Rock the right jacket

There are times when shopping can provide wisdom and insight you weren't expecting.

And it's more valuable than any purchase you can make.

I tagged along with my friend Betsy yesterday on a retail mission she had to complete, and we were chatting about various things as she tried to find the perfect jacket. We browsed two stores before she found the winner in the third store (I guess that whole "third time's a charm" thing is true every once in a while). She had tried on others in the previous stores—and even mentioned returning to the first store to buy a pretty snazzy jacket there—but it was rather obvious when she put on the sassy attire in the final store that there was really only one victor in this shopping escapade.

One thing you immediately notice about Betsy upon first meeting her is that she says things that are so profound but in a simple manner. As we were waiting for the perfect blazer to catch her eye and discussing very important matters, she said something that really stuck with me: "Sometimes you know you can rock a jacket, but you just don't want it. But then you find that jacket that's so you, and you don't even question it." (That might be more of a paraphrased version, but it's the gist of her point.)

Just because a jacket might seem awesome doesn't mean it's for you.

Some jackets are too expensive, some are uncomfortable, some are too flashy, some don't fit the way you want, some don't have the right look for you, some make your arms look stupid, some make you look like you're with child, and some just don't leave you saying, "I want to rock that," regardless of whether or not you could.

Some jackets just aren't right for you. Similarly, the whole "if the shoe fits" theory doesn't always apply—sometimes shoes fit but are quite uncomfortable.

Just because a job pays the bills doesn't mean it's the career you should pursue; just because a running shoe is pretty doesn't mean it will provide the stability you need; just because the milk smells halfway decent doesn't mean you should ignore the expiration date (though sometimes that one is acceptable); just because a person looks good on paper doesn't mean he or she is the right candidate for a job; just because a person makes you promises doesn't mean they won't turn out to be like pie-crusts; just because a movie gets good reviews doesn't mean you are going to like it; just because all of the "experts" predict a team to dominate the brackets doesn't mean it won't get knocked out in the first round by a 16 seed.

Just because everyone around you is putting a bunch of noise in your ears doesn't mean you should listen.

I bought an avocado the other that I really shouldn't have. It looked so wonderful on the outside, but when I picked it up I quickly realized that it wasn't ready. Avocados are supposed to be soft when they are ripe, and this particular avocado was not soft by any means, but it looked so good. I bought it. Needless to say, when I tried to cut it later that evening, I realized I should have gone with my gut in the store and selected another avocado.

There are so many times in life where we try to wear the wrong jackets or slice into unripe avocados rather than stick to the paths that deep down we know we are supposed to follow. But I would prefer not even to try on a jacket that I know isn't for me. There's one that's just right and doesn't necessarily come with such a high price tag.

Things are better when the heart is fully invested.

Can't pierce this

It can be rather frustrating when you want things you can't have.

Like pierced ears.

When I was in kindergarten, my parents took both my younger sister and me to get our ears pierced. I'm allergic to a few random things (like Benadryl), and I scar and bruise rather easily. Not too long after what I thought was a life-changing night at Claire's Boutique, my piercings got infected, and I had to remove the earrings and let the holes grow over. But, when they did, little scar tissue bumps remained, and more than one dermatologist advised my parents not to try to pierce over them, or the tiny little bumps—you can't even see them—could become much worse.

I was devastated.

It was really upsetting growing up and never being able to wear earrings. I always thought it was so unfair that my sister didn't have as sensitive skin as I did, and her ears always looked so pretty. More than once, I received earrings as gifts from people, and I always gave them to her. I certainly had no use for them. I tried clip-ons—they hurt. I tried magnetic earrings—they never stayed on my ears, and I lost multiple pair. I tried stick-ons—they always ended up in my hair or vanished. So I finally reached a point where I realized I would forever have naked ears.

I love Tie and earrings

And I was quite sad about it.

I don't know why earrings are so appealing to me. I don't really wear a lot of jewelry, I don't own any makeup or even know the first thing about how to put it on, I don't really know much about fashion (anything matches if you wear it with confidence), but there's something about earrings that makes me wish I were able to wear them.

When I turned 18 my senior year of high school, against my parents' admonitions, I got the cartilage on my ear pierced. Skipper and precious Mare had warned me that the same thing would likely happen, leaving me with yet another scar tissue bump on my ear, but I chose not to listen. I was 18—I knew everything.

Sometimes I hate it when my parents are right.

Sure enough, that super awesome act of rebellion that I thought was so worth the risk left me with an ear that wouldn't stop bleeding and hurting until I let the piercing grow over and heal. But, just like in my first year of grade school, in my final year I was left with a bump on my ear that will remain forever. (This bump is worse than my first experience, but it is thankfully more hidden.)

It often surprises people when they find out my ears aren't pierced, and they don't always understand why I don't just try getting them pierced again, even after I attempt to explain my story. In fact, just the other day, a woman asked me about the name for a certain style of earrings, and I said I didn't know, because my ears aren't pierced. She looked at me incredulously and said, "Oh, honey, you really should change that."

But I can't.

I have a stuffed koala named Tie that I've had since my early days in elementary school, and I can't sleep without him. I once drove more than 30 miles to spend the night at my parents' house, realized I forgot Tie and turned around and drove all the way home to get him before going back to my parents'. He's that worth it. Tie has a bow tie that won't stay tied—that's how he got his name—and he has this one piece of stitching that has been dangling from his neck ever since I got him. He also has a discolored spot on his nose that has always served as a reminder of his imperfections.

But I love every single thing about him.

I could have easily found him a better bow tie or had the stitching fixed or painted over his nose, but if I did that then he wouldn't be my Tie. Those perfect little imperfections make him him.

You don't have to be in pristine condition to be a treasured stuffed animal, and I don't think you have to wear earrings to be treasured, either. Just like I adore Tie and would not change a thing about him, I know God values His children—and the changes He wishes to make are matters of the heart and not of the ears. You're that worth it. I know it's hard sometimes not to wish we had things that we might not, but it's important to be able to find joy in those things we actually do have. You are the person you are for a reason, and you are not in the place in life you are without purpose. It's not the best idea to try to force things to happen that aren't meant to happen.

Trust me, you don't want to end up with another bump on your ear.

Get off the roof

I'm 29 years old, and I continue to be impacted by Disney on a regular basis.

And I'm perfectly fine with that.

Like any hip-happenin' gal, I found myself watching ABC Family on Saturday night (the Mavs weren't playing, and for some reason I decided to flip to college ball during commercial breaks so I could get wrapped up in some of the movies that made me believe in fairy tales). I saw the end of Cinderella and then The Little Mermaid and Mulan in their entireties.

Needless to say, I wanted to go dancing, sing my heart out and kick someone's a$* after that kind of lineup.

While I could relish in almost every moment of each movie, there were particular scenes in each film that stuck with me. Disney is more profound than you might think.

At the end of Cinderella (STOP READING IF YOU HAVE NEVER SEEN THIS TIMELESS CLASSIC AND DON'T WANT IT SPOILED), when the glass slipper that Cinderella lost at the palace breaks, and the Grand Duke acts as if the world has just ended and that nothing can be done to fix things, Cinderella chimes in and says, "But, you see, I have the other slipper."

And the dropped jaws and astounded gasps ensue.

My homegirls

Sometimes people will write you off completely—they won't give you chances and might make you feel like you're worth less than you really are. Don't let that happen. Don't be afraid to bust the glass slipper out of your apron pocket and reveal to the world that you are actually a precious gem and not a rock that blends in with every other rock on a man-made lakeshore. Don't be afraid to be rare.

In The Little Mermaid, when Scuttle flies back to the dock to inform Ariel, Sebastian and Flounder that the woman Prince Eric is about to marry is actually Ursula in disguise, Ariel boldly dives into the water in an attempt to swim down the boat and save her true love for making the biggest mistake of his life. However, she forgets to factor in the fact that she no longer has a mermaid fin and doesn't know how to swim anymore—after all, she wanted legs for jumping, dancing and strolling. But, thankfully, there are provisions around—a barrel, a rope and the sweet and surprisingly strong Flounder—to help get her to her destination.

Just because it seems like you are too weak and can only experience defeat doesn't mean victory won't be your ultimate outcome. After all, who was kissing the prince at the end of the movie?

The night was capped off with inspiration after Mulan rescued an entire nation from the Huns by sending Shan Yu flying through the sky on a makeshift rocket, courtesy of her lovable pal Mushu. Right after doing so, knowing a huge explosion is seconds away, Mulan takes off running, saying to herself as she is hauling tail, "Get off the roof, get off the roof, get off the roof!" She doesn't even look back and, not surprisingly, manages to make a seemingly impossible escape and land safely before the entire kingdom honors her for her heroism.

There are times when you just know in your heart exactly what you have to do. You can't listen to other voices telling you otherwise, and you can't hesitate. Rather, you just have to be bold and take a leap of faith with the confidence that you're going on the right path, no matter how scary it may seem at the time. Sometimes lanterns are attached to ropes to allow you to slide to the safety of the earth below you.

It takes boldness to reveal you broke rules and pretended to be someone you aren't when you're in a servant position; it takes guts to dive into unknown waters when you don't know how to swim; it takes courage to take on an enemy and leap from a roof in hopes that a lantern will keep you from harm. Life is full of risks, but you have to take them if your fairy tale is going to be worth telling.

Sometimes the life of a princess is a bit more dangerous than you might have thought it would be, especially when you're the daughter of the King of Kings. It's not always easy to trust what He's doing or what path He's leading you down, but you just have to believe that His lantern is perfectly safe throughout the entire journey.

After all, it sure would be nice to stand before Him one day and have Him say what Mulan's father said to her at the end of the movie: "The greatest gift and honor is having you as a daughter."

You won't be rejected forever

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

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

Now I just don't care.

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

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

He said he couldn't find his wallet.

Not a good note

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

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

And then I checked my mail.

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

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

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

Don't be that girl.

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

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

Don't get frozen and miss out

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

Especially when Disney movies are involved.

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

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

Don't sue me, Disney

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

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

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

Talk about a happy Valentine's Day.

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

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

Your art matters

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her art matters.

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

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

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

Your own love

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

And sometimes in the silliest of circumstances.

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

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

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

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

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

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