Dressed up for the 8th grade formal.

I’m a junior, and spring is upon us. That means it is now prom/formal/semi-formal season.

Eh.

I am not a cynical ex-girlfriend, betrayed by her heart and fed up with romance, men, and happy things. Rather, it is my conviction that dirty dancing, splurges on prom dresses, and inane teenagers are not happy things.

I’ve been to a couple dances. Not recently, but in middle school there were the sweaty school dances in the gym (I went twice), the Jr. Beta Club Convention dance (same as the prior but dressy and with strangers in Greensboro), and finally, the baddest one of ‘em all: the 8th grade formal.

Oh, all the girls fretted over who was going to ask them to the formal (or if anyone would). I know I did. For months. I would never want to live through that again. One day, I would wish this guy would ask me. Next day, a different one. Third day, I would decide I would turn everyone down. I can barely stand to read my journal entries from those days.

Going to the formal with a guy gives a girl a chance to feel validated, beautiful, and loved all at once, but the climax of it all has the potential to be as devastating as it is exhilarating. You go, but without a date, and when your picture is taken it’s with two friends. You go with a date, but the night isn’t as special as you thought it may be. You go with a date, but you start the next school year at two different high schools. (Then again, there is my friend who is still dating the boy who asked her to the formal.)

I admire my friends who had the common sense to stay out of it all. The 8th grade formal took the place of a graduation ceremony, and it was a poignant goodbye to middle school, but I definitely regret getting so wrapped up in the drama preceding the night.

With that in mind, there’s no reason for me to go to the upcoming “Winter Semi-Formal” or even the prom in April. One thing I am looking forward to, however, is the JAARS [my youth group] Prom Alternate, for people just like me. It has the potential to be ten times as awesome as anything the school could host; last year the juniors and seniors sailed a yacht on Lake Norman in May.

A lovely sunlit evening with friends, minus superficial beauty and hormonal chaos, is worth a bit of girlish excitement.

Tuesday 11/22

Immediately after school, I packed my bags and was whisked away to begin the NYC adventure. My grandparents and I dined at SouthSiders in Waxhaw. (Their chicken quesadillas make the whole vegetarian idea seem ridiculous.) We ended the night at Comfort Suites in Charlotte, where I prepared thread for bracelets and watched “Chopped” on the Food Network.

Wednesday 11/23

Christian Tours Coach

At 5am I groggily pulled myself through the motions of waking up, getting ready, and carrying luggage down to the lobby. We waited to be picked up by the Christian Tours coach, which took us to Newton, NC to collect the rest of the group. We made stops every couple hours, traveling through VA, MD, PA, and NJ. Finally, at 9pm we entered NYC through the Lincoln Tunnel. We collapsed into bed at the Salisbury Hotel, 57th street.

Our first day up to New York, at the very first rest stop, a short, shuffling man I hadn’t noticed before approached me and my grandpa. With a slight New Jersey accent, he introduced himself as Joe. With a stuttering speech he marveled at the sunny weather.

As we stood outside McDonald’s in Greensboro, I noticed that every yellow stool was covered in raindrops fallen the previous night; from the beginning I could see that his personality sparkled like the sunlight on the raindrops.

He was in his 60s, traveling alone and with great zest for every activity. “You should really try all the toppings,” he shouted when our tour director mentioned the different hot dog stands in NYC.

Thursday 11/24

Watching the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade.

After a quick breakfast at the hotel (with coffee so delicious no sugar was necessary) we walked a block or so to wait for the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. We chatted amiably with strangers while fighting off the crush of people and the cold.

Papa and I spent the afternoon walking through Central Park.

Later I got my first taste of the glitz and glamor of NYC while watching the Rockettes and walking by the 5th Avenue window displays.

LOVE

Friday 11/25

We were joined by a step-on guide, Bruce, who pointed out significant buildings and their histories as we roved Manhattan Island by coach.

We ended with a 2-hour long “repas de midi” at Le Sans Culottes. (The restaurant is named after the French lower class during the Revolution.) While waiting for my pasta primavera, I made bracelets and listened to the adults chatter.

= Christmas shopping and the namesake of an awesome poet.

After freshening up at the hotel, we bravely navigated the subway system. We emerged at Bryant Park (named after William Cullen Bryant, author of “Thanatopsis”), where I did some Christmas shopping, and looked around the NY Public Library, a 4-story marble monument to knowledge.

That night we watched “Mamma Mia!” on Broadway. Though the show was well-done, I didn’t agree with the values and morals.

Saturday 11/26

Another day of famous landmarks awaited: today we took the ferry to Lady Liberty and Ellis Island. At Ellis Island I nodded off in the movie theater. We lunched on South Street Seaport, back on the mainland.

Lunch at South Side Seaport

That afternoon, Papa and I waited in line to enter the flagship FAO Schwartz store. Overawed by the custom doll houses, Lego statues, and a Barbie Fusball table, we bought Schweetz (candy) for my brothers.

Sunday 11/27

Return home. I try to finish AP homework.

This is by no means a full account, but as I had written it out for myself, I thought I may as well post it on my blog.

Introspection

Dear 2012,

I typically follow the tradition of making resolutions for the new year—or rather, I set goals—but not this year.

This year, I want to consciously tackle a fear that is holding me back. Recently, I have felt that I lack the gumption and the courage to be true to myself. (And, no, my AP English friends, this is not inspired by The Awakening.)

I don’t want to keep my words inside me. I want to initiate the difficult and awkward conversations.

I want to be brave.

I can write, yes. It’s easy: I can write a Facebook message, an email, a blog post, a text. I can organize my thoughts and take time to think of replies. But this is beginning to feel like the bottom rung on the ladder of interpersonal communication. Equal to the ease of  serious communication via online social networking is its inadequacy.

When I write, whether for communication or for catharsis, I only achieve so much. I can put my feelings into words and try to make sense of my world, but I can’t get feedback from the people concerned. I can’t watch their faces or hear their responses because I am afraid of feeling pain. I can’t feel their love because I am afraid of facing their displeasure.

But I have to, for there are so many conversations that need to happen, and so many raw and risky words to exchange.

It’s so easy to stay on the surface—to stick with safe topics. Even with people I love and trust, with women in whom I have found wisdom, inspiration, and encouragement, it’s  hard to speak of what really concerns me.

Relationships are meant to fill and satisfy, but after surface conversations, I have a gnawing sense of loneliness only because I refuse to let anyone in.

I can’t keep hiding parts of myself just because I’m afraid of how people will react, or what I will lose (nothing in most cases!). I desperately want to live in the light.

I’ve always enjoyed adventure and challenge: traveling the world, learning a new sport, starting a blog. But simply overcoming the fear that keeps me from picking up the phone and calling someone for advice, encouragement, or no reason at all can make my day-to-day life an adventure.

This is my only resolution this new year: to give voice to the truth inside my heart, no matter how difficult it is to package neatly.

Yours truly,
Alisha

1. Reading “Why I Stopped Being a Vegetarian” by Laura Fraser
It’s an essay that is both a personal explanation and an argument against vegetarianism. She writes why she became and remained a vegetarian for 15 years, providing the most popular reasons (health, animal rights, environment). But throughout, she hints at the shortcomings of the lifestyle, at least for her. After trying meat again, she realized she had never been satisfied with carbs: “All of a sudden I felt like I had a bass note playing in my body to balance out all those soprano carbohydrates.”

Also, in hindsight, she realized that she had been selfish and rude to hosts, etc. I agree: I tried to be a vegetarian my freshman year, but I soon bid that label goodbye because it interfered with my relationships with my family, and it was just easier not to stick to it. So now I eat meat maybe once a week. I wasn’t trying to be ascetic; I just don’t like eating meat.

She also writes: “Meat is good. From a culinary point of view, that’s obvious. Consider that most vegetarians live in America and England, places tourists do not visit for the food. You don’t find vegetarians in France, and rarely in Italy. Enough said.” She’s an American who lived in Italy, so she should know. Honestly, I could count on one hand the meat dishes I’ve had that I truly enjoyed, and maybe the problem is the cooking in this country?

2. Making Indian pappadums (puppodums? poppadoms?)

These are Indian appetizers/chips/curry-dippers. I fried some this afternoon—watching them expand from round, flat pieces of dried dough to giant alien-looking chips was really cool. Click for picture.

I just turned in a research paper about how social networking sites are changing the world. Relationships, economics, politics, and education: everything works differently because of the Internet. I focused on the positive aspects, which I believe far outweigh the negative. But rather than abstract examples and analyses, I would rather write about the effects of social networking on my life.

I joined Facebook when I was 13 years old. That summer, I had gone on a missions trip with teens scattered across the country, and I wanted to keep in touch. My friends at school quickly joined, and now I know only a handful of people who aren’t on Facebook, my erstwhile boyfriend and dad included. They just don’t need Facebook to live their lives, but I’m not so sure the same applies to me.

I wrote in my paper that social networking sites (e.g. Facebook and Twitter) allow people of all ages and stations to interact. This is a paradigm shift from the typical hierarchy and exclusivity of social interactions. My sources say that the Internet provides a space for teens to develop, a “third space” outside of their typical home and school settings. These sites allow teens to establish and express their identities.

It sounds good on the surface, but my life experience has shown that “establishing an identity” is not necessarily beneficial. The following line by the Christian rap artist Lecrae sums it up: “We just worried ‘bout our image and our space up on the Internet.” This is a stab to anyone who’s wasted time perfecting their Facebook page, like me.

Maybe I’ve wasted too many hours shaping an online persona, even if it is who I genuinely think I am, but I haven’t failed to take advantage of the powerful tool for communication that is Facebook. When fundraising for another missions trip, I received a lot of support (financial and spiritual) by making a support page on Facebook. I’ve reconnected with old friends and kept in contact with friends now at other schools, teammates from my missions trips, and other people I care about. I still use email to correspond with one friend—we send emails every week—but it still goes back to the Internet.

As a substitute for awkward face-to-face conversations and confrontations, I’ve sent many, many messages. There’s time to think before replying, so the pressure of face-to-face interaction disappears. Since you still have to face the person in real life after the Facebook conversation, the awkwardness is simply delayed, but I still think online communication helps initiate necessary but difficult conversations.

Some people argue that social networking isolates people: “every hour spent online is an hour spent alone.” I don’t agree. I didn’t have time to write this in my paper, but the research has shown that people who spend more time communicating online also spend more time communicating offline, and the same goes for number of friends on Facebook. Highly social people simply extend their interactions to the Internet. Shyer people can open up on the Internet, making it easier for them to be social. A survey by the Digital Future shows that 87% of adults say their children spend the same amount of time or more time with friends since using the Internet. Facebook especially facilitates offline sociability by letting users set up events and groups with ease. It’s a powerful tool for organizing people and events.

Isn’t this very blog also a social networking site? If so, then, my goodness, what an effect it’s had! This is not an extension of establishing an identity; no, I am exploring my identity through all this writing. TeenInk is another such site that inspires and encourages students to create and share poetry, writing, and film. Do the appropriate research, and one would most likely find that the Internet has sparked a revival in writing. It’s not just for professionals anymore. The effect of that is arguable—do the greater portion of blogs mislead people with unsupported, wild claims or do they actually educate people? But no one can deny that blogging is a powerful force in today’s media-driven culture.

Overall, I think it pays to be technologically literate, even if one is sacrificing some simpler pleasures.

Since this isn’t the graded research paper, I don’t have to fluff up a paragraph-long conclusion! The end.

As promised, this is my friend’s poem. To provide context, he loves theatre and acting.

The Whole World’s a Stage… or is it?
by Chris DeGraaf

Darkness
This is where I belong.
Curtain
This is where I prove you wrong.
Lights
This is where I’m strong.

I play my part, while I’m on stage: a puppet, a cop, or even a mage.
But what about out there, in the real world?
Am I acting as before me my life is unfurled?

I hope the answer is no.
I hope it will never be so.
But all around me I see those who are;
Those who attempt to disguise some half-forgotten scar.

They put on a mask every day, not knowing that there’s a better way;
A better way to live their life;
A better way to escape this suffering and strife.

So take off the mask; throw away the script.
Live your life as it’s called to be
Before you reach the crypt.

For this Way, this Life, this Truth
Has a name,
And my life’s sole purpose is to bring
It fame.

This Way died a bloody death
For you.
Please believe, these words are
The Truest True.

I said that this is where I am strong.
I said that this is where I belong.

But my place is in life, not on stage.
It is helping others escape the lie,
Escape their cage!

Before your curtain falls, do what is right.
Don’t try to see in the Darkness;
Live in the Light.
I will live in Your Light.

Photo credit: “Severe” by Giovanni Orlando on Flickr (CC license)

A book that really highlighted this for me is TrueFaced, which “draws a clear distinction between two very different underlying motives: my determination to please God or trust him… one results in a striving that never feels it has done enough to please him; the other results in a trust that experiences his full pleasure.”

I read the book during a time of crisis caused by my determination to please, and I realized that I can never earn God’s love or acceptance. When I looked up TrueFaced in the archives of my blog, I found this:

“People do not notice when I lose or gain weight.
My friends do not lose respect for me when I can’t make qualifying times or if I get sick sometimes.
God does not love me any less when I fail to be passionate about Him. And that brings so much freedom.”

Ever since middle school, I’ve faced low self-esteem. When I started high school, I felt friendless, and I had so much to prove. I worried about making qualifying times for cross-country and track, getting bad grades, getting sick, not being a “good” Christian, and gaining weight. All of that drove me to pour so much time and energy into myself. If I did do things for others, it was really just to look good—for approval and personal security.

And I was so tired. According to a few pages given to me by a counselor, factors that deprive us of physical, emotional and spiritual rest include, among other things:

• unrealistic expectations
• discontentment and covetousness
• preoccupation with success
• activity overload
• worry about our image
• pride.

These all stem from low self-esteem, because people who don’t feel good about themselves spend tremendous energy trying to attain a feeling of self-worth.

The Importance of Self-Love and Self-Esteem

Culture Shock by Myron Loss, before addressing common missionary problems, includes an entire chapter dedicated to the importance of self-love and self-esteem.

• Self-love is “an appreciation for the worth of oneself as a person made in the image of God.”

• Self-esteem is “the extent to which the individual believes himself capable, significant, successful and worthy.” In short, it’s when “you’re glad you’re you” (36).

What’s wrong? The author says that man is innately inadequate: he can never measure up to what he should have been:

“Since Adam, the primary force that has throbbed at the heart of men is the fear of inadequacy, rejection and alienation. Sin is more perverse and deep-seated than is commonly believed. It is an element present not only in a man’s actions and thoughts, but it is ingrained in his psychological makeup. It results in a self-condemnation of the whole soul, making him unable to love himself or others. Self-love, which can only come as a result of forgiveness and acceptance by God, is necessary in order to be a healthy person” (Loss 33).

Divine Intervention

Loss points the way out: there is Divine intervention: “There is therefore now no condemnation to those who are in Christ Jesus, who do not walk according to the flesh, but according to the Spirit” (Romans 8:1). Loss says, “If we judge the value of any object by the price that is paid for it, then it becomes evident that man is highly valued by God” (34).

“My need for security demands that I be unconditionally loved, accepted, and cared for, now and forever. God has seen me at my worst and still loved me to the point of giving His life for me. That kind of love I can never lose. I am completely acceptable to Him regardless of my behavior. I am under no pressure to earn or keep His love. My acceptability to God depends only on Jesus’ acceptability to God and on the fact that Jesus’ death was counted as full payment for my sins.” Dr. Larry Crabb (Loss 35)

In Christ, I am a dearly loved child of God (Colossians 3:12). When I was lamenting my lack of something or other, my dad said it best: “Don’t talk about my daughter that way.”

Many people, however, do not feel unconditionally loved, accepted, and cared for by God or anybody.

It is out of this void that I have made most of my mistakes. Take love as an example (love in the attraction/romance sense). I recently realized a pattern to my high school relationships:

1. They are a distraction from the tedious and painful parts of life, like mind-numbing amounts of homework and school. But diversion is not a good reason to attempt dating.
2. I start relationships when I really just want a better friendship. That is, when I am lonely. Loneliness is a thirst that requires more than water; it is the hunger pang of an empty heart, and I have known this all too well. So when I examine the reason I have ever been attracted to anyone, it is usually out of some degree of loneliness. And then when my needs as a friend are satisfied, I’m satisfied. I never wanted anything more, which contributed to the downfall of my first and only dating relationship. (If only I had realized that earlier.) I once told that person, months before we dated: “…You saw me at my worst and still loved me.” It is God, however, who truly deserves that sentiment.

Me, performing a puppet skit during the JAARS youth group mini-missions trip, a worthwhile weekend of spending energy towards something greater than myself.

What else contributes to low or high self-esteem?

My freshman year of high school, I became absorbed in making myself “worthy” and “successful.” Now I know why: self-esteem is the measured by the distance between who someone is and who they want to be. If one is discontent with herself and her life, every action will be marked with self-rejection and disappointment. She will spend energy on making herself feel better and will have little left over for loving and caring for other people (Loss 40). That was me at one time.

To some extent, that feeling is still present. I constantly feel stretched to the limit. There is honestly not one more responsibility or activity I could take on right now—not that I need to. My life has no margin or room to breathe, and I feel like I’m just waiting for the end of all this work. That is why I wrote “Breathe,” to remind myself of my story, and of my promised refuge in Christ.

I want to live in the present, but I feel like I’m living for the future: I am making grades and taking tests for college, preparing for a career, not dating—I don’t want to live like everything begins in two years when I graduate. My life is now, not in the far-off, unseen future.

“When we ‘get there,’ when we have at last ‘arrived,’ then we will accept ourselves. But we never seem to make it” (Loss 40).

So stop searching; stop to trying to muster up all your goodness and energy. It’s fruitless.

In the Way there is direction, in the Truth there is wisdom, and in the Life there is purpose. That Way/Truth/Life is Jesus Christ (John 14:6).

On that note, next week I will post my friend Chris’s poem for the Slam. I think it complements what I’m trying to communicate.

Check it out for yourself…

Loss, Myron. Culture Shock. Winona Lake, Indiana: Life and Light, 1983. Print.

Thrall, Bill, Bruce McNicol, and John Lynch. TrueFaced. Colorado Springs, CO: NavPress, 2004. Print.

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This is me literally on top of the mountain, around Thanksgiving 2010.

After looking at the pictures, I felt that I had regressed in comparison to this year. I thought:

"Success is deceptive, no matter how it is defined. My past haunts me, demanding me to do more and do it better, holding me to an impossibly high standard. I hate the feeling that I cannot break my PR in any area of my life.”

A PR typically refers to a race time, such as in cross-country. My coach believes in individual definitions of success, and so my goal for cross-country the past two seasons has been to stay relaxed and enjoy the season with my teammates. Staying relaxed, to me, means not obsessing over my performance. As long as I did that, success based on times was simply a bonus and a lack of such success was okay. Last year, I broke both my emotional and physical (times-based) PRs.

Extending that motto to the rest of my life, I often feel frustrated, and failure to meet even my own ‘expanded’ definition of personal accomplishment feels bitter indeed. The time I spend on schoolwork dominates my schedule, eating up time erstwhile filled with personal devotions, memorizing verses, cooking, bracelet-making, photography, graphic design, or blogging (all activities I enjoyed my first two years of high school). It dominates my thoughts, too; I often want to escape my own thoughts about homework and school, but even with my friends I find myself in a rut of concentrating on school. My mental exertion is just not balanced with every other area of potential growth: emotional, spiritual, physical, which are the remaining cornerstones of a solidly balanced lifestyle.

Even though I’m 16 with my life before me, a specter of past success flickers behind every bush and around every corner, because I always feel as if I must improve.

It appears that Mr. Jeff Goins and I are riding the same train of thought: speaking of viral success, he wrote, “No single creative success can be sustained. That’s why you can’t create solely for profit or accolades. In the end, it doesn’t work. Not if you want to be an artist, anyway. There has to be something more.”

There’s a reason this dreaded bitterness of failure keeps resurfacing in my life, despite my total aversion to “trying to be a good Christian”; despite my friends and family and God who love me no matter what. It has to do with self-esteem, part three of my story.

(Watch a 19-second video of the first stanza: http://youtu.be/mJN5O4nl7-4)

But it is more than a simple class assignment. This is my story from 2010 until nearly the end of 2011—so two years, compressed into one year of gradual awakening and growth. I recently read a post from an incredibly inspirational blog by writer Jeff Goins, about the importance of sharing your story. I have poured my heart out into my blog many nights, but I just realized that it is an opportunity to pour my heart out before a live audience.

Photo credit: "Unginned Cotton" by Jason Chang (CC license)

The first two rounds of the poetry slam were Monday for my AP English class and Wednesday (today) for that class and three others. For those presentations, I just wanted to read my poem and be done with it. I was nervous about presenting and not completely confident that my poem was worthy. I am not a captivating actor or a comedian, but a writer; only a few people understand my writing as I intended. But I pray that these words will touch someone’s heart.

“Breathe”

I pursue a fool’s mission,
Glancing in mirrors, a narrow-minded perception.
Faking my passions and deceiving myself,
To be an envoy of the health god I worship.

I forgot You and left my friends
On the periphery of my obsession.
My heart recognizes the ache but denies the cause.
Isolated at meals, I sit with my plate of austere ideals.

The gloom obscures my reason.
I exist in a dark world in January,
And when the sun finally comes, it’s too late.
My only taste of life is choked down like a pill.

I’m breathless from trying so hard, and impatient,
Waiting for something.
I need something better to fill my lungs.
I stretch up my hand, trying to surface above the despair.

Suddenly, I’m rescued, new—
You rescue me—
And each breath is precious.
The May rains wash my soul, invigorate me,
And promise peace.

Each day my eyes widen more at new wonders.
I sense the Earth awakening, and the
Verdant air hums with life,
And wraps a fresh breeze around me like hope.

Soon, the summer sun stretches out the days,
And makes the air heavy and my breath labored.
Moving on is such hard work; I taste the salty sweat—
But I prefer clarity to dullness, even in pain.

Autumn bonfires fill my throat with burning smoke.
I feel the heat and the pressure inside me,
But I find strength, and I sing,
As my heart responds to Your call.

I revel in the glory of Your creation:
Bursting with color, November‘s dying leaves flutter.
Chill air and the daylight fleeting
Send me indoors to spice and steam.

But You alone can satisfy my deepest needs,
Assure my soul, soothe,
And heal my brokenness.
How could I ever have forgotten?

Seasons change, but every night
I breathe in, out, enveloped in the scent of clean cotton:
My refuge from the world. In You my weary soul
Rests.

© Alisha Newton
November 2011

(First of all, yes, I realize the irony of associate “cotton” with rest, for all its history in the U.S. I have a bit of cotton that I picked clean of seeds, and it smells so clean and fresh.)

Two verses (and a multitude of songs, like “Breathe” by The Wrecking) influenced my words:

“You satisfy me more than the richest feast. I will praise you with songs of joy.” Ps. 63:5

“My heart has heard you say, ‘Come and talk with me.’ And my heart responds, ‘LORD, I am coming.’” Ps. 27:8

At the start, my life was unbalanced, narrow-minded—dominated by one dulled sense: that of taste, representing my obsession with food and the greater implications of that obsession. Slowly, I awoke, and now I feel and smell and see and hear with new vigor. I am alive and, as I wrote, every breath is precious.

I wrote a similar poem, “The Struggle”, for the spring Poetry Slam. It went more in detail about the experience of running track and battling my body, and concluded with lines of “I can’t earn love; I can’t win by conforming to an ideal”—to summarize, it acknowledged the pointlessness of trying to earn love from God and people by being successful.

The last two stanzas of “The Struggle” begin with “I should… I should…” Looking back on it, I wonder, Why did I write it that way? What about “Now I…”? In answer, this is what the fall Slam poem is: it speaks in the present tense. It is now. In the midst of my junior year of high school, I find myself needing so much time to breathe and rest. Even now, I cut short my writing, because I know I have a 5am-10pm day tomorrow—click over for part two.

I visited Toccoa Falls College in Toccoa Falls, Georgia on Friday as a prospective student, eating lunch in the cafeteria and taking a guided tour of their dorms and campus;
Auburn University in Auburn, Alabama with my mom for dinner Friday night and a fun pedicab ride around the campus, which was hopping with pre-football game activity; and Troy University in Troy, Alabama for my mom’s campus outreach group reunion on Saturday afternoon.

On the return trip, we stopped at Emmanuel College in Franklin Springs, Georgia for lunch and a campus tour with a current student and friends of ours, Madison;
and finally, on Sunday afternoon, I awoke from a middle of a nap to walk around Anderson University in Anderson, SC.

I experienced a wide range of college campuses: Toccoa is a small (750-student) Bible college; Auburn, a huge (24,000-student) state school. I wasn’t seriously considering Auburn and Troy, but I since I have never visited a college campus before (with the exception of swim and cross-country meets at Wingate University), I was glad to look around. Anderson left the best first impression, with small-town and historic charm, not to mention the most amazing library.

In the end, come to fall 2013, who knows where I will be. Overall, the trip gave me confidence about college, because I have concrete images, facts, and numbers in my brain–no more shining cloud of vague dreams and desires.

On that note, to follow my apprehensive post about my then-upcoming junior year (Almost.) here is an encouraging email from my friend/mentor, JJ. (In her last appearance on my blog, she had taken me out for breakfast; now, she has inspired a blog post!) Although about to become Mrs., she’s the real “miss awesomeness”!

Hey miss awesomeness!

How are you doing? College visits? Big deal. College visits intimidated the stew out of me.

When I was a senior in high school, I visited UGA as part of their academic scholarship winners something something.

I went with my parents, and representatives from the honors program talked to us for hours about why it was such a great college. I was excited about going there, and had even decided to room with a friend from the Governor’s Honors program I had attended the previous summer. It looked like a great institution and a great college choice.

But after sitting with all these other smart kids, seeing their academic dedication, looking at the campus, and just not feeling peace, I had a breakdown and started crying uncontrollably (and awkwardly–I’m not a pretty crier). That was one of the first major signs that I thought maybe I didn’t belong there. It was weird, since I was one of the brightest kids in my high school, and everyone had high hopes for me.

On the way home (we left early because I was so emotional), my parents and I talked about other options and how I didn’t have to go to UGA just because it seemed like a good idea. The bigger picture was for me to do what God wanted me to do.

I had felt all along that they wanted me to go to UGA, since it is a relatively prestigious public college, and I would have had plenty of scholarships to cover tuition, etc. I also thought that everyone’s expectations demanded that I go to UGA and prove my academic prowess yet again. I thought that choosing somewhere else would disappoint everyone, especially my academically geared parents.

So I kept crying. Feeling like I didn’t fit in with the smart kids I had seen at UGA that day, many of whom were already accepted in Ivy League colleges and were just humoring UGA by going to that event.

Later, I realized that I could say “no” to UGA and go to Emmanuel College, and it didn’t mean I was a stupid loser (self-talk I had indulged in at the time). I could go to Emmanuel and be a great student, following God’s plan rather than my plan. (Little did I know that while my parents were proud of me for being accepted to UGA and having several scholarships, they really believed that Emmanuel was the place that God had planned for me to go. They simply kept their prayers and opinions to themselves, giving me space to discover God’s plan for myself.)

That had been the problem all along, I believe. I had great plans for myself. Academic plans. Good plans. Selfish plans. I wanted to prove how wonderful I was. Turns out, I had a thing or two to learn about how awesome I was. I had been trying to find my identity in education, academic skill, test scores, being busy, having the answers, and being brilliant. The truth is that my identity was, and is, in Christ alone.

It took a long time for me to begin to understand that. Deciding to follow Christ in going to Emmanuel wasn’t the end of the journey. It was just the beginning. Deciding to major in Christian Ministry instead of finding a more lucrative or academically prestigious major wasn’t the end. Choosing to work in ministry, with preschoolers who can’t pronounce “academic rigor” wasn’t the end, either.

The end is Christ.

I want you to know that during this time of exploration and decision about where to spend 4 years of your life, you have the chance to choose Christ every day. It might not look like what you’ve expected your whole life. It might not look like what your teachers, parents, and friends expect of you. It just might look crazy. (My choices surrounding my college years and subsequent career path certainly did/do.)

You’re brilliant. You have nothing to prove. You’re close to Jesus. Your heart is unbelievably beautiful, and your abilities to do anything from starting a creative endeavor to fund education for underprivileged kids to acing all your classes with flair are astounding.

But please remember that your value is in Christ.

Not the colleges you’re accepted into. Not the accolades. Not the papers, grades, miles you run, hours you spend on friendship bracelets.

You’re valuable, beautiful and amazing because Christ has chosen you.

Be encouraged, sweet sister, you are beginning to embark upon one of the most life-changing journeys you will ever encounter. Keep your heart close to Christ and you’ll find that even the decisions facing you will fade in the reality of His presence.

Grace and Peace,
JJ Synan
…so that people far from God would experience Jesus and the reality of his Kingdom…

Such beautiful, uplifting words, and I believe she is right. I shared this with one of my friends already, and she wondered, “How do I know what Christ wants for me though?”

My thinking is, I will do my best in school, I will visit colleges, take the SAT, apply, and it will all fall into place. But then one has to wonder, what if it’s not God’s will for me to go to college? That’s not a question I even consider, because I WANT go to college. In short, my friend’s question is difficult to answer–any thoughts?

On Friday I have a half-day of school, and Saturday is a blank box on my calendar. Sounds good to me!

PS: Redefining “happily ever after”was posted automatically, as per a schedule I set months ago, in May. I had forgotten about it!