Rafiki

Do you remember that time when your uncle orchestrated the wildebeest stampede that murdered your father and then told you it was your fault so that you would run away and doubt yourself and your abilities for the rest of your life? 

No you don’t. That happened to Simba. 

But.

You can probably relate to him on a basic level.

 There is something that happened to Simba the 90’s dream lion that I think has happened to a lot of us. 

In the midst of supposed failures and a desperate search for who his peers and culture thought he was supposed to be, he lost who he actually was. Mm. Well. He didn’t lose it. He just forgot it.

Fortunately for all of us, a crazy stick-wielding baboon and a swirling-clouds-in-the-sky-with-diamonds-apparition of Simba’s father, Mufasa each had a heart-to-heart with him reminding him to…

“Remember who you are.”  

I’m going to remind you of a few things I know for certain about you, things you might have forgotten. Or, maybe things you have never been told. And then, I encourage you to cling to those things and move forward with confidence in who you are – not who culture tells you to be. 

You are:

-Spectacular and unique, gifted with talents and skills that could change your world.
-Loved. Even if you don’t feel it/believe it, whoever you are, I promise that you are loved. And, if you don’t believe me, let’s talk.
-A human made by the same God who designed everything from supernovas to the tiny whatchamacallits that make up atoms. Not only were you designed by Him, but you were calculated in each step of the creation process to look like Him and reflect Him. Ain’t too shabby.
-By nature of being human, not alone. There is someone else dealing with the same things you are, and they’re probably closer than you think.  But, if you can’t find them, there is a God (the One mentioned previously) who became man for a time and suffered through the glory and agony that it is to be human so that you could always go to Him, because He gets it.
-To die for.

Ok. That’s that. I have a lot and a lot more to say. But chew on this and let me know what you come up with. Those things I just said were true of you. And if you can process through them and own them, there’s nostopping you. 

Remember who you are. Not who you think you’re supposed to be.

Headphones on the Elevated Tracks

It’s a nasty habit.

And I call it into action day after day.

I even rely on it.

I have a dependence.

On music.

I allow it to toy with my emotions.

                More than that.

                                I ask it to control them.

I want to feel a certain way

                so I play a certain song.

I want to remember a specific time

                so I peruse a specific genre.

I want to compartmentalize

                so I create a playlist.

I want to know God

                so I resurrect the same few songs.

                                over and over again

                                                and turn up the volume.

                                                                

But then it stops.

                click.

Internet blips or earbud falls

                and I remember reality.

The thing I can’t control.

The place I can’t manipulate.

The existence outside of myself.

And I wonder if any of the emotions I felt under my protective blanket of music were real.

So I begin to whistle.

And I escape the silence. 

Small, But Valuable.

Sometimes I go back and read old blogs, old journal entries (all three of them), old tweets, old letters, just to remember who I am. It’s not that I forget. No. It’s more just that I need to be reminded. So much happens day-to-day in this small life of mine that it is easy to lose track sometimes.

There are a handful of fictional characters I often compare myself to in a loose sort of way. My favorite and probably most wishful is Kathleen Kelly. This is of no surprise to you if you’ve known me long. And if it does surprise you, then I hope the comparison makes sense in retrospect.

There is a particular monologue that ties me to her more than any other part of her story (except for, perhaps, her appreciation of sushi and garnishes and children’s books).  She sits down to her computer one night, shrouded in thought and wrapped in a sweater and she writes this to her dearest friend,

“Sometimes I wonder about my life. I lead a small life - well, valuable, but small - and sometimes I wonder, do I do it because I like it, or because I haven't been brave?”

I think of that so often. Particularly the part about her life being small but valuable. It’s how I feel about my own life. I have no need to become famous. No desire to make millions of dollars or to travel the world. But what I do want is for my life to be valuable. I’ve learned a lot about what it means to have value over the last six months or so. It’s been an interesting experience. And the more I learn, the more I find I am reminding others. It seems we all wonder about our value.

No, I don’t think I’ve been particularly brave. I think I live my small life because I have been safe. And yes, I am doing stuff and making choices and pursuing things that are less safe just like I told you Iwould. (For example: I am writing to you from my bed in my new apartment in a Chicago neighborhood. Baby steps.) But I still have a lot of brave to learn.

What I have, though, is so valuable. My life is worth something. And what is fantastic about that is that I have nothing to do with it. My life has value because I am one with Christ because He wants me to be. My life has value because God has given me people I do not deserve. My life has value because I have been gifted with talents and skills that I can use for a better end. My life has value because coffee smells so good and the color yellow shines so brightly and music sounds so intricately and the internet is flooded with kittens in various types of clothing. My life has value because elephants exist and because I am not in control.

I think we find our value in all the wrong things.

That was a blanket statement. Sorry. Here:
I believe that all too often, modern western culture, myself included, places its value in things that are insignificant in the greater span of time.

The value of our lives is not from ourselves. We play a key role in these existence we are gifted with, but we are not the star and we are not the only part that matters. I have been told time after time to live my life for myself, to take care of myself and leave other people and things and cares for another time. But that just seems wrong. We are created for a purpose and that purpose could not possibly revolve around ourselves. We have value because God says we do. We have value because we are made in the image of the God of the universe.  We have value that is inherently ours. It is so much deeper than any amount of likes or faves or retweets could ever attribute to us.

Your life. No matter how small. No matter what role you play in it. No matter what role other people play in it. Is valuable. Anyone who tells you differently is selling something. 

Inevitable Underdog

I ran away home for a day with the intent of forcing my soul to rest and my eyes to dry. I spent the morning (which started at noon) with my mom and my pets and then came to my third favorite place in the world to work on productive parts of life that I have been avoiding for months. What I really wanted to do was blog, but what my Mother, my Professor, and my brain told me to do was complete my resume. Upon arriving, however, my internet refused to cooperate. If I cannot access my resume, how could I possibly improve it?

In a time such as this, I ask you: What am I to do but blog*?

It’s about time for my inevitable blog about Autumn, I think. I’ve told you before that this is the time the world seems to remember to breathe, be it creation itself or the people who run it.  The trees are loosening their grip on the heydays of the Summer and allowing the passing of time to make their colors richer. Chicagoans welcome to relief from the humid air we have spent the last three months swimming through. Everyone’s hair looks better. Music seems louder. Lyrics matter more.  Driving seems to take on a new sort of joy.  Car windows retreat into hiding.  Stop signs aren't so annoying. Pauses are welcome.

                  Pauses are welcome.

I think that rings true for me in all of Autumn. No matter what stage of life I am in, Autumn is where I take a break and I make sure that I am still who I am and that I am becoming who I want to be. There is something about the crispness in the air that reminds me that I am alive and that there is hope and that I am called to tell a story with my life.

We were fashioned by a creative God who has orchestrated every thing that has ever happened. He is a story teller. He not only made us,but He designed us in His image.  We are a reflection of Him because He wants us to be. So shouldn't we be story tellers? Not just with our words and doodles, but with our lives? I don’t think anyone will ever pen my biography, but if they did, I should like to give them something to write about. I want plot twists and adventure. I want to do the unexpected and prove people wrong. And darnit, I want to tell people that social media isn't inherently evil (we are).

Do you see what this weather does to me? It brings out the best in me. It makes me breathe and reminds me to be a story teller. It lets me wear boots and consume caramel beverages. I’m so grateful that God invented Autumn. I think it’s my favorite part of the story. Like an unsuspecting character that doesn’t expect to change anything in life, but ultimately provides comedic relief and inspiration and an unexpected piece of advice that changes the whole story. Like Sir Cadogan or Fezzik or Emiline Harris or George (who spends time at the Nut shop, where it’s fun.)

Autumn is the underdog that changes the whole story, and I want to follow in its footsteps. 

*My internet began working seconds after I finished this post. God is funny sometimes. And always totally in control.

The Beginning of the End

Just another average day at Moody Bible Institute.

Class, chapel, chat, class, lunch, class, class, chat, meeting, meeting, dinner, library, people, sleep.  

Rinse.
Repeat.

A long night ahead, I scurry to Dunkin before the 99 cent special ends,  return to campus and begin my descent to the Library below. I round the corner expecting to see a friend at the desk… he isn’t there. That’s right, he graduated…

That’s ok, just one difference. I can do that. This week has gone by so quickly and so much has happened, I haven’t had to think about how much is changed. But little things begin to stick out.

I weave my way through the back of the library. It’s time to become reacquainted with my usual spot. A comfortable, famil…They’ve rearranged the furniture. And added bookshelves.  Ok. Breathe. Just another little change. No big.

The quiet of the library makes my mind race, finally dealing with the events of the day, the week, the Summer. Do I really have to face life now? I have so much homework to do! Can’t I just process in January after I graduate? I think that’s a really great plan.

It’s too late. The little changes have sparked a revolution in my reluctant mind. Every change, every familiar face gone, every brand new freshman that I am pretty sure is still 14. It all hits. SLAM. Done.

I burry my head in my hands and reach for the nearest bit of God I can grasp. “I rest me in the thought

of rocks and trees, of skies and seas; His hand the wonders wrought.”

A bit of break. The eye of the storm.

What’s this? Channel change? Oh good. My mind, a thing of its own, has progressed to life after Moody. What will I do? Who will I be? Where will I go? What will I have left behind? It probably doesn’t help that Kammerzelt reminded my Senior Seminar class today that all of our plans and dreams are likely futile. Senior Sem… that’s right. I have to write a paper for that. And I have to read for another class. I have homework to do.  So much homework.

A couple of friends visit, satisfying my need for community and providing much needed distraction. My brain settles, moving steadily back in to homework mode. I can breathe again. Back to homework and music and twitter and a handle on the peace that’s past all understanding.

 I think we’re gonna make it.

*Gets text. Checks email. Begins freak-out all over*

Happy last semester of college. Where God is good and change is hard.

Muchier Muchness

In high school, you look in the mirror, secretly wishing that someone else will look back at you. Someone different than who you perceive you are. You would give anything for your teeth to be a little straighter, your arms to be a little more toned, for your hair to fall the right way. You discern that your identity is determined by who looks back at you from the mirror. You’re always disappointed that it’s just you in there. No matter how hard you try to beat your reflection to the mirror, it always greets you. And it’s always you.

In college, it’s very much the same. You wake up, roll out of your bed, stumble across your dorm room, and flip the light on. Half alive you turn to the mirror to deduce what must be done to make yourself socially acceptable. You’ve come to expect nothing. It’s just you on the other side of the glass, and that’s ok. You’re content with this now. You’ve accepted it. You can’t really change it. You can cut your hair or change your eyeliner, but it’s still you staring back in the morning.  

But, one night when you’re tired and a little hungry but also a decidedly too lazy to do anything about either  one of those things, you’ll look in the mirror and be surprised by the reflection. It’s still you…but it’s…you? This weird version of you that you haven’t seen before. *tap tap* Hello? Did I miss something?

The nose is the same, the eyes still can’t decide on a color, that one tooth is still quite out of place. But something’s… different. Unsure of the change you give yourself pardon to look a little longer. Is it the new hairstyle? No. The almost tan? Uh uh. It’s deeper than that. Muchier than that.

Muchness? Is that really what this spiral of thought is coming down to? A reference to a movie I don’t even particularly enjoy? Muchiness. Alright. Fine. Let’s go with that.

It’s like suddenly you’ve become a muchier version of yourself.  You’ve got more than grades and politics defining you. More than music taste and denomination.  You’re not even sure what it is. But you know that somehow you’ve become something different. Something better? Hopefully.  You’ve always known that you look like your dad, but for the first time you see your mom in your face. (I hope you’ve accepted by now that the “you” is actually me. Sorry for any confusion. But if you’ve seen your mother in your face recently, that’s good.) That’s enough to make it not scary. “Ok,” you think. “I can do this. This ‘adult’ thing. I presume that’s what this is. I’m almost 23, so it’s probably time I become an adult, right?”

It’s not even that you’ve decided to be an adult, like when you’re 13 and you now have a “teen” behind your name, which means you know all the things. It’s like you’ve only just now realized that you’ve grown up and you’ve almost graduated college and you are an adult now, darn it, I don’t care if you don’t like it. But you don’t really like it. Unlike when you’re 13, you don’t know everything. You know more than you’d like to, actually, and quite not enough of what you should know. But, none the less, new adult you is looking back at you.

But, what’s that? Is that confidence? Shoot. Your reflection has time-given confidence and that means you have it too. There’s no looking back now. You’re an adult and you have to act like it. Well, ok, so you’re a grown up and you have to add grown up things to your schedule.

Now I guess it’s time for the moral/point, right? Let’s see…

You’re still you in the mirror. The same you that was there when you were 14.  You’re still very aware of the flaws but -- you have found a way to be confident in them. You can’t beat yourself to the mirror. It’s always going to be you looking back.  You may not always like the parts of you, the “flaws.” But that’s normal.  (Those “flaws”, by the way, are probably only deemed such by some silly celebrity of sorts, and I wouldn’t worry about them. They’re beautiful. ) Just make sure you always like the person that is looking back at you. Let your reflection surprise you with good things. But never let someone look back at you that you aren’t proud to call your reflection.

**My blogs have turned personal and introspective lately. I think this might start happening from time-to-time. Just a head's up. ALSO: The Mulan-likeness of this post did not escape me, I just couldn't work it in.**

It's My Favorite Part Because -- You'll See.

So.

Here’s the thing.

I am scared to death about my future.

I’m going to graduate from college in just a couple of months!

And then I’m going to…

Well. That’s where the fear kicks in. I don’t know what comes next.

See, I know God has a plan all set out for me. I don’t doubt for a second that He has already routed every path I’m going to choose. And I know He has pre-configured the coordinates into my feet for each step I am ever going to take. But that doesn't mean that I have any idea where I’m going.

I want to do radio. That’s not a secret to anyone who a) follows me on twitter b) has talked to me for more than three minutes. I've already begun researching jobs. I point out antiques and say things like, “That will be so cute in the apartment I am going to have!” I secretly practice radio things in my head and when I’m alone. I’m so excited at the prospect of jumping into radio and living on my own in my own little apartment and maybe getting a cat. Definitely getting a cat. Or a squirrel. We’ll see.

But, a midst the excitement, here’s the fear: What if I get a job in radio, but it’s in some state that I’m not even sure of the abbreviation for? What if I don’t live somewhere that is in my comfort zone? Or even, what if I live somewhere completely in my comfort zone?  I want adventure! In the great, wide somewhere! I want it more than I can tell! But, what if the adventure I want and the adventure God wants -- are different?  

I don’t think I have a resolution for you. Or for me, for that matter. I just thought I would share that I am scared about the future.  Not in a bad way. God’s in control. Just in a… scared way.

I am very small and God is very big and I will end up precisely where He means for me to. 

That’s what I need to remind myself of, and that should be quite enough.