In the midst of your pain, in the midst of your darkness, in the midst of the terrifying paths in front of us that we call the future – you’re so radically and beautifully loved. May we never lose sight of that.
I sit peacefully on the porch, one leg curled under me, guitar resting on the other. I feel the cool breeze of the evening in my hair, the summer mosquitoes swarming around my feet, and I unwind as my fingers dance up and down the familiar strings.
And in the stillness, the quiet, the only solitude I’ve had all day, one thing comes to my mind – Worship Him. The Savior. Continue reading
I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately.
As the school year draws to a close, and my final year of high school at that, there have been a lot of frantic nights, staying up late to get all the preparations in order, waking up early to the thoughts of, “What am I doing all of this for?”
I hit an almost-crisis point a few months back, struggling with the idea of staying in the English field forever, in favor of something exciting, something lifesaving, something so much more fulfilling than tapping away at a keyboard for hours on end, day after day.
But in all the busyness, the planning, the last-minute studying, I stopped writing.
And my soul felt drier than it had in a long, long time.
This week, I had the opportunity to write for my friend and classmate Moriah over at her blog, Moriah Mari. She has a lovely blog that I think you’ll all really enjoy, and this post, while written more in the style of a short story than my usual journal-style, is a side of me that I tend to write less from, though I love it. Go on over and read the post and give Moriah a follow!
It’s not every night that’s as beautiful as this one.
It’s been a long day. I’m exhausted in all senses of the term, having worked all day while wrestling with issues concerning me, my future, my plans.
And it’s starting to feel like too much.
I crawl into bed and slip under my covers, pulling my fleece sheets to my chin and letting my soft white comforter envelop me. My head hits the pillow, Beethoven’s piano sonatas playing in my ears, and I finally have a chance to breathe.
My eyes lazily drift to the window next to my bed, and at once I see the stars glisten in the midnight sky, so clear, so breathtaking.
They’re beautiful and bright, and something hits me hard in this moment – something I can barely begin to put into the right words. Continue reading
I turned seventeen this past Sunday – on April second, two-thousand seventeen.
If you don’t know me personally, you may not have known my age until now.
And it’s not as if it’s a secret – I simply decided a while ago that I didn’t want people to judge me or my writing on my age alone, or have to try and explain when I mention school that I’m a college student, even though I’m supposed to be a high school student, and kind of still am for a few more months.
But something hit me really hard last week. I was talking to some college friends, and coming to the realization that the average age of the majority of my friends is around twenty years old.
And it’s funny – because I joke about it all the time, the fact that I forget that I’m not twenty, myself.
But it’s more than just a joke.
After spending almost an entire week discussing everything under the sun with a dear friend, a friend that’s my own age, I realized how important it was that I don’t forget that I’m only seventeen.
I’ll only ever be seventeen once.
I’m sitting at the counter, jittering from my intake of caffeine, waiting to take a final, and seriously thinking about the future.
To be perfectly honest, I’ve been a little disoriented lately. Thinking about what I’ll do next is so tiring, sometimes.
Because every time I think I’ve figured everything out about what I’ll be doing and where I’ll be in a few years, something changes. My desires change, my situations change, anything and everything and it sends me into a mental frenzy.
Every good story involves some kind of journey.
I’ve been thinking about my journey a lot, lately. Thinking about how in five years I’m gonna look back on this moment and remember the things I felt, the things I thought, what I did and who I spent my time with and how I lived my life, and I’ll be so far removed from those things then.
I’m looking ahead to the day I’ll look back and see how things have changed.
How I’ve changed.
How those around me have changed.
Because even now, I look back, and I’ve learned, and grown, and changed so much. Even the very way I approach life now is so different. I have different perspectives, different struggles, different voices in my life I listen to.
For the past few months, I’ve been thinking and praying, seeking to know, grasping to discover what to do with my life. I have somewhat of an idea; somewhat.
I have my passions. I have my friends and family that encourage me. I have my hobbies, my loves, those things in my life I can’t imagine doing without.
And so lately, I’ve been on this journey. It’s been somewhat subconscious, in the back of my head, and on those days where I’m home alone with my notebooks, my Bible, my phone, and computer, I can choose to either think, or be distracted.
Sometimes, I choose to think.
Lately, I’ve been having this series of existential crises, those “What am I doing with my life?!” freak-out sessions of ranting and frantic heavy-breathing and banging my head against walls because I literally have no idea in the world what’s gonna go on with my future.
I’ve been talking a lot with my amazing parents and my amazing friends about the whole thing, and they’ve tirelessly said Amanda, stop. Breathe. It’s gonna be okay, God’s in control, you’ll figure it out, God’s plan will prevail, and you don’t need to worry.
But they’ve also said one thing that has really stood out to me, and if you’re in any similar situation, I hope it’ll help you too.