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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.