More than just

Sometimes life can make you feel like you're in a giant gum ball machine.

And you're just another gum ball in the mix.

Every once in a while, it's easy to feel insignificant in this world. I could throw some stats at you about approximately how many individuals there are, but those are just numbers. And people shouldn't be numbers. But I will tell you this: there are a lot of people on this earth.

And each and every single person matters.

I think that's something we often forget, even about ourselves. Last week I was in a meeting, and someone introduced me as just followed by what my role was in that meeting. It took me by a bit of surprise, and it certainly made me think later about how we sometimes look at other individuals as just this or just that.

She's more than just a sister

But we are not just anything.

When you call someone just something, you take away some of his or her significance in this world. That girl who makes your coffee every morning isn't just a barista—she's the person who greets you with a smile and helps you start your day off right; that man talking to his players after the game isn't just a coach—he's a motivating life-changer; that woman at the corner with the stop sign in her hand isn't just a crossing guard—she's a protector of the innocent; that man putting all of those flyers and bills in your mailbox isn't just the postman—he's the ensurer of delivery; that woman at the bank isn't just a teller—she's a trusted financial institution necessity; that kid you saw goofing around in the department store isn't just a teenager—he's a future leader; that woman who was at the park in the middle of the day isn't just a stay-at-home mom—she's a lover and a caretaker who does more in one day than anyone can imagine; that reflection you see staring back at you in the mirror each day isn't just another face in the crowd—you're a beautiful being who deserves to feel loved and valued every single day.

Sometimes work, relationships, or a number of occurrences that happen in your day can make you feel so minuscule. In the grand scheme of things, yes, we are pretty small—but we have a BIG God who cares more for us than we can even fathom. And He certainly doesn't see you as just anything.

God didn't see David as just a young man but used him to defeat Goliath and lead nations; God didn't see Esther as just a helpless woman but used her to risk her life by going before the king to plea for the lives of her people to be spared; God didn't see Paul as just a sinner on the road to nowhere but transformed him and used him to live a life for Christ and tell others about Him; God didn't see Mary as just a young virgin but chose her to carry the Savior of the world; God doesn't see you as just anyone and can use you to do mighty things, too.

You are valued, you are loved, and you matter—and that's so much more than just anything.

What you say matters

I'm not really sure how the saying, "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me" came to be (and I didn't care to look it up), but it's completely bogus.

Because words are powerful.

Yes, I am well aware that "actions speak louder than words" and that you are to "practice what you preach," but I don't think we need to diminish the strength our words can have.

Because words matter.

I can think of so many instances in life when people said words to me that I still carry with me today. Whether they were good or bad, I still have them. Maya Angelou has a famous quote that says, "I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel." But, the thing is, sometimes it's what you say that makes people feel a certain way, and they won't forget those words that engrained themselves in their hearts.

I'll never forget when I made the horrible decision to do a triathlon, and when I wanted to quit during the swim, my dad yelled: "Merrills don't quit! Turn over and do the backstroke!" Now, whenever I want to quit something when I feel defeated, that line echoes through my mind, and I press on and find an alternative way to stay afloat if I need to. His words had power.

I'll never forget the guy at my church who said to me, "You know, you're really small. But I have a feeling that God is going to have you do big things in life." Though I often like to think that I can do far more than I actually can, it's good to remember that God is so mighty and can use anyone to accomplish anything. I like to remind myself of this when I'm feeling too powerless to do certain things in life—God is so much bigger than any obstacles I will ever face. His words had power.

I'll never forget when a professor in college told me that I really didn't belong in sports reporting and would never make it, because it really wasn't a place for women. He suggested I change my major. I emailed him my first post-collegiate published article. His words had power.

Words have power

I'll never forget when author Annie Downs said to the audience at the Called Conference in Tennessee, "Brave people hear the voices of fear and step forward, anyway." My goal in life is to be bold in all that I do. But, let's be honest, there are some things that cause my palms to sweat or my heart to beat wildly with anxiety and make me want to run away. But that's not what brave people do, and I want to be brave. Annie said God made me to be brave—I remember her words, and I believe them. Her words had power.

I could give so many more examples, but they would all convey the same point: words have power. Your words can hurt people. Your words can heal people. Your words can make someone's bad day better. My heart feels something I can't explain when my students say meaningful things. Last week, two students nominated me for the Righteous Redhawk Award at our school, and what they wrote on their nomination forms made me want to cry. Their words had power.

Sometimes it's difficult to bite your tongue in certain situations. But just think about how something that takes you less than 10 seconds to say can stick with a person for much longer than you could imagine. Let your words be full of love. Let your words be like song lyrics that you want to sing over and over. Let your words be powerful in a good way.

Let love always win in what you say.

And sometimes you get kidney stones

I'm not a huge fan of feeling helpless.

Especially when grueling agony is involved.

I've experienced a lot of physical pain in my life—whether it's been broken bones, pancreatitis, ruptured ovarian cysts, or whatever else—but last week I went through what is by far the absolutely worst pain I've ever felt in my entire life.

Wednesday around 3 a.m., I woke up to use the restroom. When I got back in bed, I felt a weird pain in my stomach and got up again. I looked at my stomach, and it looked sort of inflated and felt kind of hard. Then I suddenly couldn't move. I didn't know what to do. I am not very good at describing pain, but I can say that it was nothing like I've ever experienced, and I was pretty certain I was dying. The feeling was in my lower left abdomen, so I knew it wasn't my pancreas (plus, I know that pain all too well), and I knew it couldn't be my appendix.

The thought of going to the ER kept popping into my head, but I didn't want to go if it was nothing. I called Baylor Hospital, but the woman who answered said that legally no one could give me advice on what to do. I still described my symptoms to her, anyway, and all she said was, "Ma'am, if you're in enough pain to call a hospital at this hour, what do you think you should do?" Ugh. I hate when people answer my questions with questions.

For almost another hour, I tried to curl up in various positions to make the pain go away. I figured that I really couldn't afford to miss work, so I might as well just suck it up. But, it finally became too much to bear, and I sent an email to our AP secretary saying I was going to the hospital and might need a sub that day, grabbed my purse, put on a coat, and walked (if that's what you can even call what I was doing) to my car. I still had on my glasses, because I was hurting too badly even to put in my contacts.

I honestly have no idea how I drove that morning. I know I was moaning the whole time, and then it felt like I was in a maze trying to find the emergency entrance. I parked in a spot that I didn't even know (or care) if it was legal, and I stumbled across the street and into the hospital. It would be almost another two hours before an actual doctor saw me and hooked me up with some pain medicine that would at least ease some of what I was going through. But first, a nurse had to try to put an IV in me, and she was struggling. I think she was new. She blew two of my veins and finally had to have a more experienced person come stick a needle in me. I wanted to cry so badly and for so many reasons at that point.

I went through a series of tests I will not recount to the public. Ever. But I will say they were awful, and I would never wish them upon anyone. Ever.

Even though there were nurses and doctors and other strangers throughout the entire emergency room area, I felt all alone. Granted, it was my own fault, because no one knew I was there, but it was very lonely, and there was way too much time when I had no idea where the doctor was or if he still planned on finding out what was wrong with me. My poor nurse Tyler probably started to hate me, because I hit the button to call him to my room simply to ask him if anyone was on the way.

These are my arms. I don't do drugs.

I spent two hours in the sonogram room, where Joseph made me drink two gigantic cups of water but told me to pace myself and then insisted waiting 30 minutes after each cup and 20 minutes between cups before actually examining my stomach with his machine. But, he was a very sweet man and even got me an extra blanket and the ugliest pair of socks I've ever donned when he noticed how chilled I was in my ridiculous paper-thin gown. When I finally returned with no answers from that to my hospital room, Tyler said, "Finally! You're back!" I don't think he actually missed me pestering him so much, but it was nice of him to pretend.

At this point, I had been there five or six hours, so I texted my sister just to let her know where I was. I think deep inside I knew she would come to the hospital if she knew I was there, and I really wanted someone there with me. I do a lot alone in life, but I needed my sister. I told her not to come, but she did. And I felt better when she got there. Sure, I was pretty drugged up and not feeling much, but the warmth of a sister's love can overpower morphine every single time.

Shortly after Steph arrived, I finally went back for my CT scan. I had already drunk the three cups of the nastiest lemon-lime flavored concoction a person can ingest that Tyler kept bringing me, claiming they made it easier to read the scan, so I was ready to go. I had to wait 30 minutes between each cup before I got the next. Don't worry—I was monitoring the clock and pushed the button for Tyler if we made it to the 31-minute mark with no new cup of nasty. I wish hospitals moved as fast in real life as they do in movies and on television.

After 12 hours of wondering why I even had to be in the hospital that day, I finally got the answer. The doctor came back and said, "I have some good news for you: you have kidney stones. Three of them." How is that good news?! Apparently it was just good that we finally knew what it was. Two of the kidney stones are still in my kidney, and the third had made its way to my bladder. That's what had caused so much pain that morning, because the stone was passing from my kidney through some very narrow tube that isn't big enough for a kidney stone, thus causing unbearable pain. The lone ranger stone was supposed to pass in the next few days but is still there, while the others could either stay in my kidney, go away, or eventually travel just as the first did. And there is no way to tell what they will do. Wonderful.

I'm not going to lie—I hate kidney stones. Multiple people (including the doctor) have told me that it's a worse pain than childbirth, and I don't doubt that for one second. But I think I came away with three valuable lessons from this whole ordeal:

1. Pain is often part of the process. Some things you go through in life simply have to hurt for a while. After the kidney stone leaves the kidney and makes you hurt terribly, it then causes a different type of pain after that, too. But, once it's left you completely, the pain is gone, and you can carry on again like normal (whatever that is). You just have to get through that difficult part—and you can. Sure, sometimes people have to help you out along the way, but that just makes them part of your journey, too. Whether it's doctors, nurses, or the best sister in the world, others will be there to aid and love you through your pain.

2. You can't live in fear. I am not too keen on the fact that there are two more stones from hell, as I like to call them, just hanging out in my kidney. And I am not a fan of the thought of having to pass the loner kidney stone, either. But I don't want to waste time worrying about what may or may not happen and when it may or may not occur. It doesn't make sense to live life with hesitation. Live it boldly, and live it fearlessly. And just remember that sometimes stones happen, and that's OK.

3. We need people. Life was not meant to be lived alone. The truth is, we need others. I needed doctors and nurses to take care of me last week. I needed my sister to sit with me and quote the doctor in Friends when he joyously says, "Kidney stones!" (I had waited for her to say this—I knew it was coming and truly enjoyed the awkward moment when she said it and then had to explain to the doctor why she said it the way she did.)

I never want to go through the agony of kidney stones again, and I hope you don't have to, either. But, I hope that when you do face any type of pain in your life that you will fearlessly press through it and trust that the Lord will get you through it. Trust without borders. And I hope that you will have people like Tyler and my sister to be there with you and help you forget about the pain.

Because genuine love is strong enough to do that.

Not for a moment

Sometimes comfort comes in strange forms.

Like not getting hugs.

By the time I arrived at church on Sunday, I had already had a pretty emotional morning. After I came home from a cold, my-face-is-completely-windburned run, I learned that Stuart Scott (an ESPN anchor) died that morning. He was battling his third bout with cancer and was only 49 years old. Scott is one of the reasons I studied sports journalism—he was so unique and had a way of making great highlights seem even more spectacular. You could tell he really loved sports, but you could also tell that he was a genuine person and someone who knew the things that were truly important in life, such as family.

When Keyshawn Johnson started getting choked up while talking about Scott on Sunday NFL Countdown, I had to turn away, and then when Merril Hoge (who also fought his own battle with cancer) began talking about him, I almost lost it. Even though I didn't actually know Stuart Scott, I've looked up to and respected him for years. It's sad to lose people.

I got to church and was waiting for service to begin, and I started looking around the room as the band started playing the first worship song. I saw a mom lean over and give her son a big hug; I saw a woman hug her friend like they hadn't seen each other in a while; I saw a man pull his wife close to him; I saw a mother put her arm around her daughter and give her a little squeeze. My thought in that instance: Where the heck is my hug? Yes, I had a brief moment of feeling sorry for myself.

And then I got my hug—in the form of lyrics.

The next song, "Not for a Moment (After All)," was one we don't sing that often but one I apparently really needed to hear. I think I needed a reminder that I'm never alone in this life and that there is One who will never wrong me, even when it seems like things are worse than they ever could be. The part of the song that truly jumped out at me most was:

And every step, every breath you are there

Every tear, every cry, every prayer

In my hurt, at my worst

When my world falls down

Not for a moment will You forsake me

Even in the dark, even when it's hard

You will never leave me after all

Yes, sometimes life is just plain hard. Sometimes bad things happen, even to good people. Sometimes you lose people you love. Sometimes you are faced with obstacles that seem insurmountable. Sometimes unexplainable and catastrophic events take place and impact multitudes of people. Sometimes innocent lives are lost. Sometimes you make bad choices. Sometimes your world seems to be caving in around you. Sometimes you cry. Sometimes you watch others cry. Sometimes nothing makes sense. At all.

But, even in all of those times, when it seems like every single person you know has turned and walked away, there is One who is there the whole time. It's really easy to say God is there when those good things happen to us, but why is it so hard to believe that same truth when life is full of storms? A loving mother would never shut her child out in the middle of a torrential downpour and leave him to suffer; rather, she would do everything in her power to get him back inside safely. Our loving Father would never leave you all alone in the middle of a storm, either. Sometimes it may feel like you're all by yourself in troubling times, especially when you don't get the results or answers you want and when you want them, but life is out of our hands—which is actually a good thing. After all.

I won't try to explain to you why things happen as they do, because I honestly have no idea. In fact, I ask that question so much that it's probably ridiculous. But I do know that life is much more enjoyable when you're not worrying about it so much. When Stuart Scott received the Jimmy V Perseverance Award at the ESPYs last summer, he said, "When you die, it does not mean that you lose to cancer. You beat cancer by how you live, why you live, and in the manner in which you live."

And, I don't know about you, but I want to live fearlessly knowing that, after all, I'm never alone.