else. Wondering when enough will be enough. 

I have nothing left to offer. I have been empty so long that I don't know how to tell someone else that love will win. That victory and healing are coming. That despite whatever happens that God is still good. That joy is coming in the morning. I don't know how to offer truth when right now it feels so far from the truth. 

So here is my cold and broken hallelujah. 

Hallelujah, we are not where we were. 

Hallelujah, some of us are marching towards victory. 

Hallelujah, I can still feel pain. 

Hallelujah, I am still alive. 

Hallelujah, I am not in control. 

Hallelujah, I have power to change one life, even if that life is mine. 

Hallelujah, I still have the capacity to love and show compassion. 

Hallelujah, the future doesn't have to look like the present or the past. 

Hallelujah, people are finally shouting that Black Lives Matter.

Hallelujah, officers are still willing to sacrifice their life despite fear and threats and violence. 

Hallelujah, we are ANGRY at injustice. 

Hallelujah, we are fighting for our brothers and sisters despite our differences. 

"Hallelujah, brokenness cannot survive when redemption lives."

"Hallelujah, we are free to struggle."

Hallelujah, "God is still in the business of redemption."

Hallelujah, "God is near to the broken-hearted."

These hallelujahs are quiet. They are said with clenched teeth. They are said with hot tears and questions and anger. They are said with a cold and broken heart.  They are said with a quiet hope.  A quiet hope that one day I can shout. 

HALLELUJAH, WE ARE FREE

HALLELUJAH, WE ARE WHOLE

HALLELUJAH, WE ARE LOVED

HALLELUJAH, REDEMPTION HAS WON

HALLELUJAH, THE STRUGGLE IS OVER

HALLELUJAH, BROKENNESS HAS BEEN DEFEATED. 

But until then I will keep whispering my cold and broken hallelujahs. 

I will keep wondering. 

I will keep praying. 

I will keep crying.

I will keep changing. 

I will keep hoping. 

I will keep whispering my cold and broken hallelujahs. 

Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah. 

Grieving Life

It's been six years since my mother took her life. Her death still saddens me but this year I'm reflecting more about her life. 

Unfortunately, I'm not celebrating it. I'm grieving her life. 

My sister gave me a whole bunch of family photos at my graduation and I was sifting through them the other night. Watching my mother's smile go through a cycle where it would dim and brighten and dim again was something that I wasn't prepared for. 

I saw her weak frame and tired eyes force a smile at an occasion where she should have been filled with joy. I saw her eyes bright as she cuddled one of her grandkids. Over and over again, a cycle of a woman filled with life and emptied.  

To watch this as a child was easy. I was oblivious, except in the worst of times. But the every day struggles? Oblivious. 

To reflect on this as an adult is heartbreaking. Because I question the what ifs. What if I talked to my mother more? What if we made sure she was consistently on medication? What if there wasn't such a stigma against mental illness in my mother's generation? It's sometimes a dangerous place to go, because I can't change anything about my mother's life or prevent her death. 

Depression doesn't just kill you once. It decides that it will take the life out of every day. You isolate yourself from the people you love. Depression kills you with its lies that no one understands and that no one loves you. It sucks the joy from the things that you love. It zaps your energy, making you believe life will always be trudging through sludge to just survive. 

But if you're still here, there is still time and there is still hope. 

Your life does not have to be grieved while your are still living. 

And right now, the struggle may not feel much like living but right now, it's all you have. 

You are not alone. 

You are not a burden. 

You are not worthless. 

You are loved. 

You are brave. 

You are alive. 

You have breath in your lungs and even though the weight in your chest makes it suffocating, you are still breathing. 

You have blood in your veins and even if that blood is trickling over your wrists to feel something, you are still here. 

You have a heart in your chest and even if it feels empty, you are still loved. 

You have a voice and even if it is quiet and it shakes, you can ask for help and demand for a better ending. 

You have a brain and even if its chemistry tricks you into believing lies, you can begin to fill it with truth. 

You have hands and even if they feel too weak, someone can come along and hold them as you walk through this together. 

There can be a lot of reasons as to why my mother isn't here anymore. But there are plenty more reasons why I still am. 

I'm still here because two women decided to say "me too" when I expected judgment. 

I'm still here because a man refused to let me believe that I didn't have value. 

I'm still here because friends refused to let me shut myself off. 

I'm still here because a church decided to love a scared grieving teenager. 

I'm still here because a counselor made me repeat the phrase "you have to feel to heal" until I understood. 

I'm still here because a doctor saw that  my physical health and mental health were connected. 

I'm still here because I refuse for my mother's story to end without hope. 

I'm still here because God is in the business of redemption. 

I'm still here because there is still time to be surprised and to build a better ending.

Life doesn't have to be grieved. Life doesn't have to be getting up every day hoping you get another breath but also wishing you didn't. This life is difficult and a struggle but it's worth waking up for a possibility of a better tomorrow, even if you have wished for a better tomorrow a thousand times. 

If you are struggling, please say something. If you see someone struggling, say something. 

Mental illness begins to lose when we start a conversation. 

Life isn't meant to be grieved, it's meant to be lived. Let's work to live together 

One Last Time

I'm an avid How I Met Your Mother fan. I've seen every episode, cried at so many moments, laughed at others, saved a playlist of songs featured in the show, use some of their "theories" in real life, have arguments about the finale, wrote papers on it for a comm class, have a favorite season, episode, and monologue. I'm overly obsessed with it and as I wrote those things I see that it may be a problem but it's fine, I'm good.

Anyways, I was watching the ninth season and there's this episode where Ted makes a list of things he wants to do one last time before he leaves New York. I started crying because it reminded me so much of what I wanted to do with my last month of college.

• Make sure I go to Big Biscuit one last time
• Hike to Little Falls one last time
• Do an all-nighter for a major Comm paper with friends one last time
• Go to Java Station one last time
• Have a heart to heart on the swing by the falls one last time
• Star gaze at Broken Bridges one last time.  
• Jump in the pond when it's too cold one last time

And there are so many other things that I want to do with this last month, so many things that I need to do. 

But they are things that I don't want to do for the last time. I don't want to say goodbye to these types of moments.

Lily is often the voice of reason for Ted in the show and gives him all these lectures about what he needs to do, including this one:

"You wrote down all these things to say goodbye to. But so many of them are good things. Why not just say goodbye to the bad things? Say goodbye to all the times you felt lost. To all the times that was a no instead of a yes. To all the scrapes and bruises. To all the heartache. Say goodbye to everything you really want to do for the last time. But don't go have one last scotch with Barney... Have the first scotch, toasting Barney's new life. Because that's a good thing, and the good things will always be here waiting for you."

College has been amazing, but there are so many things that couldn't have been further from amazing. The moments where I had to remind myself to breathe to just survive. The moments when I thought I was going to lose my friends. The moments when I was hurt because of  the selfishness of others. The moments when I felt like I wasn't good enough. The moments when I couldn't bring myself to do the quality work I knew I was capable of. The moments when I isolated myself.  The moments when I felt like I failed the ones I love because of my poor decisions. These are the types of things that I want to happen for the last time, even though realistically I know it won't be. 

This next stage of life is something that I should be looking forward to with anticipation, despite how much I hate the idea of uncertainty. This is a time that is also full of hellos. So many things will be changing. But the good things? The friendships with mutual investment?  The growth that came from all the bad moments? The laughs and memories that have happened in Toccoa? These are all good things. This life that I have built is a good life. The people that I have chosen to build this life with are good people. Maybe the types of moments that I will have will change but the things that really matter are the things that will be waiting for me. The people that love me will be with me, even when separated by distance. Growth will always happen, but only if I let it. 

I'm going to have a lot of "one last time" moments over the next month. I look forward to treasuring them for what they are but I look forward to only saying goodbye to the moments that deserve to be had for the last time. I'm excited to say that some things will happen one last time. I'm also excited for the "first times" that are going to be coming. 

One month, make it count. 

I am Not Good Enough

I think I promised myself that I would never write about my insecurities on here.

But I'm starting to believe that it's important to write about everything.

So here it is...

"I am not good enough."

It's that nagging voice in the back of your mind that reminds you of all the things you aren't good at and won't ever be. It's that weight in the pit of your stomach when you feel inadequate. 

And those nagging voices and heavy weights come a lot more often than we would like to admit. So we wallow in them, sometimes with screams and hot tears streaming down our face, sometimes with silence, sometimes with angry criticism of others... But none of it helps our crippling feelings of not being good enough. 

So then we fight back those feelings with words like "I am good enough. I am smart enough. I am pretty enough. I am spiritual enough." And on and on it goes... The never ending battle of us trying to convince ourselves that someone will love us if we are just enough of something or other. If we are just good enough. 

But you know what?

Screw the idea of good enough. 

You know what's good enough?

A  paper that you stayed up all night to finish because it's already late and it barely makes sense but it gets at least a C. 

An assignment you finished last minute but you have only 5 minutes left before class for you to print it and run to class so you can't make it any better. 

An outfit that looks okay but doesn't make you feel like a rockstar.

Eight hours worth of sleep that doesn't quite give you the rest you need. 

A joke you find hilarious but when you tell a friend, they only give a half-hearted laugh.

Accepting 2nd place because you couldn't get yourself to work harder to get 1st. 

That is good enough.

I am not good enough. 

I am good. I strive to be better but I am good. 

Good enough is what you settle for. 

I am not good enough. I am not something that you settle for. I am not just mediocre.

I have symphonies in my lungs.

Novels in my fingertips.

Adventures in my feet.

Encyclopedias in my mind.

I have lived a life that no one else has lived, that no one else can live. 

I am good. I am great.

This idea that we use the very same words to try to encourage ourselves and to accept something that is less than what we find desirable is absurd to me.

Why do we accept good enough as an idea of comfort?

It's not comforting to think that I am of the same caliber as a crappy paper or an ok outfit.

But I guess that's good...because I'm not of the same caliber, not even close.

We have to stop believing that we are just good enough.
We have to stop saying "I'm good enough" as something to comfort ourselves.

Because all at once we are utterly worse than we can ever think we are and greater than we give ourselves credit for. 

We have to stop believing that our attempts at good enough will make us lovable.

Because all at once we are not worthy of an ounce of love but yet have the 

the opportunity to receive the greatest love that anyone could ever know. 

I am not good enough but I'm starting to see that as a good thing.

I am good. I am great. I am more than enough. I am known. I am loved.

At the end of the day, if I am secure in the knowledge that I am loved, then I can be who I am intended to be, it doesn't matter who thinks I am not good enough... even if that person is me. 

Your Mess is Mine

My sister in law and I are addicted to an ABC Family show called Chasing Life. It's about a young journalist who battles with cancer and the show obviously has way more drama than necessary. I was catching up on the episodes I have missed over Christmas break. In one of the last episodes, one of the characters performed a cover of a Vance Joy song that I had never heard before. It's called "Mess is Mine". A friend is singing this song to April (the reporter with cancer). Here's the clip from the show (I would put the music video, but it's really weird and does nothing for this post).

"Hold on my darling, this mess was yours, now your mess is mine"

This line took me by surprise and made its home in my chest to think about for a very long time. And it's meaning made itself very clear these past couple weeks. 

If I have learned anything in college, it has been what it means to be loved by a friend and to love as a friend. And that's it, this mess was yours and now it's mine. 

Because it's easy to see who will "love" you when things are good. 

Because it's easy to see who will "love" you when you have something to offer them. 

Because it's easy to see who will "love" you when you have everything figured out.   

But those who love you in the middle of the mess, that is the love of a friend. 

They are the ones who will fight for you. 

They are the ones who will fight with you. 

They are the ones who will pray for you.

They are the ones who will speak truth to you. 

They are the ones who will remind you of good when it is difficult to see. 

They are the ones who will hurt with you.

They are the ones who will mourn with you. 

They are the ones who will rejoice when the mourning is over. 

They are the ones who will help you heal. 

They are the ones who will love you when you feel so unlovable. 

They take on your mess. They don't take it on to fix it or to fix you. They take it on because they care for you and they want the best for you. They take it on because love compels them to. 

Sometimes it's so very difficult to pick up someone else's mess. Because we get burnt out, believing that we do have to fix everything. But that's not our job. It's our job to show up, over and over again. It's our job to choose them, even when we feel like we are out of love. It's our job to love, even when they feel like they don't deserve it. It is our job to make sure they are not alone in their mess.

Sometimes it's so very difficult to let people pick up my mess. I think that I'm only supposed to help carry other people's messes. I think that I am clearly the strongest one and that my problems are only supposed to be carried by me. But that is the voice of this ugly thing called pride. Something that no matter how many times I acknowledge, it never seems to be gone for good. So ever so slowly, I have learned to let my friends claim my mess as theirs. And it is freeing. It is so incredibly freeing to know that you don't have to face anything in your life alone. It is incredibly freeing for people to see the worst mess you have and to choose to love you still. It is my job to lay down my mess. 

I think the best thing about sharing messes is that the good becomes better. Because when you have someone who will weather the storm with you by your side, the sun becomes brighter and feels warmer when it does appear. It will never be too much when you have people who love you through the mess. 

"Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends." John 15:13

We lay down our lives when we share our messes...when we put aside our pride to lay ours down and when we pick up the messes of a friend. 

I am eternally grateful for those who have claimed my mess as theirs. I hope I have the honor and privilege of doing the same for you. I promise that your mess will be mine. 

Let Me See Redemption Win

If I'm being honest, the last couple weeks of the semester have not been good. 

At all. 

Stuff has happened. People have been hurt. People have hurt people. Consequences have happened. Tears have been shed. Sleep has been lost. School has been neglected. Work has been neglected even more. 

To say that I have felt defeated and exhausted would be an understatement. 

Apparently, when things get this bad my go to thing is to listen to Tenth Avenue North nonstop. I go to one song in particular, Worn. The song is an accurate description of the state of my heart in times when I feel defeated. But there's always one line that I cling to...

"Let me see redemption win."

These past couple weeks have been in desperate need of redemption. I have been in desperate need of redemption. 

I have desperately needed to see that redemption is going to win in the end. That this pain, these circumstances, this time will lead to redemption. 

I know it will but it has been so hard to see. 

Last Tuesday was a really bad day but on Wednesday, something good happened. I went to Broken Bridges, it seems to be a good place for broken things to become good things. It was overcast all day, freezing, and the wind was relentless. But on a whim, some friends and I decided to attempt to see the sunset. 

I am so glad that we did. 

The water was choppy and murky, the sky was mostly dark, the wind was biting and powerful, but the sun... Oh man, the sun. 

It was piercing through the dark clouds. It wasn't just a couple rays poking through. 

This probably sounds very weird but my thought standing there was, "this is what redemption feels like."

It's the sun, piercing through the darkness. 

It's the wind, powerful enough to move the storm. 

It's the moment with people who lay down their lives for yours. 

It's the moment of undeserved peace in chaos. 

It's the moment that feels like a new start, a chance to turn away from the weeks prior. 

And honestly, the very satisfying cheeseburger that I brought with me definitely added to the experience. 

But the moment made me start to think about redemption in every day moments. 

It's the moments when you lay down your burdens. 

It's the moments when you are rescued from your self destruction. 

It's the moments of grace when you think you have failed one too many times. 

It's the moments of rest after many sleepless nights. 

It's the moments when you release your white knuckled hold on control.

It's the moments that bring you closer to Christ, even though you're not expecting it. 

Redemption is winning. In the midst of chaos and hurt and sin, redemption is winning. God is still about the business of redemption. He is about the redemption of my life. He is about the redemption of those who hurt me. He is about the redemption of my friends. He is about the redemption of our lives. He is about the redemption of our painful days and circumstances. 

He is about our redemption.

When we are hurt,

When we hurt others,

When we sin, 

When we feel broken,

When we feel unworthy,

When we can't see it,

He is STILL about our redemption. He is relentless in His pursuit of our hearts. He will use everything we go through to call us back. He will use two very painful weeks to show the depravity of our humanity. He will use a moment on a bridge to remind that light pierces the darkness, and always will. He will use a band to write lyrics that challenge and encourage people to look for redemption. He will use every day moments to show a girl with a very tired heart that redemption is still possible, that there is still hope for her, the people around her, and the world. He will use that girl to remind others, even though she doesn't feel like she is worthy or capable of that responsibility. He will use all things, all these things, to work them for His good. He will use them to bring back His runaway children. He will use them to point us to the work of the cross, over and over again. 

It is finished. Redemption has won. 

What Cancer Gave Me

It's been five years today, five years since cancer took my best friend, my father.  I lost a lot because of cancer. Cancer didn't care that I already lost one parent less than a year before. Cancer didn't care that I still needed him. Cancer didn't care that it would take my home, my security, or the only life I knew for 16 years. Cancer didn't care that because of it, I would spend two weeks watching one of the greatest lights I have ever known slowly dim. It didn't care about a lot of things. It surely didn't care about all that it was taking from me.

But it's been five years. Five years of life: of joys, sorrows, hurts, healings... of life, not death.

Cancer doesn't care about anything that it took away from me.
But God sure does care about everything that cancer gave me.

Cancer gave me a better version of the man I already thought was the best.
After my mom's death, my father and I realized how quickly our lives can change and how important it is to show love, which became even more evident when cancer reared its ugly head. My father made sure I knew he loved me, he showed me even more than before how important I was to him. His last words that I remember were "I love you, Marilyn". If it was even possible, my father's compassion, servant's attitude, and love became stronger. He was at church, or somewhere, serving as long as his body would let him. I was once angry with him because he wasn't at home and wasn't answering my texts asking about his location. It turned out he was serving a homeless man and having a conversation about Jesus. Cool Dad, just make me cry because of how well you lived and loved. But that's just the type of man he was... sometimes it makes me angry, come on Dad, you left me ridiculous standards. Anyways, within the days of his sickness, never once did he stop loving or serving.

Cancer gave me a second family.
I will forever be grateful for the second family that I found in the Hennings. They let me be part of their family by staying under their roof for a year and a half and by loving me no matter how far I go. They were there for the big moments my parents would miss and they were there for all the little moments too. They gave me guidance and wisdom that I needed from a parental figure during the last of my high school career. I got more sisters! Come on, who doesn't want more siblings? They let me come home whenever I go back to my hometown for a visit. I forever have a family in them.

Cancer gave me opportunities.
Sometimes I like to think about what life would be like if my parents were still here. But I can't imagine my life any other way than it is now. My life would be very different without cancer. I probably would have never come down to Georgia. I probably would have gone to college somewhere less than two hours away from home and never went any further. I would never have come to TFC. I would have never built the relationship I have with my brother or his wife. I would have never seen their son be the cutest thing ever. I would have never made the friends that I have and I wouldn't trade for anything. I would have never had my internship with Kate's Cub; I probably would have never even looked for an internship like that. Cancer gave me a story, a story that more people can relate to than I would like to talk about. It allowed for me to empathize and grieve with those dealing with this loss.

Cancer gave me Christ.
When your world is shattered twice within such a short time span, you have to cling to something. I clung to what my dad showed me when my mother died. In every which way, I got more of Christ because of cancer. I saw my entire church serve me. If pure religion is taking care of widows and orphans, then my church was following it. People never ran out of love for me, it is overwhelming looking back on just how much I was loved with the love of Christ during that time.  It's so very hard to run away when you have been shown such love and grace. When you see people serve and love like that, it's hard not to want to be like them.

Cancer takes. It's what it does. It kills, destroys, and hurts. I think five years down the line, I can acknowledge that what was intended to destroy has been used for good. Out of death, I have been given life, a good good life. In all things, I continue to have a good good Father, using sorrow to work all things together for my good. Cancer can't take that.

Now, THIS was Supposed to Happen

Exactly a year ago, I wrote a blog about getting rejected for the Compassion internship. I was so sad and so confused about what was going to happen next.

And now, a year later, I look back at that day and the summer of my internship and I can't believe where I am.

I am so grateful that Compassion rejected me.

Don't get me wrong, if I went to Colorado and worked with them, I'm sure it would have been a great experience. I would have met some great people, learned a lot, and had a lot of fun. It would have been great.

But I don't regret my internship or my summer for a second.

My summer was so challenging but so rewarding.

I had an amazing internship. I learned so much through the staff, the tasks, the kids, the other interns. It wasn't my first choice but there was no other place that I would have rather completed my internship.

I got to spend my summer building friendships that I wouldn't trade for the world. We have so many great memories and inside jokes because of that summer.

I wanted that Compassion internship so badly. I was so disappointed when I didn't get it. But I had something so much greater waiting for me.

We're so afraid in the moments of uncertainty. We're so sure that things aren't going to work out. But after every single moment of uncertainty, I can look back and see how everything worked out in my favor. I can look back and see people who encouraged me and stuck by me when I couldn't see what the future would hold.

I feel so silly looking back at those moments of worry.

When have I ever been not taken care of?
When have things not worked out, whether it worked out the way I thought it would or not?
When have I not had people by my side?
What do I have to be so worried about?

Every time I go through one of these moments, I should trust a little more. I should recall the past moments of provision and see that the same will happen.

This was supposed to happen. I was supposed to learn. I was supposed to grow. I was supposed trust. I was supposed to love. I wouldn't have had it any other way. 

To Surprise and Be Surprised

A while back, TWLOHA posted a blog called "There is Still Some Time", reminding us that there are still good things ahead of us. The first time I read it, one line stuck out to me...

"There is still some time to be surprised"

This line surprised me (go figure) at first and then I kept thinking about it. About what it could mean for my life. Then I found myself saying it to myself when I couldn't stand the overbearing thought of what the future holds, when I couldn't get myself out of the fog that calls itself negativity. Then I found myself saying it to my friends when they needed a reminder that the days to come can hold great things despite our past. 

It started to become my mantra about the days and about the years that are before me. 

There is still some time to be surprised. 

About what the future holds... the job oppurtunities, the search to call somewhere home, the heartbreaks and the heart mendings, the big moments, the small moments that mean just as much as the big moments.

About those I love in my life... their joys, their passions, all the things that matter to them, the things they say and do, and who they will become

About me... my healing, my passions, the things that think they will take my joy, the dreams that have yet to appear, the person who I will become. 

There are so many things to be surprised about. There are so many things to look forward to that I won't be able to expect. There are so many surprises that will deserve celebration when the time comes. And I can't wait.

But I don't want to just be surprised. I want to be a part of the surprise.

I want to show up for people when they think no one will be there.

I want to show people that I'm thinking of them with gifts and words and time.

I want to help people heal and grow.

I want to help people reach their dreams and goals.

I want to help people surprise others. 

I want to learn to show grace.

I finished reading If You Feel Too Much by Jamie Tworkowski, the founder of TWLOHA, at 3 am yesterday because I couldn't put it down. And once again his words about this life and surprises burned their way into my mind. 

"I'm starting to believe those things, that the best is yet to be, that life comes back, that the dreams that live inside me are there for a reason, that life is not just a tragedy, not just a story about losing. It is also a story of surprises and grace and redemption, of conversations and moments that feel like miracles."

More importantly, MY story is a story of surprises and grace and redemption and dreams and miracles. As the new year starts, I started to think about what I hoped for this year and I kept coming back to the concept of surprises. This next year of my story is a chance to surprise and to be surprised. With graduating, getting a "real" job, moving out, and all the other big changes that will happen this year, I have plenty of chances to be surprised. Instead of facing these moments with dread and anxiety, I can face them as the surprising opportunity that they truly are. And I can face these moments with the greatest surprises that I have ever received, the people I have the honor of calling friends. And I hope to surprise them as we continue to write our stories together. 

I believe in these things. I believe that there is still some time. 

There is still some time to surprise and be surprised.

This, right now,  is the time to surprise and be surprised.