getting peppy

Lately, learning to be content with my progress in this part of my life has been a concept that I have yet to grasp. Up until this point, I have crafted expectations concerning where I thought I would be. And it comes as no surprise to me that such standards and the lack of achieving them would cause disappointment. I sway between the idea of being discouraged with myself for being so demanding, and applauding myself for challenging myself to life beyond mediocrity. Then comes the black cloud of thoughts that rains nothing but visions of the city on my once productive day. "How about I just drop out of college, move to New York, and work three jobs. And all of that to sustain my dream of being a city girl," I often tell myself. Not to say that those things will never happen, because they will. However, the big girl mentality in me that is so difficult to find at times, interjects and declares that I cannot and will not create a habit of running from the challenging aspects of life.

Essentially, this post served as a pep talk to myself. We all need them sometimes. And along with the pep talk comes a pat on my own back. Good job Lili, you're doing better than you think. Whew.

Plans and pipe dreams

I stepped off the plane and into the fast paced rhythm of the city as if I had never left. 

Paralyzed with the desire to stay, I found myself scheming ways to make it happen. Drop out of school. Rent an apartment overlooking the Brooklyn bridge. Work three jobs just to pay rent. And then I would never have to leave again. And although that sounds like a perfect plan to me, I have much to learn before I embark on that one. Like how to do my own taxes. Grown up things, I suppose. But that plan is not on the back burner, I assure you. It is just waiting to be fulfilled. My days of five-floor walk ups and metro cards are closer than they were yesterday and that alone excites me. 

You see, the difference between a plan and a pipe dream lies solely on where you place it among your priorities. I plan to graduate college in four years. I plan to live in New York City. And then there's a pipe dream. Like that day when I was a little girl that I decided that working as the person who rode on the back of a dump truck would be an enjoyable and exhilarating career. That could have been a plan if I wanted it to. Let's be glad it's not. At this moment in time, those are the only things concerning my future that I am certain of. Some may call it the lack of planning, others may call it spontaneity. It doesn't really matter. What does matter, is that I am excited for my future, a feeling that I fear very few experience these days. 

Anyways, back to New York. 

I have never been so content with the feeling of being alone. And it's ironic, really. There are moments when I felt alone, until I realized that there are seven million other people here that feel the same way. So I was never actually alone in the first place. That's a comforting epiphany. I suppose anonymity would have been a better word for the way I felt. But I do not wish to remain anonymous forever. 

I realize that I only write about leaving the city. And I'm not exactly sure why that is. Perhaps the emotion of walking away from this place is more overwhelming in the moment. I often write harder and more clearly about what hurts. But I will say this. I cannot wait for the day when I don't have to leave and I can write about how much I love this place. Until then, I will continue scrolling through my camera roll on my phone. And I will be convincing my mom and everyone else surrounding me that this is a good idea and far more than a pipe dream. 

See you soon, New York. You never let me down. 

One day.

There is pleasure in the process.

What a difference 84 days makes.

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.

Oh the places I've found

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. 

Bring the storms

"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.

Bring the Rain

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.

Tendrils

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.