There's No Such Thing As Prince Charming

I've been impatient since the day I was born. Literally. Apparently when I was born, labor was quite....speedy. I couldn't get out fast enough! I feel like I've spent most of my life that way. I have patience for nothing. Along with the rest of my generation I've grown up in the age of instant gratification. Almost anything and everything is accessible at the click of a button; except a love life. Ha! That would be interesting; being able to shop for Mr. Right? Weird. All growing up, the easy answer for parents and adults when heartbreak and loneliness would come around was, "You're so young; you've got plenty of time". Then, as you get a little older (like high school) they all say "Don't worry, you'll go to college and meet someone". Well here I am in college watching girl after girl that I know meet that someone, get engaged to that someone, get married to that someone. Stealing my dream life and making me wonder what's wrong with me that I'm still single. Again, here I am in college, still single, still wondering where on earth my Mr. Right is. I've had glimpses and tastes of maybe possibly knowing what that feeling is like, but usually (as far as I've experienced: *always*) That knight in shining armor turns out to be a jerk in tin foil. Ew. I sit and talk with my girlfriends about boys, watching "Say Yes to the Dress" yet thinking all the while the only thing missing is actually finding someone. I'm learning to realize the problem with that statement "finding someone". Like it's some creepy treasure hunt where If I look long enough and hard enough somehow Flynn Rider from Tangled will be waiting on the other side of the rainbow; tall, dark, and handsome, just waiting to sweep me off my feet and make me a princess. Ooops. My logic is a bit faulty. I'm sure you can spot the problem with that belief. "Flynn Rider"? He's a animated Disney Character. There is no such thing as a Prince Charming waiting to ride off into the sunset with me. But, unlike the firm belief of Taylor Swift, that doesn't mean I won't be ok. It doesn't mean that I'm some weak and broken woman that always wants what she can't have, screaming to the tune of "You Belong With Me" in the shower. This doesn't mean that just because Prince Charming is a fairy tale I'll be single forever. It means realizing that the man out there for me isn't gonna be perfect so I don't have to be perfect either. That should be a relief! *Whew* Thank goodness I don't have to pretend anymore that I roll out of bed with straightened hair, a made up face, Coach purse in arm. This should be a relief because the man that will love me will love me best in jeans, a t-shirt and a ponytail. Sooooo cliche yea yea yea I know. But it's true. I've spent a long time spinning in confusing circles back and forth between ignoring the cliche and dating jerks and thinking that life really *is* a Disney movie and I just have to sing "Someday My Prince Will Come" and he'll magically appear. I wish life was that simple. Really though, if life *was* that simple, we would never learn anything.  We would never appreciate Love in it's purest and simplest form because we would have no idea what kind of a struggle it takes to get there. I've spent my life like Rapunzel, locked up in my tower in the belief the only thing out there is "ruffians, thugs and men with pointy teeth!" waiting for a chance to run, dance, and be free while battling between life as an idealist and life as a cynic. The funny thing about Rapunzel though, is that when she left her tower she found beauty in the world. She found love. She wasn't looking for it; she didn't spend her life pining away waiting for Prince Charming. But, when she finally made the choice to let go of *wondering* about life and being impatient and she actually chose to live  she stumbled upon the Love she didn't even know she needed. Long story short, I'm trying to be less impatient. I'm trying to remember that as much as I feel like my life is a Taylor Swift song, that's because (just like the singer herself) I *make* my life like that. I sit singing, wishing, and dreaming about something that won't happen just because I want it to. It will happen in it's own time and I've just got to live and love and somehow my own kind of Prince will find his way to me.

Lean On Me

I moved to Alabama when I was 6. I'm pretty sure I loved it from the moment we got there. We lived in a yellow house with a huge front yard and a big stretch of woods in the back. That house will always be my picture of home. My older sister and I built this little village in the woods and called it "Morrisburg" and we spent hours and hours digging in the dirt and growing grass and building little huts. I don't remember how many churches we tried when we got to Alabama. The only church I will ever remember is Shades Mountain Bible church. They had the coolest playground I'd ever seen as a 6 year old from a podunk air force base in the middle of Oklahoma. That playground is where I  met a pair of lifelong friends. Luke and Melinda. I met Melinda first and I feel like inseparable is the only way to describe it. We did *everything* together. I remember one day after church there was a church lunch and Melinda was sitting with me and my family and her brother came up to me and told me I was pretty. I look back on it now and giggle because we were in 2nd grade, but that was that. He was the first boy that ever told me I was pretty and in my little 8 year old mind i guess that made me decide he was ok with me. The little glass frog he gave me for valentines day that year still sits on my desk today in college. We moved away the summer before I turned 12. Even though I was so young, to this day I will still say I have never been more heartbroken. I knew I left my heart behind when we moved away. Sooner than later I fell mostly out of contact with my old friends. Then, the summer before 10th grade we went back for a reunion of the church I had grown up in that had since fell apart. I picked right back up with Melinda but didn't see Luke until the second day we were there. It was weird. Seeing him again. I guess it's a whole lot different when you're almost 16 and think "wow he's cute" then when you're 6 and don't even know what that means. However, I didn't think anything of it. At that point I had a facebook and kept in close contact with Melinda after that. I didn't talk to Luke again until my senior year in high school. We had both just gone through break-ups and I guess that brought us closer. Mid-march he asked me to go to Prom with him in Alabama. I was *way* more thrilled than I was willing to admit. Long story short, that weekend of Prom in Alabama was without a doubt the best weekend of my life. Silly and cliche right? The quarterback of the football team/ prom king could go to prom with *anyone* he wanted  and somehow he chooses the dorky girl he's known since 2nd grade. Lame. I would have never admit to myself at the time that I felt anything other than my heart was at home in the state I knew and loved. Fall of my freshman year in college I started dating an ex-marine and subsequently (and regretfully) fell in love. Luke came down to visit me that fall and things were awkward between us. Why? It would take me another year, a semester and a half of college, and a break-up with the first guy I ever truly fell in love with to realize that my heart was at home in Alabama for more reasons than one. My heart was at home because I had spent years forming a close relationship with the most wonderful family I've ever known besides my own. My heart was at home because I knew that Melinda would stand by me as a best friend my whole life. My heart was at home because I finally realized that the boy that told me I was pretty in 2nd grade was the boy that would always always always be there for me. I was unfair to him over and over without even realizing it, but the minute someone broke my heart, Luke was there. I will never forget sitting on the beach with him, crying, and he said "lean on my shoulder" and for once in my life I didn't fight him. That kind of love, is a love that comes only from Christ. The kind of love I had been dying to feel. The only verse that describes this is John 15:13 " Greater love has no one than this, that he would lay down his life for his friends". That is what Luke did for me. Dropped everything and came to pick up the pieces of my mess when my heart was broken. That is what Christ does for me every day, he overlooks my brokenness and says "Lean on my shoulder". I will continue to rejoice and thank him every day for sending me a home away from home with a person who will *always* have my heart.

Grown-Up

Here I am at my computer, with absolutely *nothing* to say today. I wish I had something witty to say like all the rest of my entries, but today I just don't. I have done absolutely nothing of consequence so far this week. I've just been plodding along in my lame little life just like everyone else. I'm really just ready for nursing school. I'm ready to just grow up and move on. I feel like I've been saying that my whole life. "I want to grow up". What does that even mean? How old do you have to be to be a grown up anyway?  I remember when I was little I used to sit in my mom's bathroom and watch her do her make-up and wish that I could be a "grown-up". The truth is though, I've gone through every stage so far, just like everyone else. And yet, the older I get I feel farther and farther away from that grown-up that I always pictured myself being when I was a little girl. I've spent so much time thinking "ok, I'll just make it through this part of my life and then I'll get to ____and that will make me happy". But it doesn't. Here's the dirty secret no one wants to tell you; at no point in life will you ever feel perfect. There will always be something you're aiming towards. Something you've yet to do. I'm learning that happiness is about finding the little blessings every day. There's this quote in Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants from a little girl named Bailey who has Luekemia. Before she dies she makes a video on her friend Tibby's camera while she's not there. A week prior she passed out in the grocery store where Tibby works and that's how they met. At the time Tibby was doing a documentary on "lame existence". In Bailey walks in "the pants" that are way too big for her and she sits on the stool and says one of the wisest things I've ever heard: "Hey, it's me, Bailey. You don't have to use this in your movie or anything, although now that I think of it, fainting in Wallman's does kind of qualify me as a loser. But then again, wearing a price sticker on your forehead probably makes you one, too. Ya know, I don't know, Tibby, maybe the truth is there's a little bit of loser in all of us, ya know? Being happy isn't having everything in your life be perfect. Maybe it's about stringing together all the little things like wearing these pants or getting to a new level of Dragon's Lair - making those count for more than the bad stuff. Maybe we just get through it... and that's all we can ask for" For a 12 year old I feel like that's pretty deep stuff. I think she's got a point. Going through life wishing to be "grown-up" will never make me content because I'll always be waiting for some magic moment that's gonna somehow magically turn me into a thriving soccer mom and make me happy. So, ala Bailey I'm learning to string together the little things and enjoy life. Day to day. Enjoying the storm and the sun because some of the most beautiful things need that storm to survive. A flower can't grow without rain and neither will I grow without experiencing all of life with arms wide open. I guess I'm learning to stop wishing to "grow-up". Life will happen as it will and God will guide my path. So instead of trudging down the road with my head down headed to a foggy ideal land of being older I will dance down the way of life headlong and singing while the storm is raging on. After all; who doesn't love to play in the rain?

Fish Killer

So I know by the title that PETA personnel all over the blogging world are already up in arms. Relax. This is just a story of how a little insecurity went a long way. So when I was little we had a fall festival at our church; I won a fish. Now as a little kid I.was.thrilled. Now, I'm old enough to know that goldfish are exceedingly lame, however at the time it was definitely the coolest thing ever. Eventually, as all things do, it died. I was heartbroken. Aside from the fact that I'm already a total drama queen, I had a *meltdown* I mean sobbing and the whole bit. Of course, we gave him a nice, tearful, sea burial (Aka we flushed him down the toilet) and away he went. Clearly, the death of my first goldfish was not my fault, sadly this is not the end of the story. Apparently, I really had a thing for goldfish as I grew up. Except I didn't get the lame little minnow sized ones after that; I got the big ones with those cool bubble eyes and chipmunk cheeks. You know. If you don't, look it up, it's worth the laugh. Anyways, so I slowly built up a little goldfish family in my little tank. Those fish were tough, when we moved they swam around in my dad's little home depot bucket in the back of our mini van all the way from Alabama to Florida. Then, not long after we moved, I came into my room one night to find my favorite black goldfish (ironic that he's still a goldfish even though he's black. Does that make me a goldfish racist if I say that?) dead. Belly up in my little tank. It's more frightening when you're older; seeing something die. I figured he had lived a long and full life and it was just time to go. Skip to the next day: I come home from school-Bubbleface keeled over. Bye bye fishie numero dos.  At this point I was a little distraught; why were all my fish dying? So we got a little tupperware and put some nasty fish water in it and took it to PetSmart. Yep, that name has a double meaning (Pet's Mart and Pet Smart. Aha!  Guess who it took until their senior year in high school to figure that one out?) Anyway, we went back to the girl working with the fish and she tested the water. Here comes the heartbreak: the chemical levels in the water were so high it was killing my fish. They were all going to die. SMACK! It hit me in the face. How guilty did I feel? All my fish were dying and it was my fault because I was too lazy to clean the tank. We went straight home and cleaned the tank but it was too late. The little fish had all been contaminated and they died within the week.
   Flash forward 7 years. I'm now a freshman in college. Last semester I decided I wanted a pet so I went to the store and got a Beta fish. I felt like a new parent; so excited but scared out of my mind. So help me, this fish will survive whether it wants to or not. So, I resolved to be the best fish owner in the world. I changed it's water every other day, never forgot to feed it, and talked to him a little just in case he got lonely (and because I like to talk to my pets. Don't laugh, I know you do it too). Surprise! A month later he died. His name was Dude, may he rest in peace. I was heartbroken. The people at the pet store had told me Beta's were impossible to kill! I'm cursed. I know it. That curse was confirmed when I killed Dude's successor: Mr. (I'm quite a creative pet namer aren't I?)  Finally, angry I went back to the pet store and told them something must be wrong with their fish. I was doing everything right! Or not. Turns out, when I talked to the expert I was doing *too* much. In my earnest attempt to keep these fish alive I had actually smothered them.That is when I earned a new nickname from all my friends: Fish Killer. Boy, didn't that just rub salt in my wound. Here I am, already feeling like the worst fish owner in the world and all my friends are calling me fish killer. Silly as it sounds, it was like a giant billboard pointing out a lifetime of inadequacies in pet ownership.  All that story to say that this reminds me so much of my life. I'm a perfectionist. So, when I make a mistake, I always vow to myself that I will never do that again. I tell myself that I will be perfect next time. The funny thing is; that's impossible. I'm a human. I.will.always.fail. I will always be inadequate. The reason why is because I can't do it on my own. With all those fish I was trying so hard to take care of them without the help of anyone else. Just like in life, I try so hard to be perfect, to do everything right, without letting my God help me. Clearly, I will fail every time without his help. The difference is, God is way bigger than "Pet Supermarket". Lucky for me, he has a lot more grace too. I guess the point of all this is to say: Don't let your insecurities convince you you have to be perfect. Just because you messed up your fish died, doesn't make you branded a "fish killer" for eternity. That brand of imperfection has already been wiped away. Matthew 19:26 says "When the disciples heard this they were greatly astonished, saying 'who then can be saved!' Jesus looked at them and said ' With man this is impossible, but with God, all things are possible". Aha! The dirty truth: without God I will always be a fish killer, *But*, with him I'll have a lot more luck keeping them alive.

Bakers Chocolate Doesn't Taste Like Hershey's

Alright, let's be honest: I'm woman, I.love.chocolate. Pure and simple. Now tell me, have you ever tasted bakers chocolate? For your sake I hope not, it tastes like dirt. Straight up dirt. I'll never forget, I did a presentation in Psychology my Senior year of high school to teach about one of the tastes that humans experience: Bitterness. We had to bring in a food as an example so i decided to be funny and bring in bakers chocolate. I broke it up in to different sized pieces, some small, some HUGE. I let each person choose their own piece. It was hilarious to see the look in the eyes of people as they picked the largest piece on the plate thinking they were about to have a delicious snack. In my head I laughed at them, knowing they were in for it when they tasted it. After each person received a piece, i told them all to eat. The reactions were priceless. Sputtering, gagging, and cursing, each person spit it out as soon as they could. The common reaction was anger; "Hey, you tricked us! This tastes awful!"  I promise this relates to life. I guarantee that if you're reading this right now you've had those bakers chocolate moments. Moments of life leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. Leaving you sputtering, gagging, and cursing. Angry. That's something I've been struggling with lately. I recently went through a break-up and at first (like every other relationship-ending story) I told myself we'd be friends. I told myself, everything would be fine and that we'd still talk and be close. Wrong. The break-up left me bitter. Crying like a baby that got it's candy stolen except it's not that simple. I've been asking God over and over and over, "what is your purpose for this? What am I supposed to learn from this." The answer came to me from a very dear friend today. She told me, "It's ok to be hurt, but don't let yourself be bitter." I'd yet to admit to myself I was feeling bitter until that very moment. Nobody had called me out on it and I've spent my afternoon wondering why I should stop being bitter. After all, it's so much easier. After some searching I found two verses that answered my question:  "Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger; brawling and slander, along with every form of malice" (Eph. 4:31)  and  "All of you, live in harmony with one another; be sympathetic, love as brothers, be compassionate and humble" (1 Pet. 3:6). Humble. Wow. I had never compared my anger to a lack of humility and today I realized that's exactly what it is. Every day I am reminded of a quote from my pastor, he said "When you truly understand what was done for you on the cross it makes it impossible for you to hold anything against another". Oh man, well doesn't that just kick my faulty logic to China. Here I've been seeing my bitterness as nothing more than "righteous" anger for being *dumped* (Yes, I really just admitted that I was dumped). What on earth is my ego's problem? The only person with righteous anger is a just and powerful God who gave me *his only son* to die on the cross to forgive me and here I am having a temper tantrum over a boy. Wow. Ephesians 4:26-27 says "Be angry, and yet do not sin. Do not let the sun go down on your anger and do not give the devil an opportunity". Well I'm in trouble because the devil's been having a field day with my emotions. However, my bitterness, my lack of humility, has already been forgiven. Washed away in a flood of mercy and grace and I'm a lucky duck that gets to surf on the waves of that ever lasting grace. So, the moral of the story is; don't choose the bitterness of bakers chocolate when there is a God offering you all the Hershey's you need. For a girl with a love of chocolate that sounds like a pretty sweet deal. 

Objectivity

Objectivity. I feel like those Dictionary.com "word of the day" things that you find on lame yahoo home pages. So when I say that word though, I'm kind of making up my own definition for it. I don't mean it in the sense of looking at a person or a situation without being biased. I mean, spending life feeling like an Object. Feeling sometimes more like a shiny new bike (or a dingy old one depending on how you see yourself) than a person. I've always struggled with this feeling. Lame, I know, but to be honest I think most people experience this feeling at least once in their life. That feeling of being in a room full of people and screaming the Sesame Street theme song at the top of your lungs and not a single person turns around to look at you. Ridiculous. I know, but don't you sit there at your computer screen and shake your head pretending you don't know what I'm talking about. Don't worry, no one will see you reading this. It's ok to admit you know how that feels.  I guess my experience of this feeling has always come from loser dudes who have no concept of loving a woman "as Christ loved the church". Heaven forbid, i'm going a little bit out of most people's comfort zones here, but it's true. You know, those guys that just kind of give you the ' up and down' look when you walk by, like they're looking at the new car they want and not seeing you for the woman you are. I guess I'm naive enough that I noticed it a long time ago, but never really understood what it meant until recently. Here's what I've learned; if you don't want to be "objectified" don't put yourself in situations where you will be. I'm learning the importance of dressing like I want to be respected, of not putting up with guys that don't know *how* to respect me. Girls, you are *princesses* and daughters of a King who holds you in a position his highest love and respect. "Charm is deceptive and beauty is fleeting, but a woman who *fears the LORD* is to be praised!" Proverbs 31:30. You are to be *praised* for being a woman of the Lord. I've spent my life wondering why I can't find a man who loves me the way Christ calls him to and I've realized it's because I'm not honoring and respecting that love that Christ has for me. Whoa. yea, it hits you pretty hard, huh? I've spent so much time being angry about being "objectified" and now I'm realizing that a lot of it has been my fault all along.
      This doesn't mean you have to feel guilty (which is what I'm trying to convince myself of at the moment). In the past week, I've met and talked with several people who are going through a really tough time.  The unifying feeling I felt from every single one of them was this; fear of being alone. Aren't we all? Goodness, I know I am. It's the running family joke in my house (that I brought on myself by complaining about it) is that I'm going to be a cat lady. Yep, it's true. One of those crazy old bag ladies that has 12 cats and puts stickers on the back of her '99 minivan "My cat is smarter than your honor roll student" and has no concept of social interaction. Utterly ridiculous. Tell me though, single ladies reading this, or even ones that are in a relationship now; did you ever feel that way? Totally afraid of something as ridiculous as being a cat lady (or dog lady?) simply because we are afraid of being alone.  I think this feeling of "objectivity" has a lot to do with this feeling. As a culture we have gotten so used to being put on a pedestal as women, but not in the right way. We're used to pop culture magazine that tell us through creepy 1984-esque subliminal messaging  "You must weigh X amount of pounds, have blue eyes, blonde hair, and wear trendy, revealing clothes to be powerful woman". What?! No no no no no. Don't fall for the trick. All those statements lead to a life of feeling "objectified". What else could it possibly lead to when "Cosmo" is talking rampantly about things that should be saved for marriage or showing fashion choices that might as well be illegal (mostly because they're ugly) but also because they reveal all of you...ahem...secrets. Your strength as a woman comes from a beautiful and perfect savior, and we all know from whence comes our strength comes or hope, our lifespring and our worth.  Oh man, what a complicated subject worth is and I'll save it for another day. My point in all of this is, I have spent far too much of my life in a tug-of-war between what my Savior does for me and how to serve him, and allowing the world to tell me how to be and feel. All that lead me to is a life of feeling like an object. A life of feeling like I should be a shiny new bike and all I'll ever be is dingy, old, rusty, and broken. Because the truth is, that's all we are: broken and messy people and that is BEAUTIFUL. I'll leave you with a quote from C.S. Lewis "It would seem that Our Lord finds our desires not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased." I'm learning to not let myself be "objectified".  Put down your mud pie and go play in the waves. 

My Life Is Pretty Darn Average

Alright, you caught me. I conformed to the internet land of blogging, so shoot me. I'm not really sure what made me do it. I guess the desire to share my thoughts and see if they were interesting enough for anyone to want to hear them. My Dad always told me I should write a book and always ignored him. If nothing else, I guess it was because in order to write something meaningful it has to come from a truth of something you've experienced. This, more than anything, scares the living heck out of me. The simple truth is, I love being honest with everyone but my self. When you write things down on paper it's like admitting it. So here I am like the rest of the world (and sounding like a total hipster for talking so much about conformity) blabbing about my life in the other world known as the internet. I'd love to sit here and act all introspective like I have something wise to share with everyone but I guess I just don't because the fact of the matter is, I'm as average as the next guy and I'm 19. What on earth do I know? Nothing. Zip.Nada. Zilch.Zero. That's something I'm learning these days, the older you get the more you realize how little you really know about life. So there you go. I admitted that I'm a silly starving college student with nothing of poetic intelligence or brilliant philosophy to say.
      The reason I named my blog "Dancing In The Light" was because of what God has been teaching me lately. His *GRACE* is enough to cover my multitude of sins. Believe me, there are a lot of them, but that's the thing about a beautiful and perfect savior. He cut my chains and brought me into the light it's my choice to Dance in that light or live in the Dark dreaming of a day in his glorious Sun. The verse that reminds me of this is Galations 2:20 "I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live but Christ who lives in me. The life I live in my body I live by faith in the Son of God who *Loved me and gave himself for me*". WOW. What a crazy thought to remember. A perfect being loved me enough to give his perfect life for my sinful mess. Now if you ask me, that's most definitely a reason to dance. *Whew* I guess now that I've admitted my inherent tendency to wish I was wise I can say whatever I think from here on out. Get ready, I tend to say exactly what's on my mind.