Wishing upon stars

There are some parts of childhood that I refuse to let go, and I'm perfectly fine with admitting that.

Because I don't believe in not believing.

As kids, many of us allowed innocence to play an integral role in influencing the things we believed and didn't believe. We believed some magical fairy sneaked money under our pillows while we were sleeping when we lost teeth; we sometimes believed actual monsters hid under our beds; we believed a hefty man in a red suit could fly around the world in a sleigh to deliver presents to all of the good kids all in a night's work; we believed superheroes were real; we perhaps believed that if we ate appleseeds then apple trees would grow inside of us; we believed that we were kept safe from so many dangers in this world simply by holding our parents' hands; we didn't believe so many bad things in this world could not only exist but also integrate their ways into our lives somehow; we didn't believe we might one day have to worry about struggling with health or finances or relationships; we didn't believe that we wouldn't live happily ever after.

But, somewhere along the lines, many of us grew up and lost not only innocence but also that childlike faith that makes people believe dreams can actually come true.

And I refuse to be one of those people.

One night last week while my sister and I were in Florida, we walked down to the beach and after a while sat back and stared up at the peaceful sky above us. We each picked out our own star and said out loud to each other what we wished upon that star. I don't care how childish or naive it sounds—I believe with all of my heart that those two wishes will come true.

Whenever I see a dandelion, I pick it up, make a wish as I blow it into the wind and believe it will come true. When I blow out candles, I believe whatever it is my heart wishes will be reality. When I see a shooting star or cast up a wish into the night above me, I fully believe those wishes I make will one day happen. I don't believe in some magic power in the way the dandelion blows or behind the fire of the candles or the might of the stars. I do believe, though, that you have to have hope that the things your heart desires will be more than empty wishes that disappear the moment they leave your lips.

Keep wishing

Sure, not every wish you make is going to happen. I mean, I didn't win those *NSYNC tickets on the radio station like I wished for when I was in the eighth grade. But I certainly spent way too much time on that phone hitting the redial button than I probably should have simply because I truly believed it was possible for me to be the whatever number caller it was I needed to be to win. Regardless of if the wish will ever be, the belief has to be there for it even to be likely.

I know we all have to grow up in various aspects of life, because we have to become more mature and live in the world of adulthood—that's just one of the facts of life. But that doesn't mean we have to give up every part of childhood. Some of the things we need to hold onto the most are the ones that kept us believing in things that weren't necessarily even true.

I think it can become dangerous to let go of wishing upon things, because it can lead to hopelessness. I am 29 years old and have never even been on a date, but I still believe in love. For as long as I can remember, I wished that my first kiss would be in a gazebo in some romantic setting—maybe even with Christmas lights all around and perfect music playing in the background—but it didn't happen that way. And I didn't end up marrying (or even dating) the guy who gave me my first kiss like I had always wished. But you know what? I do believe I will someday get my gazebo kiss like I've always dreamed. I won't give up on that wish, because you have to pursue wishes—not necessarily with some distinct actions but simply with keeping hope alive.

I think sometimes wishes are just prayers in disguise. God already knows the desires of our hearts, and we shouldn't be afraid to believe they will come true. There's no shame in having faith. None.

And if you need Journey to offer you some inspiration about believing, there's nothing wrong with that, either.

Beyond the danger zone

Sometimes I don't understand just how powerful elements surrounding us can be.

Like water.

My family and I (minus the brother, who is on a trip in Italy—I know, rough life) are on a little beach vacation. We drove—I repeat, drove—a solid 12 hours yesterday and then had our first day out on the sand today. The Merrills love partaking in a bit of wave diving, and it wasn't long until we were all four out in the water. I, however, had told my mom I was not going any farther than knee-deep water, because the water felt way too cold today, and I didn't mind playing the wimp card. Warmth first.

My sister and dad were already out in the waves, and my mom and I decided to go in, as well. I had borrowed her hat, and she said something about not getting it wet, but I reminded her about my self-imposed knee-deep rule. There was absolutely no need for concern.

Never underestimate the tides, my friend.

The whole knee-deep concept suddenly got washed away when I realized just how powerful the waves and undertow were Sunday afternoon. My dad discovered a method of riding the waves to the shore with no problem, while my sister was getting slammed around but still trying to battle the powerful current. I watched as my mom got hit hard and struggled to stand, because she wasn't past some invisible magic spot yet where things weren't as difficult—or as painful. You see, when the waves start crashing and pummeling toward the shore, they have so much force built up in them that they take you down without the blink of an eye. Once you get far enough out, however, it's much easier to dive into them and evade the horrible incident of the water introducing you to the ground in one fast and powerful blow.

And I got caught in the danger zone.

The pull of the undertow was so strong that it didn't take very long for my knee-deep desire to be tossed among the waves, and I was pulled to the depth that possessed potential for one thing: disaster. Before I knew what was happening, I was picked up by a wave and taken to the sand beneath the water. I stood up, trying to catch my breath, but another wave punched me in the face, and I went down again. When I stood back up, my hair was all over the place, and I suddenly noticed the cold feeling on the top of my head--the hat was gone. I frantically started looking around and then said to my mom, who was pretty close to me after she came to try to help me, "I lost your hat, I lost your hat, I lost your hat!" I felt so awful for multiple reasons: not only had I gotten her hat wet (like she asked me not to do), but I had let it be taken away by the waves and lost out to sea forever.

"It's just a hat"

I started trying to swim out farther into the water to find it, but she kept telling me not to worry about it—it was just a hat. But, still, even my dad started searching for it, and I'm sure she really liked the hat. But my mom, being the sweet woman she is, acted like it was no big deal and started acting more concerned with whether or not I was OK after being beaten up by the waves.

There are certainly times in life where we get caught up in what seems like a tide that we can't battle, because it keeps pulling us and pushing us in all different directions. We constantly feel like we're being pushed to the ground, only to get knocked right back down when we try to stand up. And, every once in a while, through these trials we lose things. We get stuck in that danger zone—the one where we feel powerless and know that we have to escape if we're ever going to be strong enough and bold enough to take on the waves trying to wreck us.

I'm really thankful for my mom, who doesn't care about possessions enough to act even a little bit sad about the loss of her hat. I'm also grateful to know that there's hope beyond what we often think is the worst of things. Sure, we're going to be pulled farther out than we want at times when we don't want to, but that doesn't mean we can't battle the troubles before us, even if they are coming at us in full force. Because there is Someone who can calm the sea with just the sound of His voice. When I decided to make my way to our beach chairs, I was a bit nervous, because each time I tried to go back to the shore, a new wave came and took me down before I could even try riding it in. I didn't think I was ridiculous when I started praying I could get back safely, and I suddenly found myself taking off in a dead sprint when I noticed a brief calming of the waves—one that gave me the exact amount of time I needed to get to my destination.

It's funny how things work out.

It's better not to stress out so much about the big waves coming your way. The less anxiety I felt with each one, the less trouble I had diving straight into it. And sometimes you will lose things, like hats, but even those things are fleeting and don't matter at the end of the day. What matters is that you are living life boldly and surrounding yourself with people who love you enough to remind you what genuine love does.

And to the sea creature with a new Titleist cap, you're welcome.

Pain hurts; love doesn't

Pain is such an inconvenience.

Oh, and it just plain hurts.

I think one of the most frustrating things about pain is that it often leaves us with the inevitable question: WHY?? And sometimes there really doesn't seem to be a reasonable explanation.

When I was younger, I was attempting to make a grilled cheese the old-fashioned way—and I've mentioned how horrible I am in the kitchen—and I needed to know if the stove was hot enough, so I reached down and touched it. With my bare finger. And it hurt. Now, obviously the resulting burn and pain that went along with it were products of my sheer stupidity. I pretty much brought that pain upon myself.

However, not all pain seems so deserved.

Since last October, I've been dealing with plantar fasciitis. It's a pretty common problem for runners, but for months now it's gotten to the point where I feel like I'm constantly walking on a knife. I've tried basically every method that everyone else has told me cured them: I've done Graston Technique treatments, I've gotten a cortisone injection, I've slept with those uncomfortable splints and socks, I've rolled on baseballs and frozen water bottles, and I've even watched as a doctor drew two ounces of my own blood from my arm and then injected it into my heel with the idea that it inflames the foot and then breaks up the fascia tissue. That last one was by far the most painful—I was literally crawling around my apartment later that day, because I was unable to walk. I'll tell you what: I do not envy babies. Crawling is awful.

It's just annoying not knowing why I have to have this nuisance in my life. I've run for years without any foot troubles, and then this came and won't go away. I think a lot of people go through similar situations, though perhaps not with plantar fasciitis. We all face times in life when we have to deal with pain—whether physical or emotional—and we are left wondering what in the heck we did to merit such things. For instance, if you've ever had a broken heart, you wonder how someone you cared about and you thought cared about you could treat you so carelessly. And you have no answers at the time (or maybe ever). I know I've found myself so many times crying out, "What did I do to deserve this?"

And then I remember that's not how it works.

If I really got everything I deserved in life, I would be in a much worse state than I am. I've received so much grace and mercy, and it's silly to think I'm never going to struggle. After all, it's during times of pain and troubles that we often become stronger people, because we can't rely on ourselves. We have to trust that Someone much more powerful than we will ever be will carry us through.

Looks of pain

I think pain also helps us appreciate those times we don't have it. I can't think of as many instances in life where I've been healthy and happy and spending much time wondering what I did to deserve it. And, as hard as it is, I think it's important to be thankful in both trials and good times. (I am secretly saying that to try to encourage myself, because I don't necessarily feel very thankful right now.)

I know this may sound strange, but I don't really care: sometimes when I get a cut or something that necessitates a Band-Aid, I get kind of excited, because I only wear cool Band-Aids (like fairies or Spiderman or the Peanuts gang). Even if I'm not thinking about the healing process, the thought of a fun bandage mentally helps. Maybe that's what we can do in other areas of life—just picture a giant, neat Band-Aid helping make you smile when you don't want to.

Truth be told, life can be hard at times, but we have to endure those struggles to become the people we are supposed to be. And, even when we want to hate so many things around us, it's important always to let love win, because it always does in the end, anyway.

And, in spite of what the band Nazareth told us, true love does not actually hurt.

It heals—and we could all use a little bit of healing every now and then.

The essential follow through

Sometimes we do things without really thinking, and they just become habits.

Especially in sports.

I've played sports my entire life, and I can't tell you how many times I've heard the term "follow through." In basketball, you have to follow through when you shoot; in baseball, you're supposed to follow through with your swing after you make contact with the ball and when you throw the ball; in golf, you follow through with your swing, as well; in volleyball, you don't just serve the ball and stop your arm motion once you hit it—you follow through with that serve; in tennis, you swing your racket and follow through as you hit it over the net; in soccer, you follow through with your kicks by continuing your leg motion; quarterbacks have to follow through with their throwing arms in their efforts to hit their receivers; and I'm sure there are many more examples to go along with these.

Simply put, the "follow through" in sports is essential in order for physical actions to be executed properly and to the fullest potential. I'm sure there is some science behind it, but I'm not really interested in that. (Side note: I read an article on the MIT School of Engineering website that argued the follow through is not needed in golf. I'm curious to see how this professor does on the fairways.) From everything I have been taught in life, though, I just know that following through is necessary.

And this goes beyond sports.

I can think of many times in life when people have said things to me and never followed through with those things, and I know I have done the same to others, as well. "Hey, let's go grab a cup of coffee soon." "We should do dinner next week." "We definitely need to get together and catch up!" "Let me get your number so we can hang out soon." Yet, those things don't always happen. It's like we just get caught up in the moment and, whether we have intentions actually to do these things or not, we make suggestions or promises that we don't keep.

Follow through on punches

But there are hearts involved in these situations, not just sports science.

What if you ran into an old friend who said y'all should get together and then never followed through with catching up with you? What if one of your close friends made plans with you and then didn't follow through and make time for you? What if a guy told he was going to call you and didn't follow through with doing so? What if you went to a church and filled out the "Get to Know You" card, but no one followed through with actually reaching out to you to get to know you? How would it make you feel if you were on the receiving end of these things? Or, even further, what if you were the one not following through with examples such as these?

How are real-life relationships supposed to be successful if we are constantly not following through with things we say we will do?

If you doubt my claims on the importance of following through in sports, according to a coach who posted on an Internet forum—and it's on the Internet, so it obviously must be complete truth—a follow through (though he spells it "thru," the cool way) in basketball reminds players of proper shooting form, because the ball will always go in the direction in which the hand sends it. Therefore, he says it helps with shooting accuracy. Similarly, I think it can be argued that our own follow throughs can help show us if we are living as genuinely as we should be. If you have no follow through whatsoever, then your form probably could use some adjustments. I think it all boils down to something simple: Mean what you say, and say what you mean.

Again, we are all imperfect and are sure to mess up on following through with things. Truth be told, life happens and often distracts us from some of our original intentions. However, I think we could all be better about trying to live intentionally and not just say things we don't mean. Sure, it was funny in FRIENDS when Chandler couldn't not say, "I'll give you a call sometime" to Rachel's boss, though he blatantly said he wasn't actually going to do so, but something like that really isn't very humorous in real life—especially if you're in the shoes of the boss.

In sports, improving the follow through takes practice, which takes time. But you make time for the things you want to make time for in life.

Even if it seems no one around you really cares much about the follow through, just know that there is Someone who follows through with everything He ever promises.

And His shot is one that hits nothing but net every single time.