Clear the table

There are times when you can find true value in lyrics in Ace of Base songs.

Like Don't Turn Around.

Last week, I was at dinner with some friends and turned to see something on a table that people had just left that reminded me of something from my past. It's possible I then suggested that table should be set on fire, a reaction my friend I said it to scolded me for having. He reminded me that I don't need to look back but should instead focus on now and what's ahead.

I'm not going to lie, at first I was quite frustrated he wasn't agreeing with me. I mean, shouldn't he be busting out a pack of matches at that point to torch that sucker?? (Totally kidding, sort of.) But I realize he had a valid point, though I didn't necessarily want to acknowledge it at the time.

We glanced back again, and the table had been cleared of everything as if nothing had been there before.

What had been was all just a distant memory.

We all have recollections from our pasts that perhaps we would not like to let enter our minds, but sometimes they jump out at us unexpectedly. While it's not always as easy as simply making them disappear with one fell swoop, it's usually best to clear that table as soon as possible and not focus on what will only bring you down. If it's something that never was, there's no point in dwelling on what might have been; if it's something that truly hurt you, it doesn't make sense to let it resurface and cause you more unnecessary pain.

Make room for the now

We can't change the past. It happened. And I do think it's quite important to live in the now in reality and not in things we once hoped for—you don't want to end up like Uncle Rico. How can you be living life to its fullest and making way for a great future if you're constantly looking behind you? Instead, it's best to clear those tables and stop turning around to look at what was once there.

Things that happened once upon a time are necessary, as they are part of each of our own unique stories—they help shape the people we are now. But there's a reason we aren't living in that time anymore; there's purpose as to why those things once were but are no more; there's a plan made by Someone much wiser than we are, and we just need to trust that He knows what He's doing.

After all, if you just leave all of the old, dirty items on a table after people leave, there's no room for the new, wonderful opportunities that enter your life at the exact moments they are supposed to do so.

Catch the right fever

It's really challenging to be thankful when you're suffering.

Especially when that suffering comes in the form of three dreaded letters: f-l-u.

I had to miss work Friday, because I wasn't feeling well at all. I was a little worried, because my sister and I were supposed to leave Saturday morning and drive down to Houston so I could run in the half marathon there on Sunday. I spent most of Friday trying to sleep off whatever it was that had me feeling so crummy.

It didn't work.

I woke up Saturday and went on my shakeout run. That was a horrible idea. Every step felt like an enormous amount of effort—like I weighed a million pounds—and I wanted to die. That might sound dramatic, but those were the thoughts going through my head: weighing a million pounds and death.

My parents and sister had advised me late on Friday that I shouldn't make the trip to Houston, and it wasn't until after my run on Saturday that I had to concede. If I was planning my funeral on a four-miler, how the heck was I supposed to survive 13.1 at race pace? Not gonna happen. Plus, that would be a miserable car ride for both my sister and me.

So I went to the doctor, instead. Diagnosis? The flu.

I don't believe I've ever had the flu, and quite honestly I hate it. Seriously, the flu can die. I will not be sad. However, I have learned some things with this heinous illness.

Lesson 1: Our plans don't always happen

Duh. I already knew this one but was reminded even more so. I was really hoping for a fast race in Houston, but I currently can't even think about running one mile fast. I'm really not sure why this happened, and I'm not even going to pretend to understand. But it happened, it's reality, and I have to accept it and move on.

Lesson 2: What works for others isn't necessarily right for you

People rave about the wonders of Tamiflu, and so I was super pumped when the doctor prescribed it, thinking it would be a faster cure for my misery. Well, it turns out I'm allergic to the magic medicine, and instead of feeling better more quickly I developed a rash all over my stomach, which then spread to my hands and feet. I've never been much of a crowd follower, anyway.

Lesson 3: We often forget logic

Sometimes we become so wrapped up in our own little worlds that we don't always think clearly about anything other than ourselves. I was on the phone with my mom on Saturday night, and she was asking me if my 101-degree fever had gone down and was then advising me that I needed to drink ginger ale. I told her I didn't have any, and she sweetly offered to bring me some—mind you, it was almost 9 p.m., and she lives about 30 minutes away. Rather than be thankful she offered and express a grateful reply, I recall saying, "No, mom, I don't want ginger ale. I'm about to brush my teeth, and then it will taste bad!" I was so absorbed in my own pain that I couldn't even appreciate the loving gesture someone was trying to make for me. I think this is more common that it should be in our world.

Lesson 4: Candy is good

I realize too much candy is bad for your teeth, but there are moments in life when you just don't care about that. The past few days, I have found it quite difficult to hold much down. However, I've been able to eat Jolly Ranchers like a pro, so those have been a strong staple of my flu diet. Yes, I know I need more, and I'm certainly trying, but my stomach has been very weak during this mess. (I miss real food.)

Lesson 5: It's the little things

As I mentioned, it's really difficult to find the joy amidst the misery. So, what I've been trying to do during this time is find little things that are actually good. For instance, I've caught up on so much missed sleep, which I think I really needed to do. Also, I've lived in sweats the past few days, and my amount of laundry has decreased. I think I also told my friend Laz that everything hurts except for my teeth, so I am thankful that I do not have any pain in my teeth. It's important to smile, especially in times of struggle, so I think it's necessary to try to find the little things that are positives when you really just want to be negative. Negativity is just not pretty.

Lesson 6: People care

I honestly can't express how thankful I am for the people in my life. I've had a few people text and call me every single day—and sometimes multiple times throughout the day—asking me how I'm feeling, and I am not the slightest bit annoyed by it. They also offer to bring me whatever I need, which warms my heart to think people are so caring. Honestly, unless they have magical healing powers, there's really nothing I need, but it's the thought that is so sweet. (Plus, they'd probably need to wear face masks and decontaminate all of their clothes once they left.) But people are the silver lining: being sick is not enjoyable by any means, but realizing that you have people in your life who care enough to reach out to you is a sure reason to find joy and give thanks.

And it certainly warms the heart enough to combat any chills the stupid flu can bring.

Icky worms

Sometimes the wisest people you encounter aren't even tall enough to go on all of the rides at amusement parks.

And they certainly don't have prestigious academic degrees and titles.

I was getting froyo the other day, and I couldn't help but be drawn to the conversation going on between a mom and her young daughter. The little girl got very upset—and understandably so—when her mom tried to put gummy worms in the girl's yogurt cup. Now, normally I love gummies, but these were the sour kind, so the child was completely justified in her protest to such an addition. I couldn't help but giggle and nod my head in agreement when the mom asked her daughter why not, and the girl yelled out, "I don't want those icky worms near my pretty yogurt!"

Now that's just sound logic.

I glanced down at her yogurt, and she was right—it was certainly very pretty. In her young age, she had somehow managed to combine just the perfect ratio of candy to yogurt. It was colorful and lacked any amount of ickiness to it, so the sour worms would have completely ruined her marvelous concoction.

Gross

As I finished creating my own cup of greatness, I couldn't help but think of just how much wisdom could be found in such an innocent statement: "I don't want those icky worms near my pretty yogurt!" Life is full of so bad many things that can sour even the most wonderful times, leaving us staring at cups full of tainted froyo, so to speak. But, just like the little girl at the frozen yogurt counter, we have the option not to allow them to bring ugliness into our lives.

Yet far too often we pile them on top, anyway.

And it can be something as simple as a bad attitude. Each day, you get the choice to decide what your outlook on life will be: you can choose to embrace each situation you're given—including the awful ones—and try to find joy and hope within the struggles, or you can opt to complain about the unfairness and let everyone around you feel your misery. Essentially, you can have pretty and delicious yogurt, or you can put the icky worms in place and not enjoy a single spoonful.

Life is too short for sourness to win. I know I would much rather leave those worms at the counter and not let them spoil any amount of joy to be experienced. You make time for the things you want in life, and I would prefer not to make time for things that will only bring people down. This gift we've been given to live here on earth is a precious one and should be treated just as if it were some innocent little girl's dairy delicacy.

Once again, it's faith like a child that teaches so much truth.

Freckles aren't that bad

It's not always easy to be thankful for things that we certainly don't wish were in our lives.

But it's quite often those very things that help make us the people we are.

Every year around this time, people start reflecting more on the blessings they've been given during the past year, as well as the things they wish they could change. They might resolve to go about the next 365 days differently than they ever have, whether that means being more diligent in certain areas of their lives or forming habits that make them better overall people. Whatever it may be, there's a general acknowledgement that the new year provides a "fresh start" that is sure to bring new opportunities and better results.

But there are certain things in life we really cannot control.

This year I am thankful for the things I never wanted—even if it is taking me longer actually to find that thankfulness.

When I was a little girl, I hated the fact that I was covered in freckles. I went to some extremes—even after reading the brilliance of Judy Blume's Freckle Juice—and rubbed a lemon all over my face in hopes of removing all of those silly dots. Needless to say, that method failed. My freckles were still there when I looked in the mirror a few minutes later. So much for instant gratification, lemon.

Now, however, I'm thankful for my freckles, because I know they help make up who I am. I even appreciate the fact that I have random freckles that seem out-of-place, such as the one on the side of my left foot.

But there are also some more serious things that don't bring joy at the time but are actually blessings.

Like broken hearts.

Even though I've never been in a relationship, I still know what it feels like to be hurt by someone. And now I know what it feels like to have a broken heart. While it's certainly not something I've embraced by any means, I know it's something that had to happen as part of my journey. I'm still learning how to deal with it (with the help of many Taylor Swift songs, of course), and it's teaching me a deeper level of trust and faith. It's not something I had anticipated to happen in 2013, and it's definitely not something I'm wishing upon shooting stars for this year. It was just one of those things that ruins the plans you were never supposed to be making, anyway.

I'm not going to look back over the past year and be upset or spiteful, and I am not going to tell myself that I will never be hurt again, because it could happen. And that's not something I want to be afraid of—I'd rather just be bold and trust that I can handle whatever comes my way. I have no clue why things over the last year happened the way they did. It was all part of God's plan that I will never pretend to understand. Really the only thing to do is throw your cares into the wind and trust that whatever He has in store for you is better than anything you could conjure up in your wildest dreams.

Even when it hurts.

I know I'm supposed to be thankful in all situations, and I am trying to learn to be thankful for heartache. Obviously that's not the easiest thing to do, and I certainly don't claim to be at the point yet where I can say I've expressed genuine gratefulness for this, but I'm aiming to get there. Truthfully, a broken heart really sucks, and it doesn't make a person want to go around with a joyful Pollyanna attitude at even given moment. But, for some reason, God doesn't follow our play books and often teaches us to have patient endurance and simply give thanks even for the things that we don't necessarily want or understand.

Because real trust is faithful even when it's most difficult.

Perhaps learning to be thankful for the hard times is really just being thankful for a God who carries us through them and never breaks His promises.