You won't be rejected forever

It's not the end of the world to be turned down, even if it hurts sometimes.

I used to have somewhat of a fear of rejection. The idea of not being wanted seemed hurtful, and I didn't want to have to experience it.

Now I just don't care.

I've come to understand that rejection is simply a part of life. I mean, let's be honest, you've probably rejected someone or something at some point in your life—the answer can't always be "yes."

I remember once in high school asking a guy I had a crush on to go see a movie with me. I wasn't meaning for it to be a date, but this was kind of a huge step for me, because I am usually a coward when it comes to being even remotely bold with guys I like. (Granted, I asked him over AOL Instant Messenger, so it wasn't exactly daredevil status, but it felt pretty significant at the time.) I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little upset when he declined.

He said he couldn't find his wallet.

Not a good note

I vowed never to ask any guy to hang out again. Ever.

Then, in my freshman year of college, I experienced the most rejection I'd ever known in the span of less than two minutes. There are a variety of freshman organizations at Texas A&M, and I had applied for four of them. People had told me these were great options for connecting with other people, making new friends, and overall just enjoying the college experience. I thought my interviews with a couple of them had gone great, and I was pretty sure I was a shoe-in and would have to make a difficult decision in choosing which freshman leadership organization (or FLO, if you want to be snazzy in the lingo) to be a part of for the rest of my first year of school.

And then I checked my mail.

I don't know how many people can say they've opened back-to-back-to-back-to-back rejection letters, but I sure can. I remember just sitting there in the Memorial Student Center feeling so unwanted. Rather than be strong, I took it as a sign that maybe I wasn't supposed to be at A&M, and it was one reason I didn't return the second semester. (Yes, I returned the following year, but that's a story in itself.)

Over the years, I've developed a different perspective on rejection and am not afraid of it anymore. One of my goals is to live life boldly, and you can't do that if you're constantly worried about doors being slammed in your face. There's something I'm currently pursuing, and I've definitely had multiple rejections come my way in the process. But, if Taylor Swift has taught me anything about going door-to-door to Nashville record companies trying to get people to listen to her music, it's that you have to be persistent.

You might not get into every college you want; you might not land every job for which you apply; you might have a guy turn you down when you ask him to see a movie; you might get turned down when you apply for a loan of some sort; someone might not accept your friendship request on Facebook (happened to me recently); or you might be the girl who is sitting by herself during all of the slow songs, because you're too afraid to ask anyone to dance.

Don't be that girl.

If nothing else, at least go twirl around the dance floor by yourself. But don't be afraid of rejection. It doesn't make you any less of a person if someone or something doesn't want you.

Because there is One who will never reject you once you accept Him.

Don't get frozen and miss out

I really don't like missing out on good opportunities.

Especially when Disney movies are involved.

I don't go to the movie theaters often, and, other than a documentary I saw last summer, I'm pretty sure the last movie I saw on the big screen was Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2. (Judge all you want—the first one was awesome.) I'm sure I have valid reasons: I don't like the anxiety of not being able to find a seat where I'm completely centered, I struggle to stay comfortable for extended periods of time, I don't like not being able to talk or hear if I have questions about the film, and I usually can't make it through an entire movie without having to go to the restroom. Wow, I just described a toddler. Oh, I also don't like having to pay so much money for one movie. Ok, I feel a bit more adult now.

Like I said, I feel pretty justified in my avoidance of movie theaters. However, I had a pretty solid plan of taking myself to the movies for Valentine's Day on Friday night to see Frozen, which I've been wanting to see ever since it was released. (If you're curious why I hadn't already seen it, please see the previous paragraph.) Imagine, if you will, being a little kid and hearing the ice cream truck outside. You sit around for a few minutes, maybe finishing up your video game or television show or just being lazy before you start running around the house looking for your mom—and any possibility of loose change—so that you can have some money for a treat. Then, you finally get the money and book it out the door only to find that sketch truck filled with your potential happiness is nowhere in sight. The music is now just a faint sound in the distance. You had waited too long, and your chance for frozen bliss was gone.

Don't sue me, Disney

That's how I felt when I looked at the beginning of the week and didn't see Frozen playing in any theater near me for Friday.

I was devastated, to say the least. The one time I was actually going to go to a movie theater wasn't going to happen simply because I had waited too long. I scolded myself for not seizing an opportunity when it had been in front of me for so long.

Now, had I been smart, I would have checked back later in the week, because I just noticed today that there are updated showtimes, and it appears Frozen is indeed still making viewers smile. So I didn't just miss out once on seeing this tale that has so many people—even my high school kiddos—raving, but I missed out a second time by giving up hope.

Talk about a happy Valentine's Day.

We encounter so many different situations in life full of various opportunities, and it hurts to have to think about what might have been when we don't take those chances. And when they do seem to escape our grasps, we can't just give up on things that we know are meant to be. By golly, I will see Frozen. Tuesday seems like a good day for that.

And, unlike the lyrics of the song I already know so well from the movie, you shouldn't always just "let it go."

Your art matters

Every once in a while, a quote comes along that sticks with you because of the valuable life truth that it holds.

While many of these obviously come from Full House, there's one in particular that can only be found in the incredibly profound One Tree Hill.

There's a pivotal moment in the first season when Lucas enters the gym after contemplating not playing basketball, and he says to Peyton (the girl he has loved since the moment he saw her), "Your art matters. It's what got me here." Peyton is an artist and sketches often, but she had told Lucas that what she did wasn't important. He disagreed.

Years later, Peyton returns to Tree Hill and throws Lucas' words back at him: "It's like you touched my soul. And a few days ago I was ready to quit again, but you saved me with the words you wrote about me in your novel. So, if you're struggling to write the next one, you should know that your art matters, Lucas. It's what got me here."

We all have different things that we do that help make us who we are. Some of us are artists, some are musicians, some are writers, some are athletes, some are performers, and some are able to impact the people around us in various other ways. But, regardless of whatever it is that makes you special, it matters.

And sometimes we don't even realize how much we are impacting others with our "arts."

My sister is one of the most precious gifts to this world, and she always knows the right thing to say to me at the exact moment I need it. In a sense, I think this is a special art that she was given to be able to provide both comfort and smiles to others when their hearts are hurting. I honestly cannot recall a time when I've been feeling down and not felt better after talking to her. And it's not like she always says things that are full of deep intellect or insight—sometimes they are just so flat-out ridiculous and witty that you have no choice but to forget all of your troubles and let laughter lighten up your soul.

Her art matters.

Whether she knows it or not, her silly words and attitude are important and impactful. Whether you know it or not, the gifts you've been given are important and impactful, as well. It's one more reason I think it's so essential that you need to be the best you possible, because God gave you unique characteristics about you that were meant to shine light into the world in different ways.

You may not write the Great American Novel; you may never conduct a famous symphony; you may never have a sculpture or painting displayed in a museum; you may never win a Grammy or an Oscar or a Tony; you may never make the SportsCenter highlight reel; you may never do anything that makes headlines of any sort. But you have the power to impact people in your life more than you may ever know, so don't ever think that anything you have to contribute to this world is insignificant.

Because, to the One who matters more than anything, your art matters.

Your own love

I think mothers often instill wisdom in their children without even knowing it.

And sometimes in the silliest of circumstances.

My mom hates Porta-Potties. I mean hates them. She claims she is incapable of using them, which is unfortunate, because that's usually her only option when she comes to my races. But she continues to refuse to go near them, even if that means making a two-mile round trip walk in the bitter cold and wind to Albertson's and back like she did yesterday. While my dad and I thought she was ridiculous, she thought it was perfectly normal.

After the race, I was super cold and honestly didn't want to do any sort of cool down but knew I should probably jog just a little. My mom offered to run with me, which I thought was funny based solely on what she was wearing. Nonetheless, she ran with me, insisting we stop and rest for a few seconds at our halfway-mark tree. I love my mom, and I really love that she doesn't care about what anyone around her thinks of her.

Shortly after our brief jaunt, my mom told me about how on her walk back from Albertson's she found a knife laying on the ground on the side of the road. She said she didn't touch it but went straight to a cop at the race site and told him what she saw, noting "it was no butter knife." You might have had to see her precious expression as she was recounting all of the details, but I couldn't help but look at my mom in that moment and think one simple thought: I hope this woman loves herself as much as I love her.

We're told to love others as we love ourselves, but I think we often don't do so on the same level as we do to others. A lot of times we extend grace and sympathy to those around us, yet we aren't willing to offer those same gifts to ourselves. Instead, we look in the mirror and are quick to notice every blemish present; we are harder on ourselves than we should be when we make mistakes at work; we can't seem to forgive ourselves for the hurt we caused loved ones. But is that how we act toward others? Don't we first notice the traits we love and appreciate about those for whom we care so much? Don't we comfort others and try to make them feel better about situations when we hear about mistakes they made? Don't we forgive those who hurt us? (I realize that last one can sometimes take longer, but for the most part I think most of us know we eventually want to forgive people and move on with our lives.)

While I don't think we should go around boasting about how amazing we are and trying to make huge spectacles of ourselves, I do think we truly need to love ourselves as we do others. I adore all of my mom's little quirks, but I also need to value my own, as well. I'm silly and flawed, and there's nothing wrong with that. You have unique characteristics that make you you, and I hope you look at your reflection and know just how much of a gem you are. You are fearfully and wonderfully made by Someone who knew just what He was doing when He created you. Let that truth guard your heart.

And don't ever let anyone tell you that you aren't worthy of love—especially not yourself.