Yesterday was the day that about 250 young applicants found out whether or not they were accepted as a Resident Assistant for the 2013-2014 school year, and it took me back to that day 2 years ago when I found out I'd be working in Brumby.
For those of you not familiar with UGA Residence Halls, Brumby has been an all-female residence hall since it opened in 1966. It has a reputation for being the "strictest" residence hall. When young women find out that they will spend their freshman year in Brumby, they usually roll their eyes and try to live in another hall. Although the visitation rules are the same in the majority of the residence halls, staff in Brumby can usually tell if someone is here after hours pretty readily. I'll give you a clue: he's a guy. If we see a guy between the hours of 2-10am Monday-Thursday, he's not supposed to be here. We can also spot pretty readily if a boy is un-escorted (aka wandering the halls alone) because, again, he's a boy and most definitely doesn't live here. I had to document an escort violation last year with some slightly intoxicated boys and one of them told me he lived here and when I said I knew for a fact that he didn't, he challenged me and said I "didn't know his life." I said that was very well but he couldn't live here because it was an all-female building. Needless to say that shut him up and also embarrassed him to no end. Anyway, next year Brumby will be co-ed, and I have to say that that scares me. I LOVE Brumby. I'm weird, I know, but there is just something so nice about working on an all-female staff. There's a camaraderie among female staff- we compete to see who has the cutest bulletin boards every month, but in a healthy way, but we compliment each other's work ethics and programs and bulletin boards. Yes, this can happen with males on our staff, but it's so nice that in a world where women typically bring each other down, that I can work on a staff where my co-workers constantly build me up. Being a Christian, obviously I believe God wants me to work in a co-ed building next year, and in this instance, change is a good thing. After 40+ years Brumby is evolving, and I'm so fortunate to get to witness that change.
Now, back to getting my acceptance letter 2 years ago...man oh man I had zero idea what I was in for. I've decided to compile a little piece of what I'd like to call "The RA Diaries" including many things I've learned and some tips and tricks...
-You will learn an insane amount of acronyms when starting this job. I bet you all don't know that in addition to being an RA, I work with CAs, DAs, OAs, GRs, an RHD, an AC, and BSWs. I also use programs called CRIS and JA and fill out a piece of paperwork called an RFP. I get my bulletin board supplies from an RPS office. This is no where near and exhaustive list.
-Get used to being called a "bitch." It happens, but at the end of the day you're doing you're job and can remain confident in that.
-No, there is no initiation to be an RA, but there is a secret club that we don't talk about. Once you clean up vomit or some other bodily "fluid," you're part of that "club."
-Speaking of vomit, expect to clean it up several times, including the middle of the night.
-Always have tissues in your room. Sometimes people just need someone to listen while they cry.
-Food is your greatest weapon, especially Chick Fil A. People will come to your program when there is food.
-Listen to what your residents do in their spare time and what they like. If you can plan a program around it, you'll have more people show up and more meaningful experiences.
-The worst sound in the world is the shrill ringing of the duty phone at 3 am. Your first thought, "someone better be dying." But of course you would NEVER want that, but hey, it's what happens when you're woken up mid- REM cycle.
-People will not take you seriously when you're trying to confront an incident in Spider Man boxers. You may be wearing your Housing Polo and ID badge, but they're just staring at your boxers.
-The Housing Polo is the sexiest piece of clothing you'll ever have. Said no one ever. You'll get paranoid when you're on duty and sleep in it on nights that you know are going to be bad.
-Your staff will become a second family. You will bond over using the Vendor Card at Piggly Wiggly, exchange funny stories, and they'll be your support system when you feel like everything is falling apart.
-Confrontation is not a bad thing. It's healthy. If you stay calm, that drunk person you're confronting will too. Never yell. Don't even raise your voice.
-People instantly sober up when you say the police can get involved.
-Fraternity formal time=cooler time. By the end of that season, you will never want to see another cooler again.
-Your dinner break while on duty is sacred. It's your 45 minutes to get out of the building, use it.
-It's much easier to go in strict and be slightly intimidating and then loosen the reigns than try to tighten them as the year goes on.
-Most importantly, your residents will surprise you. They'll leave you sweet notes, you'll hear them pass by your room and say they like you. You'll adopt residents on your hall to the point that you forget that certain people aren't actually your residents.
-Working with freshmen is both rewarding and frustrating. They will experiment with their freedom, but you'll also get to witness them grow and learn and make some pretty awesome decisions.
-Welcome interruptions. They'll happen, especially the night before classes start. Don't expect to have more than 10 minute intervals to yourself. An open door means anyone is welcome. A closed door means you're available as needed. Lock your door when you're changing or just get out of the shower. Some residents like to barge in.
-Take time to enjoy the experience. Take a night away from your friends and invite your residents to come watch a movie in your room. You'll never regret the bonding that happens.
-Never give up on yourself, and NEVER give up on your residents. You'll never find another job like this. You won't ever learn this quickly or "as you go" like you do on this job.
I'm sure my fellow Housing buddies will enjoy this. I do love my job.
Smile, God loves you!
Thursday, February 28, 2013
Thursday, February 21, 2013
I Want to be a Teacher.
I want to be a teacher. Every time I tell someone I'm an English Education major they ask me, "Oh, are you sure you want to teach?" with this look of doubt, and they almost look at me with pity. I know that I have zero idea what I'm getting into, but unless you're a former/current teacher, your opinion does not really hold validity for me. How could you possibly know what's it's like in a classroom unless you've been there? So please, save your advice. I'm not saying this to anyone in particular, just the general population. Also, it makes me feel like you doubt my capabilities, and I'm not trying to brag on myself, but one of my values I like most in myself is my hard work. Every person in my family is a hard worker, and that's a value my parents instilled in my sisters and me, and if you've met my mother, you know she's quite possibly one of the hardest workers out there. And you saying those works to me with doubt in your voice just makes me want to work harder.
I want to be a teacher.
I know the public school system is messed up. I know it needs reform. I know the government puts way too much emphasis on school funding and meeting AYP and not enough on a student's individual growth. These assessments make it difficult for teachers to not "teach to a test," but it can be done. Reform starts in the individual classroom.
I want to be a teacher.
I want to touch lives. I want students to know that I am there for them and will do whatever I can to help them with their school problems or with anything else they may need help with. I want them to know that in this world where it too often seems like no one cares, I care. I want them to know that they matter, not as a statistic, but as a human being.
I want to be a teacher.
I want to show students the beauty of Literature, and how books, poems, and short stories offer an escape, if even just for a little while. I want to join them on their adventures of floating down a river with Huck Finn, fighting Voldemort with Harry, Ron, and Hermione, get annoyed with them at Heathcliff and Cathy, figure out who the real Boo Radley is in To Kill a Mockingbird, and so much more. I want my passion for books, English, and Literature to excite my students.
Not only to I want to be a teacher, I am called to be a teacher. Do you think standing in a room full of teenagers doesn't scare the heck out of me? Because it does. Do you think I'm not afraid to meet AYP and all of the other standards once I become a teacher? Because I am. But this isn't a choice for me to make. It's a choice that He made for me. I started college as a Psychology major, despite my love of books and papers, but halfway through my freshman year I could feel that it wasn't right. I didn't like my classes and I just had no interest in them. I spent a lot of time in prayer and it was as if God said, "Why are you denying me so? You know what you're supposed to do." And I knew, I'd known all along. And the second I turned in the forms to change my major I felt relieved, and I was excited. In my excitement I told my family and friends about my change in major and no one was surprised. If you haven't noticed, I'm pretty stubborn, and I tend to have to learn things the hard way or in roundabout ways before I fully understand what God is trying to tell me. I love my English classes (in the way a college kid loves classes), and I've enjoyed my education classes. And when I think it's going to be too hard or I don't want to, I hear God telling me that I don't have much of a choice, because this is what He wants me to do. Every time something gets in my way, He moves it, and I get closer to teaching one day.
When people talk about politics I tend to keep my mouth shut because I'm not well enough informed, but when it comes to public education, I can speak what I feel, because that's one topic I'm passionate about and do my best to keep up with.
I want to be a teacher.
Too often this world teaches teenagers that they can't. I want to tell them they can. I want my classroom to be a safe place where students can bring their ideas and express their opinions. I want to be the hard teacher. In a way I don't want my students to like me in the beginning, I want them to think I'm hard on them. But as their hard work pays off I want them to grow to love me because I challenge and push them. Those are the teachers that make the biggest influence in my life. The ones that pushed me and challenged me are the ones I think about when I do well on a paper or an assignment, and I want to be that teacher for them. I want to make a difference. No, I don't want to, I'm going to.
I want to be a teacher.
Smile, God loves you.
I want to be a teacher.
I know the public school system is messed up. I know it needs reform. I know the government puts way too much emphasis on school funding and meeting AYP and not enough on a student's individual growth. These assessments make it difficult for teachers to not "teach to a test," but it can be done. Reform starts in the individual classroom.
I want to be a teacher.
I want to touch lives. I want students to know that I am there for them and will do whatever I can to help them with their school problems or with anything else they may need help with. I want them to know that in this world where it too often seems like no one cares, I care. I want them to know that they matter, not as a statistic, but as a human being.
I want to be a teacher.
I want to show students the beauty of Literature, and how books, poems, and short stories offer an escape, if even just for a little while. I want to join them on their adventures of floating down a river with Huck Finn, fighting Voldemort with Harry, Ron, and Hermione, get annoyed with them at Heathcliff and Cathy, figure out who the real Boo Radley is in To Kill a Mockingbird, and so much more. I want my passion for books, English, and Literature to excite my students.
Not only to I want to be a teacher, I am called to be a teacher. Do you think standing in a room full of teenagers doesn't scare the heck out of me? Because it does. Do you think I'm not afraid to meet AYP and all of the other standards once I become a teacher? Because I am. But this isn't a choice for me to make. It's a choice that He made for me. I started college as a Psychology major, despite my love of books and papers, but halfway through my freshman year I could feel that it wasn't right. I didn't like my classes and I just had no interest in them. I spent a lot of time in prayer and it was as if God said, "Why are you denying me so? You know what you're supposed to do." And I knew, I'd known all along. And the second I turned in the forms to change my major I felt relieved, and I was excited. In my excitement I told my family and friends about my change in major and no one was surprised. If you haven't noticed, I'm pretty stubborn, and I tend to have to learn things the hard way or in roundabout ways before I fully understand what God is trying to tell me. I love my English classes (in the way a college kid loves classes), and I've enjoyed my education classes. And when I think it's going to be too hard or I don't want to, I hear God telling me that I don't have much of a choice, because this is what He wants me to do. Every time something gets in my way, He moves it, and I get closer to teaching one day.
When people talk about politics I tend to keep my mouth shut because I'm not well enough informed, but when it comes to public education, I can speak what I feel, because that's one topic I'm passionate about and do my best to keep up with.
I want to be a teacher.
Too often this world teaches teenagers that they can't. I want to tell them they can. I want my classroom to be a safe place where students can bring their ideas and express their opinions. I want to be the hard teacher. In a way I don't want my students to like me in the beginning, I want them to think I'm hard on them. But as their hard work pays off I want them to grow to love me because I challenge and push them. Those are the teachers that make the biggest influence in my life. The ones that pushed me and challenged me are the ones I think about when I do well on a paper or an assignment, and I want to be that teacher for them. I want to make a difference. No, I don't want to, I'm going to.
I want to be a teacher.
Smile, God loves you.
Saturday, February 16, 2013
Beauty
Lately the concept of beauty has really been on my heart. It's so hard for me to look at pictures of myself in high school and not think of how thin I was. I have to remind myself that my body has changed a lot since then, and I will not likely ever be that "tiny" again. Being an RA, I hear about the "freshman fifteen" almost daily. And it kills me because I think every single one of my residents is beautiful, but I do remember how hard it is when you start realizing that, as a woman, you get those wonderful "birthing hips" once you turn 18. Because I was a dancer from ages 3-18, I spent a lot of time looking at myself in the mirror...in a leotard. I don't know if you've ever worn a leotard and tights, but it shows everything: every pudge, every dimple, every flab, and it isn't exactly a confidence booster. I think about how often I let that get to me, how often I looked at my food and thought about how I shouldn't be eating it. But let's be real, I LOVE food. Now I look at body with a sense of hatred at times because it just doesn't look the way I want it to. The other day it hit me though...what does God say about beauty, and how does it compare to our worldly view of beauty.
What does the world say about beauty?
You must be thin to beautiful.
You must wear make up to be beautiful.
Glasses are not pretty.
Your hair must be done "just so" to be beautiful.
Celebrities are beautiful. (even though they have air brushing, personal trainers, personal nutritionists, and photoshop)
What you look like on the outside is most important.
Having the right clothes and accessories makes you beautiful.
If people don't like you, you're probably not very pretty.
If a boy, or girl, doesn't pay attention to you, it's because you're not pretty enough.
Now, I don't know about you, but I've met what I think are some insanely beautiful people throughout my life. However, the second they open their mouths and say something cruel or do something cruel, their beauty instantly goes away. On the other hand, I've met some relatively "pretty" people in my life, but through their conversation and actions they become incredibly beautiful because of their beautiful hearts. Every time I see somehow do a kind deed or say something nice, a transformation takes place and they become more and more beautiful. And here's what I've realized: God doesn't create ugly things. What He creates, He loves. He creates beauty, and pure beauty at that. He loves what He creates. God, the Creator of the universe, Creator of life, the heavens and the earth, the One who decides when the sun rises and sets, created YOU. You must be pretty special if such a busy guy was able to create you and know the amount of hairs on your head!
Now here's what the Bible says about beauty:
"I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well."
- Psalm 139: 14
"The Lord does not look at the things man looks at. Man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart."
- 1 Samuel 16:7
"Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the Lord will be praised."
- Proverbs 31:30
What does the world say about beauty?
You must be thin to beautiful.
You must wear make up to be beautiful.
Glasses are not pretty.
Your hair must be done "just so" to be beautiful.
Celebrities are beautiful. (even though they have air brushing, personal trainers, personal nutritionists, and photoshop)
What you look like on the outside is most important.
Having the right clothes and accessories makes you beautiful.
If people don't like you, you're probably not very pretty.
If a boy, or girl, doesn't pay attention to you, it's because you're not pretty enough.
Now, I don't know about you, but I've met what I think are some insanely beautiful people throughout my life. However, the second they open their mouths and say something cruel or do something cruel, their beauty instantly goes away. On the other hand, I've met some relatively "pretty" people in my life, but through their conversation and actions they become incredibly beautiful because of their beautiful hearts. Every time I see somehow do a kind deed or say something nice, a transformation takes place and they become more and more beautiful. And here's what I've realized: God doesn't create ugly things. What He creates, He loves. He creates beauty, and pure beauty at that. He loves what He creates. God, the Creator of the universe, Creator of life, the heavens and the earth, the One who decides when the sun rises and sets, created YOU. You must be pretty special if such a busy guy was able to create you and know the amount of hairs on your head!
Now here's what the Bible says about beauty:
"I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well."
- Psalm 139: 14
"The Lord does not look at the things man looks at. Man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart."
- 1 Samuel 16:7
"Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the Lord will be praised."
- Proverbs 31:30
"Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as braided hair and the wearing of gold jewelry and fine clothes. Instead, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God's sight."
- 1 Peter 3:3-4
What's the emphasis in all of this?
A beautiful heart.
Now if that same Creator who made you values inward beauty over outward beauty, why do we not do the same? God cares about what's on your heart, and how those values influence your thoughts and actions. What will you do with that heart He's given you? What will you do with that body He's given you? Will you use it to His good purpose, or allow these worldly values to get to you? I'm not saying we should eat a bunch of junk food and never exercise, the Bible also says that our bodies are temples and are meant to be treated well, but we cannot put all of our focus there. God loves us just the way we are.
Smile, God loves you!
Thursday, February 7, 2013
"It's Not Fair."
"It's not fair." I can't tell you how many times in my life I've spoken those words. And in truth, life isn't fair; we don't know why God does what He does. As a lot of change comes up in my life with thinking about graduate school, preparing to start my student teaching next semester, and making plans for this summer, I'm forced to grieve the loss of my father yet again. It happens with every season of change, and the last few days I've missed my daddy more than anything.
Since my dad died 14 years ago, every time I see something about a father-daughter dance, father-daughter weekend for sororities, and fathers walking their daughters down the aisle, my heart hurts a little because I won't have that. And for years I never wanted to be the girl whose dad died, and I know my sisters have had similar experiences and we each deal with our grief in different ways.
My dad was taken from our lives when he was only 46. He never got to witness his daughters graduating from high school or college, never met their husbands, never got to walk them down the aisle, and never got to meet his amazing grandchildren. And...it breaks my heart. I look at this beautiful life I have and sometimes I just really wish my daddy were here. I wish he was here to give me advice about boys, to hold me when I cry, and help me make big life decisions. Granted, I know my life would be completely different if he were alive, and obviously it's a part of my life that I've accepted, but I'm allowed to miss him. And I think knowing I'm allowed to miss him and wish he were here took me a long time to know it was OK. I don't go around telling people the story about my dad's death, but if they ask, I'm open about talking about it. In some ways, I really have to detach myself from what I'm saying when I tell the story, simply because it's a wound that will never heal. I've accepted what's happened in my life, but I will always have a little hole in my heart because of his death, but it's OK, and I know that now.
Really what has brought all of this on is the fact that I had a dream a couple of nights ago about the night my dad died. Let's be real, it wasn't a dream, it was a nightmare, and a nightmare that I lived out almost 14 and a half years ago. Once again I was 6 years old sitting at the top of the steps listening to my dad take his last breaths. I think about this day from time-to-time, but usually I push those memories to the side and do my best to focus on the beauty in my life, but I can't deny my sub-conscience. I woke up crying and it took a lot of prayers and scripture reciting to calm me back down.
Please don't get me wrong, I'm incredibly grateful for my life, especially my family. I have the three most amazing sisters and the world's most incredible mom, along with a wonderful grandpa who lives with us. I'm showered with blessings, but I've learned along the way that I can't deny my emotions, and right now, I'm sad. Right now, I'm 6 years old wondering why my daddy won't walk through the door on a Sunday morning with a box full of donuts.
My dad's death gave me a very skewed understanding of God. We call God "the Father," and the way my dad's death was described to me was that he was in heaven now. In a 6 year old brain death alone is an incredible concept to grasp, so I kind of combined my dad with God, it seems weird, I know, but remember how you thought of things in elementary school. I also grew bitter towards God- why would He do this? Why would he take a father who loved his wife, worked hard, and adored his children off of this earth? Why would He deny the memories I mentioned above to 4 young girls? And I was angry, for many years. I was 16 when I finally let God take over some of that anger. It wasn't until I was 18 that I really let Him take that anger away. I distinctly remember I was with Jackie and Andrew driving in the car in the mountains on our way back from Andrew's brother's wedding (I went to help watch Workmon family kids). As we were driving I looked out the window and saw a cross completely illuminated and it took be aback so much I asked if it was real, and it was. It then started a conversation about Jesus and the cross and Andrew told me I needed to leave all of my hurt, resentment, and anger at the cross, and that really hit me. And that night and in the days to come I gave it to God. That was in November of my freshman year at UGA, and I look on my freshman year and remember how happy I was. I look at pictures and know my smile in them was genuine. That was really the first time I ever let God take the pain away. I did lose sight of all of that and I've had to let Him take away a lot of pain and hurt from a different kind of heartbreak in the last months, but He's done it. So now I just need to breathe deeply and know He has some greater purpose in having me live the majority of my life without my daddy. I trust Him, but man...it's so hard.
I love you, Daddy.
Smile, God loves you!
Since my dad died 14 years ago, every time I see something about a father-daughter dance, father-daughter weekend for sororities, and fathers walking their daughters down the aisle, my heart hurts a little because I won't have that. And for years I never wanted to be the girl whose dad died, and I know my sisters have had similar experiences and we each deal with our grief in different ways.
My dad was taken from our lives when he was only 46. He never got to witness his daughters graduating from high school or college, never met their husbands, never got to walk them down the aisle, and never got to meet his amazing grandchildren. And...it breaks my heart. I look at this beautiful life I have and sometimes I just really wish my daddy were here. I wish he was here to give me advice about boys, to hold me when I cry, and help me make big life decisions. Granted, I know my life would be completely different if he were alive, and obviously it's a part of my life that I've accepted, but I'm allowed to miss him. And I think knowing I'm allowed to miss him and wish he were here took me a long time to know it was OK. I don't go around telling people the story about my dad's death, but if they ask, I'm open about talking about it. In some ways, I really have to detach myself from what I'm saying when I tell the story, simply because it's a wound that will never heal. I've accepted what's happened in my life, but I will always have a little hole in my heart because of his death, but it's OK, and I know that now.
Really what has brought all of this on is the fact that I had a dream a couple of nights ago about the night my dad died. Let's be real, it wasn't a dream, it was a nightmare, and a nightmare that I lived out almost 14 and a half years ago. Once again I was 6 years old sitting at the top of the steps listening to my dad take his last breaths. I think about this day from time-to-time, but usually I push those memories to the side and do my best to focus on the beauty in my life, but I can't deny my sub-conscience. I woke up crying and it took a lot of prayers and scripture reciting to calm me back down.
Please don't get me wrong, I'm incredibly grateful for my life, especially my family. I have the three most amazing sisters and the world's most incredible mom, along with a wonderful grandpa who lives with us. I'm showered with blessings, but I've learned along the way that I can't deny my emotions, and right now, I'm sad. Right now, I'm 6 years old wondering why my daddy won't walk through the door on a Sunday morning with a box full of donuts.
My dad's death gave me a very skewed understanding of God. We call God "the Father," and the way my dad's death was described to me was that he was in heaven now. In a 6 year old brain death alone is an incredible concept to grasp, so I kind of combined my dad with God, it seems weird, I know, but remember how you thought of things in elementary school. I also grew bitter towards God- why would He do this? Why would he take a father who loved his wife, worked hard, and adored his children off of this earth? Why would He deny the memories I mentioned above to 4 young girls? And I was angry, for many years. I was 16 when I finally let God take over some of that anger. It wasn't until I was 18 that I really let Him take that anger away. I distinctly remember I was with Jackie and Andrew driving in the car in the mountains on our way back from Andrew's brother's wedding (I went to help watch Workmon family kids). As we were driving I looked out the window and saw a cross completely illuminated and it took be aback so much I asked if it was real, and it was. It then started a conversation about Jesus and the cross and Andrew told me I needed to leave all of my hurt, resentment, and anger at the cross, and that really hit me. And that night and in the days to come I gave it to God. That was in November of my freshman year at UGA, and I look on my freshman year and remember how happy I was. I look at pictures and know my smile in them was genuine. That was really the first time I ever let God take the pain away. I did lose sight of all of that and I've had to let Him take away a lot of pain and hurt from a different kind of heartbreak in the last months, but He's done it. So now I just need to breathe deeply and know He has some greater purpose in having me live the majority of my life without my daddy. I trust Him, but man...it's so hard.
I love you, Daddy.
Smile, God loves you!
Monday, February 4, 2013
Anxiety
I've been pretty up-front about my anxiety on here since I started this blog, but I also think anxiety is greatly misunderstood. I've had friends tell me they never thought anxiety really existed until they met me. Anxiety is debilitating, and mine is nothing compared to what some people suffer with. I can remember being anxious after my dad died, almost immediately. I was mostly anxious that I would lose my mom or sisters, which I think is pretty normal for anyone after they lose someone they love, but I was always anxious when my mom or sisters left. I can also remember calling my mom while she was at work several times a day. Thank goodness my mom worked with a wonderful group of nurses, now her best friends, who understood and were so kind to me. Not all coworkers would willingly talk to a six-year-old and tell them her mommy was with a patient but was OK.
I also had a terrible anxiety of breaking the rules. I was that kid, the tattletale. It wasn't that I thought the other kids were bad, it's that I never wanted anyone to get into trouble. This idea of following the rules has followed me my whole life, although I know things are much more grey than black and white.
The anxiety got bad when I was about 12. I went out to visit Courtney in California for Spring Break in 7th grade and I came back and I remember Grandma and Mom sitting me down and talking to me about how they think I needed to go talk to someone. I think at that point it was more depression rooted in my anxiety, but then a whole different can of worms was opened when my grandma died.
My junior and senior years of high school were when my anxiety really started affecting my every day life, and I stopped sleeping. For about two years I ran on about 4 hours of sleep a night. I know SO many people do this, but if you know me well, I am not a very nice person when I'm tired. A lot of that anxiety was about the SAT, ACT, and where I would go to college. Then senior year...I was so anxious about going away to school. Selfishly, I was afraid of what my mom and grandpa would do without me. I did worry about grandpa spending so much time alone, not that I was home that much in high school anyway because of my extracurriculars, but still. I had also been that kid that had to be picked up from sleepovers in the middle of the night when I was young, so I was also worried about spending so much time away from home and how lonely I would get. My mom and I had serious discussions about me taking a year off because I was so anxious about leaving and being lonely, etc.
Anxiety has held me back from a lot of things, many social situations, going to things where I didn't know anyone, and putting myself out there to experience new opportunities and meet new people. But somehow, God has kept me in the palm of His hand and has allowed me to still have so many wonderful experiences. One thing I've realized about anxiety is that it is all Satan. Anxiety is the sin that I struggle with the most, and I do think it's a sin, because it is not of God. God lays out in so many places in his Word that we are not to be anxious, but it's my weakness and Satan loves to prey on it. He constantly tells me that people won't like me if they know my heart, that they won't like how "twisted" some of my thoughts are, that I'm not good enough to be in that position, and that I'm unlovable and I cannot be redeemed. Sometimes I do get anxious about my salvation, and let me tell you, that's scary. I think it's something every Christian faces, because satan can literally be the devil on our shoulders telling us that God wouldn't want us because of what we've done. And when anxiety was taking over my life, the devil did just that. He told me that because of my past sins, and because of the fact that my anxiety is a sin I struggle with, sometimes hour by hour, that God wouldn't redeem me. But guess what? I've learned that those are complete lies. Satan is a terrible, horrible liar. Jesus died on the cross for you and me. When I read the gospel and read the part of Jesus's crucifixion, I can't help but cry. I'm overcome with such incredible emotion as the Holy Spirit whispers to me, "He loved you enough." And He did, He does. He loves me enough to die on the cross for my sins, and for my anxiety. Every thought of anxiety I must turn into a prayer, because the devil cannot be glorified in my anxiety. I've spent too many hours crying, too many sleepless nights, and I've had too many days lost to my anxiety. Enough.
I've noticed myself slipping back into many anxious thoughts and sleepless nights, so I've made a commitment to do my quiet time again, and so far so good. And last night while doing my Beth Moore study, the lesson ended with this. The instructions are to fill in every blank with your name...
My child, ________, I loved you before you were born. I knit you in your mother's womb and knew what your first and last words would be. I knew every difficulty you, ________, would face. I suffered each one with you. Even the ones you didn't suffer with me. I had a plan for your life before you were born. The plan has not changed, _______, no matter what has happened or what you have done. You see, I already knew all things concerning you before I formed you. I would never allow any hurt to come into your life that I could not use for eternity, ______. Will you let Me? Your truth is incomplete unless you view it against the backdrop of my truth. Your story, _______, will forever remain incomplete...until you let Me do what only I can do with your hurt. Let Me perfect that which concerns you.
I remain,
Your Faithful Father
I mean dang, cue the waterworks. So it's not going to be easy and it's going to be a daily surrendering of my heart, but this anxiety is His. He will sustain me and redeem me. So I encourage you, whatever you're struggling with right now, insert your name in those blanks above, and experience the freedom and love He has prepared for us...
And smile, God loves you!
"Do not be anxious in anything, but in everything, with prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus."
-Philippians 4:6-7
I also had a terrible anxiety of breaking the rules. I was that kid, the tattletale. It wasn't that I thought the other kids were bad, it's that I never wanted anyone to get into trouble. This idea of following the rules has followed me my whole life, although I know things are much more grey than black and white.
The anxiety got bad when I was about 12. I went out to visit Courtney in California for Spring Break in 7th grade and I came back and I remember Grandma and Mom sitting me down and talking to me about how they think I needed to go talk to someone. I think at that point it was more depression rooted in my anxiety, but then a whole different can of worms was opened when my grandma died.
My junior and senior years of high school were when my anxiety really started affecting my every day life, and I stopped sleeping. For about two years I ran on about 4 hours of sleep a night. I know SO many people do this, but if you know me well, I am not a very nice person when I'm tired. A lot of that anxiety was about the SAT, ACT, and where I would go to college. Then senior year...I was so anxious about going away to school. Selfishly, I was afraid of what my mom and grandpa would do without me. I did worry about grandpa spending so much time alone, not that I was home that much in high school anyway because of my extracurriculars, but still. I had also been that kid that had to be picked up from sleepovers in the middle of the night when I was young, so I was also worried about spending so much time away from home and how lonely I would get. My mom and I had serious discussions about me taking a year off because I was so anxious about leaving and being lonely, etc.
Anxiety has held me back from a lot of things, many social situations, going to things where I didn't know anyone, and putting myself out there to experience new opportunities and meet new people. But somehow, God has kept me in the palm of His hand and has allowed me to still have so many wonderful experiences. One thing I've realized about anxiety is that it is all Satan. Anxiety is the sin that I struggle with the most, and I do think it's a sin, because it is not of God. God lays out in so many places in his Word that we are not to be anxious, but it's my weakness and Satan loves to prey on it. He constantly tells me that people won't like me if they know my heart, that they won't like how "twisted" some of my thoughts are, that I'm not good enough to be in that position, and that I'm unlovable and I cannot be redeemed. Sometimes I do get anxious about my salvation, and let me tell you, that's scary. I think it's something every Christian faces, because satan can literally be the devil on our shoulders telling us that God wouldn't want us because of what we've done. And when anxiety was taking over my life, the devil did just that. He told me that because of my past sins, and because of the fact that my anxiety is a sin I struggle with, sometimes hour by hour, that God wouldn't redeem me. But guess what? I've learned that those are complete lies. Satan is a terrible, horrible liar. Jesus died on the cross for you and me. When I read the gospel and read the part of Jesus's crucifixion, I can't help but cry. I'm overcome with such incredible emotion as the Holy Spirit whispers to me, "He loved you enough." And He did, He does. He loves me enough to die on the cross for my sins, and for my anxiety. Every thought of anxiety I must turn into a prayer, because the devil cannot be glorified in my anxiety. I've spent too many hours crying, too many sleepless nights, and I've had too many days lost to my anxiety. Enough.
I've noticed myself slipping back into many anxious thoughts and sleepless nights, so I've made a commitment to do my quiet time again, and so far so good. And last night while doing my Beth Moore study, the lesson ended with this. The instructions are to fill in every blank with your name...
My child, ________, I loved you before you were born. I knit you in your mother's womb and knew what your first and last words would be. I knew every difficulty you, ________, would face. I suffered each one with you. Even the ones you didn't suffer with me. I had a plan for your life before you were born. The plan has not changed, _______, no matter what has happened or what you have done. You see, I already knew all things concerning you before I formed you. I would never allow any hurt to come into your life that I could not use for eternity, ______. Will you let Me? Your truth is incomplete unless you view it against the backdrop of my truth. Your story, _______, will forever remain incomplete...until you let Me do what only I can do with your hurt. Let Me perfect that which concerns you.
I remain,
Your Faithful Father
I mean dang, cue the waterworks. So it's not going to be easy and it's going to be a daily surrendering of my heart, but this anxiety is His. He will sustain me and redeem me. So I encourage you, whatever you're struggling with right now, insert your name in those blanks above, and experience the freedom and love He has prepared for us...
And smile, God loves you!
"Do not be anxious in anything, but in everything, with prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus."
-Philippians 4:6-7
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