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When you let go of the things you thought you always wanted

Sometimes my logic isn't always sound, and I might be a bit ridiculous.

And it's possible this happens far too often in my world.

For the majority of my life, I thought I knew exactly what I wanted. Read carefully: I thought. What I've been more mindful of lately, however, is why I want the things I want. And, honestly, some of my reasons tend to be pretty selfish.

I always thought I would be married by now—heck, I thought I would be married by the time I was 24. Obviously that's not the case. For a really long time, though, I was not content with this. I wanted guys to be interested in me; I wanted someone to fall in love with me and sweep me off my feet; I wanted a fairytale.

But why?

If I'm being truthful, I likely wanted all of these things because it's what I've always been taught is normal. I saw it in TV shows, I saw it in movies, and I even saw it in real-life examples of my friends and family. A girl finds her perfect guy, and she falls head-over-heels in love and marries him. And I wanted that story for myself.

When I was in middle school, I think that's when I first began to realize that my family wasn't as wealthy as many of my friends. We grew up in a very affluent suburban town, and it started to become even more prosperous as I got older. The homes got bigger, and the house I had always thought was just fine as a kid suddenly seemed so tiny in comparison. I spent a lot of time at one of my best friend's, and I couldn't help but be envious of how spacious her home was and how her parents never seemed to say "no" to anything she asked for from them. My parents did everything they could to make sure we got everything we needed, but I didn't factor any of that in. All I saw was the "need" for a bigger house, and so I begged my parents to buy a house in my friend's neighborhood. But it never happened. (Please go back to the part about me being ridiculous sometimes if you forgot that one.)

Looking back, I realize how silly I was. I had no reason for wanting a bigger house other than wanting to have a bigger house. Our home was just fine—in fact my parents still live there, and they are perfectly happy in it. I wanted something simply because I had a desire to feel better about who I was. (By the way, I still hate the middle school stage for so many other pressures like this that plague kids during that time of life.)

I'm happy with this ring

I think that for a long time my desire to fall in love and get married was a lot like my wanting of a bigger house: it would make me feel more sufficient. Thankfully, somewhere along the lines I came to realize that this is a complete lie. My sufficiency cannot be found in things, and it cannot be found in people. I don't need a huge house, and I don't need a man.

By no means am I saying it's wrong to have these things, nor is it wrong to want them. I still wish I had someone to cuddle up and watch The Sandlot with when it's storming (or anytime, really); I still want someone to be my plus one at weddings and who is willing to let me be ridiculous on the dance floor; I still want someone to hold my hand; I still want someone to eat Cheetos with me; I still want to love someone more than I ever thought possible.

But I will be perfectly content if none of that ever happens—and I'm confident in admitting that.

My reason for wanting these things isn't the same as it used to be. I don't feel like my life will be any worse off if I'm single forever (I mean, I've gone this long). I only want these things if it's part of God's plan. If that kind of love finds its way to my heart, it will be because He wants it to, not just because I want it to. I want the desires of my heart to be the desires of His heart. And I feel like, in least in this area of my life, they finally are.

And I don't feel so ridiculous about this.

And then there's thunder

You're often stronger than many things in life that seem powerful and threatening.

Like thunder.

The rain has been coming in abundance lately, and I know I'm not the only one who is pretty much completely over it. Done. Give me sunshine. Now.

Whenever it's raining—especially storming heavily—I prefer to be curled up on my sofa in comfy clothes and clutching Tie (my stuffed koala who has been in my life since forever ago). I don't like driving in rain, because apparently no one in Texas knows how to operate vehicles in any form of adversity, so the number of wrecks go way up. Plus, it's just annoying. I don't really like having to do anything in the rain, especially if it involves risking getting wet. (And, let's be honest, I really don't want to get my hair wet.)

But, unfortunately, I can't always hide on my sofa when the storms just won't stop.

On Saturday night, I was left with the task of staying with my parents' dog at their house. They treat Audrey like she's the fourth child of the family. My sister had plans on Saturday night, and it wouldn't even make sense to ask my brother to stay with her. Knowing I would be completely free, my parents asked me to take the overnight shift while they were at a wedding that night and staying at a hotel in another city.

Later in the night on Saturday, the rains started coming again. I needed to take Audrey out for a short walk one last time before I went to bed so that she could do her business, and it was obvious neither of us wanted to get wet. I grabbed a large umbrella my dad had told me about and covered us both as we walked halfway to the end of the street and back. When we got back inside the house, just as I was closing the door, a blinding flash of lightning lit up the front porch, and one of the largest crashes of thunder I've ever heard dominated the sound waves. Audrey was so scared that she ran and hid behind the couch, and it took me a few minutes to convince her that it was safe to come out.

We bonded during the storm

It made me start to think about what thunder is: a noise. Lightning can be harmful, but thunder doesn't actually hurt you. It scares many people—and dogs, apparently—but doesn't do much more than that. Thunder can warn you about storms in the area (though you probably are already aware of them), and there's that whole calculation of the time between thunder and lightning that tells you the distance of a storm (Does anyone actually think about that?). But, I'm still choosing to classify thunder as one thing: a noise.

We all face storms in life that we can't control, and many of these rough periods will be magnified with thunder that scares us more than it should. I know there will be times my shoes get wet in puddles; I know my hair will get frizzy or become a plastered mess in the rain; I know that I will fail with my umbrella when getting into my car, and my entire left side will become soaked; I know that it will take me longer to get places because of traffic and excess water on the roads; I know that I might have to jump on a treadmill when it's lightning out; and I know that I will miss my sofa in every single one of these scenarios.

But I also know that water eventually dries, and I don't have to hide behind furniture when the thunder rolls.

Audrey slept right next to me that night, and she wasn't afraid anymore. She knows something a lot of people forget: it's a lot easier to get through storms when you're not alone.

You know one thing that is so great about storms? The hope that there will be sunny days ahead. Soon you'll be out of the storm, take a warm shower, put on dry clothes and get to spend that time on your sofa. And you might even see a rainbow. But definitely don't worry about the thunder—it only lasts a second or so, anyway.

And, like so many other things we tend to magnify too greatly in life, it's only a noise.

When you need to be pulled around the rink

You can learn things in life at the strangest places.

Including old school roller rinks.

I went to a birthday party for Maddie (I've mentioned her many times before), who is what I refer to as one of my "forever friends." We've been friends since we were 3 years old, and she is one of those people I know will always be in my life. Seeing as how she's known me so long, she really gets me, and she never fails to be there for me when I really need her. Simply put, she's a forever friend.

Maddie joined me in the Dirty 30 Club (or 30 Flirty and Thriving—or whatever you want to call it) on Saturday, and there was obviously only one logical way to celebrate this milestone in her life: living it up at a roller skating rink. When she first told me this is what we were doing for her party, I will admit that I was pretty excited. Call me a kid of the '90s (because I am), but I love going to roller skating rinks. You get to jam out to music while going round and round a gym floor surface, and at some point you completely forget your age and remember the reason you're there: to have fun. I thought it was pure genius to celebrate entering the grown-up decade by taking it back to the rink.

Sk8erade

Maddie is one of those individuals who knows everyone. Seriously. I don't think there's a person she doesn't know. (She probably knows you.) So, I knew there would be people at her party I don't know and some I do. When we started skating, the married and dating couples were paired off, while those who had come together were making their laps with one another. I had come by myself, so I was skating on my own then stopping and chatting with various people but trying not to third wheel it too much.

I try not to let my mind go here too often, but because I'm one of the only people in my life I know who isn't dating, in a relationship or married, I couldn't help but let the thought cross my mind: Will I ever have someone to skate with me? While I don't mind being single—even if it is for the rest of my life—some moments are more difficult than others.

And skating all by yourself is one of those moments.

But then, out of nowhere, Maddie came speed skating beside me, grabbed me by the hand and pulled me with her around the rink. This happened more than once throughout the night, and when Maddie knew how excited I was when "Shake It Off" started playing (never mind that I requested it specifically), she skated/sang/danced with me all around the rink for the entire song. (I told you—she gets me.) Plus, earlier in the night when I had told Maddie how awesome it was that she had been issued skates that lit up, she left and came back with a glow bracelet for me to wear. She's always looking out for people. She also participated in the rink races with me. Usually only the little kids take part in the races, but I like to, as well. They're fun, and there's no real pressure. So, when no one would step out on the floor with me, Maddie did, and we lined up next to three young girls who kicked our tails. I got fifth place. (If you just did the math there, you can judge me all you want. I have no shame.)

I was reminded that night why it's so important to have forever friends—they pick you up and pull you along when you need it most. They dance with you. They step on the starting line with you. They are simply there with you and for you.

Life isn't meant to be spent alone. Even Jesus had men He surrounded Himself with to do life together. My pastor at church on Sunday was talking about serving others and the way we can live in order to serve in the way Jesus served. We focused on the passage in which Jesus somehow used five loaves of bread and two fish to feed thousands. As I sat there, I thought back to the night before and how much Maddie is like Jesus in the way she serves people, especially those she cares about most. I was reminded of how often God shows Himself through other people. In a moment when I needed to get away from my thoughts of lonely skating, one of my best friends swept in and brought the fun.

We all need people in our lives. Even if you end up single forever, you won't ever be completely alone. You'll have those forever friends who will come alongside you and give you the encouragement you need to keep your head up and your hips swaying to the beat.

And you can always count on someone to step away from the sidelines and boldly step on the starting line, only to be dominated by kids more than half your age as they leave you in the dust from their skates' wheels.

And that is true friendship.

Sometimes you can't read ahead

As one might expect, I've changed a lot over the years.

But especially in the way I read books.

For the longest time, I used to read the last page of a book before even beginning it. I know that's very frowned upon by many people, but I just couldn't help it. I wanted to know how things would end before I invested so much time and emotional energy into what I was reading. I wanted to be assured that I would get a happy ending.

I've gotten a lot better in recent years, especially when I became hooked on Michael Connelly books starring my main man, Harry Bosch. For those who don't know, Harry Bosch is a total BA who can solve any case, and he always manages to escape near-death situations and come out the victor. Even though I'm normally not a huge fan of surprises, something about these books made me want to find out each piece of information right alongside Bosch and not spoil the ending. It's still difficult at times, though, because I really want to know how things are going to pan out.

And this makes life quite a challenge.

The unknown

I don't exactly have the option of flipping to the last page of my book and finding out what's going to happen. I mean, I can't even turn to the next chapter, and that can be very frustrating at times. Like right now. I've been teaching high school for seven years now (I still can't believe it's been that long), but I've known since the end of last year that this would be my final year teaching. About a month ago, I turned in my resignation letter, which means this: Things just got real.

I'm not quite sure what I'm doing for my next step. I know what my ultimate goals are, but I also know that there is a transition period that has to occur before I get there. So I'm in this weird and awkward stage of life in which I feel constant chaos running through my mind. I keep wanting to flip the pages ahead, but I can't. It's a bit frightening, to be honest.

A lot of people have told me just to keep praying and trust that God will work it all out. I know these things—it's just so much easier to say them than actually to live them out. But I have to take comfort in something that happened to me almost three months ago, when the Lord showed me just how BIG He truly is. I had a gun pulled on me, and I remember that moment far more often than I ever want to. I remember running away with all of the speed I could muster, the whole time wondering if I were about to know what it felt like to have a bullet in my back—a feeling I certainly didn't want to experience. And I remember praying in that moment and hearing the Lord whisper, "Just keep running. I've got you covered."

Sometimes when I'm unnecessarily worrying about my future, that moment pops into my mind, and I hear that reassurance again: Just keep running. I've got you covered. I didn't know what was going to happen to me that morning—if that guy was going to shoot me or catch up to me and rape me. All I knew was that God was with me. I don't know what's going to happen to me in life—I quit my job, because I feel like I'm being called elsewhere, yet I am unsure of what the next step is. But I do know that God is with me. He's still got me covered.

I still wake up some mornings and have to run on the treadmill because of the fear that overtakes me from what happened that morning. But I am not going to quit running because of that experience. I definitely have days when I start to panic about the fact that I have no idea what I'm doing after this school year ends. But I'm not going to give up just because of the uncertainties and not knowing what's on later pages in my story. I might have to take some alternative paths than I thought I would and hop on a treadmill or two, but I know I'll get to where I need to be.

It's really a good thing we don't know what's going to happen to us in the future, because that might change the way we live our lives. There's a certain beauty in the unknown. For me, that means living a life of trust in Someone other than me—Lord knows I would completely screw things up. But His plans are bigger, and He has the power to do so much more than I could ever imagine. That's scary, but it's scary in a good way. It's like running as fast as you can on a wing and a prayer that the assurance that you're covered really is true.

And, without turning a single page ahead, I believe it's completely true.

As long as you want to be

I've never really liked flowers, and there's one I really don't want in my life.

Goodbye, pansy.

I've mentioned this before, but I have a history of being nearly incapable of feeling completely comfortable around guys I'm interested in. I always try to hide my feelings, and I constantly have friends reminding me of how ridiculous I'm being and that there's nothing wrong with a guy knowing how you feel about him.

But they weren't in my French class in high school.

When I was a junior, I had a crush on one of the guys in my class, and I did everything I could to make sure he had no clue. Against my better judgment, however, I let some of my friends talk me into letting him know. Well, I wouldn't be the one to let him know, but we concocted a plan to let someone tell him. (Yes, I realize how silly it all sounds, but we were high school girls, so I really can't explain much more.)

I remember the day after my friend's boyfriend told him—I sat in my desk and felt my skin turn red and my whole body get tight (I also felt like I was a little bit on fire) as in my peripheral vision I saw the boy and his friend chatting in whispers near a book shelf and then turn to look at me. I couldn't look at them directly, because I was certain whatever they were talking about wasn't good news for me.

I suddenly wanted to be anywhere but French class in that moment.

The next day I found out from a friend that he wanted to make fun of me, but his friend who had been talking quietly with him had talked him out of it. God bless him. It's not the making fun of me part that bothered me, because I don't really care about that, but it's the fact that me liking someone led him to want to ridicule me—as if I weren't good enough for him, and that warranted public humiliation. I know he was just an immature high school boy, but it was something that stuck with me and made my reasoning for hiding my feelings seem even more justified.

And it's something I've had a difficult time growing out of.

I consider myself a very confident person, but there is something about my history (or lack of history, rather) with guys that somewhat diminishes that and always leads me to assume that anyone I'm interested in will never return that interest. I was talking about this with my sister the other day, and she told me I should just let guys know when I'm interested and not worry about whether or not they feel the same. If they do, things might work out. If not, then move on and forget about it. I reminded her that I would probably still be a pansy, and her response hit me pretty hard: "You're a pansy as long as you want to be."

Preeeeeaaaaccchhh.

What she said is so true in so many areas of life—you can be afraid and remain in your fear as long as you want, but you also get to make the decision when you want to be brave. Honestly, it's scary to me to think about having those feelings again of my blood rushing and my palms sweating, not knowing how a person is going to respond knowing how I feel about him. It's even scarier to think that I could be so repulsive to someone that he would rather laugh at the idea of dating me than just simply say "no thank you." And so, rather than ever expressing my feelings, I choose to be a pansy and never let people know what's on my heart.

But you're a pansy as long as you want to be.

I hope that in the future I can be brave. I hope that I can make the decision not to be a pansy anymore. I hope that I will take my sister's advice. I hope that I will always remember that someone else's opinion of me doesn't even matter.

Because I am adored by the only One I'll ever need.

I hope that you, too, will not be fearful of telling people how you feel about them. You are valued. You are loved. You matter. Maybe you'll get rejected. Maybe you won't. But you'll never know unless you make the decision to be brave. Because you're a pansy as long as you want to be.

And I don't want to be.

Let's dance forever

I feel the need to address a serious problem in our society today: there's not enough dancing.

And it needs to change—soon.

I love dancing. I never took dance, and I probably wouldn't have been very successful, because I'm not very good at organized and structured dance. I prefer to make the moves up as I go. But dancing doesn't have to look pretty to be beautiful—it simply needs to be natural.

I was on an elevator the other day with a mom and her young daughter (she looked maybe 4 or 5), and suddenly the girl burst into some spontaneous dancing when another woman's phone began ringing. The mom looked at me and apologized before telling her little girl to stop busting those moves (though she didn't use that wording). I told her there was no need to apologize and that the world needs more dancing. The little girl looked up at me and said, "Let's dance forever!"

She's got the right idea.

I think a lot of people don't dance much because of the fear of what people will think of them. But what does that matter? If everyone danced more, we wouldn't have time to analyze everyone else's dancing. Taylor Swift gets it, though. She frequently dances at awards shows to the live music, and people continue to ridicule her, and she continues not to care. You know why? Because it doesn't matter.

It was a really good song

I love the John Michael Montgomery song "Life's a Dance," because it's such a great analogy.

Life's a dance you learn as you go

Sometimes you lead; sometimes you follow

But don't worry about what you don't know

Life's a dance you learn as you go

In life, you don't always have structure, and you don't always know what your next move is. Sometimes you really just have to move along to the beat—and you may look completely off-beat—without caring about what the world outside is thinking. You may look like a flailing monkey, but those might be the perfect moves that make you you. You may step on your partner's toes when you're trying to two-step, but nobody is perfect, and the people who care about you aren't going to let your mistakes ruin a good song. Just dance.

Because dancing is BOLD.

Lee Ann Womack gets it, too, and she sang about it:

I hope you never fear those mountains in the distance

Never settle for the path of least resistance

Livin' might mean takin' chances, but they're worth takin'

Lovin' might be a mistake, but it's worth makin'

Don't let some hell-bent heart leave you bitter

When you come close to sellin' out, reconsider

Give the heavens above more than just a passing glance

And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance

I HOPE YOU DANCE

It's easy to lean against the wall or stay in your chair and avoid the dance floor, but it takes courage to get out there and dance. And life needs more people choosing courage. Because you're going to come across opportunities in life when you have to make choices that let you either do things that are BOLD or play it safe and choose not to risk anything. But some risks are simply worth taking.

Like dancing your heart out.

I hope the little girl from the elevator continues to dance when she hears cell phones ring and whenever else the opportunity presents itself. I hope her mom learns from her precious daughter and follows her lead. I hope more people take the chance and stop caring about their images and just dance, instead.

You just might find courage you never knew you had in so many areas of life if you'd just dance. 

Let's dance forever.

When you're in uncomfort zones

I sort of don't like admitting this too often, but I don't really enjoy being taken out of my comfort zone.

At all.

Over the weekend, I went to Portland for a conference. Let's get one thing out in the open: I'm not a huge fan of traveling. Call me a homebody, but I just prefer to be in the comforts of what I know best. But, I really needed to go to this conference, and the somewhat dreaded day of departure finally arrived on Friday.

I flew standby on a buddy pass—thanks to two very generous friends—but the idea of not being guaranteed a seat on the flight gave me a bit of anxiety. Uncomfort zone. (I know "uncomfort" isn't an actual word, but from here on out I'm referring to all of the situations that made me uneasy as "uncomfort zones.") Thankfully, I was able to make it on the first flight to Portland, though we will return to my standby anxiety in a bit. (You can chalk that up as foreshadowing.)

When I got to Portland, I caught a shuttle to my hotel, which turned out to be a much shadier establishment than the woman on the phone who made my reservation led me to believe. The television didn't even get ESPN. I wasn't able to watch any SportsCenter. Uncomfort zone.

I had some time to kill, so I took a nap and then went for a run before I had to head over to the college where the conference kicked off on Friday night. When I got back, I asked the guy at the hotel front desk what the best way to get to my destination was, and he told me to hop on the bus that picks up right in front of where I was staying. Public transportation is big in Portland, and I haven't used it regularly since my sophomore year at Texas A&M. But, I can assure you that the College Station system isn't very comparable to what I was about to deal with. I knew nothing about the city, had no clue what stop I needed to be on the lookout for to get off the bus, and I didn't know the time schedule at all. Uncomfort zone.

After what seemed like a pretty long time, I got out my Google Maps to see how close we were. According to the blue dot, we were going the wrong way. It turns out I was on the wrong bus--homeboy at the hotel failed to inform me of a bus change I was supposed to make. The driver directed me what to do, and I got on the right bus, but it had a very roundabout way of getting to the college. My overall bus trip was one hour, 27 minutes.

Important note: The college is 4.1 miles from the hotel.

I was a bit exhausted

A very large man who reeked of smoke (major uncomfort zone) sat down next to me and began typing away on his little device. I figure it's wise to know a bit about the individual next to you in such a situation, so I started snooping to see what he was so busy using only his two index fingers to type. First, he was commenting on news articles. I saw the phrase "dirty republicans" and figured he must just be really into politics or something. But he moved on pretty quickly and was then on some site called ourtime.com and typing in a box that said "flirt sent." I chose to stop reading his screen at that point. I was grateful when he busted out his Wild Cherry Pepsi, because the smell of the soda helped drown out the stench of cigarettes just a bit.

I kept wondering how much longer I had to endure this ride—why are there so many flippin' bus stops?? I'm generally very punctual and began to worry that I would be late for the conference. Uncomfort zone.

Overall, the conference went really well, and my reason for attending was fulfilled. I even got rides to and from the remainder of the conference and a ride to the airport Saturday night (yes, I rode with strangers, but I chose to trust the conference attendees over mass transit). But there was still that truth that kept surfacing the entire trip: I'm too attached to my comfort zones.

And things didn't stop there.

I only had my hotel for one night, and for various reasons I had to stay at the airport Saturday night until my 5:40 a.m. flight to Denver on Sunday. If you want to talk about a real uncomfort zone, we can talk about sleeping across airport chairs and using a pair of jeans as a pillow. There were no open seats on the connecting flight to Dallas (remember, I was on standby), so I had to buy a ticket on a different airline to get home. (God bless my brother for helping me out on that one.) But there was only a 45-minute window from when one plane landed until the next took off for me to get from one terminal to the next and all checked-in and situated. Uncomfort zone.

There were so many points during this trip when I wanted to cry, and I think the main reason boils down to me being completely taken from the place I'm most comfortable. I can't say I enjoy admitting my flaws, but this is something that's not so great about me. It really hard to be in places and situations that make you feel uneasy. It's scary.

And those are times you have to be brave.

I think God uses uncomfort zones to help us grow. I can't say I'm a completely changed woman from this trip, but my eyes were open in so many ways—particularly in my aloneness. Because I'm not alone. I may be the most single person I know, but I had so many people surrounding me: Erik and Jade, who gave me a buddy pass, walked me through the process and got me on flights; my friends Laz and Disco, who were checking up on me, offering endless support and encouragement and keeping me entertained with their antics; my mom and dad, who put up with my crazy decisions and still always try to help me; my brother, who didn't hesitate to take care of me and ensure I'd get home before Monday; Helen, Jill and the other woman whose name I didn't even catch (I know, it's horrible), who gave rides to a stranger from Texas; and my sister, who gave up part of her Sunday to pick me up from one airport and drive me to another so that I could get my car.

I may be taken out of my comfort zone every now and then, but the love I'm surrounded with can overcome any anxiety a person can feel. Because love is that powerful.

And that's a comfort zone that's with you no matter where you are.

You can't truly capture the moon

Things in space are so far away, but I think some of them are a lot closer and similar to us than we ever imagine.

Like the moon.

I was running one morning recently and noticed how beautiful the moon looked. At first I wished I had a camera with me to snap a picture of it, but then I remembered all of the times I had tried that before and how unappealing those images had turned out.

There have been many instances when I have attempted to take a quality picture of the moon and completely failed. I’m convinced it’s not really possible—especially with just an iPhone. I read an article that credited the reason for the moon not being so photogenic to the fact that the moon doesn’t shine on its own and is instead illuminated by the sun, which is a lot more powerful. This results in a tremendous glare, and your picture of the moon looks like a floating blob rather than the beautiful depiction you see in real life with your eyes.

I think the moon is a lot like people in the way it’s portrayed in pictures: what you see isn’t an accurate representation of the truth. A lot of this has to do with social media. It’s so easy to cover up who you really are and let people believe you are someone different.

Looked better in person

But why?

Why is it so tempting to be people we’re not? We can post pictures of us when we look our bests, and we can convey these positive images of ourselves, but why are we so ashamed to hide the truth? Rather than posting anything at all, wouldn’t it be better to be your true self in the real world? I mean, the moon has proven it’s a better sight, anyway.

It can be a real challenge to be authentic all of the time. Because it’s scary. Being completely transparent is a bold thing to do—people will know who you really are. You won’t simply be a portrait of what you want to be or how you want others to see you. You will genuinely be you.

And I honestly believe there is nothing wrong with that.

When I was in middle school (quite possibly the worst stage of life one must endure), I tried so hard to fit in and be like everyone else. I only wanted to wear certain brands of clothing and thought I was only supposed to hang out with certain groups of people. I was even afraid of saying certain things or not saying certain things—I mean, if I wasn’t using the “cool” lingo, then it meant I wasn’t “cool.”

Looking back, I really don’t like the person I was then. I wasn’t even content with being in my own skin all of the time. Thankfully, somewhere along the way I learned how to be me—and I’m perfectly comfortable being the flawed individual I am. I don’t want to try to cover up who I am and try to fit in with others. I know it can seem a bit easier to feel this way once you leave those adolescent days when you’re constantly surrounded by peers and the pressures of growing up, but even adulthood brings with it struggles and influences of its own.

Think about how many times you’ve heard the answer, “Fine, thanks. How are you?” when you ask someone how he or she is doing. But, is that person really doing that well? Or is that individual hesitant to share the truth that life is actually really rough right now, and every day is a battle? I’m guilty of this at times. I’ve always had trouble showing my emotions—I can barely even cry in front of myself—and don’t always want to let people know when I’m going through a difficult time. But why? The people who truly care about me are going to love me regardless of my faults and help me through whatever I’m facing in life. And the people who don’t really care? Why should I care one inkling what they think?

You were made to be you at all times, and it makes no sense to try to be someone else, whether it’s online or in person. The moon’s radiance can’t be captured as well in a picture as it can be seen with real eyes. Your radiance just isn’t the same when it’s seen through rose-colored lenses and not authentic eyes.

It’s good to be like the moon—people would rather see the real you than a blurry version, anyway.

That "FRANKIE SAY RELAX" T-shirt is wise

I'm not always jealous of infants and toddlers, but I think they have something going for them with that whole required nap time thing.

It's genius.

I'll be the first to admit that I'm not very good at resting. Don't get me wrong—I love a good nap, but I often have a difficult time letting myself slow down long enough to do pretty much nothing. But, what I have come to realize is that "nothing" is sometimes actually so much more than "something."

I went on the women's retreat with my church over the weekend, and at first I was somewhat stressing about it. I mean, I just felt like I had so much work to do on so many different things, and an entire weekend away was a lot and not exactly what I needed. Well, it turns out it was actually so much more than what I needed.

I was reminded of three extremely important truths on the retreat that I overlook far too often:

Disconnecting isn't always a bad thing. I think it's quite easy to get caught up in constantly checking emails or social media networks that we often forget that it's OK (and even healthy) to escape from them every now and then. Leave work behind you for a bit. I was able to chat and have authentic conversations with people all weekend without a phone constantly in my hands. And there was no need to take and post a boatload of pictures, either. A picture may be "worth a thousand words," to some, but I'd prefer a genuine chat with actual words any day. (I'm not saying I don't love pictures and never post them; I'm simply saying not every single moment has to be documented.)

Everyone has a story. You might read that and think, "Duh," but how often do you actually consider that in your daily life? We're surrounded by other individuals—many whom we don't know—yet we rarely take the time truly to care about who they are. Maybe the person who rolled her eyes at you when she saw you were struggling with the self-checkout process while she was standing behind you at the grocery store is going through a rough divorce; perhaps the man who cut you off on the highway is rushing to be on time to his son's last high school baseball game ever; it's possible that the guy at the gym you think is cute won't look your way because he's trying to recover from a broken heart; maybe your workout buddy has been moody lately because she's enduring some storms in her personal life.

Sometimes we have to look at situations and try to see beyond what's simply on the surface.

I enjoyed getting to know so many different individuals of all different ages and walks in life over the weekend and being able to hear their unique stories. We all have stories—sometimes we just need people to listen to them.

Yes.

True peace does exist. We live in a very busy world. It's full of chaos and struggle. The madness can consume you if you let it. But there is so much peace in Christ. Just seeing the work of God in nature can be enough to make you sit and stare up at the sky in wonder. How does He do it? And why does the same God who created all of this love me in spite of how flawed I am? Being reminded of His crazy agape love He has for us—a love that loves us simply for who we are—is comforting in a way that I can't explain. It provides a peace like nothing else can or ever will.

Every once in a while, it's good to get away and find that rest and relaxation our souls long for and need. Your iPhone (or whatever you non-Apple people use) can't function for you if you don't charge it. Similarly, people need their own versions of recharging in order to live life and to live it fully.

And when you find that peace, you may discover just how big of a "something" that "nothing" really is.

Not all tales are as old as time

I think Disney is often more profound than we give it credit for.

Because many childhood movies are chalked full of wisdom and life truths.

As I was watching Beauty and the Beast the other day, I realized something: sometimes we are all like a girl who wants “adventure in the great wide somewhere” and finds herself in a strange castle full of talking objects and a beast—and uncertain of anything that lies ahead.

Somewhere in the midst of my singing along to all of the songs, I couldn’t help but realize how much anxiety Belle was likely feeling once she realized the impact of her decision to step into eternal imprisonment in place of her father. And it struck me that these are the same feelings we have when we face situations that are completely unknown to us—because it’s kind of scary to throw yourself out there and simply hope for the best.

Belle took a huge risk in giving the Beast her word that she would live in his palace forever. She had no idea what it was like in there or what her fate would hold. But she did it. She boldly stepped forward, knowing that she was giving up a life of security and predictability. I mean, you are probably familiar with the opening number in the movie—nothing truly unexpected happens very often for Belle.

Until she makes a choice.

Venturing into the unknown

There are moments in life when you have to be like Belle and decide that you are going to enter something with no idea what the results will be or how drastically it could change your life. One minute you’re reading next to a fountain, and the next you’re having a conversation with an armoire. While this might not be the exact scenario for all of us, it’s quite comparable on some levels.

I remember the summer after my high school year when I decided to go to LA for a day. I really had no logical reasoning. I was watching Live with Regis and Kelly one morning, and the show always promoted CheapTickets.com. I had saved up some money from working and found myself on the website ready to buy a ticket. I figured it would be neat to go to New York or LA, but it was supposed to rain in New York the next few days, and I didn’t want my hair to have to endure that. I purchased a ticket for LA for the following day, had my brother drive me to the airport and flew to an unknown area with no plan.

When I arrived, I seriously had no idea what I was getting myself into. I just knew I needed something different in my life—some type of new adventure. I ended up getting bored of the Hollywood area pretty quickly and walked to a place called Runyon Canyon Park. I went on a hike by myself and actually had a much more enjoyable time than I had expected once I landed from the plane. At first, everything was kind of intimidating—I mean, I had no transportation of my own, not a lot of money, no companions with me and a heart full of hope that didn’t want to be disappointed. But my time in the hills cleared my mind and gave me perspective as I sat at the top, looking down at a beautiful view and spending some time writing in my journal. It was just something I needed at the time.

The rest of the trip was pretty memorable: I had to short-change a cab driver, drank Gatorade from a can (which is still weird to me), slept in an airport and then had to see the face of my disappointed mom when I walked through the front door (oh, yeah, I hadn’t told my parents about my little day trip). It might have cost me a lot of money and only lasted for a short time, but I’m really glad I went on that escapade. I think it was a stepping stone in my life in learning to be more courageous and not always following such a predictable pattern.

I’m at a point in my life right now where I am really uncertain about a few things approaching in the days ahead. It’s kind of scary, but it’s also kind of exciting. I feel like I’m about to step from a place of comfort and familiarity into a land of the unknown. I feel kind of like Belle, minus the whole imprisonment and falling in love with a beast thing.

Life is full of chances to take, opportunities to seize, adventures to go on and people to love. But we have to be willing to take those leaps of faith every once in a while.

And you just might find something there that wasn’t there before.

A beautiful day, indeed

I've learned how important it is not to take people for granted.

Especially family.

I know I have talked about how wonderful my mom is before, but today is her birthday, so I'm doing it again—and I'm not sorry about it.

One thing I've realized about my mom is that she is one of the reasons I love love so much, because she is a true model of what real love is and what real love does. I didn't always pay attention like I should as a kid, because I was too busy worrying about the things I thought were the most important things in the world. And, sadly, none of those things even matter anymore.

Happy birthday, Mom!

When we were growing up, my mom worked at a preschool for many years. At one point, we only had one family car, and so my mom rode her bike to work almost every single day. During those years, she worked some part-time jobs, too, all to ensure that we could take part in all of the activities we wanted to and have everything we needed without having to worry about not being able to afford them. Then she went back to school and not only earned her bachelor's degree but got a master's, as well. (After I started teaching, I went back and took night classes to get my master's. I cannot even imagine doing that while also having to take care of three kids and be a wife. I have no idea how she did that—and never once complained.) I will always remember the smile on her face when she walked across that graduation stage, and I think her joy was found more in her family being there rather than a diploma she was receiving.

She's now a kindergarten teacher, and I truly believe it takes a very special person to be able to do that job every day. And my mom is the perfect person for it. Her patience is something I strive to achieve in my own life but usually fail. I mean, I've never seen her be mean to anyone. Ever. She just really gets what life is about, and she never lets pride get in the way of treating people kindly.

I'll never forget when I was a sophomore in college and had to go to the hospital for pancreatitis. I didn't let my roommate call my parents until I knew it was something serious, and I think she ended up calling them when I was drugged up with IV pain meds and not aware of anything that was going on around me. Before I knew it, my mom and sister were suddenly in my room at 2 a.m. or some ridiculous time like that. They had driven the three hours late at night simply because they cared. My sister ended up catching a ride home with a family friend the next day, because she had to go back to school, but my mom stayed with me for all four or five days that I was there. She always made sure the nurses were in my room the instant I needed them, and she even slept on some tiny, uncomfortable chair the first couple of nights until the hospital provided a bed for her. But she wasn't even worried about any of that, because I don't think she even knows how to put herself before anyone else—she always thinks of others first. Always.

I know moms often make sacrifices for their kids, but there were so many, and she never once acted like she was inconvenienced. And when she forgives, she forgives completely and never ever brings up the wrongs again. She also has so much strength and determination and never believes when people tell her something can't be done—she's full of too much hope for that.

She's also taught me so much about staying young at heart. She's the type of person who will climb trees with you, go on froyo dates with you, skydive with you (she did so with my brother), watch Gilmore Girls or One Tree Hill with you, dance with you (she owns the dance floor), be part of the Boot Scarf Club with you, take selfies with you, and wave dive in the ocean with you like you're little kids. She loves to enjoy life with the people she loves—and her genuine joy is contagious.

I could go on and on about this woman and her beautiful heart. There are so many things about her that I try to make sure are reflected in me. She makes it look so easy, though. How is it that in the 30 years I've been on this earth I've never heard her say one bad thing about anyone? It's because she always lets love win.

And, on her birthday, I can't help but quote this woman and mean it will all of my heart: "It's a beautiful day!"

Girl power (or something like that)

We should be thankful for women like Susan B. Anthony, Rosa Parks, Sally Ride, Florence Nightingale, Eleanor Roosevelt, Mother Teresa, Billie Jean King, Oprah and so many more.

But we should also be thankful for the women whose names we don't know.

Yesterday was International Women's Day, a celebration that I didn't really know existed. Apparently it's been around since the beginning of the 1900s, though. While it is more of a recognition of the achievements women have made socially, politically and economically, it made me think more about why women should feel special simply for being the individuals they are rather than the things they've done over the years.

After all, not to pull the princess card, but we are daughters of the King.

There are two women in my life who have impacted me in more ways than I could ever actually explain: my mom and my sister. My mom is the most genuine and caring person you will ever meet. She is the epitome of what love is. She doesn't know how to say mean things about people, and she doesn't even have the desire to. And she's a fighter. She never gets discouraged when people shoot her down; instead, she just stands right back up and tries again. She never stops trying.

The best

My sister is a complete Godsend to the world. She is always there for me. She will drop everything when I need her—whether it's to drive with me to Tennessee, sit with me in a hospital room or wake up at a ridiculous time (for her, anyway) to come cheer me on at a race. And that is only a small list of things. She is more selfless than I've ever known how to be, and she never changes who she is for anyone or anything. She's a gem and the one person I can never stay upset with for long at all. I cherish every moment I get with her, because she makes absolutely every moment count.

I think women are so much more than many of them allow themselves to be. I wish I didn't see so many young women and even adult women trying to change who they are to try to please others. You were uniquely made to be you for a reason—so don't walk away from that. This is what I would like to say to all women if I were able to speak to all of them at once:

You are valued. Sometimes you will hear about lists that rank people's net worths—especially when they're in the billions. Guess what? None of that matters. And you are worth more than that—but not in a financial sense. Don't ever feel like you have to prove your worth to anyone, and don't ever settle for anyone or anything. You are too valued, and your heart is too valuable.

You are loved. There might be times in life when you feel all alone and not truly cared for in this world. Please don't listen to that voice telling you that you aren't good enough. There is One who loves you like no one ever can or will. Listen to His voice—it will never steer you wrong. And there are people who genuinely love you unconditionally. Your time line of love and what you originally thought would happen might not happen as you planned, and it might not happen at all—and that's OK. Your sufficiency and who you are cannot be found in other people. And you know what? If you stay single forever, you'll be fine. Your relationship status doesn't define you, and it certainly doesn't determine whether or not you're loved.

You matter. Every single person in this world has importance and has the ability to make an impact. And you are no exception. You are not frail; you are not the weaker gender; you shouldn't be used or treated as an object; you shouldn't be silenced; you don't deserve discouragement; you don't deserve abuse; you don't have to look a certain way or hang with a certain crowd; and you don't have to try to be anyone else but you. You were created with purpose—don't be afraid to embrace your uniqueness.

I'm glad women have a day to celebrate some major historical milestones, and I don't want to diminish any of those achievements, but I hope we don't forget to celebrate the everyday individuality of one another. No, we don't need to be egocentric or over-complimentary of each other, but we need to remember that who we are is even more important than what we accomplish.

Because what's in the heart is more powerful than what's in the bank.