I am learning to be content with the circumstances I have been given instead of waiting for them to change before I can be happy.
I am learning to worship my way through the things that come in between Sundays.
I am learning to embrace the revolution inside of me. Even when nobody is looking (which, I have found, is the hardest of all).
I am learning to find pleasure in the processes of life. God's promises can be found in the process and not at the end of it. Promises of perfect peace, guidance, clarity, prosperity, grace, and a limitless love.
And I am learning that all of these things are part of the setting that God has put me in. A setting that has taught me more in 84 days than I have learned in my twelve years of grade school. This is right where God wants me to be.
It's all about perspective people.
And yes, these things are all in the present tense because they are in progress, and will most likely still be in progress 3 years from now.
I have immensely enjoyed my time in Charlotte. I am slowly finding my favorite places to spend my time and the company in which I choose to keep. There has been much comfort to be found in the shadows of the city.
The fall color palette here is amazing. If there was such thing as unlimited storage on an iPhone, I assure you that the majority of my camera roll would consist of random photos of the mounds of golden leaves that are gathered at the trunk of every tree.
My new favorite spot for blog brainstorming is Not Just Coffee ( found in the 7th Street Public Market ). Between the industrialized decor and eclectic customers, there is an environment that inevitably encourages and sparks creativity. Which is exactly what I have needed. There is only so much creativity that can be found within the four, white, concrete walls of my dorm room.
Meet LK. She's pretty great.
I have a feeling that these tables will hold stories of late night coffee dates with people who are yet to be named and memories that are waiting to be created. And I just can't wait.
"But he said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am made strong. "
-2 Corinthians 12:9-10
It is so rewarding to me to be able to look back on the person I was a year ago and the route in which I chose to process my thoughts. Now I am able to acknowledge that things have changed, thankfully.
Coincidentally, my topic of discussion during this time last year was the same as it is now: how things seem to fall apart during the fall. That may be the most cliche thing I have said in weeks, but it is the honest truth. However, I have learned that it is much more beneficial for me to view these "things" as vulnerable matters in my life, rather than weaknesses. There is a negative connotation that comes along with the word, "weakness." Whereas "vulnerability" is a word that only reminds me of space. Space for an intervention. Space for growth. And space for His peace that passes all understanding.
My discovering of this passage was a divine intervention in every way possible and it has served as the anchor for my sanity these past couple of weeks. Because of it, I am constantly reminded that there is a source of peace and grace that goes far beyond the surface and is capable of calming the most consuming storms that stir inside me. The best work is done in me when I am in my weakest moments. And I learned very quickly that if you ask for growth, it is growth that you will receive. But it may not come in the way that you hoped it would.
I challenge myself everyday, and maybe you should too, to be thankful for the storms that God sends my way. They may break me down to the simplest and most vulnerable form of myself, but only to rebuild me stronger than I was before.
I stumbled across a scripture today that really echoed in my head. Although only a mere seven words, it encompasses just enough to form goosebumps on my arms.
"He will come to us like rain." -Hosea 6:3
Ironically enough, there was a consistent rainfall for the majority of the day. And if you did not already know this about me, I am as much of a pluviophile as a person could be. That is, someone who finds joy and a peace of mind during rainy days. There is an overwhelming feeling of serenity when I hear the lull of raindrops gathering outside my window. And even though the morning stroll to class was a bit brisk, the soft mist that fell on my head en route was not in the least bit inconvenient. After discovering this scripture, the thought crossed my mind that maybe, just maybe, I am so fond of these so-called somber days because of this very reason. "He will come to us like rain." The more I say it, and the more I read that statement, the more I am certain that this is the underlying reason as to why I find comfort in crying skies.
It is difficult for me to grasp the concept that I have been at college for a mere 27 days. Twenty-seven days of life lessons that vary in weight. Twenty-seven days of new friends, some of which I would already willingly place in the lineup of my wedding party. I have grown to love the early hours of the morning considering that the obvious freshman in me decided that it would be a good idea to schedule all of my classes before sunrise. Coach Dixon, when you told me to never schedule a class before 9:30 a.m., you were not kidding. And I admit, with little dismay, that you were right and I should have listened. There is no such thing as being a morning person when one is also a college student. However, one of my favorite parts of my mornings is to stroll past the music conservatory where one can hear the lullaby of aspiring musicians perfecting their scales. And although it never fails to put a smile on my face, it is a constant reminder of one of the aspects that I miss most about my home in Beaufort. I have yet to find a place where I can simply sit down and play the piano. For a person who has grown up with a musical instrument at arms length at all times, it is a challenging adjustment to make. But I am learning. Slowly, but surely. I am learning that my life is here now. These are the park benches that I will write my story from. (At least for the next four years.) These are the rooftops that I will stargaze from. These are the streets that will become the tendrils to the web that could lead to a love greater than I could ever fathom. Just the very thought of that excites me. Then again, how could it not? Here I am. Staring with a young-hearted, wide-eyed gaze at the first step of my life. And in reference to limitations, the sky is just the beginning.
I have been postponing this blog post since I returned from New York City. This is due to the fact that I am STILL struggling to gather enough words to accurately express my feelings concerning those 302 square miles of perfection.
New York City is a place for people. Quite a generalization, right? But you see, it's just that simple. I could not count on my hands and feet the different walks of life I saw, if I tried. It is a place where there is little time to stop walking and study the wardrobe choices or the cosmetic appearance of the passerby. And because of this, there is little time to judge.
Among all the cliche things that we did while in the city, one of my favorite pastimes was to lounge in Central Park and absorb the chaos. And if you're lucky, you'll find a spot atop a boulder that allows you to overlook the park AND the skyline. I could have spent an entire day there and would have never noticed nor cared that time was passing slowly.
I found myself being swallowed by a city and its 8 million residents. Oddly enough, I did not mind. The anonymity of the bustling streets was liberating considering that at home, I am unable to spend 15 minutes in my favorite coffee shop without being approached. I realize that that is a little harsh. However, there are days when I would love nothing more than to slip into an oversized sweatshirt and fall into the flow of things without being noticed. New York City is the place to do that.
Tears started strolling the minute I buckled the seatbelt in the taxi that was designated to take us to the airport, and again when our plane took off. One would think that I was leaving a love behind. I was. A love for a city and the millions of beautiful reminders that it too, could be my home.
My feet were sore and blistered from walking the streets of that sleepless city. But there was/is an ever present sense of awe instilled in me. Yes, I was raised in a small seaside town on the opposing side of the country. But my home is wherever I am. And I promise you, I will be back there some day.
As a young adult, (and I'm sure the majority of my friends could attest to this), I am constantly asked the question, "how's your love life?" My response usually being, "what love life?" Not only is this one of my least favorite questions, but I feel as though the person asking the question is rarely prepared for the answer I would love to give them. Which is why I often resort to offering my "love life" or the lack lackthereof as a sense of comic relief. Self-deprivation probably is not the healthiest, but in instances such as this one, it seems to be the easiest way to exit the conversation.
This is my answer, as of this moment in time…
How is my love life? It is as good as the romantic aspect of an 18-year old's life could be. A really good friend of mine (not saying any names, Sydney Boggs) brought to my attention that at such a young age, one is only capable of loving as much as they know how. Sure, you may think it is love. But there is a love that fulfills a capacity much larger than I could ever fathom. She is pretty wise, if ya ask me. Boy, am I thankful that I have a friend like her who speaks clarity and reality into my life.
And then came summer.
If only for a short amount of time, I was given a small glimpse of what it is like to be in love. I got lost counting stars and dancing in parking lots. I found myself checking my phone every three minutes hoping for a response to a text message. And I often found myself awkwardly smiling in response to those messages in the most public places. I fell hard and fast. It was far more enjoyable than the picture I had painted in my head, and something that I struggled to describe in words. It was a feeling that stirred inside of me and produced an ever-present smile. I could claim that it has been a long time since that feeling made it's way through my veins. But quite honestly, I cannot remember a time when I have been happier.
Insert the cliche statement of "all good things must come to an end." Which I strongly disagree with. But somewhere in the freedom and spontaneity of summer, (and much to my dismay), I wandered. Wandered away from a feeling that I had hoped was there to stay. For all I know, this fondness could be buried underneath the anxious feeling of a fresh and quickly approaching chapter in my life. Time will tell.
Yes, I am confused. Confused about how I feel and what I want most. But confusion often leads to growth. And from growth comes strength. So I am okay with being confused, for now.
P.S. You'll want to dance in the parking lot to this song too.
