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.