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Posts Tagged ‘future’

For most of my life, I’ve followed my dad in thinking that “if you want it done right, you have to do it yourself.” If I want the dishes done, I might as well do them, or they won’t get done. I might as well mow the lawn, or it won’t get mowed. But then bitterness seems to creep in. I have roommates, I have family members. Why am I always the one doing the dang dishes? Maybe because I never ask someone else to do them. Why ask for help when you don’t need it?

I have a weakness in being a perfectionist with hands-on work, like cleaning the house. But my counselor told me something that has stuck with me: Maybe I shouldn’t strive for perfectionism, but instead strive for excellence. Excellence has room for failure. Perfectionism doesn’t.

In everything I do, I have trained my mind to think that I am on my own. Sometimes I get advice from friends, but when finances are looking dicey, when exhaustion takes over, when my worries and fears about the future keep creeping into my mind like spiders, I feel like throwing in the towel. Fine, maybe I should just find an expensive restaurant and live as a waitress instead. Maybe I should just work at a factory job since I like working with my hands. Sometimes the work may suck, but it would pay the bills. I’m not a very good college student anyway. Why pray about something that only I have control over?

Sometimes when I pray, I really feel like I’m talking to God. I can have a conversation with him without needing to hear words out loud. But other times, I feel like I’m talking to the wall. There are so many voices in my head that I can’t tell which one might be the devil, which one might be God, and which one is just me overanalyzing and overthinking everything.

I want to marry a man on fire for God because I need someone who will put God first in our relationship and keep me on track in my walk with God. But it needs to go both ways. I need to also help him keep on track in his walk with God.

I look at how many times I go on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, Snapchat, Instant messaging. . .

And then I compare it to how many times I pray and read Scripture. Most of my praying is done through my teachers praying at the beginning of class. The amount I actually stop to pray is quite small. The amount of time I spend in my Bible is even smaller. Sometimes I feel quite ashamed to call myself a Christian. If I want to be with God, then I need to actually BE with God. Jeremiah 29:13 says, “You will seek me and find me if you seek me with all your heart.” Am I actually seeking Him with my heart? If you want to find God, you will find Him.

God is in church, he’s in the Bible, he is on the opposite end of my prayers. He’s right there, but instead I’ve been going on Facebook to see how much deeper of a hole our government is digging us into and catch up on the latest Miley Cyrus pish posh. Or I go through pages of Life Hacks on Pinterest that tell me how to get gum off my clothes and look for different homemade Halloween costume ideas. I watch movie trailers, music videos, and the latest episode of Once Upon a Time. . . I haven’t gone to the Bible much to actually sit and read. I mostly skim and find single verses that I attempt to memorize. But that’s not how the Bible is supposed to be used.

When I stress over something, my friend Emily asks, “Did you pray about it?” But what could God do? This is my stress, my fight, my struggle.

But actually, no, it’s not. The whole point of the cross was basically Jesus telling us, “You can’t do this alone, so I want to help you. You may have sinned, but I want to give you a second chance. I want to free you from this burden, because I would rather go through this torture than to see you burn in the Lake of Fire.”

Just because I’m a Christian, doesn’t mean my life is any easier than anyone else’s. But it does mean that I am reminded that I’m living for something, for someone. Even if I would work as a janitor for the rest of my life, my purpose is just as important as the principal of the school. A purpose is not just in the job we do, but in how we live our lives, the words we speak to people, the actions we take. I was reading the blog of a friend who was saying how God has been using other people to talk to her instead of God talking to her specifically. God has been giving the answers to her questions to other people to give to her personally. I really want to be a mouthpiece for God, but to do that I need to actually pray and be with God.

I am still working on the transition from thinking I can live alone, to admitting that I need God. It is much more stressful trying to deal with thoughts, people, and problems alone than when you give them to God. Even if I’m frustrated with God, confused, sad, terrified…God wants to know it all. It doesn’t matter that He already knows what I’m going to say, it matters that I am voicing my mind. I don’t even thank God enough for everything He has done for me. God wants to hear my praises as much as my stresses. The reminder of the good that has even come from dark times is an awesome lift for the soul. Two years ago, I read my Bible more, I prayed more, I was happier. But it’s not a decision you make only once. Choosing to follow God is a decision that you have to continue making every time you wake up in the morning. I need God as much today as I did yesterday. And I’ll need him just as much tomorrow.

My need will never stop, but God can handle it. Why would I want to carry the weight of the world on my sore shoulders, when Jesus already the weight of my sin for me? I’m not alone, I’ve never been alone, and I’m tired of allowing myself to think that I have to handle everything on my own. I don’t, and you don’t either. 

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I’m terrible with goodbyes. And they are everywhere. Each day has an end. Each book. Each adventure. Each person.

I’ve been thinking a lot about my trip to Ireland and my 3 months spent in Italy. It is a deep sorrow that needs to be learned to live with and accept. But before the goodbyes, there’s life. There’s love. There’s hope.

Desires can be traps. To crave something you can’t have is a sorrow deeper than a grave. Part of me craves to go back to Italy. The other part of me craves to go back to Italy with the people I had been there with, but that would mean going back in time. I can now only relive those memories in my mind. I can hit replay on the laughs, but I won’t hear them there again. I can imagine laying out on a soccer field, but we won’t again. I can see the vineyards, the buildings, the mountains in my mind, but it’s unlikely I’ll ever get to see them again except in pictures. I can tell stories, but they will only be stories. The others will never really know, no matter how good of a story teller I am.

To experience is to live. But to live is to lose. For everything we’ve experienced will eventually come to an end.

Living in the past is like being dead in the present. I look back on my study abroad in Italy, my spring break in Ireland, and can smile at the amazing chance that I was given. But then the other half of me misses it to the point of tears.

Parting is such sweet sorrow. It has been almost 5 months since I’ve been back, but I have yet to find the strength to accept the goodbye. 

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There are always those people who are really good at something, like playing guitar for example, and if they screw up a chord, or can’t remember a part of the song, they laugh it off and say something like, “No ones perfect, right” or “I’m glad I’m comfortable enough to not take myself so seriously.” But have you noticed how the people who I usually hear say that are actually really good at what they are doing, and you laugh with them and forget about it because they are still awesome at playing…

Well what if you aren’t that great at it, and you screw up? They may not try, but people begin judging you a little bit. I screwed up playing the guitar for church today, and it was the first time I had played in front of them. I’m better than that, because I’m a rockstar when I’m by myself, I’ve just never really played in front of people before because playing guitar and writing songs is something I do in my free time because I adore music and it’s one of my favorite ways to worship God. 

But everyone else doesn’t know how good I can be. I think that’s why I’m hiding in my room at the moment. 

Why do we think that we can’t make mistakes? Why is it in our minds to try and be perfect, whether it’s with our hair, makeup, clothes, homework, playing music, etc. A mistake tears us down, and we (or at least I do) begin tearing ourselves down before anyone even says anything. So I screwed up my first time trying. So what? It simply makes me human. It won’t get any worse than that because I wasn’t as prepared as I could have been. I’m going to make myself play again on Wednesday or Sunday just so I can keep the callouses on my hands and not be scared of screwing up again. 

I guess what I’m trying to say is don’t be so hard on yourself. Be confident that you will do better next time. Learn from your mistake and let it be a little wisdom for your life. Make some new preparations so you can avoid the same mistake, and let it go. Be a role model for others who make similar mistakes, and maybe it will help them get past their mistakes too. 

You aren’t perfect, so stop trying to be, and accept your imperfections as something to live with. You will find much more happiness rather than trying to fight it.  

As for me, I have finally begun to accept myself for my imperfections. They are not necessarily things that I should get frustrated with, but simply things that are a part of me, that make me who I am.

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This is a quick short snip-it about me. But I do have a point at the end of all of it, so read anyway!

I am a solitarian. I don’t even know if that’s a word, but if it isn’t, I’m making it one right now.

I am the awkward quiet one that you know is nice so you’ll say hi, but you don’t invite to stuff. If the others start leaving, eventually they all leave until I’m left by myself…AGAIN.

I am a listener. I’d rather listen to someone else talk, or listen to the radio or sing. I’d rather hear about you than talk about me. I’d rather you pick where we go to eat or what time we should meet up for coffee. There are times when I’m really craving something, or “I’m hungry now, so let’s go eat in fifteen minutes” type thing. But when I say, “I don’t care,” it’s not to be nice. I literally DON’T CARE. I am a follower, not a leader, except for a few cases here and there when I don’t mind leading.

I was scared about my major for a long time. A lot of times I feel like my writing sucks, sometimes it really does suck, and sometimes I just don’t wanna write. But it scares me because I should be writing more than I do, but I don’t. I watch movies and TV shows or sometimes read a book instead, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but watching movies isn’t going to get me a career.

Now I’m realizing that I watch the movies and shows because I adore STORIES. I love making my own stories with people I wish I could be, people I’m glad I’m not, people I’d love to have as my best friend, parents that shouldn’t be parents, handsome funny guys that I wish would ask me out, the popular girl who you’ve always wanted to cut up her clothes and hair with a jagged scissors because someone who is such a bitch shouldn’t look so pretty.

I was the one in the marching band, the one who had a loud cheer, but was too scared to be a cheerleader because I didn’t like being out in front of crowds.

I’m not even smart enough to call myself a nerd. I was in volleyball for 7 years, but I didn’t make the varsity team, so I’m not a jock. I can play guitar and flute, but I’m not a musician because I’m not good enough to show off anything. I live on a hobby farm, but I’m not what you’d call a farmer. I can snowboard but I’m too chicken to go off any jumps because I still fall sometimes. I’m not a social butterfly or an artist or a skater. I’m not stylish, and I’m not someone you go to for a good laugh, though I have my funny moments. I’m just kinda good at some things, but not great at anything.

I’m not getting knocked up, drunk out of my mind, or wearing tiny shorts that barely cover my butt cheeks. I’m bigger than that. I’m smarter than that. And it’s about time I stopped feeling sorry for myself and realize that just because I don’t have a lot of friends, doesn’t mean I don’t have a couple of really good ones.

I am a somewhat solitary person, but I wasn’t made that way by accident. Someday, some dude  is gonna see something in me that I will probably never figure out myself and walk me down that aisle in a wedding dress that I have been dying to go shopping for, and I’ll be the bride of a good man with ambitions, family oriented, and likes the thought of  waking up next to me for the rest of his life and grow old with me; and not the bride of someone I figured I should marry because I’m having his baby.

This girl may be kinda pathetic in more ways than one, I might be too good at making awkward situations, and I’m not always as talkative as I wish I was; but you know, if we were all jabber-mouths, we would get annoyed with each other for not ever getting to say anything.

Only YOU have the power to doubt yourself. Everyone else simply has opinions, and we should let them be simply that–OPINONS.

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