When Classy Doesn't Cut It

I still remember agonizing over what could be the core of that rubber band ball.

            I was a kitchen worker (T.E.A.M. member—now “Secret Service Member”) at camp. Ninth grade. And Hector was still the T.E.A.M. leader. In one of our Bible studies, he held up his famous rubber band ball. I don’t even remember how heavy it was. It was huge. Band-upon-band, wrapped around a small core. A core that only Hector knew.

            “This is not a rubber band ball,” he told us. “The rubber bands are just what are covering the true core of this ball. Only I, the creator of the ball, truly know what this ball is. You can only see what it has been covered in.”

            He went on to explain that we do this in our lives—we apply rubber bands to our core. God created us to be something/someone, but we seek identity in other things. We apply “rubber bands” to our lives, because we want people to see us as those things.

            I don’t think I realized, at the time, how much I did, and would continue to do, just that. It’s something I’ve always done. Perhaps I’ve mentioned before that my motto is basically, “go big or go home.” It’s not so much something that I have consciously implemented in my life as much as it is something ingrained in my character from the beginning. As Matty said to me last night, “You either walk really fast, or you walk really slowly. You’re either really loud or really quiet.” I go to extremes. So when I find something I like, I go at it—hard. And I tend to wrap it around myself like a rubber band, wanting people to see me as that. To associate me with that.

            I like old-fashioned things, and I have a high appreciation for class. I wear high heels and pencil skirts with my shirts neatly tucked in and topped with a cardigan. My hair is often swept back into a tidy bun, hair sprayed to perfection. While I tend to wear neutral colours (often simply black, white, and grey), my lips are most often painted with a vibrant red (courtesy of the influence of my dear friends Katelyn and Lauren).

            I’m known for being a studious person, so I embrace my nerdiness to its fullest. “Yes I just casually quoted Jane Austen in normal conversation—I’m sorry You didn’t notice; let me point that out for you…” type of thing. Tease me for studying too much? You probably just made my day.

            My blood type is O-negative; the universal donor. Which I find pretty special.

Those are just a few things—to give you a good picture of what I’m talking about.

            Today, I had all my rubber bands in place. After only a few tries, my hair kindly complied with my wishes and formed a bun swept over to the side of my head, a braid pulled over as a band on top. My sheer, cream shirt, grey cardigan, and black pencil skirt cleanly contrasted with my cherry-red lips. Even my fingernails were painted red—a rare occurrence, indeed. Finally, I bravely wore my 4-5 inch, off-white, satin heels with sparkly platform and heel. My thick black-rimmed glasses and trademark pearls topped it all off. I looked everything I ever want to look. But was I satisfied?

            Nope.

            In fact, I was struggling with personal spiritual/emotional things for most of the day. Because even though I looked the part, it didn’t satisfy me. To everyone else, I looked just right—but I knew that, inwardly, I wasn’t.

            I ended up sitting down and exposing many of the lies I’ve been telling myself for so long. Lies that control and enslave me. Lies that pinch and pull and shove me into tight molds that I have forged from personal ideals and values.

            People look at me, and what do they see?

The girl who looks like she just walked out of the 1940’s?

The girl who studies a lot and gets good grades? 

            But is that who I am?

            What about when I don’t have time to get ready in the morning, and I end up wearing jeans and a t-shirt?

            What about when I don’t get my assignments done, or I don’t make the grade I wanted on the test?

            (My blood type isn’t going anywhere—I don’t have to worry about that one)

            But really, what happens when those things are gone? That’s a scary idea for me. Because when I seek to find my identity in earthly things, I’m always faced with the reality that those things are temporary. I’m constantly striving to find identity in things, and when they fade, or when other people start claiming them for themselves and outshining me, I feel like part of my significance is sapped away from me.

            And I’m left wanting.

            But that’s exactly what I needed. I needed to see that I was searching in all the wrong places for security. Sure, I was seeking security in Christ, but not in every area. I was looking for Christ, plus style. Self-image. Intelligence. Kind of like the “All I need is a little bit of coffee and a whole lot of Jesus,” mentality.

            No. No no no. You just need Jesus. Yea, I get that I’m taking that very literally and probably too seriously, but we really do think like that sometimes! More times than we’d like to admit, I’d wager.

            What do I really need? What am I to be seeking?

“Whom have I in heaven but you?

And there is nothing on earth that I desire besides you.

My flesh and my heart may fail,

but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.

 For behold, those who are far from you shall perish;

you put an end to everyone who is unfaithful to you.

But for me it is good to be near God;

I have made the Lord God my refuge,

that I may tell of all your works.”

Psalm 73:25-28

“If then you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth. For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. When Christ who is your life appears, then you also will appear with him in glory.

Colossians 3:1-4

            I don’t really know how to wrap this up. Indeed, I barely feel like I communicated what I wanted to in this post to begin with. Because it’s still something turning over in my head. I’m still discovering areas in my life where I’m more messed up than I previously realized. I’m still seeking truth to fill in the gaps where I have exposed the lies. And I don’t have all the answers. I don’t know all the right verses. And I’m not going to get this right on the first try.

            But it’s easier to clean up when you’re so painfully aware of how dirty things are. And I have the great physician to help me heal. I have the creator who made me—who gave me my core, and desires that I seek Him. Find my identity in Him and who He made me to be. That all my actions and desires are pointed towards Him and my sanctification—for His glory. Not so I can feel good about myself, so that I’m more confident and self-liberated. No, that’s not what I need. I don’t need to feel confident in myself, because if confidence came from how I feel about myself, then a little bit of lipstick would do the trick. Just throw a few more rubber bands on. But being classy isn’t going to cut it. My confidence needs to be in Christ. My boasts are only in Him and the work that He has done. Through my weakness and insufficiency, I—and others—can see His mighty hand at work in the life of someone so undeserving and inadequate as I.   

Faith in the Faithful

In my “Ready, Set, Sophomore!” post, I described my feelings about going into the fall semester: “I don’t think I have ever felt so inadequate for a task in my entire life.”

It was a pretty accurate description of my entire semester. That semester pushed me to my limit—within the first few weeks.

A little window into the inner-life of last semester Lydia:

·      My schedule was jam-packed. Looking at my planner for last semester is still sickening.

·      Within the first few weeks, I began to become very homesick—that feeling grew and persisted throughout the entire semester.

·      My average amount of sleep per night was 4 hours. Every once and a while I would get 5 or 6—that was a really big accomplishment. Whenever I had an A&P test, it was more like 2 or 3. (Friday nights I would be sure to schedule 10 hours to try and make up for the torture I had put my body through earlier in the week)

·      I became so sleep-deprived that sometimes the sight of a bed could cause me to burst into tears, and the feeling of flannel (the fabric basically all my pajama pants are made out of) had the power to make me sick to my stomach and crave sleep with my entire being.

·      I was the most emotionally unstable I have ever been.

·      I cried myself to sleep probably at least once a week—if not more—just because I was so tired and I wanted to go home so badly.

·      It was the longest semester of my life.

My friend Emily (if you are my friend on Facebook or follow me on Instagram, she’s my lab partner—the girl with me in all the dead cat pictures) were reminiscing the other day about last semester and the state we were in (her semester was very similar). We sat there wondering how on earth our bodies survived.

But really, we know.

I know, because, as terrible as last semester was, and as much as I am so glad it is over, it taught me so much about my Heavenly Father.

Because when you reach the point where you know you can’t go any farther…

When you physically cannot handle the task in front of you…

When you seriously do not have enough time to finish everything you need to…

You have a few choices:

1.     Give up—do that thing that you’ve been on the brink of doing since 8^th grade. Just quit. Quit trying so hard. Quit studying so much. Quite caring. Embrace the failure and just deal with it.

2.     Plod along and continue to drain yourself, growing more hopeless every backbreaking step.
Or…

3.     Rest in the strength of the Almighty, and be awestruck every day by His continuous provision and love.

I believe God showed me a little more of His character every day through the struggle that was last semester. I saw it when He brought things to my remembrance and helped me retain what I studied about the neuromuscular junction at 1 a.m. I saw it when He gave me the strength to get out of bed in the morning, even though I had just gotten into it a couple/few hours before. I saw it in the grace and patience He gave my supervisors at work for those mornings when I didn’t get out of bed in time. I saw it on the days that I sat crying, staring at my countdown for Thanksgiving break, wondering if I could make it another day, let alone three more weeks—but in my heart hearing that still, small voice, reminding me that God is a faithful Father. He knew my schedule before the semester began—allowed it to be the way it was. Every day He gave me strength to get through it. And every day I could look back on the one before and see His mighty hand and know that the same mighty hand was over the new day as well.

            Speaking of fathers, God used my earthy father—and mother—I know. They prayed for every test. Every paper. I swear, my parents have prayed me through college thus far. Not to mention my dad and brother both helped me substantially with my Doctrines paper; they basically told me every source I needed to look up and read—and then some. And then there was Matty—bless that boy.

God used my amazingly supportive
family and friends to pick me up
and help me keep going. 

It’s a commonly known fact that boys don’t like it when girls cry. They don’t what to do. It’s not a leak that you can fix with a wrench. Sometimes, nothing fixes it. Matty will never admit to this, but he’s a pro at dealing with me when I cry—and I cried so much last semester. And I was tired, oh, so tired. One night at dinner, I looked down at my iPod and checked my Thanksgiving countdown. I think the countdown read 3 weeks? I could not do three more weeks. One more day was too much, it felt. And I had an A&P test the next day. I was so tired, but I knew I wouldn’t get to sleep until 2 a.m. at the earliest. It was too much. I lost complete control of my emotions. The tears began as a trickle as I slowly put my iPod back into my purse. But then the dam broke, and my head was down on the table as I sobbed and sobbed. I told him that I wanted to go home—something he had been hearing from me for most of the semester. He sat there and comforted me, eventually saying,

“All right, get up. We’re going to Starbucks and getting you a milkshake” (what he calls Frappuccinos).

“No….I….can’t. I…have…a…test. I don’t have time… I don’t have time for anything.”

“Come on, you’ll be fine. You have your notes; you can study in the car. You need a pick-me-up.”

“You…didn’t….bring…your…keys…to…dinner.”

“Oh yea, you’re right...”

Of course, he didn’t give up that easily, and he had another key handy, and he took me to Starbucks to cheer me up.

But he didn’t just use Starbucks. Matty doesn’t struggle with idolizing schoolwork like I do, so he is really good at teaching me balance. At night when he would walk me back to my room, he would often part with me with the words,

“Unless the Lord builds the house,

those who build it labor in vain” (Psalm 127:1 ESV).

During prayer, he would often thank God for my diligence and pray that God would help me honour Him with my work. He would pray that I would work unto Him and not unto men, and that God would give me strength and rest.

One weekend, Matty went with his friend Isaac to visit
Southern Baptist Seminary in Kentucky.
They drove through and stopped in Chattanooga. There, Matty
bought me chocolate from our favourite coffee shop and he
brought back a fall branch from Chatt so I
could have a little fall from home. 

            And God answered those prayers. I remember one week last semester, I honestly and truly did not have enough time for everything I had due. It was a Wednesday (I was usually up until 1 or 2 on Wednesday nights working on assignments on a normal basis). I had assignments due the next day. I had church to go to, and I couldn’t skip because we had made commitments in youth group. It was also White Glove—the bane of every resident student’s existence—that night. In the smidgen of time I had between classes and church, I frantically tried to complete my White Glove jobs. It came to a point when I realized, I’m not going to get these done. It’s impossible. But I had faced a lot of impossible things that semester. So, with rag in hand, I wiped down the bathroom wall and prayed, What do you have in store for me this time, Lord? I can’t do this, and You know that. You always provide and humble me with Your amazing plans. How are You going to show your power this time?

I wasn’t challenging Him. I wasn’t being a smart alec. I just had this peace—I knew that God has something in store for me. Worrying was pointless—and faithless. So I continued cleaning, and within minutes Nadia, a girl in my unit, came to me.
            “Hey, I’m done with all my White Glove jobs—want me to help me with yours?”

We passed White Glove with flying colours. I got to church on time. I finished my assignments. And I had another amazing blessing to add to my list of reminders of how loving and gracious and mighty my God is.

            Last semester is over. This semester has begun. And what does this semester look like?

·      12 credit hours

·      Sleep

·      Free time

·      Social life

            Sometimes I feel guilty for having such a light load. Sometimes I’m afraid people are going to think I’m lazy. But then I just remember that this semester is a gift from my Father, just like last semester was. He is giving me a much-needed period of rest. This fall, Lord willing, I will be in nursing school. I will be entering into quite possibly one of the most (if not the most) taxing experiences I have ever been through. But I can face that prospect, knowing that my God is faithful. He has provided every ounce of energy and every grade along the way. If He didn’t want me where I am, I know I wouldn’t be here now, for it is only through His grace that I have made it this far. If He wants me to make it through nursing school, I will. Right now, I am thankfully accepting this half-time break that He has provided. I know that before I know it, the deafening buzzer will sound, and I’ll be right back in the game, facing a fierce and tireless opponent. I am weak. I am slow. I am inadequate. But I know,

The Lord is the everlasting God,

the Creator of the ends of the earth.

He does not faint or grow weary;

His understanding is unsearchable.

He gives power to the faint,

and to him who has no might he increases strength.

Even youths shall faint and be weary,

and young men shall fall exhausted;

but they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength;

they shall mount up with wings like eagles;

they shall run and not be weary;

they shall walk and not faint.

(Isaiah 40:28b-41 ESV)

Adventures and Alterations

Unexpected.

Here I sit at gate B22 in Atlanta airport, waiting for my flight that will whisk me away on a grand adventure all the way across the country to see my sister and her husband in Seattle. Seattle. Washington. Across the country. Are you getting how incredible this is? I mean, if you don’t know how far away Seattle is, go watch “Sleepless in Seattle,” and Tom Hanks will break it down for you.

I was not expecting this trip in the slightest. This was my grand surprise Christmas gift from my parents—probably one of the most amazing gifts I have ever received. I had in my mind how I expected this Christmas break to go, and with one little box containing a toy airplane and a flight itinerary, all my expectations were swept away and replaced with the thrilling reality that I would get to see my sister—soon! 

That’s basically my life these days. False expectations and unexpected new plans. I hope that doesn’t sound like I’m complaining; I most certainly am not. God has just taught me a little something about His sovereignty over this past semester. You see, I went into this semester thinking I knew what I was going to do, and it involved graduating through Clearwater. However, all my plans fell away when I was informed that I could not stay at Clearwater and start nursing school the semester I wanted (fall 2015). So I changed plans. I started thinking about other schools to transfer to, or about going to my planned nursing school without going through Clearwater (that probably doesn’t make much sense unless you know the whole situation—just know that I was making various plans). It shook me up a bit at first, having to change plans like that. However, over time I began to accept and adjust to my new expectations. I didn’t know what school I would end up at or how everything would work out, but I knew that I couldn’t finish through Clearwater, and I would probably end up going home to Chattanooga for nursing school. Just when that had settled in and I was mentally ready for the change—PLOT TWIST.

Somebody high up in my college’s administration was thinking about me—me—and decided she wanted to provide a way for me to be able to still get my degree through CCC. The timing was incredible. I was making my schedule up for the spring semester, expecting to not graduate through CCC, so I didn’t register for all the classes that they required of me. Then the new opportunity came up, and I shifted my classes once more, making it possible for me to complete all the classes that CCC required of me.

I love the nursing school CCC is partnered with. Their facilities are beautiful, they have a fantastic reputation, and everything is great. However, it would be significantly less expensive if I were to go to a nursing school in Chattanooga. I would still get my RN (like I would at the other school); I just wouldn’t get a bachelor’s degree through CCC, which is not really a big deal. When I came home for Thanksgiving break, my mom took me to visit Chattanooga State Community College to talk to people there about what classes I would need, what their school is like, etc. After that meeting, I knew what decision I should make: I need to come home next fall. The decision wasn’t a big blow; I was expecting the same thing earlier this past semester, after all. Both schools are great nursing schools, and there are pro’s and con’s to both, so it wasn’t breaking my heart, having to go to one over the other. It was just another change of plans. Right when things had shifted, they were shifting back. It was a little overwhelming.

I got to kick off Christmas break by studying for my TEAS test, which is a test that Chatt. State requires for application into their nursing program. After that was all done and I got a little rest time, I got to spend a big chunk of one day with my mom, applying to both nursing schools—the one in Tampa and the one in Chattanooga. (just in case I don’t get accepted into Chatt. State; I may even be applying to some others here in the near future). My church here in TN knows my current plans, and some here have asked me when I’m coming home for nursing school. I told them my expectations, but I also told them that I did not know for sure what is going to happen. You see, I’ve learned that, really, I don’t know anything for certain except that God is in control. I sometimes wonder why God changed the mind of CCC to have them let me finish through them if I’m not going to do it after all. However, even though I am most likely not going to take their very generous offer (though I am very grateful for it), God still taught me a special lesson through that major plot twist: He can do anything. Of course, this is something I already knew—something that has been taught to me from a very young age (**insert Sunday school song here**). But how often do we actually expect Him to do something so radical in our own lives? Change plans so that something that was previously not an option now is? I know I wasn’t expecting it. And I was quite in awe when the plans changed. I didn’t include all the details in this post, but so many things were involved—so many things were going on that week—the fact that the woman changed her mind that day was obviously a God-thing. God will do whatever He sees fit to get me wherever He wants me. So I really have no need to worry about the next step. I can plan for it—should plan for it—but I don’t know if God’s going to throw a detour in there. He might. I don’t know.

Usually I am a control freak. Usually, not knowing the next step scares the crud out of me. Usually I panic…

It’s amazing what college does to a person.

It’s just that I have seen so clearly God’s intimate involvement in my life. His power. His control. I’m just not scared anymore. Yes, sometimes I really, really wish I knew for sure what is coming next. I mean, I have to order books. I have to schedule classes. What if I mess up? What if I count my chickens before they hatch? But, at the same time, I have peace knowing that God is powerful, and He provides for His children. I plan on writing another post soon about some of the experiences I had last semester, seeing God’s provision in my life. Looking back on this semester, I know that my part is to “trust in the Lord with all [my] heart and do not lean on [my] own understanding. In all [my] ways acknowledge Him, and He will make straight [my] paths” (Proverbs 3:5&6 ESV). It really is that simple. It may not always be easy, but it is simple. I learned that verse years ago. I have always believed it. But I didn’t always see it in action. Now that I have, I see what an exciting thing it can be.

My good friend Katelyn and I love adventures. We love going on them, creating them, 

thinking of them, reading of them… Our adventures may not always look like adventures to other people, but we do savour each and every one. This trip I’m on to Seattle is a great adventure (by the way, I boarded the flight a while ago and am currently traveling at 499mph with a head wind of 26 mph at an altitude of 31,091 feet—if your curiosity stretches further, the outside temperature is -60 °F, I have traveled 1,198 miles and have 1,015 miles ahead of me, with only 2 hours and 06 minutes more to go—and by the time I got that all written, most of that information has already changed, of course, but I still found it all fascinating, so I decided to share).When I was still sitting at my gate, I texted Matty, “I’M GOING ON AN ADVENTURE” (probably for the zillionth time, or so). He responded by telling me that everything is an adventure… and isn’t that true? Life is crazy. Does a day ever go by where nothing unexpected occurs? Even if you’re expectations are that everything is going to be unexpected, if that comes true, then your day went as expected, making your day unexpected… Sorry. I’ll stop that.

My point is, God has me on a great adventure. I don’t know what’s coming next—just that He’s in control of whatever it is, and “we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose” (Romans 8:28 ESV). Right this very second, I’m in one of those lovely little sub-adventures within my great adventure—it’s one of those adventures that Katelyn and I celebrate (yes, I’m going to continue calling these sub-adventures “my adventures,” despite the whole “everything is an adventure” thing—so don’t get too picky on me, now). So here, at 29,970 feet, over whatever state this is (I wish I learned my geography better when I was little, then I could tell you), I finish this post and enjoy this adventure I’m on.

The next day, on another adventure:
riding the bus with my sister!

After I finally arrived--waiting
AND WAITING
for my luggage

Ready, Set, Sophomore!

           

Let me start this by saying that this blog post has gone through more introductory paragraphs than posts I have put on my blog. So much has been going on in my life and in my heart; I have been dying to write. However, the insanity that makes me wants to write is the same insanity that keeps me from doing so. I have now been back at school for almost two months (I think?), but the majority of this post’s content refers back to the first couple weeks of school. By the end of a couple weeks, I had already felt as if I had managed to run a spiritual, emotional, and mental marathon, complete with twists, turn, and hills galore. It is incredible the work that God sometimes does in such short spans of time…

            To start out with, I was really struggling with the idea of coming back to school. To put it in less polished terminology, I did not want to come back to school. At.All. From face value, this did not make much sense. I loved my Freshman year. I love Clearwater Christian College. My grades were fine, I have made wonderful friends, and I have a fantastic support group down there (including my Starkey family which I love). Looking at the big picture, there was no reason for me to feel such resistance to going back. But I did. Past posts have discussed the hard time I had those last few weeks of last semester. For the first time since I was, like, nine, I felt some serious homesickness, and I was completely worn to the bone with work. Though God really did teach me a lot through that rough patch, it still left a foul taste in my mouth, and that was what came to mind whenever I thought of returning to school. Unending work. Late nights, early mornings. Always pushing. Never stopping. Work. No rest. Pleasure always saturated with guilt (because, of course, I could be using that “free” time for all the work that’s pressing on my back…there is no such thing as “free time”). I think you can get an idea of why school was so terrifying to me. I just did not want to go through that pain again. I knew in my head that there were reasons why I loved CCC, but those reasons were a little hazy behind the fog of exhaustion that was my last few weeks of freshman year.

            But, like it or not, time came for me to be back at school. I knew that my fear and anxiety—my sin—needed to be worked on…big time. Especially since, amidst all this inner conflict, the fact that I was about to be a Discipleship Leader (DL) in my dorm unit was staring me in the face. Oh, how unqualified. I had just come out of a summer that was wonderful and, as always, a growing time for me, but it had also involved some serious spiritual questions, fears, and frustrations that I have not had to deal with in years. That stepping stone had just finished and then BOOM—back to school, the most trying place I could ever be. As the day to be back loomed nearer and nearer, I began trying to work on my attitude. One of the things I reminded myself of was the attitude I adopted before I started school last fall: I have to go to school, whether I like it or not—I might as well let myself enjoy it! (A little glimpse into the heart of a drama-queen—sometimes, when things look bad, we amplify that bad for dramatic effect and end up not letting ourselves see the good because we’re so busy making the bad sound bad. Not that we think the bad is that bad, we just want other people to understand that it’s not good… I’m probably confusing you further… moving on…) As my father and I rode across the causeway and I looked out at the palm trees and the water, I began praying. Only God could fix that faithless attitude of mine. Now, sometimes—oftentimes in my case—God likes to take His time with His lessons. Teach me faith and patience….

But sometimes, God sure does work quickly.

Within that day I was reminded of some of the reasons I love CCC. My dear friends drew me in and lightened my heart. The next day, a Sunday, I got to go back to Starkey and feel that lovely embrace of the body of Christ. DL sessions helped me re-focus on the most important aspect of school—and life: God. Serving Him. Glorifying Him. Finding contentment in Him.

            Then the semester hit me. Like.A.Truck.

            I don’t think I have ever felt so inadequate for a task in my entire life. Looking at my syllabi, I had no idea if it was humanly possible to do all the things I was being asked to do. Crazy school schedule (as much as I love my teachers—and they’re great—sometimes I think they forget that their class is not the only class I’m taking… you know how that goes, I’m sure, especially if you’re a college student). Lots of work hours. Being a DL. Hoping to maintain healthy relationships with the people I care about. All this while still trying to take care of that minor detail called staying alive. I will tell you right now, my heart felt like it was free-falling. I was exhausted. And school had barely started.

            I had to make some scary, big-girl decisions. One thing was that I had to go back to my boss and tell him that I couldn’t work all the hours he assigned for me. For many of you, you may be wondering what the big deal is about that. Well, for a people-pleasing perfectionist who dreads confrontation and even the suggestion of disappointment of others, this is a HUGE deal. CALL-MOM-AND-CRY-OVER-THE-TELEPHONE-WHILE-YOU-EXPLAIN-YOUR-CRIPPLING-FEAR-AND-SHAME big deal.

            I was still sinking, still free-falling. But God was working, as He always is. One night after a DL meeting, my dear friend saw my exhausted face and run-down demeanor, and she asked me that simple, thoughtful question:

“Hey, girl. Are you doing alright?”

            I almost shrugged it off. Did she really want the truth? Besides, I had homework to get to. One of the many reasons I was so down to begin with. But something in me pressed the truth to my lips.

 “No.”

 She asked if I wanted to talk. The truth was, I needed to talk. I knew that. I had very recently accepted the fact that I really needed help. I needed biblical counseling and encouragement from someone. But I didn’t feel like I had time to deal with my problems. But I couldn’t say no. I was too low to refuse. I poured my heart out to her. I explained one of my deepest struggles—What’s the point, and is it ever worth it? I know those question are worldly. They’re not based on the promises of God, and they reflect lack of faith and understanding. Yes, I get that. I knew it then, I know it now. That knowledge only made me feel worse. I worked and worked and worked, but once a test is completed, there’s another chapter to be tested. I complete this semester, there’s another waiting right behind it. Stay up late to finish schoolwork, just to wake up to another day of pressure. I was being crushed. I felt so alone. So helpless. And so guilty.

            Isn’t it crazy how God sometimes leads you to people who can understand what you are going through? Honestly, I didn’t imagine any of the other DL’s being able to relate to what I was going through, and I felt horrible going through it for that very reason (and others). We shared each other’s burdens. We talked about biblical answers to our questions. We were there for one another. And what a difference that made! No, all my questions were not answered, but I didn’t feel so alone and helpless anymore. I had encouragement from a sister in Christ, and I had thoughtful, biblical encouragement from her.

            The next day was a Tuesday—the one day of the week where I have a large chunk of nothing in the middle of the day. I typically use this time for either devos or a nap. That day it was devos. I sat down to 2 Peter. Nothing out of the ordinary—I had been going through 1 and 2 Peter. But the passage that day was 2 Peter 1:3-15. You know, sometimes I get frustrated with my devotions. Just being honest. I’ll be struggling with something and I’ll go to the Bible—search through the Bible—but nothing seems to help. Then there are those days that God smacks me in the face with the truth I need. That Tuesday just so happened to be one of those days. However, at first, it looked like it was going to be another dry day. And I needed a not dry day. I read the passage… then re-read it… then re-read it. I was looking at the words, but they were not sinking in at all. My mind was getting jumbled with all the phrases, and I couldn’t grasp a coherent thought. Add to that the fact that all the things crowding my life were fighting for attention in my brain. So I grabbed a piece of paper and wrote down in bullet form all the things buzzing through my brain. Then I put it aside and purposed to not think about those things right then. Then I had such a marvel idea: what if I applied all those lessons I learned last year in Biblical Interpretations about how to study the Bible (way to go, Lydia—it only took you a year…)? Phrase by phrase, sentence by sentence, thought by thought, God’s word pierced my heart and showed me my faults—and how to fix them. There were answers! There were rebukes! There were instructions! There was hope! God showed me that He has provided me everything I need to live righteously; I just need to apply those things.

            It is still a struggle. My life is going at break-neck speed, and it is not going to slow down any time soon. Honestly, I want to drop out of college at least once a day. It’s hard to see how any of this can be worth it. But God opened my eyes to something important. And another thing; He brought to my attention that I am living my life.

Let me explain myself…

            Sometimes, I feel like I’m just preparing for my life. I mean, isn’t that what school’s all about? High school exists to “prepare you for college,” and college exists to “prepare you for life/your future/your career/insert-inspirational-challenging-noun-here.” But somewhere in all that motivation, they forget to mention that, while we have a lot to prepare for, we are living our lives right now, too. I have this bad habit of always wanting to look ahead. To plan. To be in control. In doing so, I don’t look around. I will neglect to spend time with someone because I have to get ahead on my school work so I can get good grades so I can do fine in nursing school so I can get a good job in a hospital so I can… You see what I’m getting at? I’m always doing things for the future. I am always thinking of how what I am doing now will help me in the future. Which is all well and good, except I never invest in right now. What about what God is teaching me right now? What He’s doing for me right now? The people in my life right now. The experiences of right now that I will never get again. My point is, God is starting to teach me the thing that everyone in my life (my dad, my mom, my friends) has been trying to teach me for years—balance. Now, I do not have it all figured out yet. I mean, I do need to study—my parents would not be too fond of me starting to fail tests…. Not to mention that it would probably throw me into an emotional pit. Yea, let’s not do that. But God is teaching me about what’s most important, and that thing is not school. Sometimes, it’s okay to put off homework so I can talk to a hurting friend. Just because an assignment “could have been better if I had more time” doesn’t mean that it’s bad. It does not even mean that I was irresponsible with my time. It just means that there were other important things that needed done too, and I had to “give and take” a little.

            Honestly, it’s hard to put into words the many lessons that God has taught me over these past couple of months. Perhaps I could do it, but I would need about a day set aside for just writing, and it would probably result in a small book. As much as I would love to spend an entire day writing, I don’t have time for that. And you’re probably not that interested in A Book on the Inner-Workings of the Brain of Wynette Lydia Huguenin. Oh my. Even the title is frightening. But maybe this post will give you a small taste. I must say, it was lovely to be able to write all this out. I hope it is coherent, because it is the work of many sporadic, short writing sessions over the span of a couple weeks. I have no lovely conclusion for this to summarize my thoughts and wrap them with a pretty bow. My apologies to all you English majors and teachers out there. Only this…

“I hope your rambles have been sweet, and your reveries spacious…”

~Emily Dickinson~