what i wish i knew about moving forward

I wish they told you about the loneliness, about the isolation.

I wish they told you about the desperation to be known, to be heard.

I wish someone talked about this transition. The one post early-twenties, the transition into “adulting.” The transition where your people aren’t with you anymore. The one where your closest friends move away for jobs and new opportunities. Where half of them are married and some have even become parents. Where the change is mostly good, full of joy. But at the same time, you’re left navigating life alone yet still clinging to what you know and to your people.

You’re clinging, but no one is quite in the same stage of life as you or in the same place as you. And you’re left alone.

You’re left with your heart aching.

You’re left with the joy of new beginnings.

You’re left with pieces of the past.

I wish someone talked about this part of life, the mid-twenties. Finding who you are again, but this time without your tribe by your side the whole time. When you’re trying to make new friends and build authentic relationships without the easy access to a pre-cut community. It’s hard when some days your only connection to your people is a quick message in your group chat or a missed call because your days are chaotic and don’t quite match up. It’s especially hard on the days when you return to an empty home, but all you want is to go sit on your friend’s couch, drink hot tea, watch overly dramatic shows, and not say anything but at the same time have the freedom to say anything.

It’s hard to talk about when you’re the one who has been bit with the lonely bug. When it’s the battle you are fighting right now, when you can’t see the end. When you desperately want friends here with you now. Real friends, the ones who know your heart, your dreams, the darkest parts of your soul and yet still want to know you anyway. It’s hard to be alone.

And it’s hard to be alone, knowing your people are fighting their own kind of lonely battle

I wish someone told us, prepared us, warned us of this lonely bug. Because it seems like we’ve all got a bit of the lonely bug and haven’t quite figured out how to be alone together.

the school of all students

To my EDUCATOR friends (Teachers, Principals, and Anyone else who works with kids ),

This video is IMPORTANT.

It's an 90 minutes, but  it's worth every minute (except the first 6, skip those).   listen to it on your commute, or when you're doing dishes, or instead of watching tv one night, just listen. Or read this blog, which is a partial transcription of a talk he gave at Townsen University. (http://georgetownsepac.blogspot.com/2012/04/what-silenced-say-evening-with-jonathan.html)

Jonathan Mooney is one of my new favorite speakers. He reads at a seventh grade level and spells at a third grade level and says he has the attention span of a gnat, yet, he graduated with an English degree from Brown University.

In one of his lectures, he talks about the school of all students. The school where all students are expected to sit still, pay attention, complete their assignments in the way that all students should. He shares his experience of going to school in the hallway and at the desk next to the principals secretary. All his life he was asked why he was so lazy, what was wrong with him, and what was his problem. Schools tell you you're broken. To fix yourself or get out.

So my question is: how do we address this?  How do we take away the stigma of learning disabilities? What do we say to the teachers who say I'm not trained for this, I can't deal with my one student who is acting out/throwing a tantrum/ being a distraction, I have 28 other students who I have to teach. What do we say to the person who categorizes a person as their disability. And how do we have these discussions with kindness.

I may be bias because I am passionate and am paying to be educated about this subject, but this is a conversation education needs to continue to have. "We worry about what a child will become tomorrow, yet we forget that she is someone today."

Let's stop forgetting to love and care for people where they are at.

I still need feminism

I need feminism because I have been taught to yell fire if I am attacked, instead of help! or rape!. 

I need feminism because when I walk to my car alone at night, in my gated community in the third safest city in Southern California, I put my keys between my fingers as a weapon, have my phone unlocked and ready to call someone, and have every exit route planned in my head.

I need feminism because I am told to never go anywhere alone, but am made fun of for going to the bathroom in groups. 

I need feminism because I worked on a staff with only male supervisors. I need feminism because I was told women couldn't be supervisors there because the other guys on the team would not listen to girls. 

I need feminism because I am terrified to drive next to semi trucks because I have been creeped out by way too many drivers making graphic gestures towards me. 

I need feminism because I hear kids on the play ground insult others for being weaker by calling them a girl or a sissy. Because I have a ten year old boy in my class who doesn't respect or listen without arguing to any woman teacher (the authority), but as soon as any man gives him an instruction, he follows it without question. 

I need feminism because if I am being hit on, my "no" doesn't have enough validity for a man to stop, but telling him I have a boyfriend, using another man, will automatically make him turn away. 

I need feminism because I have to watch a bartender make my drink. I need feminism because if a strange man buys me a drink, I make him take the first sip. 

I need feminism because it's not wierd that I have to check in with my friends half way through a first date. 

I need feminism because I share my location with my roommates if I am meeting a new person. Because I share my location if I am going somewhere new. Because I share my location if I am going by myself anywhere after dark. 

I need feminism because my body is shameful. Because I have been told to cover up my body because it might tempt boys. Because it is my fault and it is my actions that have caused him to lust. 

I need feminism because I have cried with girls who have been shamed into thinking that their rape is their own fault. That their demeanor and clothing choice was the cause. 

I need feminism because there is a whole purity culture that promotes rape culture. I need feminism because there are people who don't believe rape culture exists. 

I need feminism because I have been told a man will never want to marry me because I am a feminist. 

I need feminism because I am told I cannot be a stay at home mom if I am a feminist. 

I need feminism because I am mocked for being a feminist. 

I need feminism because these reasons are all my personal experience and there are many other women(and men) who need feminism because of darker experiences. 

I need feminism because even in my limited, sheltered worldview, I still need feminism. 

*I also need feminism because there are unborn children being killed because they may have genetic abnormalities or because they are a socio-economic problem. Because those girls and boys don't have equal rights. I need feminism because women are shamed for having an abortion, but also shamed for being a single mom. I need it because I live in a society where people are pro-birth but not pro life. Because I live in a society that doesn't care for the orphans and the widows. I need feminism because education is not equal. I need feminism because I believe in equality. But that's for another post. 

a feminist who believes in submission, biblically.

     There are so many other, more important issues I could write about, that hurt my heart, that make me so angry my body shakes, but even for some reason this is a highly debated topic and I already wrote about it a couple years ago. When in conversations with others I have trouble articulating this point, but 

People are so beautiful and unique and created so wonderfully diversely. We were created with individual strengths, weaknesses, talents, and abilities. Not one person is created alike and I love that about the human race. 

I think this is why the anti-feminist/feminism is not biblical mentality really grinds my gears. I don't understand how someone can be lesser of a person because they are a women makes sense, how that thought or practice is loving. 

Up until the middle of college, I had always had a negative view of feminism. I laughed at people who though women could actually be leaders, who thought women would actually be equal to men.  But I  realized that  God made me and every other person, with a purpose and for a purpose. That women are the crown jewel of creation. That they are loved equally and are redeemed equally. I realized that women, in God's eyes are absolutely not lesser. 

     But then, there's that little verse in Ephesians about submission that throws everyone into a frenzy. 

(Ephesians 5:22 "Wives, submit to your husbands as to the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife as Christ is the head of the church, his body, of which he is the savior. Now as the church submits to Christ, so also should wives submit to their husbands in everything. Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her…”)

There is such a taboo in society with the word submission, it has become a negative word.  But there is a juxtaposition between societies view of what submission is in relation to Ephesians 5:22  and what God’s example of what submission is. Submitting doesn't mean letting another person make all your decisions for you. It doesn't mean that the persons submittings opinion is invalid. It doesn't mean they're a lesser person. It's a matter of  Submission, in Greek (the language the actual bible was written in) is the word hupotasso, which means: “to place yourself under, to give allegiance to, to tend to the needs of, to be responsive to." The word hupotasso comes from two words: upo, meaning under, and tasso, meaning to place in order. It infers that submission is placing oneself under one another, out of “reverence of respect." Basically this means placing the needs of others ahead of her [or his] own, which is loving unconditionally. 

     This idea of unconditional love of God is woven throughout the Bible. Jesus says in John chapter fifteen that “greater love has no one than this, that he lay his life down for his friend." Jesus sacrifices his life for his creation, he surrendered everything. He placed the needs of others ahead of his own, he submits. 

In the same way, as Christ is the head of the church, the husband is the head of the marriage. He needs to be prepared and willing whole heartedly to sacrifice his life for his wife, to love and to submit to her. Not only do wives need to submit to their husbands; husbands also need to submit to their wives.

     But, submission is not a “one way street”. A relationship goes two ways. In order for a relationship to function healthily, each person (husband and wife, parent and child, friend and friend, etc.) need to put forth one-hundred percent of their allegiance, effort, and love. They cannot each give fifty percent, with the intensions of meeting half way, each of them needs to be in full surrender. Just as Christ was with his life, and just as the Church should be towards Christ.

    This isn't a feminist matter or a men are better than women matter, it's a loving people matter. It's a getting up every day and choosing to love people unconditionally. If we got this right, the world would be such a better place. 

of darkness & pain, kindness & joy

In this season, there are two sides to me. The side who writes letters to the world about the darkness and pain, about kindness and joy. The side who, everyday embraces every emotion. Who presses into the pain and the joy, allowing every feeling to cripple her. The side who acknowledges these emotions, then carefully boxes them up and sets them aside. 

Then, there is the side who embraces challenge, who greets every day as a force that cannot be stopped, and who runs off of coffee and emergen c. She see's a challenge in the fact that within six weeks she's supposed to: study for the biggest test of her life, start school full time after two years off, work 40 hours a week, help plan a wedding, plan and execute a bridal shower, spend a weekend in Texas, travel to a wedding, deal with a death, attend a memorial service and somehow take time for herself and take time to rest. And she runs with the challenge. She schedules, plans, delegates, and prepares. Because that girl is a conqueror.

But what the go getter side of me didn't account for was how hard it would be to keep that box of nicely wrapped emotions closed.  I didn't know that for the first time in my life I would struggle with school. I never imagined that it would become too stressful to drive in a car without multitasking or that my first and last thoughts of every say would become "what do I need to do." I didn't realize the amount of emotional baggage and drama that would come with this season of planning. I didn't expect the sense of aloneness that I would feel while trying to connect to others. And I didn't schedule for people to let me down or for unkindness to be prevalent in my day to day. I learned that my logical separation of my to do list and my emotions did not have an impermeable boundary. 

Even though I try my hardest to keep the bad parts hidden from the public (because my life really is incredibly FULL of goodness and joy and I'd rather people see that), sometimes the two sides of me collide. Sometimes my life is messier than I plan. Sometimes in the wrong moments, I allow that nicely wrapped box to open. Sometimes when the contents of that box mix with my to do list, my heart races for hours on end, my head spins, and my vision blurs. But even in the messy, chaotic, can't breathe moments, I know I will be okay. I fix my eyes upon Jesus. Upon his grace, creation, and legacy. I focus on the Love GOD demonstrates tangibly through the people who love me.  I choose joy. I have to choose joy. I have to seek kindness. I have to find beauty in the daily. Because otherwise, I just might drown.

Daily I have to wake up and speak TRUTH and light into my own life. I find a sense of normalcy in my day. I force my self to not just go through the motions, but to fully embrace life. Step by step, moment by moment, I remember to breathe.  I'm learning that it's okay for the two parts of my life to overlap, that even go-getters need to sometimes to feel emotions. I'm seeing what's it's like for these two parts of me to healthily share a space. But I still pray daily that I will only experience a little overlap, not a full overlay.  Because to tell you the truth, I'm not as strong as I should be. 

Why I stopped believing in God

It's not that I stopped believing in God, that he exists or that he is the creator of the universe who sent his only son to be a propitiation for my sins. No, my faith in that God has never faltered and I've never doubted his existence. 

But I stopped believing in him. I often look my swimmers in the eye and tell them, "I believe in you, you can do this." But I couldn't tell this to God, because I didn't believe he could do it, I stopped believing in his promises. I couldn't put my faith in him, and I didn't trust him with my future. 

I'm not sure when that happened. It may have been in the hours I spent budgeting every penny I had over and over and over again. It may have been when I stopped seeing sunrises as a breathtaking metaphor of new mercies, but as a sultry symbol of new problems and obstacles. Or  when I stopped seeing sunsets as a doorway to the stars and heavenly glories, but as a doorway to darkness and fear. It may have been when I started carrying my planner and color coded pens in my purse instead of my bible and journal. It may have been when I became comfortable in how I was living. Or it may have been when I stopped choosing joy. 

I don't know when or even why it happened, but I stopped believing in him, trusting in him. I stopped wanting to hear from him. I let myself succumb to anxiety, encouraged it. I lived my life with a constant ache in my stomach, with a dull pounding in my head, with a pressure in my chest that felt like someone was slowly wringing my heart like a wet clothe then undoing it over and over again. I felt my light go out. My passion toward life was dulled and my desire to seek out joy and to find Jesus in the daily was hidden. 

I know I never truly stopped believing (as a bible student I have a lot of head knowledge that even when I don't want to believe, has pointed me to Jesus and I am a firm believer that God has been written on my heart since the beginning of time. So no, I never stopped believing the theologies of God that I have come to know). 

But as I found myself on the floor, in the middle of work, shaking because I was crying so hard because I didn't think I could survive any longer, I realized I didn't want to believe in the God I knew. I didn't want to believe in a God who loved every single person the same. I didn't think it was fair that he cared about my minuscule  problems just as much my friends' major problems. I wanted him to focus his energies on fixing other things. I was angry with him. I was angry with him for choosing to be the God he is rather than the God who fits perfectly into the box of my understanding and desires. And I didn't want to believe anymore. 

But even in that time, he never stopped loving me. He still gave me friends who know how to love me and love me well. He continued to paint the sky with majestic colors in both the evening and the night (which obviously was just for me ;)). He gave me coworkers who allow me to be myself. And he never gave up on me.
 So daily, in the midst of crisis, when I don't want to give over my life, I seek him. I find him in crispness of the California fall evenings. I see him in the development of the babies in my life. He shows himself to me in moon rises and stratus clouds. He speaks to me through the simple words of friends and coworkers. And as he tangibly exemplifies his love for me, I know that I can make it through another day because I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me and because I am loved and chosen and a child of the most high king. 

And I am so very thankful. 

why I'm turning 23 again

I don't know exactly when it happened  or exactly why, but around November of last year, I started telling people I was twenty-three. It wasn't a conscious decision or even one I knew I was making, when people would ask my age, I would tell them 23 and I believed it. Sometime in the four months after turning twenty-two, I stopped feeling 22. My body, mind, and soul had aged at least a year without me even knowing.

I had high hopes and expectations of twenty two, I mean Taylor Swift had an entire upbeat song about how wonderful it was to be feeling twenty two. It was going to be my year. I was a new graduate with plans of beginning my career, I thought I was going to soon enter into a relationship with a man who I had only ever dreamed of dating, I was applying for leases to live with my best friends, my summer had been full of adventure and was only just beginning, and I was feeling 22. What could stop me?

Then, after two amazing weeks in the mountains at camp, I came back to the reality of adulthood with a heart full of love from the Lord, a head aware of how quickly any plans can crumble, and a body covered in bed bug bites. My life quickly went from high hopes and expectations to a hot mess and completely relying on the Lord because I had nothing.

Within one week, I quit my internship that I thought was going to lead me to my career, I lost all my hours at my job where I found my identity and worth, I ended an unhealthy "relationship" which I had begged God for weeks to be a good thing and from Him [but it wasnt], and I moved out of my apartment, put most of my belongings in storage, and began to live out of my car.

I will laugh and joke when I tell you I was homeless/ without a permanent home/ a gypsy, but the repercussions and burden of that month, changed and shaped who I am today and still sometimes effect me . A month into being twenty two and I was completely emptied of myself, my strength only came from the Lord.
Looking back on those first two months of being twenty two, I am thankful for the lessons I learned and the disciplines I was taught. I needed my relationship with God to be the way it became, I needed to not rely on my self and my own ways. I needed it because twenty two was a heavy year. I needed it when I was searching for a job, when I was living with my best friend in a one car garage with no windows and no closet, when my car got broken into and most of my important belongings were stolen. I needed it when I was so broke I had to make the decision between buying food and buying gas. I needed it when I was mourning the death of a mom/mentor/friend, when I told one of her best friends that she died, when I carried in my arms and accompanied her beautiful baby girl and three year old boy to their mommy's "party". I needed it as I watched one of my precious two year olds slowly lose grip of the world and suffer unceasing pain.  I needed it when I felt insecure, on those mornings where I saw no reason to get out of bed. I needed it when I found no worth in my identity in anything in this world.

I needed to KNOW that my life was not my own and that I didn't have to face those things/trials/other powers alone. 

I am thankful for this past year. I am thankful for my weakness, because in it, HIS strength is made complete. Sometimes I wish I could pretend this year didn't happen, that it wasn't that bad [and if I play the comparison game, it isn't]. I wish I could pretend I didn't cry myself to sleep for many weeks. Unfortunately, I can't. This year did happen. But with the heaviness came the ability to see even more joy in the little things and to celebrate even more in the big things. Because even if twenty two was heavy, it was also wonderful. I had the privilege of: being a camp cabin leader for two weeks and two weekends, driving my sister to Texas for college, being a nanny on an amazing trip to Florida with a fantastic family, visiting my sister in Houston, road tripping  to Utah, witnessing one of my closest college friends get married, watching healing happen in a precious two year old boy, checking many items off my bucket list, meeting my new cousin, renewing and creating beautiful friendships, becoming known at a coffee shop, adventuring with my best friends, and SO many more things. I am thankful for pain and loss because the little things and celebrations are so much sweeter.

Adieu 22.
You won't be missed.


Although it is only May and this appears as a pre-birthday post, a farewell to twenty two and a hello to the real twenty three and even though my birthday is still two months [exactly] away. I am already ready for the real twenty three. But I'm not going to live my life in anticipation of a day. Everyday I am  again going to push the renew button and choose joy in my life  because I am not defined by my age, but rather how I live my life [no matter what age] for the Lord.