Remembering

I think we’re all born with a song. There's this thing in all of us, right from the start, that's an intensely important part of our existence. It shapes us, helps us experience the world, sets us apart. It flavors our passions and choices, from the literature we choose to the places we make our homes.

Somewhere along the way, though, our songs get lost in the industrialization of life. We start thinking we have to sing for somebody or something else. Our songs become career-focused or finance-focused or relationship-focused and the idea of having the ability to sing inwards, just for yourself, feels wrong.

But one day, after you've stopped singing and can barely remember what it even sounds like, finally, finally, finally, someone builds an alley and puts up a birdcage and reminds you to hear your song. And you find yourself thinking, How ridiculous, to think this song wasn't enough.

On being in transition

The past year and a half has been one of the least predictable. It has seen me both stumbling and steady, and it has seen me both wandering and unwavering. And now, everything is about to change again.

I think it’s altogether natural, and not necessarily conducive to a specific age, to be in a place of not knowing. Of knowing what’s come before, but not being confident of what’s coming next. There are the days that are thunderous and gloomy, days that need both coffee and naps (and for some reason, they seem to be in short supply), days that remind you of what’s lying underneath the familiar. But then there are the days that are startlingly encouraging, days that need neither coffee nor naps (although you’ll take both anyway), days that remind you that the whole of life is uncertainty wrapped in comfort. 

And every season, every circumstance, holds both.

I’m not sure of what’s next, what exists beyond au pairing and interning and Australia-ing. But I know that it will be more than okay, that life is not actually a map of what is supposed to happen, but rather simply what is. My perspective has changed, and I think more often than not, that’s the biggest change we face. 

I will find a job. I will find a place to live. I will find that more things are familiar than I’d anticipated, and I will grieve the things lost in between. I will find that the change itself wasn’t the scary part; I just couldn’t see it clearly. And then, before I know it, everything will change again.

Ready?

When I don't feel loved

This thing has been on my mind a lot lately...what keeps us feeling loved and happy. In the middle of a season that is so fruitful, I still find myself frequently thinking about what's next. What's after Australia, if I can't get the proper visa? And this worry has caused me to seek as much preparation as possible, to make sure I am taken care of, and this seeking has caused me to temporarily lose sight of a lot of little pleasures I have in being here. Mostly what's happened, though, is I've spent a lot of time wondering if everything will be okay. But what's hiding underneath all of this thinking is a girl who's not sure if her flaws make her better or worse.

Sometimes, I don't feel loved. I think that it happens for everyone. When life is busy and things get hectic and we're worried about being perfect in every detail, our fears become greater than our faith. But when your fear is greater than your faith, you have to remember what's true.

When I don't feel loved, my fear is based on a lie. When I don't feel loved, I'm believing a lie that I'm not worthy of love. That something in me has failed to live up to an invisible standard of loveliness, and since I've fallen short, I won't be loved. I won't be good enough or smart enough or successful enough.

When I don't feel loved, I wonder if I'm too much. Too bossy, too easily annoyed, too stressed, too tired, too talkative, too honest. And all those worries feed into that fear of falling short of the standard I think was meant for me and I'm left wondering how in the world anyone could love me.

But today, my faith is greater than my fear. There are a hundred reasons why people mightn't love me, but there are a thousand for why they might, if I can let them.

Even when I don't feel loved, I know that I am loved.

I am never too much. And I am always enough. And while I don't know if my flaws make me better or worse, I know that they make me. They make me into someone who is loved and someone who is capable of love. That is more than enough, so the rest is sort of arbitrary.

I hope that you feel loved today. But if for some reason, you don't, I hope that you'll remember in spite of how you feel, you are loved.

We are always more than what we feel.

Being loved doesn't always look like this, but I'm so grateful that some of mine does.

Just a reflection this week, on the things that I'm coming to realize are perfectly normal but rarely spoken about. I'm happy, I'm whole, I'm learning.

These last 10 days

...have been a whirlwind of frustration and satisfaction, stress and relaxation, holiday bustle and slow summer heat. Between the end-of-school rush, Christmas shopping and celebrating, and making the transition to sundresses and shorts (in December no less), I have to remind myself to breathe. I have to remind myself that this is real life; I came to Australia almost six months ago and I'm still here. Happy, content, joy overdosing.

This is a season of acceptance. Of knowing both where I am and where I'm headed, and realizing the perfection in both. With the new year approaching quickly, there rarely seems to be enough time to accomplish the daily routines, let alone leave time for a complicated thought process about resolutions or reflections or whatever. There is only this place, this day, and the promise that it is all getting better and better, up and up.

 

 

This is water

This week, something popped up on my Facebook news feed that caught my attention. It was a link to something on Upworthy, a website filled with emotionally charged videos and articles pointed at bringing out the best in people. Things that make you think or laugh or cry or wonder. This video in particular is a speech, made into a video, given by David Foster Wallace at Kenyon College, nearly 10 years ago. The point was to wake up a group of soon-to-be-graduates and help them realize that while "the real world" is a place for which we're all reaching, it's also a place where many of us fall flat on our faces. And we fall flat because we aren't well prepared. Life, up into our mid-twenties, teaches us a plethora of lessons, ranging from when to not take a joke too far to how to appropriately conduct yourself in a job interview, but all of these things create this idealistic "adult world," where, once you're out of school, your life becomes whatever it is meant to become. But let's be honest...that's not how it works. Life is tough, whether you're in school or working a 9-5 or backpacking across Europe, and whether your life is good or not depends much more heavily on your perspective than your circumstance.

It made me think, long and hard, about my own life. I was incredibly blessed to have parents who taught me to be humble and considerate. I was incredibly blessed to be part of a university department with four professors whose collective wisdom is absolutely mind-boggling. I've learned a lot about how little I actually know, and how that doesn't diminish my value in society. I've learned that the world isn't my playground, because it belongs to and was created for so much more than my own desires. I've learned that what I want is a lot different than what I need, and if I'm too focused on the former, my version of the latter will always be skewed. Being an au pair is hard. When a child decides that "Please go get dressed for school" means "Throw a water balloon at your sister" or when at 10:00 at night, you realize you forgot to make lunches, so that's an extra 20 minutes of your morning or when the laundry won't fold itself and nobody likes green beans and you start to see yourself in those kids just enough that you wonder how your parents didn't go insane. But this has still been, hands down, the most monumental five months of my life. I wouldn't trade it for anything.

It isn't because my job is perfect. All jobs have benefits and downsides, and if all you're looking for is the perfect job, you'll probably end up quite disappointed, time and time again. It's because I wake up and am glad to be in Oz. I am glad to be part of this family. I am glad that I have a strong community and excellent friendships and a kind gentleman. And sometimes, I get frustrated too easily and I have to remind myself, this is life. This is not just about me.

We forget that the world doesn't revolve around us. We forget that the traffic jam isn't out to annoy just us or the delayed flight isn't ruining only our holiday travels. We make mountains out of mole-hills far more easily than we celebrate the little things, and in doing so, we seriously discredit the greatness of our existence. Get this: Your whole life is overflow. The world doesn't owe you anything, and unless you work really really really hard, your big dreams will rarely come to fruition. I'm not saying minimize your potential or want less for yourself. I'm just saying the only things you'll achieve are the things you're willing to suffer for. The things you're actually grateful for. The things you can truly step away from and realize aren't about you, but about things beyond you. The world is bigger. You are a part (an important part, to be sure), but not the whole. So be a part worth having.

Here is the video that reminded me I'm not a clueless fish. I know where I am. I know what's around me. And I have the freedom to choose how I react to every situation in my life. Maybe growing up doesn't happen when you get a diploma or buy your first suit or have a steady income. Maybe it starts when you're confident that your life won't happen when you've reached some proverbial destination. It started when you were born. This is it.