Tie your worries to a balloon and send them up.

I've been revisiting this blog for days. I open a blank post window, I give it a title, and I stare at it for five minutes before I get frustrated and give up. This is usually how writing goes for me if I don't have a sudden flash of inspiration. No, this didn't come to me in a flash. I was just frustrated.

This whole day has been frustrating to me I suppose. I'm frustrated by the betrayal within my group of friends. I'm frustrated with false accusations. I'm frustrated that I can't seem to start on my homework, which I know is completely my fault, so therefore I'm frustrated with myself. I'm frustrated with frustration. I'm frustrated that I've said the word "frustrated" so many times. And now, I'm frustrated that I'm whining about it. So I'm sorry to those who are reading this.

I'm just struggling with so much right now. Granted, it could be much worse so I'm being a cry-baby. I'm a very fortunate person, and I know that. I wish that I didn't feel like my back was breaking from all of the stress. I wish that I could close my eyes and tell God that I'm thankful for the struggles and hardships I'm going through. Part of me is thankful, but the other part, the part that is growing louder and louder every second, is just so tired.

I wish that I was the perfect Christian girl, but I'm definitely not. I'm not the person I wish that I could show you. As far as I'm concerned, I might just be one of the worst Followers of Christ. But I guess that's what the beauty of it is: I can be awful and whiny and still be considered a Follower. If that isn't an example of God's Mercy and Grace, I don't know what is.

I'm going to be completely honest here, and some of these things are going to be really hard for me to say, so please bear with me.

I admit, sometimes it's hard for me to remind myself that God is in control. It's hard for me to remember that all of this is happening for a reason. I admit this: I am a selfish person. I want my comfort, I want my routine, I want my rest. I want to clench my fists around all of the things I hold dear so that they don't disappear.

The Main Things I Realize That I Need to Keep in Mind:

 - Being a Christian is being out of control and letting God take over.
 - Being a Christian means that most of the time, your selfish desires aren't going to happen.
 - Being a Christian means that instead of your selfish desires, you'll get something better that you never realized that you wanted.
 - Being a Christian is smiling through the pain because you're lucky to have a God who loves you more than anyone ever can.
 - Being a Christian is realizing that sometimes, the greatest test of Faith is what you go through every day.
 - Being a Christian is sometimes failing that test, but knowing that God is greater than any test you fail.
 - Being a Christian is being vulnerable, but letting God be your everlasting armor.
 - Being a Christian is being willing to die for the One you love.
 - Being a Christian is being imperfect, but showing the world that God loves us anyways.
 - Being a Christian means that you can be anyone ( a prostitute, a murderer, a thief, a rapist ) and still be a part of God's plan. (Look at Jesus' Genealogy. He didn't exactly come from kings.)
 - Being a Christian is being merely a jar of clay.
 - Being a Christian is to (attempt to) lift up your worries to God.

I struggle with these, and I admit it. By admitting it, I am being honest with you so that you can see me without my mask of mortality. So that you can see me the way my God does.

I never claimed to be the perfect Christian. I do claim, however, to be a Christian. I wish that I could be a better one right now, but I'm working on God's time, not my own.

As I write this, I am lifting my worries to God. If you're worried too, just try tying them to a balloon and sending them to Heaven.

If I was a crayon, I'd be a macaroni & cheese crayon.

Crayola had the best color names ever. (Sorry, RoseArt, but Crayola is way better.) I miss the times when I could look down at my crayon box and search for asparagus green or fuzzy wuzzy pink. I spent my childhood floating  through a sea of periwinkle and denim, desert sand and chesnut, eggplant and burnt sienna.

These days, when I whip out my dinosaur coloring book, I get strange looks from everyone. What's wrong with coloring a T-Rex antique brass? Or a Velociraptor screamin' green? It really is a shame that people consider it embarrassing. I'm definitely not embarrassed. If I was, I wouldn't be writing this.

I really don't like that people think that you can actually "grow out" of something. Sure, you can grow out of clothes or bad behavior, but I never really believed that you could grow out of something that you once adored. For example, I think Hide and Go Seek is the greatest game ever. I used to spend hours playing it with my friends. I played it so much, I figured out where every possible hiding place was. Needless to say, we quit playing it inside my house and we took it outside....

I haven't played Hide and Go Seek in years. It really makes me sad, too. 

I also want to save up so that I can rent a HUGE bounce house for my 16th birthday. I really think that would be an awesome way to preserve my "youthful spirit".


I don't think God gave us years to "grow out". Maybe I'm wrong, I don't know. He gave us years to "grow up", yes. But "growing up" and "growing out" are two different things. We can look at the little kids around us and see how happy they are and say "Oh, they're just kids." Honestly, aren't we all? When you think about it, we really are all "just kids." So where did this idea of "growing out" come from? I seriously wish I had the answer to that.


I see kids running down the street laughing like wind chimes or the peal of a bell and I'm honestly jealous. If I were to get out the sidewalk chalk and play hopscotch on the pavement... well, there wouldn't be a shortage of strange looks. I don't want people to look at me differently because I enjoy the "immature" things in life.


I like to have fun. I like to laugh. I like to play games and color. I like to jump rope and hula hoop. I am proud of being a child, and I have no doubt that even when I'm 30, I'll enjoy these things just as much as I did when I was 5. 

Honestly, I think Parenthood is a second chance at Childhood. You have your kids asking you to play catch or house or even play Barbie, and I think that is truly a gift. God gave humans an everlasting childhood; it's just a matter of if we choose to embrace it or not.

When I go to Chad, I'm taking my Childhood with me.

Every calm isn't the calm before the storm.

I'm a very paranoid person, sometimes ridiculously so. Maybe it's because I was born this way. Maybe it was because I watched too much Law and Order as a child. All I know is, it gets annoying.

I don't like plain white vans (you know, like workman vans) because I'm paranoid. I don't look into a mirror in the dark because I'm paranoid. I run through my house when I'm home alone so that I can get into my room before anything gets me. So I suppose I use paranoid as a better term for scared and/or cowardly.

A few years ago, I asked my sister about how she could watch scary movies without being terrified. She said "I have faith that if anything were to actually get me, God would take care of me." This was back when my sister was a Christian. When she was my age, her faith astounded me. And here I sit, a Christian, and yet I'm too afraid to take out the trash at night. Maybe it's because I'm still struggling with giving God complete control. Maybe my faith isn't as strong as I hoped.

I know that I'm being stupid for comparing my sister to myself because we are two different people, but sometimes, I just wish I could think like she did when it came to fear.

It scares me to think that I'm a coward, or even a person who wants control. Because I know that part of me wants control over my life. Probably a fair portion too.... But it's the same part of me that Satan reaches when he puts doubts in my mind. I want to be stronger for myself, for God. I want to get rid of that part of me that wants control.

You'd think that I would've grasped the aspect of being "out of control" when I was Called to missions. You'd think that I would've grasped it when I saw my life falling apart around me. But to me, there always seems to be that one part...

The main paranoid fear that I struggle with, though, is that when life is good, something bad is always around the horizon. You know the phrase "the calm before the storm"? Well, I get so paranoid that every calm becomes the calm before the storm.

I'm trying to be grateful for when my life is calm, but I can't seem to let go of that paranoia.

Being a Christian doesn't mean that you're set into who you think you are. If you create a profile of yourself, you stick to it. How would you know if you were underestimating yourself?

Well, there really isn't a way to know. So all that you can do is try to rise above your own expectations. Yes, disappointment is a possibility. But I'm personally going to stick with the thought that though I may be disappointed in myself, God isn't disappointed in my effort. He sees who I am and who I am trying to be for Him. I'm not saying that we should all walk around like we are better than everyone else because frankly, that is just plain wrong and idiotic. (Pardon me if that sounded harsh.) I'm just saying that the only limits we have are the ones we place upon ourselves.

I pray for a life without limits, a life without low expectations. A life that I can always be proud of, no matter how many times I fail.

I suck at getting things done.

You'd think that since I plan on doing something so huge with my life, I'd have t-totally awesome time management skills.

FALSE.

Procrastinating has become a hobby of mine. I think I procrastinate more than I do anything productive. Seriously. I'm procrastinating as we speak by writing this blog. I even procrastinate going to bed, even though I think sleep is one of the Seven Wonders of the World.

The sad part is that I have almost no free time to work with. I'm slammed with work all the time, and yet I blow off my AP US History homework to write blogs about procrastinating. My priorities are totally in order, right?

And now I'm spending my time complaining on a blog. Fantastic.

I guess I just need to be shaken up again. I need a kick in the butt. Figuratively, of course. Although, a literal one might do the job too. In order to get my homework done, my friend had to take my lunch box away from me. My awesome monkey lunch box. I'm so mature.

Anyways, I guess what I'm trying to say is that I need to change how I use my time if I want to do this. If I really want to go into missions. *sigh* If you let poor little children down because you procrastinated, that's really not something to be proud of.

One step at a time.

Confession: I didn't believe in God until I was 13.

Before I found God, I went to church with my friends, I sang the worship songs, I went to Sunday School. I still didn't believe. I felt like if there was a God, He ignored me. I suppose you could've classified me as an Agnostic. I wasn't sure if there was a God or not, but I believed that I'd find out when I died.

I kept this a secret...or at least, I attempted to. I grew up in the South, where there is a church on almost every street corner. Christianity became a mask for me; if I pretended to be a Christian, I was safe.

I was baffled by those who seemed to have Faith without doubts. "Seemed" is the operative word. I thought that Christians had no doubts, and that was what made me different, that was what made me think that I was banned from believing (which is totally ridiculous.) If I wanted a Faith, I wanted one with no doubts. I wanted evidence and certainty. I didn't know that Faith wasn't based on being certain. I knew the dictionary definition of Faith, but not the concept itself.

Anyways, it wasn't until I went to church camp in 8th Grade that I formed a grasp of Faith. I know it's kind of typical to be Saved at church camp.... but to me, being Saved at any time is the right time. It didn't feel typical to me, although some tell me that being Saved at church camp is predictable. Finding God was like a flash of life changing lightning, except it was bigger, brighter, and it altered me eternally.

When I was Saved isn't the type of thing you'd read about in a book. I walked up to the stage, fell to my knees, and cried my eyes out. My nose was running and my knees were killing me, but I'd never felt so good in my entire life.

That just so happened to be the day my roommates decided to fix me up for worship. (I never wear make-up. Like...ever. Only when I'm on stage or when I go to formal events.) By the end of the night, I had mascara running down my cheeks. It was not pretty.

The beauty of it, though, was that I didn't care. I knew that I looked awful, but I felt beautiful. I felt like a princess which, coincidentally, I was. God was and is my King, and as His daughter, that makes me a princess.

Ephesians 1: 3-14

³Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in the heavenly realms with every spiritual blessing in Christ. ⁴For he chose us in him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in his sight. In love ⁵he predestined us to be adopted as his sons through Jesus Christ, in accordance with his pleasure and will— ⁶to the praise of his glorious grace, which he has freely given us in the One he loves. ⁷In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of sins, in accordance with the riches of God's grace ⁸that he lavished on us with all wisdom and understanding. ⁹And he made known to us the mystery of his will according to his good pleasure, which he purposed in Christ, ¹⁰to be put into effect when the times will have reached their fulfillment—to bring all things in heaven and on earth together under one head, even Christ.

 ¹¹In him we, who were the first to hope in Christ, might be for the praise of his glory. ¹³And you also were included in Christ when you heard the word of truth, the gowe were also chosen, having been predestined according to the plan of him who works out everything in conformity with the purpose of his will, ¹²in order that spel of your salvation. Having believed, you were marked in him with a seal, the promised Holy Spirit, ¹⁴who is a deposit guaranteeing our inheritance until the redemption of those who are God's possession—to the praise of his glory.

Another part that I remember was that my friends at camp knew immediately. They took one look at me, smiled, and hugged me tightly. Maybe I had a new glow, I don't know. But they knew.

The change in me was instantaneous. In that moment, I went from living for myself to living only for God. I went from being a girl filled with anger to a girl brimming with compassion. I became the girl I am today: the girl who loves God above all else. The girl who just wants to help. The Wannabe Missionary. (And yes, I will include that fact in many of my posts.)

Thanks for reading! I'll try to keep the posts from being boring from now on.... haha.

If you would've told me that I was going to Africa, I would've told you that you were insane.

Ask a little kid what they want to be when they grow up and they'll tell you exactly what you predict: doctor, princess, fireman (or woman. I'm not sexist, so whatever floats your boat), superhero, rock star. Those same kids will hold on to that dream until they either A- "grow out of it", which frankly seems like a really stupid option because I think childhood dreams stem from who we truly are (but hey, that's just me.) Or B- some genius comes up and tells them that they can't do it (killing a child's dream? That's an awesome idea, NOT.)

Want to take a stab at what I wanted to be? Nope, you can't cheat by looking at the blog title because that would be wrong. Sorry. But I wanted to be a rock star. Yes, I was one of the predictable children, and I was darn proud of it. However, I didn't want the money, or the cars (although I can appreciate the beauty of a car just as much as anyone). I didn't want a mansion. (Nope, I wanted a purple trailer with rockets on the back that could make it go super duper fast.) I didn't even want to be particularly famous.

Here's what I wanted: to share my music with the world. I KNOW. Awesome for someone who is four, right? I wanted to go up there and sing what I couldn't say (and let me tell you, although I was a somewhat articulate four year old, I was no Dora. I mean, come on. She's bilingual.)

Anyways, nobody told me that I couldn't become a rock star. I stood up on my parents' boat dock with a jar by my feet, belting out songs in my little high pitched voice. (For the record, my step dad put the jar there, not me.) But, since nobody told me otherwise, I held on to that dream for years.

As I got older, I came to grips with my odds. A rock star? Highly unlikely. I'd been told that I had the talent, and I'd been in choir for years, but I didn't think it was an option. So I came up with a plan that was, to me, more likely. At thirteen, I thought I had my entire life planned out.

How I thought my life would go:
 - I would go to Yale and study business and music. (Don't ask me why I chose Yale to study business and music. Again, I was 13.)
 - I would move to Boston and get married at 24.
 - I would have three children. A boy named Jude so that I could sing "Hey Jude" to him as a lullaby, a girl named Emerson, and either a boy or a girl would be my third child. The boy would be named Brody, the girl would be named Ruth (after my grandmother, although I wish I'd known about Ruth from the Bible at the time).
 - I wouldn't ever ever ever drive a mini-van. (No offense to those who do...)
 - I would own my own Record Company. (I was trying to keep that thought of having music in my future alive.)

It was the perfect life for me. Comfortable, easy. When I was fourteen...

BOOM. Gone. The entire plan, out the window. I went from having everything going according to my plan to having everything going according to God's Plan, except I had no clue what it was. I can't remember a time in my life when I was more terrified of what was to come. I trusted God, but I was struggling to let go of my comfort.

And then.....I finally find out. Let me tell you, every detail of it shocked me to my core. I was going to Africa. Africa. The place that was nothing but a big old pile of mystery to me. And not just any part of Africa. Chad. Yep, that's right. Chad: the place where they would chop your head off just for believing in God. Better yet, it borders Sudan: the place where they would not only chop your head off, but defile your body in unthinkable ways. I was being sent into a war zone. Maybe you've heard of the conflict between Sudan and Chad, maybe not. But I guess you know of it now, don't you?

I felt like my insides were constricting.

"Chad? No, no that can't be. I need to stay in America where they have air conditioning and clean water. I'm going to get married and have three kids and live in Boston. Chad? No no no. Definitely not. I'll pass. God must've meant this to be for someone else. It can't be ME. I mean, look at me! I'm quite possibly the antonym of what you'd think a missionary would be. No. Not Chad. There must've been some mistake. I can't do this... I can't. I'll let God down. I can't let God down."

This was my thought process. It's not pretty. It's even extremely blasphemous in some parts. (Psh. Like God could make a mistake. Come on, He's God.) But there it is. I'm ashamed to think that I thought this at some point, that I denied my fate. However, I did. It happened. I can't deny this. I was shaken. I was terrified.

I wasn't ready. I wasn't ready to grasp this concept of leaving, of going out of my comfort zone and stepping deliberately into the path of danger.

If you would have tried to tell my four year old self that I was going to be going to Africa as a missionary, I would've probably called you stupid and walked away. Wasn't I just a gem?

But here I am. I'm actually excited to go. I'm not ready yet....no, I'm definitely not ready yet, but the concept is easier to think about. And I've grown. I've grown as a person, and more importantly, as a Christian. I can wrap my head around the idea now.

Granted, I'm still terrified that I'll make a mistake. I always will be. But the good thing about it is that I'll get more and more chances to get it right.

Thinking about going to Africa has changed me. I'm more grateful for my current surroundings. For example, look around you. Go ahead, look. Now, look again.

I won't have any of that. So when I have moments like these when I want to just float through thoughts of how fortunate I am, I look around me and thank God that I got to live this before I lived the life of the poor. And you know what? I'm fine with being poor. That statement means that I've come a long way.

As for now, I'm just a Wannabe Missionary, living in amazing circumstances.


This was the first entry of (hopefully) many. Thank you for taking the time to read that extremely loooooooooooooong post :)