My story isn’t over yet.
I gently ink these words onto my left forearm, pen gliding along my skin, the letters coming out with lines and loops.
The words echo in my head, bringing me peace and hope that wasn’t there before.
It isn’t over for me –
I mark a semicolon on the edge of my wrist.
I know the One who holds the pen to my story.
** Continue reading
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.
This year so far has been one of conversations, of thinking, of beginning to define myself.
Something that often crosses my mind is this thought: Who am I?
And I can go through the surface things. I can say I’m a college student, a sister and daughter, a musician, a writer. But are those things enough?
I’ve been playing with this idea, of being rather than doing. Focusing on who I am, not just what I do as the definition of me.
On my own, I can do a lot of things. I can write articles and play music and be kind and use my mind. I can. But if I am to place my entire value, the sum total of my worth into these things – where will I be when these things fall away?
I absolutely, positively, love life.
Not that it’s easy, or pain-free, or pleasant all the time. It’s not.
But after a long string of posts about God feeling so far away, and finding hope in pain, and saying no, and inadequacy, and doubting God’s promises, and searching for meaning – I think we need a post on celebrating life.
Sometimes we wake up in the mornings, with a to-do list a mile long, a mess to clean up, and stress to deal with – and it’s honestly rather difficult at times.
But what if we decided to wake up with joy?
I probably don’t have to tell you that life’s really tough, sometimes.
I’ve done so many posts about pain – about depression and anxiety, about feelings of hopelessness, about when life throws things at us that we’re not ready for, about what we’re supposed to do when we literally have no idea what to do.
And my first reaction, honestly, is to go hide away in my room and look for a distraction.
It’s awkward to admit that, but it’s true. I want distraction over comfort, desperate feelings over peace, extremes over hope.
What do you do when God feels so far away? When there seems to be no feeling at all, no Voice, no overwhelming peace? Just the absence of anything deeper?
That isn’t how I wanted to start this post. I wanted it to sound beautiful, inspiring, but though it’s laced with desperation, it’s imperatively honest. Because for this past week, and maybe even for this past month, I’ve been there.
It took me a while to come to that conclusion – to be truthful with myself – to let myself admit that I haven’t been feeling my faith recently.
At first thought, I was horrified that it would even cross my mind that perhaps God wasn’t speaking to me as I clearly remember Him doing. It terrified me that maybe…I’ve been relying on myself so much, that life’s been so good, so easy lately, that I’ve forgotten my need to rely upon Him.
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.