Saturday, May 28, 2011

Why I Am, Who I Am

It was requested by a few that I detail my story. Specifically, the story that led me to choose my college major, and thus my choice of going into some sort of youth ministry. Well, here we go.

Love. It is the greatest thing the human heart longs for. To be wanted; to be needed; to know that someone thinks you’re something special are desires we are born infused with. But the love we need is more than just that. No human can satisfy the love we need. The love we need is so much greater. It is God’s love. No one but God can satisfy the deep hole we all hold in our hearts. Too many times, Satan tries to deceive us and make us believe that we are not loved and do not deserve to be so. Too many times, we believe him. For too long, I believed him.

Many have described me as a happy, bubbly, cheerful, Godly girl. I am the one everyone comes to for advice, love, or even just a simple hug. I guess people just figure I’ve always been that way. And why not? I don’t think I’ve ever really given people a reason to believe otherwise. But what many people don’t know is that I was bullied for five years. I don’t say this to make people feel sorry for me. Pity does nothing but add to the guest list on a pity party. I’d rather this pity party be cancelled. I’ve been down that road, tried that game, and I’ll tell you right now, it does nothing to satisfy anyone. But what I do ask for is to be understood. This did happen to me. This continues to happen to people every single day.

Statistics show that 20% of school-aged children have admitted to being bullied. Every 20 seconds, someone attempts suicide. Most of these attempts are a direct result of bullying. Bullying is real. It is everywhere. It is in schools, homes, the work place, and sadly, even churches.

I’d always known that these people didn’t like me very much. But not long after I accepted Christ, their disdain for me grew. It seemed that every time I was around, things got worse. Every week, they’d do their best to make me feel like the stupidest, most worthless person in the world. And, while it hurts to admit it, I let them. If they said I was stupid, or didn’t know anything, or was a control-freak, I’d believe them.

My mom did everything she could to try and counter these people’s actions. She prayed, talked to me and held me when I cried. But I was soon constantly surrounded by the words of my tormentors. The atrocious ideas that I was worthless or ugly or controlling consumed my thoughts. I would cry out to God, asking over and over again: WHY?? Why me??

I can remember one particular time, when I was sitting next to my mom, tears streaming down my face, when I said to her, “Why does this have to be happening to me? Why do they hate me?? I’ve done nothing to them!” My mom shook her head. She told me she didn’t know. She didn’t know why they hated me, or why they picked on me. But then she gave me a verse. This verse lit a candle of hope for me. A candle that still shines and gets brighter every day.

And we know that all things work together for good
 to them that love God to them who are
the called according to His purpose.
Romans 8:28
This verse soon became a constant reminder that I needed to look to God to rescue me. He had a purpose in all that was going on—even though I couldn’t see it. I needed to have faith that He had not forgotten me and that in the end everything would be just as it should be.

But as time went on, I began to allow my gaze on Christ to slip. I began to look in all the wrong places for attention. I put my parents through the wringer with my bad attitude about school, their authority, and just life in general. I joined online discussion forums and spent hours debating topics I knew nothing about and making a fool of myself in the process. I would chat for hours online with a young man I didn’t even know, simply because he talked to me and said he liked me.  By the end of my freshman year of highschool, my life was a complete and utter mess. I had gained quite a bit of weight, I was on the computer whenever I could be, and I almost didn’t finish that year of school. As it were, I had to repeat Algebra and Spanish 1. In addition to the damage I had done on my own, I was still being bullied and my best friend was no longer my best friend. I pretty much hated myself. When my mom discovered the piles of unfinished schoolwork, it was a huge reality check for me. Seeing how upset and disappointed she was with me, my attitude, and my life made me begin to realize that I needed an attitude adjustment. I tried to do better with my life, but didn’t do so hot. At that point, I was relying on the quicksand pit of my own strength.

Not long after that, my family left the situation that had brought the constant torment upon me. The last time we drove away, I shook the entire way home. Shock? Most likely. I couldn’t believe we were never going back. I would never have to face those people again. It was over. My years of constantly being told I was worth no more than dirt, and no smarter than it either were over. But this was really just the beginning. Even though those people were no longer in my life, the damage was done. I was one of the walking wounded: the girl who smiled on the outside while she bled on the inside. I was the girl who looked in the mirror each morning and wanted to choke at the sight of her reflection. I was the girl who wanted more than anything to be loved but was too blind to see she had love sitting right in front of her.

I began pursuing a young man. I wanted more than anything for him to like me. I guess I figured if he liked me despite the fact that I was “worthless, ugly, and stupid” then maybe I’d actually be worth loving. He became my friend, but I made a point of talking to him every chance I got. I spent hours letting my mind dwell on him, wondering if he would be at such-and-such a place or go to such-and-such an event.

But I wasn’t completely consumed by the slippery slope I was trying to climb. God was doing a lot of work in my heart. Slowly but surely, I began letting Him take over—but only in certain areas. I kept a tight grip on my ideas of love, worth, and beauty. My attitude about life and others improved, but my attitude about myself worsened.

After several months of pursuing this young man, he accepted Christ. Not long after that, our friendship grew. We were soon ‘the best of friends’. We told each other everything. And when I say everything, I mean everything. At least, that’s what I thought. I told him so much. I allowed him to become practically the only person I really talked to. He knew my secrets and we barely went a day without speaking. My parents tried to warn me about getting too close to him, but I ignored them.

Throughout this entire thing—being bullied, wrecking my life, etc.—there was a family that my family was getting to know. The dad was my brother’s scoutmaster, their mom was supermom, they had five kids, and they were a wonderful, Christian family. Age-wise, I landed in-between their daughter and second son. Their daughter and I were fast friends. My mom loved whenever I was around her—the biggest reason likely being that she was a very good influence on me. I looked up to her and wanted to be just like her. Not long after we met them, the family began getting involved with something called TeenPact. The three oldest kids came back from their first ‘state class’ excited about God, leadership and government. Pretty soon, they were encouraging me to go to state class the next year. But I held off and waited a year. I liked politics, but was wary. The class required a lot of pre-class homework, and both the homework and the class looked hard. I thought I would be too stupid for it. The next year, their mom got my mom to sign me up. There was no going back now: I was going to TeenPact.

I finally finished the not-quite-as-hard-as-I-had-made-it-out-to-be homework the week before class, and on the first week of March I carpooled west to my state capitol for my first-ever TeenPact state class. I was really nervous, but by the end of the first day, all signs of nervousness were wiped away. Each day kept getting better and better, and by the end of the week not only was I a fully turned TeenPacter, God was working an overhaul on my heart.

I was so excited about TeenPact and all it had to offer, I signed up to attend the National Convention—the first alumni event of the season—not too long after I got home from state class. And as soon as I discovered that elections for nine Representatives, four Senators, and a President and Vice President team were held each year, I signed up to run for Rep. I was going all in.  For me, it was go big, or go home.

But the week before I went to NC, my mind began wander back to a place I hadn’t been to in a while. I began to let thoughts of those who bullied me and my years as a victim of bullying wander through my mind. My mom and I spent a lot of time talking about it and where I’d come from, where I was, and where I was going. On the way to the airport—and coincidentally during one of our conversations about these people—I saw a gorgeous rainbow. Sitting in my car, rain pelting on the window, and the glorious reds, yellows, oranges, and blues poking through the clouds, I had to take a picture. Little did I realize that the rainbow foreshadowed the keeping of God’s promises to me that would become clear that week.

I didn’t make it out of primaries with the elections, but by the end of National Convention, I almost forgot that I had even run. God had provided some amazing friends for me, but even better, He had held my hand and opened the door to a new season in my life: a season of healing. I can remember so clearly the night I let God take over my heart. We were in worship, and in between songs, the worship leader started talking about how we all have so many passions in our lives. But really, God needs to be our only passion. We need to lay aside all our worldly desires and thoughts and let God completely consume us. Tears ran down my face as I stood there, listening. It was if I was standing all by myself, in the middle of a room, and this guy was on the other end, talking specifically to me. As the next song started, the worship leader told us that if we needed to pray we most certainly should. Instinctively, I dropped to my knees, talking to God even as I was going down. All around me, one by one, I felt my friends drop to their knees as well. We all wrapped our arms around each other, forming a small circle right where we were, all praying. For ourselves, for each other, and for everyone around us we prayed. As I prayed, I begged God to help me: to help me make Him my only passion and to heal my heart. As I was praying, I felt a pull on my heart. I was moved to forgive. I needed to forgive. Not just those who bullied me: so many people in my life whom I had held a grudge against or just brushed off as unforgiveable. God did a lot in my heart at NC. But He still had a lot to do before the summer was over.

After National Convention, I decided to go to TeenPact Endeavor—an all-girls event. Ironically, I don’t think I would have normally chosen an all-girls event. But I could feel God leading me to go. So I went. There, God worked in my heart in two areas: my perception of self-worth and how I related to guys. Specifically, a certain guy who was my ‘best friend’. I walked into that week believing I was ugly. But God used some wonderful ladies there to show me that I was fearfully and wonderfully made. It was during that week that God taught me that I was, in fact, beautiful. He reminded me that He doesn’t make ugly people and that thinking I was ugly was slap in His face. God also showed me that I needed to protect my heart—something I wasn’t doing. Not only did I need to protect my heart, I needed to give it completely over to Him to save especially for my future husband.

Throughout all these years of torture, lies, and then healing, God was doing work in my heart for something greater. At the age of 13, I began to acquire an interest in psychology. Something in me just wanted to help people who couldn’t help themselves mentally. I discovered the Biblical Counseling major at my choice college: Bob Jones University.  As time progressed, I began to pin down exactly what I was going to do. Recently, I’ve realized that God is calling me to youth ministry. Specifically, starting a ministry to become licensed as a foster parent and establish a safe house for troubled teens.

Remember when I mentioned that my mom was always telling me that God had a purpose and a plan in everything—even in my being bullied? I believe that this is His end purpose in all of that. As someone who was bullied and then spent years lying to myself about my image and worth I can relate on a broader scale to troubled youth. I will be able to look them in the eye and say: I understand. I’ve been there. I’m here to help. It is my hope and prayer that God is able to use me to help troubled youth.

I know that I won’t be able to reach everyone. I dearly wish I could. But if God can use me to help even just one person, it will be worth everything.

At a very nice beach, there were tons of butterflies. They were beautiful, and all who saw them loved them. One night, there was a terrible storm. The next morning, people woke up to discover hundreds of butterflies scattered across the beach: weighted down my sand, unable to fly, and dying before their very eyes. As people began to come onto the beach and survey the damage, some spotted a man walking very slowly down the beach, stooping frequently. Someone approached him to see what he was doing. The man was picking up each butterfly he came across, picking it up, brushing off its delicate wings, and releasing it into the air: alive and well. The person watched for a few moments: baffled. Finally he questioned the man. “Sir, what are you doing? Look at all the butterflies dying around you! You’ll never rescue enough to make a difference.” The man stood, a butterfly in his hand and looked the questioner in the eye. The man slowly and carefully brushed off the wings of the butterfly in his hand and released it. “I made a difference to that one.” He picked up another and did the same.
“And that one: I made a difference to him.”

It doesn’t matter as much how many we get to as whether we even try to get to them.

But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength. They shall mount up on wings as eagles: they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint.
Isaiah 40:31

Wednesday, May 18, 2011

Living By Faith

"Well, this is the worst possible moment that this could happen…"

I was kneeling on my bed, eyes wide, shaking from shock as it hit me that I wasn't only feeling nauseated--I had just thrown up.

6:40 am. Saturday morning. 20 minutes before my alarm was to go off. 20 minutes before I was supposed roll of out bed and get ready to spend the day at work. But my body didn't seem to understand this. It had completely and utterly rebelled against me.

But honestly, the first thing that ran through my mind was not missing work and thus not earning as large a needed paycheck. The first thing I thought was, "how on earth am I going to finish everything for the campaign???"

It ran through my mind as my mom took my sheets downstairs to be washed, as I curled up in a cocoon on the couch, and as I stared mindlessly at the television trying not to die of boredom. It ran through my mind as I woke up the next morning still feel as terrible as ever.

That whole weekend I was consumed with worry. Even when I mustered up the strength to turn on my laptop (thank goodness for them!!) and type things up to print I couldn't help but worry. How on earth am I going to get this done on time?? More than once, I had to nearly physically stop myself from calling Ben and telling him I couldn't do it. I couldn't finish everything. I had let him down. He'd have to find a new campaign manager.

But every time I wanted to, I just couldn't. Why? Pride. Plain and simple, I didn't want to hurt my pride.

But that didn't stop my from worrying. All day long, all night long my thoughts and dreams were consumed with the idea that I was a failure. That I couldn't do it. That I was not good enough to do it all.

I allowed myself to be consumed with worry. Even as I was able to make progress in my projects, I couldn't help but continue to tell myself that there was no way I was going to be able to get it all done.

I really don't remember much of what went on during those four days. Everything blended together. I know what I did, but can't tell you what day or at what time. I don't know if it's because my brain was fried or because I was unnecessarily stressing myself out. But at some point, something clicked in me.

I was scrolling through Facebook, when a post caught my eye.

Philippians 4:6
Be careful for nothing
but in every thing by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving 
let your requests be made known unto God.

Be careful for nothing.

In that moment, it seemed as if God was popping me upside the head whilst saying, "C'mon Rose! Stop worrying! I've got this!"

Who am I to worry? 

God's Word states clearly that God has a purpose and a plan in everything. And everything includes getting sick one week before one the biggest weeks of the year.

Today was completely clear proof of this.

I woke up this morning feeling 100%. I didn't have a single stomachache or bout of vertigo all day. I'm sitting here, typing this, feeling just fine. I got a ton done with the campaign, and plan to continue to do so once this post is done. 

But what made the difference?

I let go, and let God.

1 Peter 5:7
Casting all your care upon Him;
for He careth for you.

Monday, May 9, 2011

An Admonition

There's been a lot of things on my heart and mind lately. I feel the need to put out an admonishment

Here goes..

Like I said, there's been a lot on my heart and mind. Especially how I--and other girls--dress. Especially around the guys. I know I talk about this a lot, and I don't want to keep beating on the point. But there's so much that goes along with being an honorable young lady.

Guys are visual. Very visual. Just one girl dressed immodestly can cause even a Christian guy to stumble. Think about your clothing for a minute. Why do you wear that low-cut shirt or those short shorts? Seriously think about it. Don't say, "Oh, well, it was cute, so I bought it." Really? Are you really comfortable in an outfit like that? The Bible says clearly that if a man looks upon a woman with lust in his eyes, he has already committed adultery with her in his heart. What is the purpose in causing one of your Christian brothers to sin? And on purpose? I have to say, for the most part, you girls know what you're doing. Listen, I'm a girl, and I understand it's hard to find clothes. I understand guys need to keep their eyes to themselves. But I also understand it is possible to find cute, modest clothes, and to encourage guys to flee from lust, just by wearing modest clothes. A girl wearing an immodest outfit is not forcing a guy to sin, but it helps him sin. It makes it all the harder for him to keep his mind clean. We are in no way helping any guy when we don clothing that does not honor God. Modest clothing, while hard to find, does exist. It might take a little more effort to find, but it's worth it.

And guess what? Good Christian guys appreciate it so, so much when they see their sisters dressing modestly. Why? Because when we do, they can breathe a sigh of relief. They don't have to constantly direct their minds away from lustful thoughts. If you're dressed modestly, your brothers have no one to blame but themselves for any lustful thoughts that cross their minds.

Ladies, you have to understand that lust isn't just a by-passing sin that the occasional guy struggles with. It's every single guy. Every one of them. I think a lot of times we girls don't understand this. We don't try to wrap our minds around it. We don't know what it's like to have fight this battle every single day.

We have our own battle to fight. The battle of wanting to feel loved and needed. I strongly believe that many times when a girl dresses immodestly it's because she gets that attention she so strongly hungers for. That every girl hungers for. But if we're getting attention because of our skimpy outfit, we're getting attention for the most wrong reasons.

Next time you go clothes shopping, really think about what you're buying. Ask yourself, "Is this something that's going to make my brothers stumble?" If you're not sure, the answer is yes. When you come home, show your newly purchased outfits to your dad. He's a guy and he'll be the best one to tell you whether or not something is appropriate. And if he asks you to take something back, know that it's coming from a guy who struggles just like any other guy. And that you should listen. It's better to have something like that come from your dad than to have the embarrassment of a wounded brother approaching you about it.

There's a video I found once that sums everything I've been talking about perfectly. It was made by guys explaining just how much they appreciate it when girls dress modestly. I'd highly encourage both the guys and girls to watch it [note on the music clip at the beginning: not my type of music, so please excuse it]:

"How beautiful then is modesty 
and what a gem among virtues it is." 

Sunday, May 8, 2011

The Hand That Rocked My Cradle

Trying so hard to make life wonderful for me
Reaching out even when I pull away
Always there for me
Crying when I cry
Your love
Your sacrifices
Up and over the rim of my cup they go
Never do you settle for merely halfway
Glorious is your smile
Beautiful is your face
Loving are your hugs
Overwhelming is your kindness
Obeying you is a blessing
Dearest Mommy, you are
Just wonderful
Oh, what would I do without you?
How would I survive?
No one can know how
So very much I love you
Overflowing is my heart
Never will I stop loving you.

Happy Mother’s Day to the most amazing woman I know. 

Thursday, May 5, 2011

What Would You Do For a Klondike Bar? (And Ten Million Dollars)


Everyone wants it. People who have it, want more. It's caused pain, it's caused joy. It's one of the biggest causes of worry.

What is it about money that is so desirable?

Maybe it's the fact that while knowledge is power, money can buy you almost whatever you want.


What are some of the things money can't buy?

1) Children
2) Purity
3) Being a natural-born American Citizen
4) Faith
5) Family
6) Life
7) Natural Gender
8) Love
9) True Nationality

In a recent study people were asked to participate in a FICTIONAL game, and were asked how they would respond.
The game goes as follows:
Picture a stage with thousands of people in the stands surrounding the stage. in the center on the stage is a announcer and a wheelbarrow full of 10 Million Dollars. The announcer calls pick one of these follow options to win 10 Million dollars instantly.

#1 Put your children up for adoption
#2 Become a prostitute for a week
#3 Give up your American Citizenship
#4 Abandon your church
#5 Abandon your family
#6 Kill a stranger
#7 Have a sex-change operation
#8 Leave your spouse
#9 Change your race

Thats the list the announcer calls, now make your choice. the audience in the stands go quiet all waiting for the sound of your voice. You have a choice to make...

Now although this game never happened, people just like you were asked what they would have said, of the people asked:

25% would abandon their family
25% would abandon their church
23% would become a prostitute
16% would give up their American citizenship
16% would leave their spouse
3% would put their children up for adoption.

Now, what I'm going to say next may sound like I'm changing the subject, but just bear with me, I am going somewhere with this.

Finishing and publishing these old blog posts has been an interesting experience for me. Especially which posts land on what days. Take my pro-life posts from a couple days ago for instance. Right before I logged onto Blogger to begin my "finishing blog posts" excursion, I was on the YouTube homepage. The featured advertisement had a pro-life video. The post at the top of my editing list was the pro-life posts. Coincidence? I think not.

Today, I was thumbing through a phonebook (with a purpose, I promise. I don't read phonebooks for fun). I stumbled across an ad for a jewelry shop. It advertised that money could buy happiness--especially at that particular jewelry shop. I, being me, made fun of the ad. But frankly, I was also rather disturbed. Whether the advertisers believe it or not, they were advocating the idea that money bought happiness. 

This mentality, whether meant as for real or not, is not only disturbing, it's wrong. Money does not buy  happiness. This may sound like a simple, mundane, and obvious concept, but it's true. 

No matter how much we try, earning money and buying "stuff" is not going to make us happy. The only way we can be truly happy is to be at peace with God. 

The empty place in our hearts can only be filled by God. 

Let your conversation be without covetousness; 
and be content with such things as ye have: 
for he hath said, I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee.
Hebrew 13:5

Tuesday, May 3, 2011

The Kind of Friends We Are (part 2)

A while back I started a series about friendships: past and present. I finished my posts about the past, and started with posts about the present, but never finished. This is my final installment in this series.
The Kind of Friends We Used To Be (Part 1)
The Kind of Friends We Used To Be (Part 2)
The Kind of Friends We Are (Part 1)

You were the competition. That random person who joined my Facebook group for the sole purpose of scouting out who you were up against.

Not that I was much of a challenge: out of the running after the first round and all.

That whole week was such a blast.

Being in our little group was such a blessing.

Our crazy, random conversations and dorky inside jokes still made me smile. Maybe it's because they continue.

Every time we talk, I become more encouraged and affirmed.

You're the kind of person I can have the strangest, most off-the-wall conversations with, and it be all apart of a perfectly normal afternoon.

Lately, our conversations have gravitated towards a season in life that is inevitable and creeping upon on us: growing up, moving out of our respective homes, and being on our own. We're both trying to reach out towards our goals and dreams. But reality is striking. Goals and dreams aren't as easy to accomplish as they once were.

It's hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel and know that you're going to reach your goals.

But if God wants you somewhere, there's going to be no stopping you.

You are a wonderful blessing of a friend. I can't wait to see where life takes you.

See you soon. :) ::heart thump::

Monday, May 2, 2011

There is Life

A while back, I had an opportunity for a first. Well, it was a sort-of first. I've held small children and babies before--even babysat one about eight or so months old. But I have never in my life held a child less than a day old.

Okay, now some of you homeschooled people (okay, probably a lot of you) are probably thinking "what's so important about that? I hold babies that young all the time". And I'll tell you this:

1) I thought it was really neat that I got to hold this child (especially when she was so young--I didn't think her sweet mother or grandmother would want to let go of her).

2) There's something about holding a tiny baby in your arms that really let's you marvel. Not just at how tiny a person can be, but at God's wonder in creating this tiny human.

She is the newborn daughter of my a nurse at my dad's clinic. My dad needed to round on her and I (having been at work as well, and he having the only car between us) tagged along. I hoped that she would let me come in and see the baby, but my dad wanted to ask first. So, he examined the baby and asked her. She said yes!

So I knocked on the door and slipped into the room.

She had a full head of the softest hair I have ever touched in my life. It was like bunny fur.

I was a little nervous when I got permission to hold her and took her into my arms.

But as I held her, and chatted with my dad and the baby's mother and grandmother, I marveled at the realization that in my arms was a living, breathing miracle. From conception to birth, she was a miracle every step of the way.

And as I held her, I couldn't help but wonder:

How could anyone abort the life of a child in-utero?

Life is so precious. From the moment of conception, a living, breathing baby is developing inside his or her mother's womb. He/she is constantly growing and developing.

Many people often argue that a baby is "just a clump of cells" until a certain month of pregnancy.

That's not true.

By the time a mother is able to know that she is pregnant, the baby already looks like a fully formed baby. All he/she has left to do is grow and strengthen his/her organs.

There are always options.

Abortion should never be one.

Adoption is a beautiful thing.

My mother is one of the most amazing people you will ever meet (and I'm not just saying this because she's my mom).

She was adopted.

She was unplanned.

Her mother was unmarried.

Is my mom worth less than others because of this?


Then why would any other unplanned child be any different?

A baby is a baby. No matter how small, how young, or anything.

God allowed that baby to be conceived for a reason.

Who are we to take life into our own hands? And not just our own lives, but the life of another? No. If someone killed the baby I mentioned at the beginning of this post today, they would be charged with murder.

What makes that baby any different from a baby in the womb?


Here's an illustration I found that exemplifies this wonderfully:

A worried woman went to her gynecologist and said:

'Doctor, I have a serious problem and desperately need your help! My baby is not even 1 year old and I'm pregnant again. I don't want kids so close together.

So the doctor said: 'Ok and what do you want me to do?'
She said: 'I want you to end my pregnancy, and I'm counting on your help with this.'

The doctor thought for a little, and after some silence he said to the lady: 'I think I have a better solution for your problem. It's less dangerous for you too.'

She smiled, thinking that the doctor was going to accept her request.

Then he continued: 'You see, in order for you not to have to take care 2 babies at the same time, let's kill the one in your arms. This way, you could rest some before the other one is born. If we're going to kill one of them, it doesn't matter which one it is. There would be no risk for your body if you chose the one in your arms.

The lady was horrified and said: 'No doctor! How terrible! It's a crime to kill a child!

'I agree', the doctor replied. 'But you seemed to be OK with it, so I thought maybe that was the best solution.'

The doctor smiled, realizing that he had made his point.

He convinced the mom that there is no difference in killing a child that's already been born and one that's still in the womb.

Choose life.

Love lets live.

I will praise Thee; 
for I am fearfully and wonderfully made: 
marvelous are thy works; 
and that my soul knoweth right well.
Psalm 139:14

Sunday, May 1, 2011

A Task Left Unfinished

Or, in this case, a post.

Or, in the actuality of this case, multiple posts.

In my archives, I have recently discovered several blog posts I have left unfinished and thus unpublished.

In accordance with this, I have also recently read a well-written, well thought out blog post on sluggishness.

All of this brings me to a conclusion.

I must finish these posts.

So, my next several posts will be posts I have started but did not finish.

And, I'm sure you're scratching your head and wondering.. and why is she telling us this?

It's partially to keep me accountable.

Go ahead, ask me if I've finished my unfinished posts.

Look for 'em published on my blog.

The other reason is difficult to explain.

Maybe it's because my unfinished blog posts give evidence to the scattered way I tend to run my life.

Sitting on my kitchen table is unfinished math homework.

Waiting for me in the school room are unfinished (or even unstarted) English essays.

Unfinished classes (well, that gives evidence of the unfinished school year, which is logical since it's May 1).

There's a saved file on my desktop. It's an unfinished Inkscape tutorial drawing.

Bookmarked on my web browser are websites I haven't finished fully checking out.

Items I haven't finished deciding whether or not to purchase.

An Inkscape tutorial I haven't finished.

Waiting for me are unfinished e-mails, books, lists, and designs.

People call me a busy person.

A hard act to follow.

The kind of person who runs from here to there without stopping.

But in my wake, I leave the unfinished.

Prioritizing the things I want to do, and leaving the rest by the wayside.

Truth is, I'm a bit of a flake.

Okayyy, a lot of a flake.

Have you ever heard me say, "Oh, I need to e-mail so-and-so" or "I'll text/call you about that!" or "You bet I'll get it done!" only to wait, and wait, and wait?

Sure, I get things done.

But at what cost?

How much time do I take to do something that would take almost none if I would just do it?

I think my biggest problem is I recognize that I need to do something, but then don't do it. Or delay when I do it.

I even procrastinate with things that will benefit me.

I'm currently losing weight. But how many years did it take for me to actually get on the stick and get it done? More than I'd like to admit.

I applied for college, got accepted, and made the deposit to officially reserve my space. But how many months did it take for me to get the application in? How close to the deposit deadline was I when it was finally made? Too many. Too close.

I got the FAFSA filled out. But how long after the ideal time to fill it out (before March 1) did I wait? Almost two months.

I am a procrastinator of the professional kind.

A legendary flake.

But no more.

I'm sick of my own "I don't care" and "I'll do it later" attitude.

Things are going to get done in a timely manner.

Nothing will be left half way done any longer.

My blog posts will be completed.

My math homework will be finished.

My senior year will be annihilated.

My room will become a sparkling example of cleanliness (and stay that way).

But I won't do any of this by myself.

I can't stop being a flaky, uncaring procrastinator on my own.


I can do all things through Christ which strengthenth me. (Phil 4:13)

This verse means that any things that strengthens me can be done through Christ. I'm not going to do any of this on my own. Christ will lift me up and give me the strength to reach my goal and stick with it.

[The unfinished posts will begin tomorrow.]