On Fire

Greetings, friends! It's been quite a while since I've visited here. At first, I just didn't have anything exciting enough to write about, so I waited for inspiration to enter my thoughts. Then, I was too busy with writing papers for school. And now, here we are. Finally, something has shaken me out of a blogging writer's block. Have you ever had one of those weeks where you just couldn't wait for it to be over? Maybe you got a phone call with some tragic news, or maybe you lost your job. Maybe you had a bad break-up, or maybe you failed a test. The point is, we've all experienced that sense of exhaustion at the end of a difficult, madness-inducing week. The week isn't quite over yet, so I'm a bit hesitant to say this, but...I have survived a ridiculous week.

Earlier in the week, our house was broken into. It happened in broad daylight, and it happened even though the doors were locked. It happened even though we were careful and not flashy with all of our amazing wealth (please note the sarcasm). It happened even though we hadn't stolen anything from anyone else, and it happened even though we thought we had guarded our home against an invasion. It happened. Someone foreign was in our home, someone took our things, and someone chose to act selfishly. It was sad, it was scary, and it still feels surreal. I could talk about a sense of violation or a sense of fear, but in all honesty, those feelings faded away the moment I realized how thankful I am. I am safe, my family is safe, and the things stolen were just earthly things. In a strange way, I'm almost grateful to have had the experience. Don't get me wrong; I certainly won't be writing this burglar a thank-you card or sending him a batch of cupcakes. Instead of living in fear of another invasion, though, I'm taking this as an opporunity to remember the important things in life. At the end of the day, I get to call the most wonderful man I know and tell him I love him. I get to tell my beautiful Mama how lucky I am to have her, and I get to tell my brother how proud I am of him. That's something no burglar gets to take away.

I guess God decided that I needed an extra wake-up call, because today, one of my neighbor's houses caught on fire. With those Texas winds blowing strongly, there was a strong concern that the fire could spread to our own house. I have never been near a fire like that before, and I couldn't have predicted how smoky the atmosphere would be. As we stood outside watching the firefighters work to put out the fire, my lungs burned with the ash in the air, and my heart ached for the family whose home went up in flames. When they woke up this morning, I doubt that they thought, "Hmm I bet I'm going to lose most of what I own today, so I'd better eat a good breakfast." The inside of my own house still smells like smoke, and even though I've showered, I can still smell the smoke on my skin and in my hair. In a weird way, I don't want that to go away. Yes, it probably causes cancer, but what a reminder that we can rise from ashes. We can take those ashes to remember the crucial things in life, the things that make life worth living. In my opinion, that doesn't include flatscreen TVs, expensive shoes, computers, or family antiques. The crucial things in life are our relationships, and like it or not, those aren't permanent either. We're all living on borrowed time, so why not make the most of it?

Life is scary sometimes, but it can be a beautiful wake-up call. Wake up, and do something meaningful with your life today. Are you who you want to be? I don't know about you, but I'm pretty sure I only get one chance at this crazy life, and I don't want to waste it. 

Waiting on the World to Change

As far as John Mayer fans go, I'm probably in that top tier of crazies. He's one of those artists I can listen to on repeat, and I hardly ever get sick of his music. BUT there is one song that I absolutely cannot stand: Waiting on the World to Change. Perhaps you're familiar with it. The actual music is fine, but the lyrics make me cringe, and I skip over it every time my iTunes shuffles to it.

Waiting on the world to change. I would argue that that mentality is exactly what's wrong with society. Too often, we wait for someone else to make the first move. We wait for someone to apologize before we forgive them. We wait to change our behavior until someone calls us out on it. We wait for a family member to get sick before we make those sacrifices to see them more often. We wait for others to change so we can have a stronger, happier relationship. We wait for someone to write a law or cite a Scripture verse that tells us the "right" thing to do. In a society that promotes  impulsivity and immediate gratification, I find all this waiting paradoxical. Beautiful and heart-sickening, isn't it?

Now, I realize that when you point a finger at someone else, you're pointing three fingers back at yourself. I will readily admit, I'm guilty of this, too.

My question to myself is, "Why wait? Why not be that force that sets more change in motion?" In the vast amounts of wisdom I've accumulated since turning 22 (please note the sarcasm in that), I've realized that the world doesn't wait for anyone, so why would you wait for the entire world to change? You can't change the rest of the world; you can only change yourself. When you change yourself, you change your world.

It's easy to get caught up in the madness of trying to be an exceptional (or even an adequate) student, employee, spouse, parent, or friend. Being a human is hard enough without all the roles we adopt for ourselves. But why not make it worth your while by spicing things up? Do something different today, and see how it changes your world.

Who am I?

Recently, I've rediscovered my love for the show House. You know, the one with the not-so-nice doctor who habitually gulps down Vicodin and then saves people's lives. Yes, I'm aware that this is a hallmark example of ridiculous prime time television that is not at all congruent with the actual practice of medicine. Yes, I realize that acting that way in real life will most certainly end in a malpractice suit...take note, med school friends. I must admit, though, I find the character of Dr. House fascinating. He's cantankerous at best, overly self-involved, and brilliant at diagnostics. He's a soul in torment, haunted by his own health issues and the ghosts of his past relationships. In one episode, another character on the show commented that House is afraid to let himself be happy in a relationship because he's afraid that his misery is what makes him who he is. He's afraid that if he allows himself to be happy, he'll lose that edge that identifies him as special, that keeps him objective, and what makes him known in his field. At first, I thought something along the lines of "that's ridiculous," and then I realized that I can see that in myself, at times.

I worry. I could waste lines and lines here listing the things of the past, present, and future that I dedicate worrying to, but I won't. I'm learning to let go, and I'm realizing that this has to be self-taught. No matter how many people tell me, "Don't worry, it'll be ok," that doesn't change me. That doesn't change the roots of my worry, and that doesn't change the way that I respond to my worries. Worry can be protective in some ways; it can lead to planning and action, which could lead to a path of future success, or it could save someone's life in an emergency situation. When worry ceases to be protective, however, is when it does not lead to action. Worrying without limits is like weeds in a garden; it eventually chokes out the goodness.

I'm coming to realize that I often tend to over-identify with my worries as a core part of who I am. Part of me wants this to change, and the other part of me isn't ready to give it up yet (homeostasis, anyone?). I feel comfortable with my worry, and giving up that worry means trusting others and God....which is a whole other blog topic. Whenever I'm feeling overwhelmed with my endless search for finding ways to manage my worries, I remind myself that it's a process. It takes time. Worry has plagued humanity since ancient times. I am more than my worry, and it's simply a piece of the puzzle of me.

What are you hesitant to give up about yourself?

Self Discovery

Greetings, friends! It's taken me quite a while to get back into blogging. The last part of the summer semester became quite busy, and I spent the vast majority of my free time reading and researching for several papers and final exams. All went well, and now I have two weeks off. What am I going to be doing with my two weeks off, you're wondering? Reading, of course! This time, I'll be reading a few books for personal enjoyment. For a book nerd like me, this sounds like perfection :) Don't judge.

Over the past few weeks, I feel like I've been rediscovering all these wonderful parts of myself that I had forgotten existed. Somewhere along the way, I began to define myself primarily on the basis of my academic achievements and my dedication to responsible behavior. More often than not, it's easy for me to forget the importance of relaxing and not taking things too seriously. It's like a knee-jerk reaction for me to save money, to stay on schedule, and to keep studying even when I don't feel like it. Lucky for me, I have some wonderful people in my life that complement my restricting impulses and remind me not to take life too seriously. After all, no one gets out alive. For the times that I've forgotten to show you appreciation, thank you.

Lately, I've been getting more in touch with my creative side. Growing up, I always described my brother as getting all the creative genes. He was better than me at creating music, drawing, singing, and analyzing movies. He's still probably better than me at all those things, but I've realized that an enjoyment of my own natural creativity isn't necessarily contingent on my actual ability. One of the best gifts I've ever received was a camera for my college graduation. Over the past few months, I have become even more enamored with the everyday delights of nature and daily life. Life is beautiful. When I can't find the words to express my sentiments, my camera lens is my voice. I may not be an Ansel Adams or an Annie Leibovitz. My work will probably not be feautured on the front page of Time Magazine. That won't stop me from enjoying photography. It's a fun way capture memories, and it's a way for me to continuously savor nature's goodness.

I've also learned to embrace physical exercise and my (slight) competitive streak. I believe physical activity is an important part of a balanced life, but I'm not always the best example of that. However, I do try to instill that value in the children with whom I work and volunteer. Honestly, they've re-taught me that working out can be fun and a way to bond. We do yoga nearly every day, and we play soccer, basketball, and kickball. It's been a blast, and it's one of those moments when you realize that for a moment, you stop being the teacher and the kids take the initiative. I didn't play a lot of sports growing up, and I'm not sure I'll push organized sports on my own children someday. I do believe in the power of activities that teach teamwork and encourage movement, though. Besides, a backyard game of basketball seems much more preferable to sitting inside and playing videogames.

I feel like this a time of growth for me. In a way, that makes me feel like I'm "on track," since lots of people say that personal growth is the purpose of your twenties. I do try to remind myself, though, that it's not about being "on time" or "behind"  or "ahead  of the game." It's about loving yourself, and it's about soaking up the simple things in life. I'm excited for all the growth that the rest of my twenties has in store, and I'm looking forward to all the other pieces of myself that I have yet to discover. What can you still learn about yourselves, dear friends?

Top Eight Ways to Know.... Grad Student Edition

Top eight ways to know you're a graduate student:

1. Your eyes don't work as well when they're not starting at a computer screen.
2. You don't ever leave home without at least one book...just in case you have time to study somewhere.
3. You spend a ridiculous amount of time on the phone with classmates debating about endless possibilities for assignments, only to decide you really have no idea.
4. Your scrapbook should probably contain words like "literature review," "hypotheses," "theory," and "clinical implications."
5. You work late into the night, and at some point, you think about going to bed then decide against it because an extra hour of sleep isn't really going to make that much of a difference anyways.
6. You actually decide to get excited about writing a thesis.
7. You decide you need smaller handwriting to fit everything into the boxes on your planner.
8. Your daily mantra consists of "I chose to do more school, I chose to do more school..."

 I promise, I really do love graduate school!  :)

Staring at a Car Crash

We've all had that experience. You're driving along, taking a sip of a drink or singing along to the radio or talking to your best friend. You're on the interstate, and traffic is light. That's a cause for celebration enough as it is. Suddenly, traffic screeches to a halt. I don't know about you, but that certainly fills me with at least a mild sense of irritation. As you become re-acquainted with your brake pedal, you think "there had better be a reason for all this traffic..." Sometimes there isn't. It's just an inexplainable feat of nature that cars like to stop on the highway for no apparent reason. Usually, though, there's an explanation.

Today, I was reminded of that reason. I was on my way home, wondering why traffic seemed to stop so suddenly. Luckily, I was one of the first cars in the slowdown, so I quickly assessed the situation and realized why cars on both sides of the highway were slowed down to almost 20. On the opposite side, about five cars were pulled over to the shoulder. Several people were running down the side of the road, and others were standing next to their cars making phone calls. One truck had a shattered windshield and a door that was crushed into its core. I thought to myself, "Wow, this must have been a really bad accident to involve so many cars." Then, I was confused because none of the other cars seemed damaged. Suddenly, a realization burst into my head. All these people weren't in the accident themselves; they had stopped to help someone who was trapped in the car.

What a sobering thought. Immediately, it filled me with warmth that a stranger, a modern day Good Samaritan, would stop to help someone in trouble. With all the stories of pain and anguish we're pummeled with each day, it's hard to remember that our world is still filled with such good. What kindness, what love, and what selflessness it must take to get out of your car on a 102-degree day in Texas to help someone in trouble. I consider myself a "nice" person, and I'm almost always willing to lend a helping hand, but I think I'd be stretching it if I said that I would jump out of my car to help someone. Wow.

Then, another thought rocked my brain. It seems to be the obligatory question I find myself asking whenever I witness an accident scene: What if that was me? Would I even be aware of all the people desperate to help me? Would I myself be desperate and fight to live, or would I be tired of pain and let myself slip away? Who would notice if I was gone? How long would my family mourn? What sort of legacy would I leave? In ten years, would my friends remember that I had once walked this earth? What would I miss the most?

You see, people that die in immediate accidents don't even have the luxury of a diagnosis where the doctor says, "You have six months to live." There is no time to mend broken relationships, visit dream destinations, or enjoy a long-awaited book. The end can be long and drawn out and filled with pain, but it can also be immediate, shocking, and irreversible. All endings have the potential to be tragic. Even if I am meant to end in a terrible accident, I don't want to be a tragic story of someone who lived their life for "If only..."

I have so many plans for my life, and yes: I make lists. I know that I won't mark off everything on my to-do list, and I know that I won't accomplish every goal I set. In my mind, I can have a happy ending without all that. At the end of the day, I count it as a happy ending if I smiled even once and if I told (and showed) at least one person that I love them. If I can do those two things, I consider the day to be just what it is: a beautiful piece of life. And that's good enough for me.

Stay safe, friends.

A Loss of Innocence

Picture a world like this: Families eat meals in front of the television, and drive through dinners between soccer games and ballet practice are the norm. Six year-olds have iPods, and many ten year-olds have their own cell phones. Texting becomes more popular than actually talking to friends in person, and twelve year olds aspire to be tattoo artists. It's either too hot or too cold to play outside, and children would prefer to play a video game, anyways. Reading is boring, and math isn't necessary. College is seen as a waste of time, and some children have seen more R-rated movies than adults. Half of children spend time living in a one-parent household, and eight year-olds know what a threesome is.

Sound like some sort of classic literary dystopia? Nope. Welcome to modern day America.

To be fair, that description above doesn't fit every family, and it doesn't fit every community. As a teacher, it's heartbreaking how many families that does apply to, and it's disconcerting to think about the future of America's children. "A loss of innocence" comes to mind, and at times, I wonder if some children ever even had a chance to be innocent?

It seems like madness, and it's all too easy to get caught up in the whirlwind of confusion and blame. One simple question is repeatedly raised: Who is to blame for this mess?? Is it parents, who are overly stressed and overworked and exhausted? Is it teachers, who don't have adequate training and are expected to supervise and teach excessive numbers of children? Is it school counselors, who are assigned more students than they can possibly manage? What about pastors of churches, who don't serve as adequate role models? Is it celebrities, who set bad examples? Is it politicians, who ignore education initiatives and cut funding in valuable programs?

The answer is probably yes, all the above. I grew up with the mantra, "If you're not part of the solution, you're part of the problem." No one can "fix" the issue, and no one can "save" a family or a child at risk. Small steps are all we can do, but what an impact small steps can make in a world that just needs some sunshine. Make an investment in a child today, and commit to filling them with hope, one day at a time.