Wednesday, April 30, 2014

Conundrums (what a great word)

I'm sitting under a portico, watching the rain fall and drinking a cup of coffee while listening to some girl talk about her problems with birth control.
Today I felt a sense of panic when I thought about working in a hospital all day. I hope this is normal during finals week. I don't mind hard work. In fact, I think I've been a hard worker all my life. I just don't like working for something I'm not sure I want to earn.  A wise person once said to "get trained for something you can use, not your hobby."

Joy is a choice. This I know, but why is it that so often my dreams seem in direct conflict with what is expected? I guess all this deep thought is pointless, because here I sit, outside Social Sciences waiting for history class to begin. No matter how badly I want to break the mold, I know I will go to class. I will apply to nursing school. I will graduate. Why? For whom? I'm not entirely sure. I'll let you know when I figure it out.

Monday, April 28, 2014


There is an incredible human being on Kennesaw State's campus. If you came here, you probably wouldn't recognize him. You'd walk up, order your eggs, and be slightly surprised when he asked, "how are you?"
But, after a while, you'd get used to that as well, because he asks you every morning.
You would notice his name tag that says "Alvin"
You wouldn't know that he runs a homeless ministry.
You wouldn't know that he used to be homeless himself.
You wouldn't know that he loves Jesus deeply.

All you'd notice is a smiling stranger who stands resolutely joyful despite a seemingly monotonous occupation. I think we would all do well to take his advice-- "you have to learn to look for God in all the little things."
Every smile.
Every face.
Every struggle.
Every doubt.
Every worry.
Every uncertainty.
Every soul.
You see, there is little bit of God in every person. He created humanity in his image, and if you look closely, you can see glimpses of His beauty, though often tainted by the ugliness of sin.
If you took the time to look, you'd see God in Alvin.
He uprooted a glaringly obvious flaw in my character, and I will forever be grateful. He reminded me that I fail to truly see people. I fail to take the time to invest in every person my path crosses. So often I rush through my day, my thoughts racing ahead, leaving no room to notice the present and the people that surround me.
I've been made aware, once again, that true joy can only be found as you live in the moment, cherishing every opportunity by intentionally striving to make an impact.
Today I'm feeling thankful for the example of this faithful Jesus follower.

Tuesday, April 15, 2014


I don't mean for this to be a depressing post, but even as I write this I know it will be, because I can't imagine how to end in a positive way. Lately the only time I take to write freely is when something is wrong, or I feel too weak and discouraged to speak my thoughts aloud. In case some poor soul is reading this, I apologize. You should probably stop reading at this point, because I'm about to continue.
Humans are funny--we all have a need to feel loved, but deep down we know we cannot be loved until we are truly known, and so we begin a quest. It's a quest to be heard, and understood, and, ultimately, loved. If you don't have this sense of need, there is most definitely something wrong.
The question is, "what do you do with this seemingly bottomless pit of desire?"
For me, the answer has become painfully obvious in the past few weeks.
Once again I find myself reminded (in not such a fun way) that Jesus is the only one who cares to know every detail of my life, and loves me perfectly despite knowing all the gritty details.
 People will leave, stop loving, stop caring, stop being, but He remains.

All I know is this- if I had the kindest, most caring, selfless, and overall best human being as a husband, that pit would not be filled. It may be for a week, a month, maybe even a few years, but he would fail. Regardless of when he let me down, the questions would become:
 "where is my hope? Where will I find my love?
Yes, I have been distracted. I have been seeking for love in all the wrong places. I have sought to be known by boys. I have been selfish. The truth is, the more I think about me, the more dissatisfied I become. I'm ready to listen, to care more about others than myself, and to rest, once again, in the arms of Jesus.

There I know I will find purpose beyond temporary pleasure. I'm so glad He's waiting.