Tag Archive - making a difference

8. just because your life isn’t cool on Instagram, doesn’t mean it isn’t cool. [twenty truths]

July 15, 2012 in 20-something troubles, creative fiction, lessons learned, my story, stories with 5 Comments

Twenty-Something Truths For Twenty-Somethings 

truth number [8] today from the blog series hosted by myself and my dear friend Kristin! please join the conversation as we continue to unpack our twenties, and the truths we have found thus far. what have you learned? <3 <3 <3

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Just because your life isn’t cool on Instagram or Twitter, it does not mean that it isn’t cool.

There is a huge difference between living a full and adventurous life, and telling everyone about your full and adventurous life. Our twenty-something culture has given us some very creative mediums to tell everyone about our full and adventurous lives. I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve never claimed to be a ‘photog.’ I would never put it in my bio, I won’t ever offer to give someone high quality portraits, because that just isn’t my gift. But Instagram has this ability to make me feel like I am meeting the world’s deep need to see everything about my life.

Now, some people have an eye for photography and enough time in their day to take #nofilter pictures of their every move. They get tons of followers and double taps, and it makes their life seem so incredibly awesome because everyone can see how incredibly awesome it is. They make my portfolio look like a disposable camera’s product. In the perfect black & white picture, they have conquered my confidence in the visual portrayal of my own life. And I proceed to believe my life isn’t cool, because I didn’t use that filter on my martini picture, or get enough likes on the candid one of my puppy.

Or, the Twitter cool kids with their six-figure-amount-of-followers, who give the most hilarious synopsis of their day in 140 characters. I need to beat them, I need to be wittier than them, I need to hashtag like them. Or I need as many people to care about my thoughts as they have caring about theirs. I need everyone in the world to know my hilarious or thought-provoking or life-changing sentences. And when I don’t beat them, I proceed to believe my life isn’t cool.

But your life is not measured by likes or retweets or picture quality; your life is measured by breadth and depth and joy and love. I can’t tell you how many times I have admired a friend’s life from afar (and by ‘afar’, I mean ‘frequent drive-by’s on Facebook’) and then later found out that her marriage is actually at a really low place right now, or he got fired from his job, or those two have completely lost touch with their identity. We can make our lives look phenomenal — that’s the best-kept secret of 2012. We can play the part of anyone — and yet be completely empty in and of ourselves.

So put down your smartphone, and let it be. Stop caring about her endless list of comments, or the fact that he always eats at trendy cafes; focus on the people in your life who make up for all the pictures you can’t take fast enough. They deserve your attention more than any timeline does. And if you’ve chosen well, they likely base their friendship with you off things far more important than pictures and tweets.

4. the timeline of your life. [twenty truths]

July 11, 2012 in 20-something troubles, comedic relief, lessons learned, my story, stories with 6 Comments

Twenty-Something Truths For Twenty-Somethings 

truth number [4] today from the blog series hosted by myself and my dear friend Kristin! please join the conversation as we continue to unpack our twenties, and the truths we have found thus far. what have you learned? <3 <3 <3

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The timeline of your life will be starkly different than that of your parents.

My mom was 21 when she got married, three weeks away from turning 22. Three weeks before I turned 22, I was sitting on my bed watching Netflix TV shows back to back, taking a break only to make another batch of Ramen noodles. I lived in a tiny house with 3 other girls, and my bed was a $50 mattress on the floor of my room. I was so far beyond not-ready-for-marriage, my only context of relationships was in the FRIENDS re-runs i used as background noise for my endless crafting projects.

I have already had more jobs in 5 years than my dad has had in thirty. I can’t exactly sit still, and I can’t stop living my life in semesters, though I graduated college more than 3 years ago. I’m still learning what I want to be when I grow up, and I don’t exactly see an answer to that one quite yet. I’m a doer, a mover, a shaker. My energy level is always ridiculous, and I usually have four different careers planned out before lunch.

I was born when my mom was my current age. The idea of shoving seven pounds through my ladylands makes me want to hurl, and the thought of being entrusted with a child is just plain silly. I can barely manage to feed myself, let alone train A PERSON on how to live in the world.

My parents owned their first home when I (their firstborn) was still an infant. I currently live in a college dorm, and I only know a fraction about home-owning. And yes, it’s all thanks to shows on HGTV.

Women were just barely scratching the surface by the time my parents graduated high school. Expectations were just barely beginning to change for women, and so many hundreds of females were fighting for my current-day freedoms and opportunities. I have options today that our foremothers did not. There’s still a lot of progress to be seen, but man alive — we have come a long way.

 

My point: times have changed, and that’s okay. There are different expectations, and that’s okay. Your life is different than your parent’s, and that’s okay. It’s crucial to stop comparing yourself to the generation before you. (They didn’t even have Netflix or cell phones or Facebook. Clearly we’re better off.) If your relationship with your parents involves them constantly pushing their expectations onto you, gently sit them down and tell them you are making choices that are the best for YOU, not for THEM. They’re adults; they can handle a good heart-to-heart. Or if they freely support whatever it is that you choose to do, write them a thank you note for being so stinkin’ awesome.

Live according to your passions and truths. Sure, your parents made you, raised you, etc. But that doesn’t always mean they truly know you. Best advice: let them get to know you. Show them your passions and truths. Chances are, they’ll be just as stoked as you are.

three questions, two lives, one direction.

July 25, 2011 in jesus, lessons learned, my story with 1 Comment

I went to a great college with a great president who loves his God, loves his students, and loves his job. After I graduated, I realized that at other schools, not everyone has a great president who walks so closely with them. It really is a shame, because as far as leaders go, this guy knows what’s up.

This particular president specifically spends some time pouring into the student leaders on campus. He recognizes their unique stance among the population, and doesn’t waste any time getting to know them and equipping them with enough motivation to change the atmosphere of the school. He’s probably the most inspiring man I’ve ever heard speak; his words give you the strength to pick up cars.

At the beginning of my senior year, he spoke to the group of student leaders I was honored to be a part of.

He asked three questions. He told us to write them down, and to start each and every day with them. I wrote them in the front of my Bible, on my bathroom mirror, on the first page of my planner. I almost got it tattooed on the inside of my eyelids. (Kidding. Kind of.)

Three questions. 

Who are you?

What are you doing?

What difference does it make?

Virginia Woolf once said “The man who is aware of himself is henceforward independent; and he is never bored, and life is only too short, and he is steeped through and through with a profound yet temperate happiness.” Delicious.

 

A blog I recently stumbled upon published a post from a new friend. She boldly asked those first two questions beautifully. She, along with the writers and editors of this blog, beckon readers to believe in the power of story, to not be afraid of the honesty of those questions, and to search deeply within themselves to find the answers.  Who are you and what are you doing? Nail-on-the-head important. But I think the president of my college beautifully and gracefully pushes them just a little bit further.

What difference does it make?

This is my attempt to answer those questions for today. This is not your story, it is mine. And my answers might be different tomorrow. But for today, this is my unafraid journey into these questions.

Who are you?

I am a 20 something mover and shaker with a zest for life and an affinity for spicy foods. I am a Californian born-and-bred, wavy-haired sassy little lady, attempting the deep-fried-southern life while living in a small town outside of Dallas, Texas. I am a passionate believer in faith, hope, and love. I am a stumble-while-I-follow Jesus fan, and I am overly enthusiastic about every single day. I am a shower-singer, a car-dancer, a diet-coke-addict, and a surprisingly hilarious individual. I’m a morning person, an extrovert, a writer, a reader, a laugher, a WOO-er (hey, StrengthsQuest, heyyy), a loud-mouthed and opinionated fire-cracker. I’m a call-it-like-I-see-it, let’s-talk-it-out kind of woman and I rarely take “whatever” for an answer. I am a story-teller, a story-seeker, a story-believer. I am over the top awkward, unafraid and underpaid, and a hell of a fun road-trip partner. I am a Type A control freak with tendencies toward OCD, but I’m working on it. I am a love-not-war-er, a communicator, a friend and a sometimes-failure. But I am always trying new, trying bold, trying fun. I am a daughter, a friend, a sister, a graduate, a girlfriend. And a self-proclaimed dork.

What are you doing?

I am working in Dallas in a job I have wanted for years. I spend most days working with students, for students, around students. I am brainstorming ways to make their college residence life experience much, much better. I am learning from my colleagues, asking all the right questions, impressing my bosses. I ask students hard questions, and then I pacify them with an ever-full candy jar. I listen to their stories. I tell them mine. I learn how to love them, based on their stories and the story of Jesus.

I am living in a college dorm-room-turned-apartment built sometime in the previous century. I am living on a budget, prolonging the time in my life where I own things like mortgages and couches. I live in my job and work where I live. Quite the fluid life.

I am in love with a boy I never thought I would deserve. And I am learning every day more and more why I actually do deserve this kind of love. I am spending time with him, opening up to him, texting him, day dreaming of him, writing notes to him, taking pictures of him, learning him. My joys are doubled; my sorrows are cut in half. I am in a relationship that I thought only existed in my mind, and I am loving every moment of it.

I am reading and writing, more and more. I dream of a day when story-telling and story-hearing can be my only job.
I am discovering myself in other people’s stories. I am constantly finding my own, without reshaping it. I believe in the power of story. Telling it like it is, for the truth and gross that it is. The best part is seeing the good that comes from gross.

 

What difference does it make?

Hmm. As I sit writing, the words up until now have flowed out of me like an overturned bucket. I barely had to press “delete”; everything fit together perfectly and beautifully. And now I’m stumped. This is the part that changes every day. As an honest woman, I can tell you that some days, I make no difference at all. So I’m stumped. But here goes.

 

Two lives.

I had a gross story, years ago. I had a gross life. A different life. I did things, said things, promised things, and repeatedly messed up things. I was up to my ears in sin, and I was completely aware of my deliberate disobedience.

I have died to that story.

“I have been crucified with Christ, and it is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me.” [Galatians 2:20]

 

I have died to that life.

“Go into the temple courts, and tell the people the story of this new life.” [Acts 5:20]

 

I have a new life.

I live every day free from the bondage of sins. Free from the chains that bind me to the patterns of this world. Free from the need to be accepted, to be tolerated, to be loved conditionally.

Because now, in my new life, I am not only accepted, I am delighted in by the King of kings. [Zephaniah 3:17].

Now, in my new life, I am not only tolerated, I am chosen. [Colossians 3:12]

Now, in my new life, I am loved unconditionally. Nothing will ever change His love for me. [Romans 8:38-39]

 

One direction.

The difference is that now my life has been made new, by a God who specializes in redeeming the ugly and broken parts. The difference is that now my story is about redemption, grace, forgiveness, and love. My story involves the gospel of Jesus Christ. Scratch that — my story cannot be told outside of the gospel of Jesus Christ.

I recently asked a new friend how he knew his “ugly” was behind him. He answered that, the whole time he was living in addiction, he felt like he was living in a jungle. His entire view was crowded by vines and branches, winding and turning their way up and down, back and forth. He was constantly stumbling and turning himself around. The air was thick and hot.

And then one day he walked into a clearing. The jungle was still there, but it was behind him. Slowly becoming smaller and smaller in his rearview.

Yeah, it’s kind of like that.

I am a forgiven daughter of a redeeming God who has granted me child-like love to live every single day.

And that makes all the difference in the world.