I Aspire to Become a Lifetime Movie

Hello, Reader!

If I were a Lifetime movie, I would begin this post with "I had a boyfriend," and then I would proceed to talk about how I was done so wrong, and had done nothing to deserve such.  I would exaggerate the truth for the sole purpose of making the audience side with me, over the horrible antagonist of the story.  The actress who would have the role of myself would then lounge around her house in overly cute comfy clothes, after the extremely dramatic breakup scene, and there would be a brief sad song playing in the background  as the world outside of her window turns from winter to spring to summer, to fall, and back again.  Next, she would "find herself" (whatever that is supposed to mean), meet the man of her dreams, and the movie would close with some overly-corny love song that I can't come up with at the present moment.  Of course, there would be the interjections of humorous awkwardness, and a couple of wardrobe malfunctions, but nothing that could make it R-rated.  However, I am NOT a Lifetime movie.  Instead, I will start this post (or rather, continue this post) with this:

I am my own antagonist.  Yeah, I had a boyfriend, and sure, there was a breakup--story of the lives of millions across the globe--but I will not condemn another for my shortcomings.  We were not compatible, so the relationship ended, and this is where the surfacing of my anti-hero character comes into the pages of this chapter of my life.  That part of myself began to chime in on every single action I took.  I walked left, and I heard "You shoulda gone right."  Nothing was right.

So, here I am, over a year after my antagonist was written, and I still find myself unable to write an end to that character.  To be just plain blunt about it, I am sabotaging myself.  When something "good" happens to me, I run from it--not because I am just so heartbroken, or scarred, or the victim, because I am not.  I run because my antagonist so thoroughly enjoys telling me that I am NOT worthy of anything good.  No no, this is not an "oh woe is me" moment!  This is a moment of pure enlightenment!  Ever hear of self-fulfilling prophesy?  Here it is, manifested in a college freshman's life, and typed out (rather crudely) in a blog.    "Nothing good can happen to me," and so it does not, until I realize that that voice is holding me hostage from all things glorious.

Now, Reader, this is not some story-type blog.  This is a genuine question. In your life, who is the antagonist?

Well, this is a new day, and even if I feel as though the world is crashing down on me, I know who my antagonist is.  It's just time to hand over the keyboard/pen/quill to my Lord.  While I write tragedies, He completes the masterpieces.

God Bless, and have a great life.

Put Your Records On

"Three little birds sat on my window, and they told me I don't need to worry."  

Reader, if you have never experienced a washing away of all worries and cares, I will earnestly pray that you feel such a blessing some day.  It is absolutely blissful in a way that Hershey's Bliss chocolate could never compare.  

Subject jump:  I have a story.  It is not about a princess who kissed a frog, or a boy who cried wolf, either.  This is a story of security, of hope, of faith, and of complete indecision.  It is the story of how I found my church.  Yeah, yeah, even typing out that last sentence made me think that writing it would be dull, but to be honest, the way I found it is nothing short of a blessing from the Most High God.  Ready?  Flashback to May of last summer.  

I was getting ready to leave church one evening when the preacher approached my car.  Among all of the theological questions that man could have asked me, he chose to ask when my birthday was.  

"July 28th," I told him.  

"Well, uh, would you be interested in being the counselor for Girls' Camp?  The people we had lined up to do it had something come up. Since you're going to turn eighteen the week of camp, you can be the counselor."

Now, reader, if he had called me, I would have said declined the offer.  My excuse would have consisted of "Let me see what I have going on that week, and I will call you to make sure I can," only to inevitably have something come up.  It was my last summer before college, and I was not in the mood to just give it up.  However, my preacher looked down at me, and I could hear my mother's voice in the back of my head saying, "You just can't say no to a preacher!"  

"Yes sir, I would love to!"  Fake enthusiasm at its finest.  

Fast forward a few months, and I am trekking around a camp full of boys and girls half my size.  The preacher hired to preach there taught the usual stories that lead up to the final "Invitation" night, and I was trying to take all that he was willing to give and apply it to my current dilemma:  finding a church in the big bad church-infested city that just to happened to also house my college of choice.  Finally, I gave up on finding the answer on my own, and I broke down and asked him during one of the craft times at the camp.  He listed two.  One was Second Baptist Church, and by the grace of God, I forgot the name of the other.  It was destiny.  

This was only a concern of mine because I knew that I could not possibly grow in my Father's love without a church family.  It was a necessity.  

A couple more months down the line, I started college.  If you have ever walked into a new church, then you must know how horrifically gut-wrenchingly terrifying it is.  No?  Well, I suppose mine was amplified by a few factors.  I knew no one.  I had not been invited into the church by a member.  In fact, it felt more like going to a birthday party that no one sent you an invitation to.  I walked in alone.  This was not my first time walking into a new church alone, Reader, but it was no less nerve-racking nevertheless.  "God be with me.  God be with me.  God be with me..."  This single prayer wrapped around my head over and over again.  I ended up showing up to the early service--8:00 a.m. on the dot.  I suppose that was all a part of God's Will, though, because looking back, I don't know that I would have been able to walk in had there been a full house of college students at 11:00 a.m.  

A single family found me wandering around outside of the sanctuary before the service that morning.  I don't remember their names, sadly.  A husband, his wife, and their adorable children were with them (or perhaps it was only a little girl).  The wife approached me and asked if I knew where to go.  Kindness in such a time as that was like being stranded in the desert and along came a single drop of rain landing on the tongue.  It was sustaining.  They showed me where to go, and long story short, I loved it so much that I ran back to my dorm, grabbed one of my roommates and we went for the last five minutes of the second service.  (She had woken up late but was still eager to attend).  As it turned out, the church was serving lunch to the college students that day, and it opened a door of enlightenment to me.  However, before you believe my story is so straight and narrow, I should let you in on a little secret; I am far too skeptical for my own good.  How did I know that this was where God wanted me?  There are surely over a hundred churches in this town!  How could I know that this one was right?  I went exploring.  

Mt. Olive, Oasis, Fellowship, several student ministries--I tried to substitute a church family with bursts of sermons and a swift exit.  How disobedient I was!  The semester ended, and I was friends with only my roommates, and I was slightly acquainted with the others on my dorm floor.  In simplest terms, I was miserable.  How could I expect to come back to such nothingness?  I can say with all honesty that I learned more about myself in that semester than I had in all the eighteen years of my life prior, but I was overdosing on "me" and I was malnourished in the support of "others." 

A few weeks ago, a guy that goes to Second Baptist emailed me, telling me that they would really like to see me come back.  Hold up--someone was trying to get me back into church?  When did that happen?  I was the girl who never missed a church sermon, never got sent to the principal's office in school, pushed herself to be an example to others and someone was asking me to come back to church?  Compare it to another human trying to convince you that you are in fact a human being.  It was simply not right!  Consider it the wakeup call I needed.  I returned to Second Baptist, and dove into God's unending love for me through the love of others.    I went to Sunday School, Sunday Morning Worship, Sunday Evening Homegroups, and Wednesday evening Worship.  I don't say that to brag on myself.  If anything, I am plainly emphasizing the drastic step I took away from my self-engulfed previous semester.  

About a week after, I began going back to Second, God opened another door for me:  Leadership.  It was an opportunity to do something bigger than myself.  Leadership is the group of teams of students who work in areas of missions, outreach, worship, and good ole fun.  I accepted the offer to join without hesitation, and I have yet to regret it, though the 9 p.m. Monday night meetings have proven to make my 8 a.m. Tuesday lab quite the treat to wake up for.  

Are you still there, Reader?  Well, I will keep you only a moment longer.  I'm sure my enthralling story has captured your undivided attention.  *insert a very sarcastic smile here*  Again, let me emphasize that this was not to brag upon myself for going to church.  No, this was to glorify God Almighty, who allowed a single question, "When is your birthday?" to set a path for the answer of my prayer.  God is so good.  

Well, it appears as though I have consumed the entirety of my Sunday afternoon with the recording of this blessing, and now I have to get ready to praise Jesus some more.  Have a great day!

Pre-Valentine's Thoughts

Reader, I am sitting in a cold dorm room, alone.  My Pandora Radio is set to a Southern gospel channel, and I'm resisting the temptation of grabbing a few more M&M's.  Glorious--that is the only word that could even come close to describing this day.  Non-productive, quiet, peaceful, certain.  Ohh, how long it has been since I last experienced one of these!  Alas, I digress.  The rambling thoughts of mine are probably less interesting to you as they are to me.

Valentine's Day comes to pass in three days.  When I was in 6th grade, I had a boyfriend.  We still talk a little when we see each other in the local town's Wal-Mart, but other than that, all I've got of him are the tainted memories of a very strange twelve-year-old.  He was the last guy that I could rightfully call "my Valentine."  Now, before you sigh to yourself and begin to click the exit button because you are anticipating the love woes of an eighteen-year-old girl, allow me to ease your worries.  I am in no way bitter.  I, personally, love Valentine's Day.  Need reasons?

1.  Endless chocolate.  If you walk into a store, buy five bags full of chocolate, no one looks at you like you are a pig, because it looks like the sweet treats are going to be given as a gift to some special someone...even if the real reason you're shelling out the cash is because you've had a bad day and need a sugar-coated pick-me-up.  

2.  Who doesn't like the annual cheesy love movie marathons?  I indulge once a year in such shenanigans, and I must say, it's kind of like therapy, only cheaper.

3.  I have a sort of self-enforced dress code that consists of nearly every color EXCEPT pink.  This time of the year, I get to pull out the pinkest, heart-infused blouses and pretend to be someone completely different for a few weeks--see?  Therapy.  

4.  Sales.  Enough said.

5.  You know that annoying couple that you know?  The one that is just so cute you almost gag when they get together?  (Well, I don't know one of those, but I've seen some pretty cheesy relationships)  Valentine's Day is one of those holidays when it's a pretty sure-fire chance that you will NOT be seeing them.  Sweet relief...

With that being said, I would now like to introduce my one and only woe.  Bear with me:  

Humans are made to bond.  It happens.  It's unavoidable.  I'm not complaining, at all, but as I sit here, in this empty dorm room, with only my Blackberry as company, I cannot help but wish I had someone.  Just for an hour.  Nothing serious--just a more-than-friend friend to talk to about any and everything.  I suppose, however, that for the time being, my Lord has other things in plan for me.  For example, tonight I am serving the policemen and women as well as their spouses a meal with others from the church I have been attending.  I must say, I have a bit of excitement at seeing legitimate, mature relationships.  It's not that I am longing for one, but just so that I have the hope that it exists somewhere out there.  A long-term, loving, solid, happy relationship between a man and woman:  it seems so foreign to me.  

Reader, I apologize for the sappy tone of this post.  I pray your Valentine's Day is amazing, whether you will be spending it with someone else, or (like me) with a box of chocolate, cheesy movies that are intended to make you cry, and a phone call to your mom.  

Farewell.