It’s easy to feel insecure about who you are when you’re alone. Heck, if you’re anything like me, it’s easy even when you’re not alone. I struggle daily with the need to hear from other people about who I am. It’s easy to doubt myself when I’m existing in a daily routine where my impact is seemingly very small, and altogether pretty unnoticed, especially because inside my heart exist dreams of immense proportion and fears of never reaching them. Why is it that this overall theme of insecurity is such a rampant disease among women-and men too for that matter? It’s like that movie “Outbreak” with the infected monkeys that go around biting everyone… and I’ll be the first to admit that most of us have been bitten. Okay, let’s get real- the other day I cried for pretty much no reason because I felt so crippled from fear that I would eventually be unwanted, enough to not be able to enjoy the present! Fear that my life would look like so many others’ lives, full of rejection or cheating. I sat there thinking, “WHAT THE HECK IS WRONG WITH ME?” Good Lord, am I going insane? And don’t you dare ask me if it was just “that time of the month,” or I’ll punch you square in the mouth. Get real. Men face it too, it just looks different. Something has to be done about this.
As I was walking today listening to music and thinking about life in general, I realized that my insecurities were not just a matter of self-doubt, but also God-doubt. A lack of faith, better put. When I believe lies that tell me that I’m not good enough, I also am choosing to ignore who God already says that I am. I forget that he chose to love me in my own filth and nasty state, and says he will never leave me. I choose to believe that he is a liar. Boom. Hit me like a ton of bricks. I’d love to tell myself that I trust God. I’d LOVE to act like I have that trust thing in the bag, but let’s get real, it’s work. It’s hard. I’d much rather just hear it from someone who I can actually see!
I can’t even tell you how many friends I have with the same story. Friends who have given up everything for a relationship with someone who never loved them. Friends who would do just about anything for the person they’ve always dreamed of to come along and change their world and show them that they’re worth something. Friends who work out 3 hours a day because they fear if they don’t, their boyfriend will lose interest and move on to the next best thing. For some reason, we think that the men in our lives would love to hear all about our struggles, when, in reality, no man wants to bear the responsibility of determining our worth. It’s overwhelming. Yet, instead of fighting against it, we have settled for the realization that our worth and overall interest is comparable to that of a new video game…really cool at first, but then after you know all the cheat codes and the secret tunnels, well, when will the next one come out? Am I the only one who dreams of more than that?
While we are sitting around being insecure, abundant life is passing us by. We tell ourselves that if we only had this or that, we would be content and secure, but oh how we are wholly deceived. Our culture lies to us the most. The “If you’re not happy with what you have, go out and find something better” mentality. After a while our hearts believe that our happiness takes precedence to our holiness. Our need for being loved takes priority to our call to BE LOVE. We wake up one day and realize that our whole life is centered around our own personal happiness, and we wonder why no one wants to listen to what we have to say. What a scam.
What’s even worse than the insecurity, is the idea of pretending it doesn’t exist. There is this laughable act we put on to pretend like nothing bothers us. The “I don’t really care” attitude. We make for ourselves a little glass box and sit in it, hoping that we can still make an impact on others while keeping ourselves safe and closed off from harm. And yet, it’s a constant catch-22… Do I let my guard down and put my heart on the line in an attempt to show love to other people at the risk of being hurt? Or do I protect my heart and never really, fully, love anyone? Is there a middle ground? Can we learn to love, but love with a smart heart? Or do we have to keep walking around either being emotional basket-cases or acting as though our heart and emotions are hard as stone?
What about that issue of being a people-pleaser? There are even times when I truly feel that the Lord has put something on my heart, but I don’t share it because I fear what people will say. Will they understand my heart behind it? Will they just make fun of me? Will they think I’m just some closed minded Bible beater? When will I ever learn that I am not trying to please men, but God? And so commences this blog-one born out of a desire to try to figure out my own heart. Is it possible to beat this monster of insecurity and self-doubt? I am willing to bet that the women who have beaten it didn’t do so without a fight.
Now, I don’t know much about this issue, but I do know a couple things, and that is that 1. God is always faithful, always good, and always love. Even when God is just and fair, it’s out of a heart of love. 2. The enemy comes to steal, kill, and destroy. Every lie about who I am (and who I am not) comes from him. Every time the world tells me I’m not good enough, God tells me that yes, I’m NOT good enough-BUT He is, and He is inside of me.
The anti-venom to this problem is not a reliance on self, but a reliance on God, and a constant and daily fueling up on truth. It’s not a self-help book telling us how awesome we are. It’s not a motivational speaker or a to do list for freedom. It’s truth. How can we wage war on lies without a weapon of truth? If we don’t know what God’s truth is about our worth, how can we ever dismiss the lies that tell us our value is based on our actions and the actions of those around us? I’ll admit, it’s much easier to listen to the opinions of someone with tangible hugs and audible words. And if you’re like me, you’re probably often frustrated with the constant circle of taking 5 steps forward, only to take 3 steps back. But I ask you this- even though it’s not 5 steps, isn’t 2 steps still progress?
I was talking to a dear friend the other day, and she made an awesome point. She said she was always raised that you do certain things and avoid other things so that the person that you marry will value that about you, but that the more she got to know Jesus, the more she realized the holes in that logic. She asked herself, “But what if I never get married? Then I have done all these things for my future husband?” Does that, then, make all of those things meaningless? The reality is, it’s not about what you do, but why you do it, and whom you’re doing it for. Why do we act holy? To impress other people? Or to draw closer to the God who is always more holy than we can be? Why do we avoid sin? Is it because we are judgmental or is it because we want to?
The beauty of knowing Jesus is that I’m not the same person this week as I was last week. Even when I stumble through those 5 forward steps just to run back 3… I know He delights in my small and straining forward motion. I know that in order to accomplish much for him, I have to learn to be faithful in the small things-the seemingly insignificant. I’m learning every day more and more that I am literally incapable of loving anyone on this earth without realizing how loved I am by God. I can’t be there for anyone if I doubt that God is capable to use even me. Lord knows I will never understand His heart. Lord knows I’ll have quite a few more train wrecks before I make it to my final stopping point.
So, I find, at the end of the day, the way for me to combat the lies of insecurity is to stock up on the truth that is the word of God. Truth that says that every hair on my head is numbered. Truth that tells me that the God of the universe knit me together in my mother’s womb, and that his plans for me are ones of hope and future. Truth that says that although the world may cause trouble and doubt, that I can take heart! He has already overcome the world. =)
Saturday, July 30, 2011
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Growing Where I'm Planted.
It’s been way too long since I’ve blogged… and I feel like every time I blog that’s the opening line. So, admittedly I am not very good at a task requiring me to sit still for longer than about 15 minutes, but here goes nothin!
I don’t have anything clever to write about, mainly because my life as of late has consisted of waking up, treking to the hospital for internship, coming home, working out and/or sitting on my lazy butt and relaxing, and then going to bed at the truly senior citizen worthy hour of about 10:00. I have realized that the real world post-college is nowhere near as exciting as late night Whataburger runs after two-stepping for hours with friends, spending nights in friends’ living rooms huddled around and listening to really good guitar players, or making random 1am road trips to the Branch Davidian compound. I drove past Baylor last weekend on my way home, and I couldn’t help but laugh at so many good times with so many of my favorite people who are now scattered all over the US working through the monotony that is real-life jobs right along with me. How in the world did I get the blessing of going to such an amazing college with such legit people? I’ll never know.
I have to say, though, that being the nomad and overall adventure seeker that I am, (once again, I get bored easily) I am really loving life right now in a place that I never thought in a million years I would live. I have never been afraid of being off on my own-truth be told I need “me” time to be able to function…but this season of life has had its moments of glory and moments of loneliness. Going from a city full of my best friends to now a city where I know only ONE friend (shout out, Camille!!) has been slightly strange, but really, really good. I feel like this is a period where the Lord is teaching me a lot about how to be grateful for the place that I am in while I’m there- to grow where I’m planted so to speak. I know, without a doubt, that there is a specific reason why I am here for these few months, and I know that the Lord knows exactly where he will plant my life next.
It feels weird, and I’ll admit, HARD to realize that I am not in control of the next step of my life. I often need a reminder that that’s a GOOD thing. I think I often forget how much bigger my Lord’s perspective is than my own, and how insanely good he is even when there is not a decent place in my own heart. He brought me here to San Antonio to learn Speech Pathology from one of the best SLP’s in the state of Texas, and he will put me in a phenomenal job where I can grow even more and hopefully help people in such a way that I am using every gift I have for his glory. He provided a beautiful home for me to live and a wonderful family to live with here. He has blessed my family with good health, and given me the most wonderful blessing in a man to walk with me (albeit from 300 miles away) through this season and teach me at the same time how flawed and selfish I can be. I am grateful for family and for a boyfriend who never let me stay the same, but constantly challenge me to be the best person I can be. I can't even explain how thankful I am for people who push me closer to the God that I love, and remind me of my need for him. God is good. He has been so faithful.
If you know me at all and have walked through grad school life with me, you know that there have been so many times when I felt like quitting. IE: CAMP SUCCESS (see: “If hell had a name it would be Neill Morris Hall blog post if you need to catch up) Anyways, I can honestly say now that in spite of how hard the past year and a half has been, I am so unbelievably thankful to have the job that I have. I can honestly say that I have found something that I love to wake up for, and would love to do even if I made no money doing it. There is nothing in this world that beats the look on a person’s face, after they have been through hell and back with a stroke or brain injury, and you tell them that they can finally eat again. There is nothing that beats seeing that moment where a dad writes “I love you” on a notepad to his little girl who hasn’t been able to communicate with him in weeks. I love getting to be there to give love and hope to people as their family is going through one of the toughest times they’ll ever face. There is bittersweet beauty watching couples that have been married for 50+ years support each other and love each other to the end. I hope with all my heart that the love between me and my husband grows more every year like theirs. I am truly more blessed by the people I work with than they could ever bless me, and I thank God every day for my internship and the new perspective and thankfulness that it brings.
Today I was working in the NICU with the TEEEENY TINY babies, and I just couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Nothing makes you in awe of God’s intricate detail like seeing a baby the size of your hand with every tiny finger and toe moving. It’s like looking at a living, breathing, Barbie doll. I was literally just staring like a little kid. There was this baby in the corner crying in this open air crib, and my supervisor informed me that she was crying because she was having withdrawals from being addicted to heroine. Her mother apparently admitted to using heroine during the pregnancy and THE DAY she was born. Now, on one hand I really wanted to hunt down the mom and scream at her, (just being honest) but on the other hand, it offered me so much perspective. I am so blessed, and there are so many people who go through so much pain, even pain that they don’t have any control over. This poor sweet baby didn’t get to choose her mom. It’s humbling that so often I feel like I don’t deserve to go through tough times, and yet I haven’t even begun to see tough times.
Sometimes I wonder, when I’m having an ungrateful moment or a complaint-filled day, why the Lord even puts up with me. It still blows my mind every time I think about his unconditional, faithful love that knows no limits. I wonder how he could possibly shake his head for the 8 millionth time at me and still love me because he knows that his perfect son’s blood and grace covers every ounce of my most royal screw ups. And if I know this and really believe it, there is no circumstance that can shake my joy. There is no pain that can steal it. He is goodness and life, and nothing else on this earth will satisfy my soul and heart but Him. =)
I don’t have anything clever to write about, mainly because my life as of late has consisted of waking up, treking to the hospital for internship, coming home, working out and/or sitting on my lazy butt and relaxing, and then going to bed at the truly senior citizen worthy hour of about 10:00. I have realized that the real world post-college is nowhere near as exciting as late night Whataburger runs after two-stepping for hours with friends, spending nights in friends’ living rooms huddled around and listening to really good guitar players, or making random 1am road trips to the Branch Davidian compound. I drove past Baylor last weekend on my way home, and I couldn’t help but laugh at so many good times with so many of my favorite people who are now scattered all over the US working through the monotony that is real-life jobs right along with me. How in the world did I get the blessing of going to such an amazing college with such legit people? I’ll never know.
I have to say, though, that being the nomad and overall adventure seeker that I am, (once again, I get bored easily) I am really loving life right now in a place that I never thought in a million years I would live. I have never been afraid of being off on my own-truth be told I need “me” time to be able to function…but this season of life has had its moments of glory and moments of loneliness. Going from a city full of my best friends to now a city where I know only ONE friend (shout out, Camille!!) has been slightly strange, but really, really good. I feel like this is a period where the Lord is teaching me a lot about how to be grateful for the place that I am in while I’m there- to grow where I’m planted so to speak. I know, without a doubt, that there is a specific reason why I am here for these few months, and I know that the Lord knows exactly where he will plant my life next.
It feels weird, and I’ll admit, HARD to realize that I am not in control of the next step of my life. I often need a reminder that that’s a GOOD thing. I think I often forget how much bigger my Lord’s perspective is than my own, and how insanely good he is even when there is not a decent place in my own heart. He brought me here to San Antonio to learn Speech Pathology from one of the best SLP’s in the state of Texas, and he will put me in a phenomenal job where I can grow even more and hopefully help people in such a way that I am using every gift I have for his glory. He provided a beautiful home for me to live and a wonderful family to live with here. He has blessed my family with good health, and given me the most wonderful blessing in a man to walk with me (albeit from 300 miles away) through this season and teach me at the same time how flawed and selfish I can be. I am grateful for family and for a boyfriend who never let me stay the same, but constantly challenge me to be the best person I can be. I can't even explain how thankful I am for people who push me closer to the God that I love, and remind me of my need for him. God is good. He has been so faithful.
If you know me at all and have walked through grad school life with me, you know that there have been so many times when I felt like quitting. IE: CAMP SUCCESS (see: “If hell had a name it would be Neill Morris Hall blog post if you need to catch up) Anyways, I can honestly say now that in spite of how hard the past year and a half has been, I am so unbelievably thankful to have the job that I have. I can honestly say that I have found something that I love to wake up for, and would love to do even if I made no money doing it. There is nothing in this world that beats the look on a person’s face, after they have been through hell and back with a stroke or brain injury, and you tell them that they can finally eat again. There is nothing that beats seeing that moment where a dad writes “I love you” on a notepad to his little girl who hasn’t been able to communicate with him in weeks. I love getting to be there to give love and hope to people as their family is going through one of the toughest times they’ll ever face. There is bittersweet beauty watching couples that have been married for 50+ years support each other and love each other to the end. I hope with all my heart that the love between me and my husband grows more every year like theirs. I am truly more blessed by the people I work with than they could ever bless me, and I thank God every day for my internship and the new perspective and thankfulness that it brings.
Today I was working in the NICU with the TEEEENY TINY babies, and I just couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Nothing makes you in awe of God’s intricate detail like seeing a baby the size of your hand with every tiny finger and toe moving. It’s like looking at a living, breathing, Barbie doll. I was literally just staring like a little kid. There was this baby in the corner crying in this open air crib, and my supervisor informed me that she was crying because she was having withdrawals from being addicted to heroine. Her mother apparently admitted to using heroine during the pregnancy and THE DAY she was born. Now, on one hand I really wanted to hunt down the mom and scream at her, (just being honest) but on the other hand, it offered me so much perspective. I am so blessed, and there are so many people who go through so much pain, even pain that they don’t have any control over. This poor sweet baby didn’t get to choose her mom. It’s humbling that so often I feel like I don’t deserve to go through tough times, and yet I haven’t even begun to see tough times.
Sometimes I wonder, when I’m having an ungrateful moment or a complaint-filled day, why the Lord even puts up with me. It still blows my mind every time I think about his unconditional, faithful love that knows no limits. I wonder how he could possibly shake his head for the 8 millionth time at me and still love me because he knows that his perfect son’s blood and grace covers every ounce of my most royal screw ups. And if I know this and really believe it, there is no circumstance that can shake my joy. There is no pain that can steal it. He is goodness and life, and nothing else on this earth will satisfy my soul and heart but Him. =)
Monday, May 2, 2011
Letters
Dear Baylor:
Thank you for five and a half awesome years. I can’t complain about much, except for the ridiculous attendance policy. Knock that sucker out and you’ll be the most perfect university in the world. Oh, and maybe do better at football?
Dear Oakley:
Please, for the love of GOD, stop shedding in my house.
Dear COMPS:
I hope your bruises are healing nicely from that time that all the third semesters beat the ever loving crap out of you. I’ll admit, you were a tough one to take out, but in the end- you got what was coming to you.
Dear man who broke into my car:
You are a moron. You broke into my car, are probably homeless, and didn’t even think to grab the $40 Eno hammock. This is why you have to break into cars for a living, genius.
Dear moving boxes:
Stop staring at me with your beady little eyes. I will not pack yet!
Dear ICEE company:
Thank you for your sweet, sweet nectar.
Dear finals:
Please, be gentle.
Dear May:
Please explain to me why you think it’s acceptable to be 40 degrees outside right now. Were you waiting for the opportune moment? Like, the exact three days after I packed up everything in my closet with long sleeves? Thanks, May… you really are a trickster, someone should change it to May Fool’s Day in your honor. Now cut the crap before I have to unpack my hoodies.
Dear Kate Middleton:
Thank you for wearing the most beautiful wedding dress I’ve ever seen, and also for crushing my hopes of ever being remotely as gorgeous as you on my wedding day. I personally think you make a great Duchess.
Dear Benjamin:
Please come home. I realize that you’re probably scared and hiding under something, maybe inside a shrub or tree… but if you could kindly just fly on back to the Fairfield Oaks, we sure would love to meet you in person. Something about hearing of your adventures through twitter updates just isn’t satisfactory enough. I promise not to make you into an English-themed hat.
Dear Texas:
You know, I realize that the coolest thing about you is that you could probably secede from the United States at any given whim and become your own nation, and I also realize that you are my second home, BUT if you don’t lower the freaking pollen count here in about 24 hours, I am personally “fixin” to Mess With Texas. Just yesterday I think I threw out my back sneezing. 23 year olds don’t throw out their backs- but oh yes, you made it happen. It’s unacceptable. Fix it.
Dear Bon Jovi:
I will be in attendance at your concert May 17th in Houston, and will gladly accept any offers of back-stage passes, meet and greets, sleepovers, etc. I’ll be the girl crying in section 119 when you sing “Always,” because I truly believe you are singing that to me. I just want you to know that I have been eating Ramen noodles for the past three weeks just to save money for this trip. Dearest Jon, I’d live and I’d die for you, steal the sun from the sky for you, words can say what love can do… I’ll be there for you.
Dear Shreveport:
Please give me a job. You won’t regret it, promise.
Dear Ann Taylor Loft:
I’m sorry, you won’t be seeing me as much anymore. I hate to sever our ties, but I will VERY HAPPILY hopefully be wearing scrubs to work for the rest of my life, and will no longer need to buy your $70 cardigans. Thanks though, it’s been real.
Dear Colorado:
Please snow uncontrollably for the next three months for the sole reason of pissing Ally Rice off enough that she moves back to Texas sooner.
Dear Ally:
Please get tired of Colorado. And while you’re at it, bring my family back with you. The cat shirts, P3s, and I are waiting patiently for your arrival.
Dear Osama:
Although I know it is not Christian-like to celebrate in a person’s death, I am quite satisfied in the fact that you are no longer around to send creepy videos and organize terrorism.
Dear Chuck Norris:
Glad to have you back from Pakistan. Sidenote: “MERICA!
Dear Sonic:
Thank you for your ice. That is all.
Dear Kanakuk:
Thanks for providing me with the opportunity to meet awesome people like Ally Rice, Nika Spaulding, Betty Atwell, and my approximately 40 campers that I am obsessed with stalking on facebook even though they probably don't know that. Not to mention the realization that I can actually survive in 120 degree temperatures at 100% humidity with no air conditioning for a month.
Dear Waco:
Thank you for uncontrollable breakouts due to your terrible water. Thank you for your crime rate. Most of all, thank you for all the Branch Davidian jokes I have gracefully accepted since my arrival here five and a half years ago. You’re a gem of a city, and surprisingly enough, I really am going to miss you. Actually, I’m mostly going to miss the H-E-B majal in Hewitt and 3 spoons fro-yo. Oh, and the occasional Bush’s chicken. Nom nom nom.
Dear Shreveport Regional Airport:
Please lower your prices for airfare from Shreveport to San Antonio from May 30th to August 4th. Thanks.
Dear Meredith Smith:
Do you realize that we are about to live in different cities for the first time in our entire lives? This is not okay…
Dear A.D.D.:
Please subside long enough for me to at least studying a tiny bit for my finals. You have so far already distracted me into writing this blog, and now, thanks to you I am already distracted from blogging and trying to figure out how to wrap this up to head on to something else. God bless, I cannot sit still!!!
Dear abs ball and 10lb weights:
Thank you for waiting so patiently to be used… all year.
Dear Lady Gaga:
I watched your interview with Ellen, and am only more convinced that you are the weirdest person alive.
Dear Ellen:
Be my gay best friend?
Dear Jesus:
Thanks for dying for us and then raising from the dead to reclaim your title of most awesome person/God in both the known and unknown universe. You rock, and I'm fairly certain that I wouldn't be writing this blog without you, so thanks again for letting me wake up today.
Dear Bachelorette:
Please start soon so that I can enjoy watching “the most dramatic season in Bachelor/Bachelorette history” yet again. I haven't had anything to make fun of for months, and this mounting sarcasm needs an outlet.
Dear Dr. Ritter:
FIVE powerpoints on this final?? SERIOUSLY? I've gotta stop blogging and start studying now.
Dear readers:
Thank you for reading this blog.
Megan
Thank you for five and a half awesome years. I can’t complain about much, except for the ridiculous attendance policy. Knock that sucker out and you’ll be the most perfect university in the world. Oh, and maybe do better at football?
Dear Oakley:
Please, for the love of GOD, stop shedding in my house.
Dear COMPS:
I hope your bruises are healing nicely from that time that all the third semesters beat the ever loving crap out of you. I’ll admit, you were a tough one to take out, but in the end- you got what was coming to you.
Dear man who broke into my car:
You are a moron. You broke into my car, are probably homeless, and didn’t even think to grab the $40 Eno hammock. This is why you have to break into cars for a living, genius.
Dear moving boxes:
Stop staring at me with your beady little eyes. I will not pack yet!
Dear ICEE company:
Thank you for your sweet, sweet nectar.
Dear finals:
Please, be gentle.
Dear May:
Please explain to me why you think it’s acceptable to be 40 degrees outside right now. Were you waiting for the opportune moment? Like, the exact three days after I packed up everything in my closet with long sleeves? Thanks, May… you really are a trickster, someone should change it to May Fool’s Day in your honor. Now cut the crap before I have to unpack my hoodies.
Dear Kate Middleton:
Thank you for wearing the most beautiful wedding dress I’ve ever seen, and also for crushing my hopes of ever being remotely as gorgeous as you on my wedding day. I personally think you make a great Duchess.
Dear Benjamin:
Please come home. I realize that you’re probably scared and hiding under something, maybe inside a shrub or tree… but if you could kindly just fly on back to the Fairfield Oaks, we sure would love to meet you in person. Something about hearing of your adventures through twitter updates just isn’t satisfactory enough. I promise not to make you into an English-themed hat.
Dear Texas:
You know, I realize that the coolest thing about you is that you could probably secede from the United States at any given whim and become your own nation, and I also realize that you are my second home, BUT if you don’t lower the freaking pollen count here in about 24 hours, I am personally “fixin” to Mess With Texas. Just yesterday I think I threw out my back sneezing. 23 year olds don’t throw out their backs- but oh yes, you made it happen. It’s unacceptable. Fix it.
Dear Bon Jovi:
I will be in attendance at your concert May 17th in Houston, and will gladly accept any offers of back-stage passes, meet and greets, sleepovers, etc. I’ll be the girl crying in section 119 when you sing “Always,” because I truly believe you are singing that to me. I just want you to know that I have been eating Ramen noodles for the past three weeks just to save money for this trip. Dearest Jon, I’d live and I’d die for you, steal the sun from the sky for you, words can say what love can do… I’ll be there for you.
Dear Shreveport:
Please give me a job. You won’t regret it, promise.
Dear Ann Taylor Loft:
I’m sorry, you won’t be seeing me as much anymore. I hate to sever our ties, but I will VERY HAPPILY hopefully be wearing scrubs to work for the rest of my life, and will no longer need to buy your $70 cardigans. Thanks though, it’s been real.
Dear Colorado:
Please snow uncontrollably for the next three months for the sole reason of pissing Ally Rice off enough that she moves back to Texas sooner.
Dear Ally:
Please get tired of Colorado. And while you’re at it, bring my family back with you. The cat shirts, P3s, and I are waiting patiently for your arrival.
Dear Osama:
Although I know it is not Christian-like to celebrate in a person’s death, I am quite satisfied in the fact that you are no longer around to send creepy videos and organize terrorism.
Dear Chuck Norris:
Glad to have you back from Pakistan. Sidenote: “MERICA!
Dear Sonic:
Thank you for your ice. That is all.
Dear Kanakuk:
Thanks for providing me with the opportunity to meet awesome people like Ally Rice, Nika Spaulding, Betty Atwell, and my approximately 40 campers that I am obsessed with stalking on facebook even though they probably don't know that. Not to mention the realization that I can actually survive in 120 degree temperatures at 100% humidity with no air conditioning for a month.
Dear Waco:
Thank you for uncontrollable breakouts due to your terrible water. Thank you for your crime rate. Most of all, thank you for all the Branch Davidian jokes I have gracefully accepted since my arrival here five and a half years ago. You’re a gem of a city, and surprisingly enough, I really am going to miss you. Actually, I’m mostly going to miss the H-E-B majal in Hewitt and 3 spoons fro-yo. Oh, and the occasional Bush’s chicken. Nom nom nom.
Dear Shreveport Regional Airport:
Please lower your prices for airfare from Shreveport to San Antonio from May 30th to August 4th. Thanks.
Dear Meredith Smith:
Do you realize that we are about to live in different cities for the first time in our entire lives? This is not okay…
Dear A.D.D.:
Please subside long enough for me to at least studying a tiny bit for my finals. You have so far already distracted me into writing this blog, and now, thanks to you I am already distracted from blogging and trying to figure out how to wrap this up to head on to something else. God bless, I cannot sit still!!!
Dear abs ball and 10lb weights:
Thank you for waiting so patiently to be used… all year.
Dear Lady Gaga:
I watched your interview with Ellen, and am only more convinced that you are the weirdest person alive.
Dear Ellen:
Be my gay best friend?
Dear Jesus:
Thanks for dying for us and then raising from the dead to reclaim your title of most awesome person/God in both the known and unknown universe. You rock, and I'm fairly certain that I wouldn't be writing this blog without you, so thanks again for letting me wake up today.
Dear Bachelorette:
Please start soon so that I can enjoy watching “the most dramatic season in Bachelor/Bachelorette history” yet again. I haven't had anything to make fun of for months, and this mounting sarcasm needs an outlet.
Dear Dr. Ritter:
FIVE powerpoints on this final?? SERIOUSLY? I've gotta stop blogging and start studying now.
Dear readers:
Thank you for reading this blog.
Megan
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Ode to Comps and Praxis
Dear COMPS and PRAXIS,
I would like to take this moment, as I am breaking from my 7-hour studying marathon, to express my sincere hatred for every fiber of your being- that is, every fiber of the paper that you are printed on.
I want to personally thank you for sending me into the frazzled state of stressed and pissed-offness that I have existed in for the past 3 months. You really are a gem. Thank you for consuming my thoughts, making me spontaneously tear up at the mere mention of your name, and most of all- thank you for causing my hair to fall out and my face to look like my pores are participating in a jail break.
As though the grad school program isn’t stressful enough, let’s just top it off with a horrifying comprehensive exam over the past 5 years of your life. Makes me really kick myself for all those years of undergrad that I trained myself to sleep through Audiology and Speech Science with my eyes open. And as for you, iPhone, thanks a heap for offering me enthralling games to play, like spider solitaire, during every class. Damn you, addictive personality. Damn you, A.D.D.
On another note, I literally, I think my face has declared mutiny against me. I have tried everything from Mary Kay to Cetaphil, facial scrubs, amber bar… all powerless in the battle of fighting the stress hormones that are being released into my system on a daily basis. So now, I must accept the fact that for yet another month, I will be the acne-faced 17 year old girl with patchy hair loss, posting up in Panera and chowing down on Everything Bagels.
However, I must cease my complaints long enough to list the positive things about COMPS.
1. I get to have a COMPS buddy. AKA incredible person responsible for pampering me with fatty foods that I do not need, but LOVE, during the week leading up to COMPS. My buddy, whomever she may be, is freaking phenomenal. I have thus far gotten one of the most top-notch CD’s ever made (I actually am convinced that she hijacked my iTunes and stalked my music preferences) not to mention two cokes (my arch nemesis/drug addiction) a WHOLE PACKAGE of Reese’s eggs which is the second greatest thing about Easter (The first being Jesus, DUH, I’m no heathen), a bunch of miniature Reese’s, a 3 Spoons Frozen Yogurt Gift card (which elevated her to the status of most badass COMPS buddy alive), multiple cards, and Japanese Cherry Blossom perfume, body lotion, and bath soap. God bless you COMPS buddy. You really are the shiz.
2. Every year, the day before COMPS, we have a comps lunch, catered by the underclassmen. It’s SOOOOO much fun, and those girls put so much work into it. Free food, good laughs, and the big reveal of our COMPS buddies, to which we owe our partial sanity.
Unfortunately, those are the only two positive things I can say about COMPS and Praxis. Some would say the real positive thing about it is the opportunity to learn more about our field, become better clinicians, BLAH BLAH BLAH. You people who say that are nuts, and I honestly don’t trust you with any life decisions that affect me if you say that out loud. I think you might have gone a little crazy in the head through this process. Yes, being excellent clinicians is our goal, but no one likes studying. Let’s just call it what it is, deal?
Aside from all this, dearest COMPS and Praxis, I must inform you that I thoroughly plan on smoking the crap out of you. Put up all the fight you like, but I am going to dominate you, kick you in the man parts, and send you back to the fiery abyss of hell that you came from. I sincerely expect you to hit me with your best shot, to which I must reply, “Fire Away.”
So, Third Semesters, this post is dedicated to you, and if you weren’t studying like it was your job, I bet you’d actually read it. Keep it up, we’re ALMOST DONE!!!
I would like to take this moment, as I am breaking from my 7-hour studying marathon, to express my sincere hatred for every fiber of your being- that is, every fiber of the paper that you are printed on.
I want to personally thank you for sending me into the frazzled state of stressed and pissed-offness that I have existed in for the past 3 months. You really are a gem. Thank you for consuming my thoughts, making me spontaneously tear up at the mere mention of your name, and most of all- thank you for causing my hair to fall out and my face to look like my pores are participating in a jail break.
As though the grad school program isn’t stressful enough, let’s just top it off with a horrifying comprehensive exam over the past 5 years of your life. Makes me really kick myself for all those years of undergrad that I trained myself to sleep through Audiology and Speech Science with my eyes open. And as for you, iPhone, thanks a heap for offering me enthralling games to play, like spider solitaire, during every class. Damn you, addictive personality. Damn you, A.D.D.
On another note, I literally, I think my face has declared mutiny against me. I have tried everything from Mary Kay to Cetaphil, facial scrubs, amber bar… all powerless in the battle of fighting the stress hormones that are being released into my system on a daily basis. So now, I must accept the fact that for yet another month, I will be the acne-faced 17 year old girl with patchy hair loss, posting up in Panera and chowing down on Everything Bagels.
However, I must cease my complaints long enough to list the positive things about COMPS.
1. I get to have a COMPS buddy. AKA incredible person responsible for pampering me with fatty foods that I do not need, but LOVE, during the week leading up to COMPS. My buddy, whomever she may be, is freaking phenomenal. I have thus far gotten one of the most top-notch CD’s ever made (I actually am convinced that she hijacked my iTunes and stalked my music preferences) not to mention two cokes (my arch nemesis/drug addiction) a WHOLE PACKAGE of Reese’s eggs which is the second greatest thing about Easter (The first being Jesus, DUH, I’m no heathen), a bunch of miniature Reese’s, a 3 Spoons Frozen Yogurt Gift card (which elevated her to the status of most badass COMPS buddy alive), multiple cards, and Japanese Cherry Blossom perfume, body lotion, and bath soap. God bless you COMPS buddy. You really are the shiz.
2. Every year, the day before COMPS, we have a comps lunch, catered by the underclassmen. It’s SOOOOO much fun, and those girls put so much work into it. Free food, good laughs, and the big reveal of our COMPS buddies, to which we owe our partial sanity.
Unfortunately, those are the only two positive things I can say about COMPS and Praxis. Some would say the real positive thing about it is the opportunity to learn more about our field, become better clinicians, BLAH BLAH BLAH. You people who say that are nuts, and I honestly don’t trust you with any life decisions that affect me if you say that out loud. I think you might have gone a little crazy in the head through this process. Yes, being excellent clinicians is our goal, but no one likes studying. Let’s just call it what it is, deal?
Aside from all this, dearest COMPS and Praxis, I must inform you that I thoroughly plan on smoking the crap out of you. Put up all the fight you like, but I am going to dominate you, kick you in the man parts, and send you back to the fiery abyss of hell that you came from. I sincerely expect you to hit me with your best shot, to which I must reply, “Fire Away.”
So, Third Semesters, this post is dedicated to you, and if you weren’t studying like it was your job, I bet you’d actually read it. Keep it up, we’re ALMOST DONE!!!
Monday, February 21, 2011
5 Things
My blogging creativity has been lacking in major ways lately. Maybe it’s due to the fact that all my excess brain-power has been spent on cramming as much information as I can about speech pathology into my brain before dreaded COMPS and PRAXIS… either way- I am going to unashamedly steal the clever ideas of the one, the ONLY, ALLY RICE! (Ally, I sincerely hope that shout out was enough, and that there will be no lawsuits for copyright infringement)
5 Things that I Like:
1. Crawfish, Queso, and ICEEs (Although not necessarily at the same time)
2. My guitar, which is yet to be named.
3. 3 Spoons Frozen Yogurt. I’m honestly not sure how I got by in life without it at this point, but if I were a cat, Sugar Free Double Stuffed Cookies and Cream and White Cake Batter swirl fro-yo would be my cat-nip.
4. The ocean. If I could live near the ocean for the rest of my life, I’m 98% positive that I would never get sick of it. And even if I did, I could just vacation to visit Ally and my sister and brother in the frozen tundra state of Colorado, and then remember why I live at the beach in the warmth- and why it’s 1,000 times better than frostbite and runny noses.
5. Jon Bon Jovi and his gorgeous 50-year-old self. I sincerely hope my future husband is okay with the risk that if Bon Jovi ever asked me to marry him, I would very sinfully divorce my husband and spend happily ever after listening to Jon play “I’ll be there for you” to me in the dark…
5 Things that I Don’t Like:
1. Being cold
2. The fact that my best friend and family live in the coldest state in America (see above)
3. When people misuse “your” and “you’re.” Seriously people, go back to 2nd grade please. Actually, change this one to include grammatical errors in general.
4. The fact that, no matter WHERE I am, my iPhone incessantly drops every single phone call I ever make. It’s always in the middle of the best part of either my story, or my friend’s story. Like, “Oh my gosh, you will not believe what he said after that…” BEEP BEEP BEEP. Call Failed. Spins me into a new dimension of pissed off EVERY. SINGLE. TIME.
5. Losing sports games. I can’t even really go into detail about this one without getting my blood pressure up- but trust me, it ain’t pretty.
5 Things that Make Me Laugh:
1. Being tickled. However, I must note that this is not the, “ohhh I love this, it’s so funny” kind of laughter. It’s more like the, “I swear to God when I catch my breath again I will secretly plot your slow and tortuous death” kind.
2. Mullets- especially in Branson, MO.
3. Really traumatic and vague facebook statuses. For example, “What you did was so wrong, and now my heart feels like it has shattered all over the floor.” Okay, excuse me- was this directed at all of us? Because I’m reading this, and yet I don’t recall ever mistreating you, so could you please pick your heart up off the floor and clarify? Or, “So-and-So is just wishing he would love me like he should have all along.” Okay, I hate to be the one to tell you this, sister, but he’s probably not loving you because you are an insecure nutcase. In fact, your status just solidified that- and he’s reading it thinking, PRAISE GOD I ESCAPED! I laugh with you, at you, and for you.
4. YouTube videos from my witty friends. Top notch, every time. Favorite of the week: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g6lBopUbtqY&feature=related
5. Modern Family. Enough said. If you haven’t seen it, shame on you. Go HULU it immediately. You can thank me later.
5 Things that Make Me Cry:
1. Cheesy videos like the one of the Olympic runner who tears out his knee in the final race, and his dad comes down out of the stands and helps him to the finish line. Whew, I just teared up thinking about it.
2. When someone around me is crying. No one can cry in my presence without me joining them.
3. Letters from my nieces or nephews. Gets me every time
4. Saying goodbye to people- only it's always after the fact. They always leave thinking "oh wow, Megan really doesn't care at all that I'm leaving," and then ten minutes later I have a nervous breakdown in the car alone. It's awkward. Dang you, poorly timed emotions.
5. The movies Old Yeller, Where the Red Fern Grows, and Steel Magnolias. Like, who’s idea was it to make these movies? Poor demented souls. Can we just turn this off and watch Wedding Crashers already?
5 People I Respect:
1. Shemar Moore
2. John Mayer. I don’t care if you’re a socially awkward guy who always says the culturally inappropriate things at all the wrong moments- you are a talented dude, and your lyrics ROCK.
3. Ally Rice- because she came up with good blog ideas, managed to find a baller job with NO experience, snowboards every weekend, and still manages to find time to call me like EVERY day. You da bomb.
4. Professional Chefs. I don’t care which one- the mere fact that you went to school in order to make the act of getting fat more delicious makes me love you.
5. A.W. Tozer
5 People I Don’t Respect:
1. Brad Womack. Seriously dude, the fact that you, and every other Bachelor in history, are telling ten different women at once that you think you’re falling in love with them is wack. I bet I could fall in love with Mickey Mouse if we got to spend two weeks in Anguilla rappelling down waterfalls and frolicking on our own personal island. I'm not sure who is more funny to watch- you, or the women who love you one day, and then expect you to be their personal therapist the next. However, I LOVE making fun of all of you, so please don’t stop. Thanks.
2. Obama. Homeboy is not my fav
3. Men with tiny dogs. If I see a man walking a dog any smaller than a beagle, I automatically judge him. I don’t care if it’s your girlfriend’s dog and you are kindly walking Foofie for her… that just makes you double whipped. Buy a black lab, a rifle, and a six pack of beer, and regain your testosterone.
4. Lady Gaga
5. People who drive under the speed limit in the fast lane. Don’t even get me started. There is not a single thing that makes me want to ram my car into the back of the person in front of me more than a stupid driver going glacier-pace on the interstate. MOVE IT OR LOSE IT.
5 Things I Enjoy Doing:
1. Walking the Bear Trail while podcasting Matt Chandler with Oakley
2. Singing American Idol style (only nowhere near the talent level) in my car on my way anywhere. I have almost convinced myself that I’m actually good. NOPE.
3. Being outside playing sports that include soccer, throwing the football, flag football, ultimate Frisbee, baseball, tennis, basketball, or swimming. Actually, I should broaden that to competitive activities in general. Although don’t beat me, or you’ll quickly make it onto the bad list. (see above)
4. Reading in a hammock, outside, on a 70-80 degree day. There is NOTHING better, except maybe falling asleep in said hammock.
5. Going to live sporting events or concerts. I can’t decide which of those I like more, but either way- you can’t go wrong.
5 Things I Don’t Enjoy Doing:
1. Working out- I have a love/hate relationship with this activity.
2. Studying
3. Sitting in class- I can barely keep my ADD in check long enough to write a blog- sitting in class is like my tenth circle of hell.
4. Laundry. Where do all my socks go?
5. Affirmation circles at Kanakuk. Talk about forced awkwardness. I never understood this concept- and honestly, most of the time I just let my camper sleep through it. No one wants to make someone say something nice about them. But good try, A-Rob.
5 Things that I am Excited About:
1. Bon Jovi concert with Kenneth May 17th WOOOOOOOOO
2. Spring BREEAAAAAAAK
3. End of the semester- May 2011. PRAISE THE GOOD LORD.
4. Graduation- August 13th!!!!!
5. Warrior Dash
5 Things that I am Not Excited About:
1. Finding a big-girl job
2. Waking up at 5:30 tomorrow morning
3. COMPS and PRAXIS
4. The day I have to move far away from 3 Spoons Frozen Yogurt.
5. The day that Shemar Moore gets old and is no longer attractive. (I don’t see this happening though)
5 Things that I Like:
1. Crawfish, Queso, and ICEEs (Although not necessarily at the same time)
2. My guitar, which is yet to be named.
3. 3 Spoons Frozen Yogurt. I’m honestly not sure how I got by in life without it at this point, but if I were a cat, Sugar Free Double Stuffed Cookies and Cream and White Cake Batter swirl fro-yo would be my cat-nip.
4. The ocean. If I could live near the ocean for the rest of my life, I’m 98% positive that I would never get sick of it. And even if I did, I could just vacation to visit Ally and my sister and brother in the frozen tundra state of Colorado, and then remember why I live at the beach in the warmth- and why it’s 1,000 times better than frostbite and runny noses.
5. Jon Bon Jovi and his gorgeous 50-year-old self. I sincerely hope my future husband is okay with the risk that if Bon Jovi ever asked me to marry him, I would very sinfully divorce my husband and spend happily ever after listening to Jon play “I’ll be there for you” to me in the dark…
5 Things that I Don’t Like:
1. Being cold
2. The fact that my best friend and family live in the coldest state in America (see above)
3. When people misuse “your” and “you’re.” Seriously people, go back to 2nd grade please. Actually, change this one to include grammatical errors in general.
4. The fact that, no matter WHERE I am, my iPhone incessantly drops every single phone call I ever make. It’s always in the middle of the best part of either my story, or my friend’s story. Like, “Oh my gosh, you will not believe what he said after that…” BEEP BEEP BEEP. Call Failed. Spins me into a new dimension of pissed off EVERY. SINGLE. TIME.
5. Losing sports games. I can’t even really go into detail about this one without getting my blood pressure up- but trust me, it ain’t pretty.
5 Things that Make Me Laugh:
1. Being tickled. However, I must note that this is not the, “ohhh I love this, it’s so funny” kind of laughter. It’s more like the, “I swear to God when I catch my breath again I will secretly plot your slow and tortuous death” kind.
2. Mullets- especially in Branson, MO.
3. Really traumatic and vague facebook statuses. For example, “What you did was so wrong, and now my heart feels like it has shattered all over the floor.” Okay, excuse me- was this directed at all of us? Because I’m reading this, and yet I don’t recall ever mistreating you, so could you please pick your heart up off the floor and clarify? Or, “So-and-So is just wishing he would love me like he should have all along.” Okay, I hate to be the one to tell you this, sister, but he’s probably not loving you because you are an insecure nutcase. In fact, your status just solidified that- and he’s reading it thinking, PRAISE GOD I ESCAPED! I laugh with you, at you, and for you.
4. YouTube videos from my witty friends. Top notch, every time. Favorite of the week: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g6lBopUbtqY&feature=related
5. Modern Family. Enough said. If you haven’t seen it, shame on you. Go HULU it immediately. You can thank me later.
5 Things that Make Me Cry:
1. Cheesy videos like the one of the Olympic runner who tears out his knee in the final race, and his dad comes down out of the stands and helps him to the finish line. Whew, I just teared up thinking about it.
2. When someone around me is crying. No one can cry in my presence without me joining them.
3. Letters from my nieces or nephews. Gets me every time
4. Saying goodbye to people- only it's always after the fact. They always leave thinking "oh wow, Megan really doesn't care at all that I'm leaving," and then ten minutes later I have a nervous breakdown in the car alone. It's awkward. Dang you, poorly timed emotions.
5. The movies Old Yeller, Where the Red Fern Grows, and Steel Magnolias. Like, who’s idea was it to make these movies? Poor demented souls. Can we just turn this off and watch Wedding Crashers already?
5 People I Respect:
1. Shemar Moore
2. John Mayer. I don’t care if you’re a socially awkward guy who always says the culturally inappropriate things at all the wrong moments- you are a talented dude, and your lyrics ROCK.
3. Ally Rice- because she came up with good blog ideas, managed to find a baller job with NO experience, snowboards every weekend, and still manages to find time to call me like EVERY day. You da bomb.
4. Professional Chefs. I don’t care which one- the mere fact that you went to school in order to make the act of getting fat more delicious makes me love you.
5. A.W. Tozer
5 People I Don’t Respect:
1. Brad Womack. Seriously dude, the fact that you, and every other Bachelor in history, are telling ten different women at once that you think you’re falling in love with them is wack. I bet I could fall in love with Mickey Mouse if we got to spend two weeks in Anguilla rappelling down waterfalls and frolicking on our own personal island. I'm not sure who is more funny to watch- you, or the women who love you one day, and then expect you to be their personal therapist the next. However, I LOVE making fun of all of you, so please don’t stop. Thanks.
2. Obama. Homeboy is not my fav
3. Men with tiny dogs. If I see a man walking a dog any smaller than a beagle, I automatically judge him. I don’t care if it’s your girlfriend’s dog and you are kindly walking Foofie for her… that just makes you double whipped. Buy a black lab, a rifle, and a six pack of beer, and regain your testosterone.
4. Lady Gaga
5. People who drive under the speed limit in the fast lane. Don’t even get me started. There is not a single thing that makes me want to ram my car into the back of the person in front of me more than a stupid driver going glacier-pace on the interstate. MOVE IT OR LOSE IT.
5 Things I Enjoy Doing:
1. Walking the Bear Trail while podcasting Matt Chandler with Oakley
2. Singing American Idol style (only nowhere near the talent level) in my car on my way anywhere. I have almost convinced myself that I’m actually good. NOPE.
3. Being outside playing sports that include soccer, throwing the football, flag football, ultimate Frisbee, baseball, tennis, basketball, or swimming. Actually, I should broaden that to competitive activities in general. Although don’t beat me, or you’ll quickly make it onto the bad list. (see above)
4. Reading in a hammock, outside, on a 70-80 degree day. There is NOTHING better, except maybe falling asleep in said hammock.
5. Going to live sporting events or concerts. I can’t decide which of those I like more, but either way- you can’t go wrong.
5 Things I Don’t Enjoy Doing:
1. Working out- I have a love/hate relationship with this activity.
2. Studying
3. Sitting in class- I can barely keep my ADD in check long enough to write a blog- sitting in class is like my tenth circle of hell.
4. Laundry. Where do all my socks go?
5. Affirmation circles at Kanakuk. Talk about forced awkwardness. I never understood this concept- and honestly, most of the time I just let my camper sleep through it. No one wants to make someone say something nice about them. But good try, A-Rob.
5 Things that I am Excited About:
1. Bon Jovi concert with Kenneth May 17th WOOOOOOOOO
2. Spring BREEAAAAAAAK
3. End of the semester- May 2011. PRAISE THE GOOD LORD.
4. Graduation- August 13th!!!!!
5. Warrior Dash
5 Things that I am Not Excited About:
1. Finding a big-girl job
2. Waking up at 5:30 tomorrow morning
3. COMPS and PRAXIS
4. The day I have to move far away from 3 Spoons Frozen Yogurt.
5. The day that Shemar Moore gets old and is no longer attractive. (I don’t see this happening though)
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
A Father's Heart
When I was probably about 8 years old, I remember getting my favorite Christmas present. My dad surprised me with it around September, because he was never very good at holding out on a secret. I came home from school to find a beanie baby sitting on my bed with a note. As I read the note, I began a scavenger hunt around my house, each point marked with a different beanie baby, (Lord knows I had about 1,000 of those stupid things that are now packed in my attic in three huge tubs) and a note to give the clue to find the next. After about six beanie baby notes, I came upon the seventh, which was a stuffed frog that was so cleverly hidden in my bathtub. The note told me to go outside, around the corner of the house by where our pool pump house was. At this point, I just assumed I would be getting yet another beanie baby, so I hurried outside SO excited to see what the next animal would be. But, as I rounded the corner, my eyes widened, heart stopped, and there it was—my very own motorized scooter. I’m pretty sure I was more excited to get that scooter than I was at 16 getting my first real car. I was EXSTATIC. I spent the next year at least racing that sucker around the front lawn, down one side of the ditch and ramping up the other, flying around trees, and making my own race course through the grass. I was unstoppable.
To understand why this was so cool to me, you have to first understand that, as a child, I was the world’s biggest tomboy. I spent my playground days racing the boys, and beating them at pull-ups during our PE fitness tests. At recess, I was the pink Power Ranger who ran around with the boys, karate chopping trees that we pretended were the bad guys. The week before my fifth grade play, Peter Pan, I got a black eye because I was pitching while playing baseball with the boys and got the ball hit back into my eye at warp speed. I had to put concealer on my eyes in the play to hide the bruises, so as not to portray Wendy as the girl who was abused by Peter Pan. Bottom line, I was not interested in pretty dresses, fluffy bows, or flirting with the boys. So, when my dad surprised me with my go-ped… it would have been like a normal girl getting surprised with a My Size Barbie coupled with her life-size Barbie dream car. But me? Nope. I had a need for speed that the dream car just couldn’t provide. Fast-forward to now, 15 years later. My sweet daddy still gives me great stuff, but I’m pretty sure nothing will ever quite compare to that scooter.
Now to my point. Today I was reading in Luke, and something stuck with me:
“So I say to you: Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives; the one who seeks finds; and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened. Which of you fathers, if your son asks for a fish, will give him a snake instead? Or if he asks for an egg, will give him a scorpion? If you then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him!” – Luke 11:9-13
This made me think about my own father, and how he would have given his left arm to make sure that I was taken care of, happy, and provided for. I never went hungry growing up, and I never had to worry about not having clothes to wear. On top of just providing the necessities, my dad also provided me with things “just because,” like my scooter. I didn’t do anything to earn that, he just wanted to see me smiling and having fun! If I asked my dad for something, he inevitably was going to give it to me, and probably a little more. Why? It’s simple. Because I was his little girl, and he wanted the best things for my life.
These verses say even bigger things about Jesus-that we should be open and honest with him about what we need, from the smallest desires of our heart to our biggest practical needs. Who has a desire for something powerful to happen in his heart? He should ask God. Who has a need? Ask God. The fact that, so often, as people who follow Jesus, our prayer lives do not mirror our hearts to know Christ is really sad. I am guilty of this too. I know how to get to know him, but I forget sometimes the importance of talking to him. When I say that out loud it sounds really stupid haha.
What is beautiful about Him is that he is not my dad. He is not anyone’s earthly dad. See, everyone’s earthly dads are human, evil in their very core apart from Christ. As sinners, we are all lost without grace. It brings a whole new worth to these verses when you remember that even a human, innately evil father desires to give the best to his children when they ask him for it. How much more can a perfect father give?
I think often, when I am asked to trust God, I find it difficult because I have a skewed mentality of who he is. Tozer put it this way:
“What comes into our minds when we think about God is the most important thing about us. ... Worship is pure or base as the worshiper entertains high or low thoughts of God. For this reason the gravest question before the Church is always God Himself, and the most portentous fact about any man is not what he at a given time may say or do, but what he in his deep heart conceives God to be like.”
I feel like if I could really grasp that not only does God love me, but that he desires ONLY GOOD for my life, it would be easier to trust him in moments where I feel like he is emptying the goodness from my life. To me, it might feel like he is stripping everything I know and love out of my life, when in reality, he is clearing room for more of Himself-knowing that HE is the only thing that can bring me true happiness. He takes situations that look like disasters to us, and orchestrates something beautiful that we never saw coming.
And we, being stupid, don’t realize just how many of our prayers God answers, because we forget what we pray for almost as soon as it leaves our lips. Matt Chandler said it perfectly, “We are like children on Christmas morning that get tons of presents, and then pout because we didn’t get the pony.” We gripe about the ONE unanswered prayer and forget the hundreds that were answered. Or, we attribute his goodness to the things around us that are visible. We praise the gifts, the creation, the technology, the medicine- and we forget to praise the One who created it all. Why give glory to the table, when you can get to know the carpenter? And if we truly learn to trust him, not only will he surprise us with what he loves to give to his children, but I think he will also keep us from a lot of pain.
Back to my scooter story for a minute…
Before dad would let me ride the scooter, he told me the conditions. He pulled out a shiny helmet and a set of elbow and knee pads, and informed me that I needed to wear them to protect myself when I rode. I rolled my eyes, being that I was eight and knew everything, and put them on begrudgingly. However, after riding the scooter around like Evel Knievel for about two weeks, it started getting annoying to have to put on all of my protective gear. I figured, since I had a lot of experience, I was practically a pro. I didn’t need all that gear, right? I had never wrecked before, why worry about the hassle? DAY ONE of no protective gear happened, and I felt indestructible. That is, until I decided to ramp off the driveway and onto the neighbors’ driveway which was about a two feet drop from ours. In that one extremely stupid moment, I flew through the air- midway through realizing that I was NOT going to land well. My tires hit hard on the pavement, and I wiped out bigtime, sliding down my neighbors’ driveway as my scooter flew into the grass. My first reaction was to see if my dad was looking, and then… the pain came. I looked down and realized my elbow was bleeding, and, being the wimp that I am, I broke out into hysteria. (Excuse me, but WHY did I have to scrape my ELBOW of all things? I mean, could I not have scraped something that wouldn’t have been protected had I worn the gear my dad had bought for me? Geez)
I ran into the house, and my dad took me in his arms. He sat me up on the kitchen counter and started pouring alcohol on my open wound (payback). I of course screamed bloody murder as he told me that it would only hurt for a minute and would clean all the germs out of my cut. I thought at first he was only doing it to torture me, but since he was right about the elbow pads I decided to trust him. Turns out dad isn’t such a dummy after all.
Now, you would think I would have learned after that experience to listen to warnings. You would assume that I would look down at the disgusting scar on my right elbow and think twice the next time I wanted to do things my own way. Buuuuuuut, of course, I am the most stubborn human being known to mankind, and 15 years later, I can’t even tell you how many times I’ve had to “see for myself” at my own expense. So many times I thought I knew better than God. I thought I was indestructible. I ignored his voice when he told me to run away, to protect my heart, or to trust that what looked hopeless was really the best way. Instead, I try to trick him into believing that my way would actually be better. Haha, I’m an idiot. It’s laughable.
Yet, at the end of the day, I’m an idiot with a God who, thankfully, is nothing like me. Luckily, I don’t have to be perfect for my Father to delight in me. All I have to do is ask, seek, and knock, and trust that God does not desire my perfection- but instead he desires endless, reckless pursuit. Pursuit that says to Him, “I cannot rest until I know the depths of exactly who you are.” Pursuit that is honest about my fears, my desires, my lack of control, the ugliness in my heart, and my annoying secret sins that, LET’S BE HONEST, are not secret to him anyways. That’s a little freaky to think about, but honestly, extremely freeing. Stop hiding from God. Share with him your fears. Share your insecurities. There is no better person to tell these things to than the God who holds every key to victory over fears, insecurities, sin, and death. Share them with the God who delights in giving good gifts to his children. Trust that he wants only the best and most wonderful things for your life. Those wonderful things may lead you away from something you think is vital to your happiness, but they will never lead you anywhere but closer to the God who IS HIMSELF happiness. And when your life is lead by a God like him, and your decisions are based on his voice and guidance, you will find something worth far more than yourself. Happy searching!
To understand why this was so cool to me, you have to first understand that, as a child, I was the world’s biggest tomboy. I spent my playground days racing the boys, and beating them at pull-ups during our PE fitness tests. At recess, I was the pink Power Ranger who ran around with the boys, karate chopping trees that we pretended were the bad guys. The week before my fifth grade play, Peter Pan, I got a black eye because I was pitching while playing baseball with the boys and got the ball hit back into my eye at warp speed. I had to put concealer on my eyes in the play to hide the bruises, so as not to portray Wendy as the girl who was abused by Peter Pan. Bottom line, I was not interested in pretty dresses, fluffy bows, or flirting with the boys. So, when my dad surprised me with my go-ped… it would have been like a normal girl getting surprised with a My Size Barbie coupled with her life-size Barbie dream car. But me? Nope. I had a need for speed that the dream car just couldn’t provide. Fast-forward to now, 15 years later. My sweet daddy still gives me great stuff, but I’m pretty sure nothing will ever quite compare to that scooter.
Now to my point. Today I was reading in Luke, and something stuck with me:
“So I say to you: Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives; the one who seeks finds; and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened. Which of you fathers, if your son asks for a fish, will give him a snake instead? Or if he asks for an egg, will give him a scorpion? If you then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him!” – Luke 11:9-13
This made me think about my own father, and how he would have given his left arm to make sure that I was taken care of, happy, and provided for. I never went hungry growing up, and I never had to worry about not having clothes to wear. On top of just providing the necessities, my dad also provided me with things “just because,” like my scooter. I didn’t do anything to earn that, he just wanted to see me smiling and having fun! If I asked my dad for something, he inevitably was going to give it to me, and probably a little more. Why? It’s simple. Because I was his little girl, and he wanted the best things for my life.
These verses say even bigger things about Jesus-that we should be open and honest with him about what we need, from the smallest desires of our heart to our biggest practical needs. Who has a desire for something powerful to happen in his heart? He should ask God. Who has a need? Ask God. The fact that, so often, as people who follow Jesus, our prayer lives do not mirror our hearts to know Christ is really sad. I am guilty of this too. I know how to get to know him, but I forget sometimes the importance of talking to him. When I say that out loud it sounds really stupid haha.
What is beautiful about Him is that he is not my dad. He is not anyone’s earthly dad. See, everyone’s earthly dads are human, evil in their very core apart from Christ. As sinners, we are all lost without grace. It brings a whole new worth to these verses when you remember that even a human, innately evil father desires to give the best to his children when they ask him for it. How much more can a perfect father give?
I think often, when I am asked to trust God, I find it difficult because I have a skewed mentality of who he is. Tozer put it this way:
“What comes into our minds when we think about God is the most important thing about us. ... Worship is pure or base as the worshiper entertains high or low thoughts of God. For this reason the gravest question before the Church is always God Himself, and the most portentous fact about any man is not what he at a given time may say or do, but what he in his deep heart conceives God to be like.”
I feel like if I could really grasp that not only does God love me, but that he desires ONLY GOOD for my life, it would be easier to trust him in moments where I feel like he is emptying the goodness from my life. To me, it might feel like he is stripping everything I know and love out of my life, when in reality, he is clearing room for more of Himself-knowing that HE is the only thing that can bring me true happiness. He takes situations that look like disasters to us, and orchestrates something beautiful that we never saw coming.
And we, being stupid, don’t realize just how many of our prayers God answers, because we forget what we pray for almost as soon as it leaves our lips. Matt Chandler said it perfectly, “We are like children on Christmas morning that get tons of presents, and then pout because we didn’t get the pony.” We gripe about the ONE unanswered prayer and forget the hundreds that were answered. Or, we attribute his goodness to the things around us that are visible. We praise the gifts, the creation, the technology, the medicine- and we forget to praise the One who created it all. Why give glory to the table, when you can get to know the carpenter? And if we truly learn to trust him, not only will he surprise us with what he loves to give to his children, but I think he will also keep us from a lot of pain.
Back to my scooter story for a minute…
Before dad would let me ride the scooter, he told me the conditions. He pulled out a shiny helmet and a set of elbow and knee pads, and informed me that I needed to wear them to protect myself when I rode. I rolled my eyes, being that I was eight and knew everything, and put them on begrudgingly. However, after riding the scooter around like Evel Knievel for about two weeks, it started getting annoying to have to put on all of my protective gear. I figured, since I had a lot of experience, I was practically a pro. I didn’t need all that gear, right? I had never wrecked before, why worry about the hassle? DAY ONE of no protective gear happened, and I felt indestructible. That is, until I decided to ramp off the driveway and onto the neighbors’ driveway which was about a two feet drop from ours. In that one extremely stupid moment, I flew through the air- midway through realizing that I was NOT going to land well. My tires hit hard on the pavement, and I wiped out bigtime, sliding down my neighbors’ driveway as my scooter flew into the grass. My first reaction was to see if my dad was looking, and then… the pain came. I looked down and realized my elbow was bleeding, and, being the wimp that I am, I broke out into hysteria. (Excuse me, but WHY did I have to scrape my ELBOW of all things? I mean, could I not have scraped something that wouldn’t have been protected had I worn the gear my dad had bought for me? Geez)
I ran into the house, and my dad took me in his arms. He sat me up on the kitchen counter and started pouring alcohol on my open wound (payback). I of course screamed bloody murder as he told me that it would only hurt for a minute and would clean all the germs out of my cut. I thought at first he was only doing it to torture me, but since he was right about the elbow pads I decided to trust him. Turns out dad isn’t such a dummy after all.
Now, you would think I would have learned after that experience to listen to warnings. You would assume that I would look down at the disgusting scar on my right elbow and think twice the next time I wanted to do things my own way. Buuuuuuut, of course, I am the most stubborn human being known to mankind, and 15 years later, I can’t even tell you how many times I’ve had to “see for myself” at my own expense. So many times I thought I knew better than God. I thought I was indestructible. I ignored his voice when he told me to run away, to protect my heart, or to trust that what looked hopeless was really the best way. Instead, I try to trick him into believing that my way would actually be better. Haha, I’m an idiot. It’s laughable.
Yet, at the end of the day, I’m an idiot with a God who, thankfully, is nothing like me. Luckily, I don’t have to be perfect for my Father to delight in me. All I have to do is ask, seek, and knock, and trust that God does not desire my perfection- but instead he desires endless, reckless pursuit. Pursuit that says to Him, “I cannot rest until I know the depths of exactly who you are.” Pursuit that is honest about my fears, my desires, my lack of control, the ugliness in my heart, and my annoying secret sins that, LET’S BE HONEST, are not secret to him anyways. That’s a little freaky to think about, but honestly, extremely freeing. Stop hiding from God. Share with him your fears. Share your insecurities. There is no better person to tell these things to than the God who holds every key to victory over fears, insecurities, sin, and death. Share them with the God who delights in giving good gifts to his children. Trust that he wants only the best and most wonderful things for your life. Those wonderful things may lead you away from something you think is vital to your happiness, but they will never lead you anywhere but closer to the God who IS HIMSELF happiness. And when your life is lead by a God like him, and your decisions are based on his voice and guidance, you will find something worth far more than yourself. Happy searching!
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