The year of love

It's difficult to believe, but not everything you plan in college pans out later in life.

It turns out you didn't know everything there was to know during those years.

When I was in Aggieland, my friend Katie and I had this saying that sort of became an inside joke: "The Year of Love." Neither of us dated much (or ever), so we declared each new year "The Year of Love." She even made me a CD one year—I know, so antiquated—with our saying as the title, and it was filled with tracks that we both loved and that were all about love. I still play that CD sometimes in my car. That's right, I'm old school.

Like I said, each new year we would remind ourselves that her prince was on his way, and mine would likely ride in right alongside him. I guess you could call it wishful thinking, but I think we also both honestly believed it would be true. We saw most of the people around us falling in love and knowing engagement rings were on the way, so why wouldn't we be next?

Because that's not always how life works.

Eventually that prince did come for Katie. They have been married a little more than five years now, have one adorable little girl, and a sure-to-be-super-precious little boy on the way. Her "Year of Love" actually proved to be more of a "Lifetime of Love," which is how it should be, anyway.

I'm not big on end-of-the-year reflections, and I really hate year-end countdowns on radio stations, but when I do think back on the past year, I think it truly was a "Year of Love." No, I don't have a prince, I didn't go on a date, and I didn't dramatically get to declare my love for someone while I was wearing a nice dress in the middle of a street or parking lot in the pouring rain. No one wrote a love song for me, there were no gazebo moments, and sparks didn't fly when I locked eyes with some fella across the room. I didn't dance with anyone under the moonlight, no one held my hand, and I still haven't heard the words, "I love you" from someone who doesn't have to love me.

10 years later...

But there was still love in abundance.

Sure, it's a different kind of love, but love is beautiful in any form. It's the kind of love you see when your students actually hear and appreciate the words you're saying, and they let you know. It's the kind of love you see when your sister continually shows you just how much she cares for you simply by being there—which even includes taking a crazy road trip to Tennessee with you. It's the kind of love you see when your friends keep checking on you when you're sick or going through a difficult time. It's the kind of love you see when your forever friend makes you laugh when all you want to do is cry. It's the kind of love you see when members of your life council offer you encouragement when you're ready to do some bold things in your life. It's the kind of love you see when the owner of a froyo shop you frequent remembers specifics about you, asks about how things are going in your life, and makes sure you always remember to use your rewards card on anyone you bring along with you so that you will get extra points. It's the kind of love you see when your mom calls you every single day—usually with no purpose other than to talk with you even for a few minutes—and never forgets to end her conversation with, "Loveyoubye," all strung together as if it really is only one word. It's the kind of love you see when your refrigerator is covered with Christmas cards of beautiful gems people sent you simply because they care. It's the kind of love you see when you realize that people are there in your life for a reason, and they want to be there.

It's the kind of love that's too wonderful to overlook simply because it doesn't involve romance and kisses.

I've become pretty accustomed to the single life, and I'm fine with it. Maybe some day I really will find that prince Katie and I always talked about (and still do, of course). But maybe I won't, and that's fine, too. You don't have to be in love to know what love is, and you don't have to have a ring on your finger to feel love in its fullest form.

The good thing is that it doesn't just have to be a "Year of Love"—it's actually something that can be forever. You don't have to wait until the new year to have love, and you certainly don't have to contain it all to one year. Every year can be a "Year of Love," no matter how many dates you did or didn't go on, how many rejections you faced, or how many times you found yourself looking around a room of all couples and families and trying not to feel like the black sheep. All of those people likely love you, so it's really a winning situation.

Sure, this year was full of ups and downs, as most years are, but there were definitely plenty of lessons that reminded me that love is so different than the word that often pops into people's minds when they hear it. It's not simply pink and red hearts or having someone to count down with on New Year's Eve. It's more—so much more.

And, strangely enough, the more you give it away, the more of it you feel in your own heart.

Crayons don't need rules

There are many things in life that are simply silly.

Like nonexistent rules.

For the most part, I follow rules. Ever since that one time I had to move my pin during nap time in kindergarten, I decided I don't really like getting in trouble. In fact, throughout middle school and high school, the only thing I ever got detentions for was talking too much. Sure, I jaywalk all the time, and I can't say the speed limit is always my focus, but I know that rules and laws are in place for a reason, and I generally adhere to them.

Except for when they aren't real.

I do not like unwritten rules that people follow for no other reason than they've just somehow become part of the long list of social norms by which people are expected to abide. I'm not talking about general manners; I'm referring to those "standards" that are supposed to guide people in how to act in certain social situations. I mean, why do I have to shake with my right hand? Why am I expected to click "like" on a picture simply because I'm tagged in it? Why do we feel we have to answer, "Fine, thanks. And you?" (or some version of that) when people ask us how we're doing? Why is it rude to ask how old someone is?

And what is the deal with treating the elevator like some awkward chamber of silence?

I was on an elevator the other day, and I received a very humorous cat picture in a text. (For those of you who don't know me too well, I absolutely love funny cat pictures. Whether it's a cat in costume or a cat trying to be a human, I love photos with cats that make me laugh. I don't own a cat, and I would rather not deal with a litter box, but I definitely appreciate a quality comedic cat pic.) So, there was another man on the elevator with me, and I felt like sharing the reason I had just burst out laughing. I explained my love for funny cat pictures, and then I showed him the pic. I realize we aren't besties, but I like talking to people, even if I don't know them.

Seuss knows

Apparently we didn't have that in common.

He looked at me as if he was wondering why I was trying to have a conversation with him. I realize the topic might not be super appealing to everyone, but we could have talked about something else after. Only we didn't. He fell silent, and then I arrived at my floor. I said bye to him and wished him a good evening, and he gave me a polite nod and said, "Take care." Although it didn't seem completely genuine, I'll take it. At least he said something.

Every time I ride in elevators, it's as if people become mute unless they're asking "What floor?" And there seem to be other pieces of etiquette in the confined space, such as where you stand or what direction you're supposed to face. Well, what if I don't want to stand in the corner and face the doors? And what if I feel like talking to the people on their journeys of vertical transportation?

Some social norms don't make sense, and there is no requirement that one must follow them. If you want to dance in public, dance. If you want to sing in the middle of a crowded mall or park, sing. If you want to wear colors that people claim don't match, go for it—anything matches if you wear it with confidence. If you want to want to skip down the streets like Buddy the Elf, skip. If you want to high five the barista for always getting your order just right, throw that hand in the air. And if you want to talk in an elevator, strike up a conversation. You can't get to know people in silence, anyway.

Life wasn't meant to be lived the exact same by everyone. We don't have to follow rules that arent real. It's not easy to spread love when you're constantly putting limitations and restrictions on the way you live, anyway.

Besides, if every Crayon in the yellow box were exactly the same, you wouldn't be able to color as pretty of a picture.

Hope amidst the spinning and skidding

I'm sort of surprised I'm alive right now.

And I'm not being over-dramatic.

One day last week, I was driving home from work and lost in my own little world as I belted the Taylor Swift lyrics playing on my stereo. From what seemed like out of nowhere, another car almost side-swiped me as he cut in front of me into the left lane. I swerved slightly to the left to avoid being hit, and I went straight into those flexible pole things that separate the HOV lane from the standard lanes of the highway.

This was not a good situation.

I hit so many of those things, and they really aren't made to be run over at such a speed, and when I was finally able to turn my wheel to the right again, my car was out of control. It started making that noise it does when it sleets or ices in Texas and starts skidding on the ice. I don't know how to describe this situation accurately, but I will try my best: My car started skidding/spinning across all lanes of the entire highway at, going back and forth at highway speed; no matter what I did, I couldn't get it back in control; at one point I even went up on only two tires, and I was sure my car was about to flip; the beeping noise wouldn't stop, and I didn't know how I was supposed to get my car back to normal—it was as if it was possessed; I was almost certain I was going to crash and maybe even die.

But I didn't.

In what was one of the strangest moments that I definitely can't put into words well, all of a sudden my car completely straightened out, and I was moving forward again. I glanced in my rearview mirror and noticed all of the cars behind me were a significant distance away. Obviously they had hit the brakes when they saw the spectacle before them, but what's really miraculous is that not one of those cars was next to me in the other lanes when I lost control of my vehicle. I'm still shocked I didn't hit anyone else.

Reminder from my sis

For the rest of the drive back, I really wanted to cry. It had been a pretty long day, and that whole incident wasn't a good thing to add to the mix. My car was now in control, but my head was still spinning wildly out of control.

We can often find ourselves in times like these in our lives, though they last much longer. We find ourselves suddenly skidding and spinning, and it feels like we won't be able to get things back in control. We feel powerless and certain that complete disaster is inevitable. I honestly didn't do anything special to make my car stop its spastic near-destructive moment—all I did was hold onto the wheel (of course trying to steer it back in one direction) and try not to freak out too much. It was a sheer miracle that nothing bad happened and that I only have a few small marks on the front and side of my car.

Certainly not everything is always going to end so well. Some of those skidding/spinning moments might end in crashes or damage that we wish would go away. But there's hope. There's also a weird comfort in knowing that we can't control everything like we might want to. Obviously me trying to control my car wasn't working out so well for me. It took something greater. Someone greater. Perhaps I needed a wakeup call or reminder that I can't do everything, because I've certainly been trying to lately with as busy and chaotic as my life has been.

You can't always control the things that happen to you in life, but you can control how you react to them. Even though you don't want those times to happen, you still have to be in those moments. Just make sure you always leave enough room for hope.

Because hope is what will keep you going and trusting your wishes and dreams will come true. 

Haters gonna hate--but they shouldn't

Many times in life, things are not always what they seem.

We know this truth, yet I don't think we really know it sometimes.

Last week, my dear friend Maddie sent me an "article" on the snobbiest cities in Texas, and my hometown happened to top the list. Before even reading it, I got slightly defensive. Sure, I'm from a place that has grown a lot over the years and now has very nice houses and probably a great deal of wealth, but I honestly never considered it to be a place that was filled with snobbery. In fact, if you even spent a small margin of significant time there, you would see it's quite the opposite.

Because Coppell knows the meaning of the word community.

It's the type of place where the entire town is at the high school football games on Friday nights. It's the type of place where almost everybody knows almost everybody. It's the type of place where kids grow up together and form lifelong relationships. It's the type of place where you can go to the grocery store and spend way more time there than you planned, because you ran into someone you know and ended up having a quality, deep conversation. It's the type of place where your neighbors look out for you and take care of your pets when you go out of town. It's the type of place where people are not above putting up their own Christmas lights. It's the type of place where it's perfectly acceptable for women to show up at places around town in sweats and no makeup. It's the type of place where people will ban together when they lose someone in the community. It's the type of place where selflessness and love are revealed daily. It's the type of place that many people move back to after they've finished college and started families of their own. It's the type of place that welcomes new people and makes them feel like they've been part of the community all along.

But it is not the type of place that is snobby.

Just because a city has nice homes and a lot of successful individuals doesn't make it a place full of people who think they are better than others. I lived in the same city for my entire childhood, and my family was actually not one of the wealthier ones. We lived in a fairly small house (especially compared to the ones that continued to be built as we grew up), and money was often hard to come by for us. But, in all of my years, I cannot think of one instance where people in Coppell made me feel like less of a person for that. Not once. Instead, they simply loved and respected me and treated my family like they would treat anyone else.

Mads is awesome

Then I read the description of what makes this place snobby, and I was a bit confused. The first thing was the educational success—the percentage of individuals who go on to earn college degrees was an actual "snob" qualification. A couple of other identifications were the price of homes and the average household income.

Can we please stop first to define what snobby actually means? It's when people act as if they are better than others. It's the attitudes of people that make them seem snobby—it cannot be based solely on what they have and don't have. You can be living in a box and be snobbier than someone living in a castle. If you saw this article and didn't know a thing about the cities listed, you would have completely skewed perceptions of them without ever getting to know the truth.

Maddie also made a great point: you could read just a piece of this and misinterpret it, much like people often take Bible verses completely out of context. Not all church leaders are going to be men (yes, I went there); not all women who wear braids are going to be prostitutes (times change, people); and not all people with expensive houses are going to be snobs. You can't just pull a verse from the Bible and apply it somewhere as you see fit if you're not even examining it in the context in which it was written. You can't just take a person and define that individual based on the circumstances in which he or she grew up.

Why do we continually judge people? Why must we still stereotype and lump people into groups by which we define them? Would it really be that awful if we just loved one another? It's not a perfect world by any means, and we will never be perfect people (I'm as flawed as they come), but we can make things so much better if we just lived with our hearts and not with our minds more often.

Before you say things about people you don't know, go spend time with them. Learn about them. Love them. You just may find that, in many ways, they really aren't that different from you. Are there snobby people in this world? Yes. Do some of them even live in my hometown? Surely. But that certainly doesn't make the entire place snobby. If I could tell every single person in this world one thing, it would be this: You are valued. You are loved. And you matter. It's not about where you come from or how much you have. It's about you being you.

And the heart is more revealing than any outside factor you'll ever see.

Hearts and love, not foam swords

Guys tend to run away from me.

And that even includes my own family members.

Both of my cousins have all boys, and I don't get to see them that often, so the five precious little ones were a bit shy at first when I tried talking to them on Thanksgiving. They are all still pretty young—from almost 9 years old to 3 or 4—and so they don't necessarily remember me all too well from past holidays and whatnot.

But that shyness quickly transformed into something else.

I don't even know how it all started, but the boys began pretending to be "spies" while I was peacefully watching football near the warm fire. I joined in, and soon I found myself hiding behind corners and trying to surprise attack them before they could do so to me. The next thing I knew, we were all upstairs with foam swords in our hands and beating one another senselessly. (Well, they were hitting me, and I was just using two swords to ward off their ambush.)

After probably too long—we were causing quite a ruckus in the house and possibly got in trouble for running through the kitchen—I finally told the boys that we were calling a truce. One shouted, "I don't even know what that means!" I explained it and essentially forced them to agree to a truce. Except the oldest. He couldn't be fooled into peace.

I went back downstairs and plopped myself in front of the game again, but it wasn't long before I had five or seven (I think some had two) foam swords pounding me on the head and in the face.

Yes, I own one...

Apparently I needed to re-explain the meaning of the word "truce."

I started telling them I was not going to fight them—I would only support hearts and love. I put my hands in a heart shape, but the boys immediately began attempting to break it with their swords. And then they ran from me when I tried to hug them. So hugs became my new form of weaponry, apparently.

This proceeded for a long time until both sets of boys' mothers noticed what was going on. They informed their adorable (they are still so cute even when they're being mean) sons that boys are not to hit girls and that they needed to hug me. Then all five of them, a few begrudgingly, gave me hugs. From that moment, the true truce began, and we were friends again. We were family. They were sweet to me the rest of the evening, let me help them get food and stop a nosebleed, and all willingly hugged me again when I left for the night.

I can't exactly speak for the boys, but I'm going to, anyway, and say that we were all happier when we were being kind. And I learned a few things from those boys that night:

Love warms the heart. I'm not going to lie, even though the boys turned on pretty much everyone (except for their moms and dads, my aunt, and my mom) and used their swords against my brother, my dad, and my uncle, I still didn't like being attacked by them. And it wasn't just because they were messing up my hair. But their hugs were so sweet that they made me forget all about the previous war atmosphere, and when the youngest kissed me on the cheek, my heart melted.

It's better to know people than show people. When you're trying to show people that you can outsmart them, you aren't helping anyone. But, when you're actually able to talk to people you can get to know so much more about them. It's hard to have meaningful conversations with others when you both have swords in your hands, and you can absolutely have a deep, quality chat with a young kid—even if it is about desserts.

Love always wins. When the boys were reminded by their mothers that they need to be kind and loving to people, their demeanors completely changed. Love sure won that battle pretty easily. No shocker there.

I've said it many times before, and I will never stop saying it: I love love. It's just such a wonderful thing, and it truly changes the way we make people feel. When we are hurtful to others, it causes hearts pain, and I can't imagine how it could truly make anyone feel joyous about treating someone else in such a negative way. But, when you love, there's a genuine warmth that can't be chilled. Sure, it's often challenging to love people, but I just don't see how it can ever be the wrong choice.

Hearts and love, people. Hearts and love.

When you have your people

There are some things I am fully qualified to do but avoid doing as much as possible.

Like driving a bus.

I had been somewhat dreading last Friday, because I knew it meant I was going to have to drive a bus. With children on it. I'm a very confident driver (probably sometimes a bit too confident) when I'm cruising around Dallytown or making my forever-long work commute to Canada and back every weekday, but there's something that gives me real anxiety about driving a bus. I was required to get my CDL when I was coaching, but I only drove a bus full of athletes once, and it was a situation where I was the only option available.

And that was almost two years ago.

I really didn't want to have to drive, but I had a promise to fulfill. You see, my students had earned a mini field trip to Cane's (which is seriously less than a mile from our school), and I had to be the one to take them there. My kids were counting on me, and I could not—and would not—even think about letting them down. I always encourage them to be fearless in all they do and to give their best in all situations, and I obviously could not hypocritically not follow my own advice.

As soon as we loaded the bus Friday afternoon, I started sweating. Even though I aced my driving test during the actual process of obtaining this cursed license, there is something different about being in a real-life situation without another licensed adult in the vehicle with you to take over in case you prove to be a destructive disaster. Instead, I had 11 individuals super excited about getting to go to off-campus lunch and all fully confident in my abilities to get them there safely.

Great crew

The trip started off rough. The brakes felt rusty, and it took me multiple times to press on them without feeling like I would send everyone flying forward; the doors flew open, but thankfully we weren't going fast enough yet, and the kids were all sitting in the back, anyway, so I stopped to have a student come pull the lever to make sure the doors remained closed tightly; I was still sweating; I was too nervous to go the set speed limit, and one student yelled from the back to ask me if we would get to Cane's before Thanksgiving; there were other cars on the road; I was still sweating; there was a super small turn space when we actually entered the Cane's parking lot, and I wasn't sure I was going to make the squeeze (in fact, I briefly paused and gave up, thinking I would need to call someone to come rescue us all from this horrid predicament, but I said a little prayer, and God got us all out of that pickle with only one tiny curb check); and I invented my own parking spot in some grass.

Once we got inside, the kids cracked a few jokes but also tried to make me feel better by telling me I did a good job. I love them. Then, they all wanted to go around the table and share what they were thankful for, and they pretty much all said what they were thankful for in regard to our precious class. If I were a crier, I would have been bawling. They warmed my heart more than anyone outside of the teaching profession would likely ever think teenagers could. It was the most beautiful lunch anyone could ever have at a grease-filled fried chicken establishment, and I wouldn't have changed a thing about it.

My mood changed, though, as we walked out to the bus, because all I could think about was the dreaded drive back to the school. It was a complicated exit from Cane's, and I wasn't confident in my abilities to be successful.

But Someone else was. And He gave me just what I needed.

Three of my students sat at the front of the bus rather than at the back with the others, and one of them said to me, "Ms. Merrill, we believe in you. We don't care how long it takes to get back, but you can do this." Then another added, "You're always there for us, so it's our turn to be there for you. We will be sitting here if you need anything." They talked to me the entire way, and I forgot about being so nervous. I forgot about all of my worries, and I knew everything was going to be just fine. I had my people with me.

Life can get hard sometimes—even more challenging than driving a big yellow titanic submarine on wheels—and it's even more daunting when you have to face those situations when you feel like you're all alone. But, if you surround yourself with people who truly care about you and will be there for you when you need them the most, you might find strength that you never knew you had. I fully believe with all of my heart that God puts the right people in our lives at the exact moments we need them—and He can use anyone.

There will be times in life when your bus doors fly open, or you feel stuck in a parking lot, or you feel completely overwhelmed and unsure how you will possibly reach your destination in one piece. But you aren't alone. You're never alone. Know that there is always a voice trying to whisper to you, "I believe in you." I hope you hear it.

And I hope you have your people there with you.

Nothing compares to you

I have to give major props to Sinéad O'Connor.

Homegirl knew what she was talking about.

Last week, one of my students was looking at a picture of a celebrity online, and she said, "Man, I can never get my hair to look like hers. Why does she have to be so pretty?" The girl next to her replied with, "I know—she's perfect."

And my heart broke.

As a high school teacher, I constantly hear young ladies say bad things about their own appearances and compare themselves to others. Then, when they do think they are looking their bests, they immediately take selfless and post to Instagram and Twitter to get as many "likes" as possible. Now, I'm not shaming the selfie completely, as I've certainly taken them with my friends, but I'm questioning the purpose.

When did it become so standard for people—particularly women—to size themselves up to other women and feel less-than-beautiful when they think they don't measure up to a certain type of appearance? The thing is, we aren't all supposed to look the same. We were each fearfully and wonderfully made (see Psalm 139:14), and it's useless to think we should have to look like other people.

I've mentioned before that I once tried to get rid of my freckles, but it was such a waste of time and energy. Truth be told, rather than focusing so much on trying to change some physical aspect of my body, I really should have been focusing more on my heart. The love that radiates and shines from within a person is much more powerful than anything on the outside.

People should read this

And you shouldn't feel like you have to change the way you look to impress others. They should love you as you are—and someone will truly appreciate those "flaws" you think you have. (Actually, there is Someone who already does.) I know my chest isn't turning heads; my hair gets frizzy and full of static sometimes; I don't have Beyoncé's bootyliciousness; my freckles are still here; my nails are always short and are seemingly incapable of growing longer; my ears are really tiny; I have a chipped tooth from when a volleyball pole fell on my head; I have a scar above my right eye from when I went flying into the corner of a bench—and I'm sure there are many other things about me that could be "fixed."

Because, as it turns out, I don't look like Blake Lively, and Ryan Reynolds is not my main squeeze. (I know—shocking.) You know why I'm not like Blake Lively? Because I'm Natalie. She's supposed to be Blake, and I'm supposed to be Natalie.

You are you for a reason, so be you. Just like Sinéad O'Connor sings, "Nothing compares, nothing compares, nothing compares to youuuuu." (You might have thought I'd never get back to that point, so there you go. You're welcome.) Stop comparing yourself to people you see plastered all over the Internet. Stop comparing your looks to those around you. Instead, compare your heart to what you want it to be. Are you loving enough? Are you living in grace? Are you compassionate to others?

Your sufficiency isn't in how people respond to your body image. There's a difference in being confident in the person you are and in needing others to validate that confidence. Social media can be great for many things, but it can be so detrimental in many other ways. When you look in the mirror, I hope you see beyond just the reflection looking back at you. That person you see is full of so much beauty and so much potential to impact the world in positive ways. And I hope you remember something so important and so true.

Nothing compares to you—and I hope you sing that loudly and proudly as you see that reflection every day.

We're not settlers

There are some things in life for which there are absolutely no substitutes.

(e.g. Wheat Thins.)

I was at the grocery store recently, and a lot of shelves were being restocked at the time. As my luck would have it, of course, this impacted my favorite snack ever invented: Wheat Thins. There weren't any on the shelf, which is quite obviously a dreadful situation in which to find yourself. An employee walking by asked, "Ma'am, is there something I can help you with?" I told him I needed Wheat Thins, and he told me they would be out soon, but if I didn't want to wait then the ones in the blue box were just as good, and he handed me some off-brand box with the words "THIN WHEATS" printed across the front.

Umm, no.

I declined and told him I would wait. You see, with most things I am perfectly fine purchasing the generic brands, but I have two uncompromising exceptions: Wheat Thins and Jif peanut butter. I feel no need to explain this.

If I had purchased those other crackers, I know it would have been a decision I would regret later. I would open the unfamiliar box and taste some bland product that could in no way live up to the perfection that is a Wheat Thin. I'm not sorry about this, but nothing even comes close. I would rather wait on the stock boy taking his time to get to the cracker aisle or drive to a completely different store so that I could have my Wheat Thins. They are worth it.

Plus, I'm not big on settling.

Perfection

I've mentioned before that I've never dated, which a lot of people think is strange seeing as how I'm now 30. (I still feel weird saying that age.) I often have people suggest that I "try the online thing," or every once in a while someone knows the "perfect" match for me, but he's likely only perfect for me because he's single, too. I hear people tell me to date around to have fun and maybe meet a nice guy. But, to me, that's like buying the crackers I didn't want. Sometimes you know that things just aren't right for you, and you don't want to settle. Everyone is different, and we are all going to like different things and take different paths. I'm perfectly fine with waiting for Prince Charming to come along, and I'm perfectly fine if he never comes, and I'm single forever. But I'm not going to go through a bunch of thin wheat boxes trying to find him. I'll wait for the real deal.

I'm not saying I won't give people chances, nor am I suggesting that for others. I'm all about taking risks, but I do believe sometimes you just know—you have this intrinsic feeling—that someone isn't right for you. And you don't necessarily have to go on a date to figure that out. I realize many people don't agree with this, but that's fine. We don't have to agree, because we aren't the same people, and we aren't living the same lives. But, if you know someone is or isn't right for you, then I think you should go with your gut.

If there's something in life that you don't want to compromise on, then don't. When you know something else is worth the wait, then wait. It's worth it—you're worth it. Sometimes it seems like God takes longer than the stock boy, but just practice a little patient endurance.

Because when you get that precious golden box, you'll be glad you didn't settle.

Because love and sports

I love sports, and I love love.

I guess it makes sense, because the two things are wonderfully similar.

You don't have to agree with me, and that's ok, because I will still believe it, anyway. Love and sports are simply very much alike.

The teamwork. Relationships can't be carried by one person. Teams can't be carried by one person. (Make your Michael Jordan arguments all you want, but he needed the other guys in each of his championships. Just ask Steve Kerr.) You have to work together toward a common goal, and it's going to be a really rough journey if you aren't on the same page. One word: chemistry.

The passion. When you are on the field or court, you put your heart into everything you do. There is nothing you're willing to let stop you in your quest for victory. Just look at the faces of Pete Sampras (that's right, I'm going old school) and LeBron James when they're in the heat of the battle. They dare you to mess with them. When you're in love, you put your heart into everything you do. Nothing and no one can stand in your way. You dare anyone to mess with you. Just look at Jack in Titanic. He got them off that boat, and he didn't even let bullies or frozen waters keep Rose from surviving.

That moment of greatness. Every once in a while, someone gets the chance to be a big hero in the sports world. Maybe you get to step up to the plate with the bases loaded in the bottom of the ninth, and you knock it out of the park for the walk-off grand slam. Or maybe you hit the buzzer beater to win by one. Or you throw the hail mary pass that hits your receiver perfectly on the numbers for the touchdown. And the crowd goes wild. Every once in a while, someone gets the chance to do something bold in the name of love. Maybe you get to haul tail through the airport and make a dramatic scene so that your soulmate won't board the plane and be gone from your life forever. Or maybe you declare your love for your Prince Charming in the middle of the street in the pouring down rain while wearing your best dress. Or you give up your entire day to help the man of your dreams who doesn't even realize what you're doing until you boldly tell him it's because you love him (that was a really good episode of Party of Five).

Give me football

The benchwarmers who never give up hope. You're always going to have those people on the team who just won't quit--the ones who show up early to every practice, put in extra hours of practice, never play a single minute of any game, yet still sit on the edges of their seats as if the coaches will surely call on them next. The hope is so pure and so beautiful. You're always going to have those people who can never seem to find love, but they are always hopeful for that fairytale ending to happen one day. They know love exists, and they never stop believing. Some call them hopeless. They won't agree, though. It's pure, and it's beautiful.

The celebration. When you win a championship—or maybe you're a losing team who finally just wins a game—you rejoice. And you do so together. You dog pile in the middle of the court. You tackle the hero at home plate. You trip over your skates as you rush to the chaotic huddle on the ice. You join the fans as they somehow they manage to bring the goal post to the ground. You immediately run to embrace your coach or loved ones when you cross the finish line in first place. You rip of your shirt as all of your teammates storm the field to join you in glory (Brandi Chastain became a legend that day). You celebrate together. The same is true with love. You celebrate together, because, as Jack Johnson says, "It's always better when we're together."

In sports, the main goal is usually to win. But it's also a journey along the way. You grow in the person you are, because sports help individuals develop character and poise. In love, you're trying to win but in a different way. And it's certainly a journey. You grow in the person you are, because love will test your limits, help you develop patience and understanding, and teach you so much about life that you thought you already knew but really had no clue.

You won't always win in sports, but you will learn to appreciate even the losses, for they help you strive toward success. You won't always win in love, but you learn to appreciate the heartaches and pain, for they help you become the person you were meant to be and make you stronger. And there's something about real, genuine love that will always be true. Allow me to quote Jack Johnson one more time: "Love is the answer, at least for most of the questions in my heart."

Love always wins.

You can actually learn from books

I think some of the most important things we learn in life are during childhood.

Thank you, Dr. Seuss.

One day last week, I was feeling a bit overwhelmed, so I decided to go to Barnes & Noble. You see, when I was in college, I would often go pick up a book from the children's section whenever I didn't want to think about all of the tests I had or money I owed or whatever else was weighing on my shoulders. I would escape into the stories I heard a hundred times as a kid, because it would also help me escape to a time when I didn't worry about things so much. Life was more carefree.

I think we could actually learn a lot from kids.

Last week when I returned to this tactic, I picked up Green Eggs and Ham, because I remember how my mom used to read it to my sister and me when we were little and how she would always remind me of this story when I didn't want to eat certain foods (I'm kind of a picky eater). After I finished reading—it goes by so much faster when you're not a little kid listening to your mom—I sat there and thought about it for a while. Do I give green eggs and ham a chance?

Now, no, you should not feel like you have to give into the peer pressure of the Sam-I-Am people in your life, but you shouldn't always have the closed-off mindset of the stubborn guy who at first refuses to try the new dish. Every once in a while, it's good to try something new.

Especially when it scares the crap out of you.

As I sat in the bookstore, two moments of my life popped into my head. The first was actually a collection of moments and occurred when I was in college at Texas A&M. For some reason, I refused to say the word "howdy." Ever. If you aren't familiar with the tradition, it's just a thing almost every Aggie says, and I couldn't do it. In fact, I called it the "H-word" and wouldn't even say it when referring to others saying it. People would pass me, say "Howdy" to me, and I would simply reply with "Hi," "Hello," or "How's it going?" Maybe if I had let myself say the word—even just once—I would have felt more immersed in the culture, stayed at that school, and actually enjoyed my college experience. Maybe it wouldn't have changed anything. But I will never know, because I didn't try something new. I insisted on being stubborn rather than bold.

Go for it

The second instance happened Saturday when I was reading by my pool. It's technically "fall" (whatever that means), so the pool water temperature is actually really cold right now, but this particular day was warm enough to be poolside with a book. I was brave enough to put my feet in the pool (barely), but that was it. I vowed not to think about doing anything too crazy.

Until I thought about it.

It was getting really hot, and I actually hate sitting outside in the heat by a pool and not being in the water. But I don't get in cold pools. I just don't. I hate the cold—and I mean every letter of the word hate. But I thought back to Green Eggs and Ham, and I suddenly wanted to jump in the pool. So I did. (Well, sort of. I am shallow and didn't want to get my hair wet, so I half-jumped, half-slid in there. Whatever. It counts.) I didn't actually accomplish anything in this feat, except that I did—I did something I've always been afraid to do. And it felt pretty good, minus the numbness running through my body.

There are times when it's fine to have your mind completely made up about something and not budge one bit. But then there are those moments when you have the chance to do something bold—something fearless—and give yourself an opportunity you may have never had if you had held back. Don't let those pass you by. Jump in the cold water while saying, "And I will eat them in the rain!" (Or whatever your version of eating green eggs and ham looks like for you.)

Don't be afraid to take advice from Dr. Seuss—he did pretty well for himself.

When you're singing ABBA songs

I feel like ABBA really gets me.

And it's not just because I'm a dancing queen.

I remember years ago on Mike & Mike in the Morning, Mike Greenberg became obsessed with playing the song, "Take a Chance on Me" leading up to the NFL Draft. (If I recall correctly, he was mainly using it for Matt Leinart.) Thanks to hearing it so frequently during my morning commutes to class, I fell in love with the song. After all, I can totally relate to it.

I'm 30 now, and as I've mentioned before I've never been on a date. (Whatever. It's cool.) I have, however, found myself sitting on the sidelines singing ABBA's lyrics. If for some bizarre reason you are unfamiliar with the song to which I'm referring, allow me to help you out:

"If you change your mind, I'm the first in line

Honey, I'm still free; take a chance on me

If you need me, let me know; gonna be around

If you've got no place to go, if you're feeling down

If you're all alone when the pretty birds have flown

Honey, I'm still free; take a chance on me

Gonna do my very best, and it ain't no lie

If you put me to the test, if you let me try

Take a chance on me; take a chance on me"

So, basically, the person in the song really wants to be given a chance.

I'm sure we've all felt this way. Maybe you were once the kid sitting on the bench just praying the coach would turn to you and tell you to get in the game. Or perhaps you leaned up against the wall at the school dances just hoping that someone would come take your hand to twirl you around the floor. And your own version of ABBA's song played in your head while you waited for something that never happened.

But all it takes is one.

It's sort of a fitting picture

In the 2000 NFL Draft, a quarterback didn't go in the first round…or the second round…or the third. In fact, he wasn't taken until pick number 199 in the sixth round. Perhaps you've heard of Tom Brady? He's kind of made a name for himself now, but it's because someone finally took a chance on him. And he wasn't even the top quarterback for the Patriots in his first season—he was the fourth string. But he didn't let that stop him from working to ensure that someone would take a chance on him again. I'd say that worked out pretty well for him. (By the way, it took a lot out of me to type all of that. I can't stand the Patriots.)

There are so many examples in life of people who have been persistent in their endeavors so that others will take chances on them. Some are famous actors, musicians, or athletes. But most are everyday people like you and me who have still had big dreams come true, because they waited for their chances.

All it takes is one.

I'm currently trying to get a book published, and I've dealt with some rejection thus far. It can be pretty disheartening when publishers or literary agents won't even bother reading it. But I'm hopeful that someone out there will take a chance on me. Because all it takes is one. And maybe some fella I fancy will actually return my interest, take me on a date, and sparks will fly forever. Because all it takes is one.

Maybe you are waiting for someone to take a chance on you right now, or perhaps you need to take a chance on someone or something. But, even if we don't get some of those chances we hope for in our lives, it's OK. Jesus took a chance on us when He died on the cross, and that's the greatest chance-taking there ever was, anyway. It opened the doors for more opportunity and more love than we will ever know from any other chances any people ever give us.

After all, all it takes is One.