And Now It's Just a Memory...

To be honest, there's other things I could (should..) be doing. Like taking advantage of my ACT study program. Maybe doing some extra school. Typing letters to my state reps and senator. But here I am again, writing away. It's a bit of an addiction. But a good one. I had an idea for a blog post about addictions. That'll take some more time to write, though. Today, my writing pertains to my distractableness (sort of). And what I'm doing instead of being productive.

I'm one of those people that keeps everything. And I mean everything. As a kid (and I'm not kidding about this, either), I tried to keep my cut-off fingernails. Apparently, I told my mom I wanted to start a collection. Yeah. (Hey, I was like... three, okay??)

You're probably thinking, what do fingernails have to do with anything?? It has to do with me keeping things. All the time. This includes e-mails. About two years ago, I started keeping personal e-mails that I really liked. Soon, it branched to all personal e-mails. After that, it branched to all e-mails save spam. Not kidding. If you were to log into my Gmail account right now, you would come upon an empty inbox. Not an e-mail in sight. But if you were to look at the left of the screen, you would see a list of no less than 45 folders. All my e-mail is separated and categorized into these folders. And I keep making more. I start e-mailing a new friend. Sign up for another newsletter. Another folder is created. The folders actually didn't come about until about six months ago. I had ten plus pages of e-mail, and was sick of sifting through my un-deleted spam and using my e-mail search engine. So I started making folders. Each of the friends I contact or have contacted through e-mail has their own folder. Another one is reserved for my speech e-mails. Still another for my Writer's Digest newsletters. And so on. I keep every e-mail. Every single e-mail.

So, what's the significance of this?

The other day, I was clicking through the folders labeled with names of people. People I e-mail regularly or once did so. People I should e-mail again (but always forget to) and people I may never do so with again. I opened each folder. And read the e-mails. Some made me smile. Some made me laugh. Some made my eyes water. But they all brought back memories.

An e-mail from one of my best friends right after NC.
Another from a friendship I let shrink to almost non-existence.
Still another from when I was going through a hard time.
Another exchange made me laugh and shake my head.
A message that changed my life.


And they're all important. They all mean something to me. No one writes letters in the mail anymore. Why should they? It's easier to switch on the computer, log on to Facebook or your e-mail account and shoot off a message. I still have the written letters I received from my pen pal when we still used snail mail. Now I keep her letters to me in a folder in my Gmail inbox.


Don't get me wrong. I love using e-mail. It's quick, efficient, and cheap. So cheap, it's free. And Facebook. I can have many conversations at once on Facebook. A photo comment thread here, and status thread here, instant messaging, private messaging. And it's all in one spot. But, it's probably a good thing I'm taking a month off Facebook.

But back to my point.

All the e-mails I receive matter to me. I read each one, sometimes several times. Often, I take my time in responding so I can think out a response as nice as the message I received. And I keep all of them.

I know that might sound creepy, but it's true.

Why do I keep them?

Memories, mostly. So I can go back and read them, and remember where I've been. Where my friends have been. What my relationships with people have been like.

Reading them, I've learned. I've remembered.

With some, I even regret.

Regret choices I made that harmed my relationships with people. Letting a friendship all but disappear. Truth is, if someone were to ask me what I thought I needed to work on the most, it would be my flakiness. I make promises I can't keep or only meet half-way. More than once, I find myself in a rock and a hard place, realizing that I probably just double-booked myself, forgot to talk to someone, didn't tell the entire truth, or didn't let someone in.

Someday, when I'm old, and suffer from memory loss, I hope someone will read the e-mails to me. So I can remember. And smile. And laugh. And maybe even cry.

So I keep the e-mails. For memories. For smiles. And laughter. And sometimes a few tears. But also, to learn.

The Box

The world is bright. Unsure, I reach out. To what? I don't know. Nothing reaches back. I see something in the distance. I strain to here its (his? her?) words. It sounds like...whatever (whoever?)...it is, is calling for me. But no.

NoNoNo.

I reach out my hands. This time to block my view.

Darkness.

I stumble a bit in surprise. Where did that come from? I look around. Light is to my left. My right. Behind me. But in front of me, there is darkness. I'm confused. But satisfied. I can no longer hear the calls I heard before. I lean cautiously against the wall my hands seem to have created. It holds. I relax and savor my aloneness.

I feel... sad. All of a sudden. I don't know why. Lonely. Dejected.

Why didn't they come after me? Why didn't they continue to call for me? I push the thought away. No matter. They don't matter. Whoever they are. 

I hear a sound to my left. I glance over. There it is again! Or... maybe it's something else. A different one. I can't tell. I straighten up to face it. This one's calling too. Faintly, but definitely calling for me. I cock my head. Contemplating. My first instinct is to call to them...whoever they are. To run up and greet them. But no.


NoNoNo.

I reach my hands out in front of myself to block my view.

Darkness.

This time, I'm not as surprised. The dark wall that is now next to and in front me is almost comforting. Almost. I sink to the ground and lean back against the corner where the walls meet. My head tilts up towards the sky. I wince at the brightness of the sun. I want to shout out. Tell someone to turn the light down a few notches.

But then I remember the wall. I wonder if it'll work again. I stand up as tall as I can. Reach my arms above my head. And block the sun from my view.

Darkness. 

Satisfied, I settle down again.

Now I am facing the direct opposite of my original position. I hear my name. A little more distinctively now. But as the calls continue, they become quieter. I strain to hear them.

Suddenly, I can.

Loud and clear.

As if someone was standing right next to me, shouting into my ear. Then I see them. Running. I think. I can't be sure.

NO. NoNoNO!

I push my hands in front of myself, once again blocking my view.

Darkness.

There is one spot left. One open space. I contemplate running. Leaving this small place I am in. A place that has room only for me. But why should I? With determination, I push my hands toward the empty space, blocking my view.

Darkness.

Complete and utter darkness. 

I sink to the ground. I am alone. Completely and utterly alone. Tears stream down my face. Why did no one come for me? Why did they leave? All I can hear is silence. Complete and utter silence.

Faintly, I hear something.

I push it away. No one is coming for me. No one. I tell myself this over and over and over again. No matter that my name is being shouted. No one is looking for me. No one cares. The box I am in is probably nothing more than an obstacle they must pass.


Bang! Bang! Bang!

I hear thumping. On my box. My place. Someone is trying to destroy it! MY BOX! Don't they know I want to be alone??

I push at the walls, hoping whoever they are will get the hint. But the damage is already done. There's a small crack.

Light.

There's a small stream of light peeking into my box. I stare at it. It's strikingly... beautiful. I contemplate it for a while. But my anger wells up again. My box has a crack in it! My safety, my haven! Ruined! I collapse. Sobbing.

The thumping continues. Multiple voices calling my name.

Not a single one cares, I tell myself. They just want to destroy my box. I pound back. Shouting. Leave me alone! Don't ruin my box!

More cracks. More light.

Suddenly, a wall collapses.

The top slides away.

Another wall is gone.

And another.

One.

Wall.

Left.

I am surrounded by people. Tears. Tears are running down their faces. They're breathing hard from their efforts, watching me. I stare at the remaining wall. Something in me tells me to push it over. Finish off the box.

So I do.

I begin shaking. Staring at the people who are surrounding me. Slowly, all of them close in on me. They're crying. But they're also smiling. Hugging me.

We love you, they tell me. Don't ever build up those walls again. Don't leave us. Please. The last thing we want is seeing you trapped. Trapped in a box, a victim of yourself. 


Please.

Don't do it again.

I begin to sob.

Okay.

I tell them.

Okay.

Warm Fuzzies

Happiness.

We all want it.

Some try to buy it.

Others spend their whole lives seeking it.

Still others seem to have found the secret to it.

You know, those people who wander around life with that little grin always plastered on their faces.

What is happiness?

Happiness is..

That warm fuzzy feeling you get after having a good conversation with a close friend.
A warm blanket and a pair of fuzzy socks.
A nice, hot cup of coffee
Spending time with wonderful people.
A big bear hug from someone you haven't seen in a while.
Having faith and living it, too.

Having faith.

Happiness is having faith.

Faith.

Not just any faith.

Faith in God.

There's a song I've been listening to over and over and over again lately. It basically talks about how so many times, we're happy and content in God when things are all sunshiney and wonderful.

But once the rain starts falling and the thunder starts cracking?

We run.

RunRunRun.

Away from the One Who is trying to comfort us. To help us through the storm.

We question God's goodness because of what we're going through.

God is good all the time.

All the time God is good.

Whether the sun is shining or the rain is pouring.

God is good.

Once we are able to rest assuredly in God through sunshine and storms, we will be truly happy. You know those people who have this aura of joy about them? You know the people. The ones who, no matter what is happening continuously count it all joy. They face the rain with a huge grin plastered on their faces. Those people are some of the most encouraging people I've ever met in my life. And it's all because of their beautiful and constant faith in God.

Now, don't get me wrong. There is a place and time for tears and sadness. But even when you're sad and hurting, you can still have joy. Joy in knowing that the wonderful God who walks with you through the good times is carrying you through the bad.

Puzzle Piece

There’s another me.

No…no.

That’s not the right way to put it.

There’s another Autumn Johnson. I’d really like to know her middle name. My first name in and of itself is rare. But my name combination is even more so.

Facebook and what others have told me have both become handy tools for me to figure out who she is.

We have 31 mutual friends on Facebook.

She has red hair.

Tall.

Skinny.

Drop-dead gorgeous.

A model.

She does beautiful photography.

An only child.

Popular.

Very popular.

She lives in Oregon.

Popular.

Did I mention that yet?

Gorgeous.

She’s in TeenPact.

She’s the kind of girl I’m jealous of.

Gorgeous.

Stick thin.

There isn’t anyone who doesn’t like her.

Smart.

Confident.

Pretty much everything I want to be.

I suppose I’m being selfish.

Unfair.

But she’s not the only girl I’m jealous of.

If you’re a teenage girl and friends with me on Facebook, I’ve probably found some reason to be jealous of you.

It’s truly terrible.

But if you were to pinpoint my biggest problem, it would be the fact I put myself down. And people have already. It’s no one’s fault but my own, really.

I have difficulty remembering a time when I didn’t find myself wishing I was like someone else. Even as a little kid, I was different. I could never run as fast, climb as high, or hang on to the monkey bars as long. I was always that kid with her nose buried in a book. Or doodling. Or something.

On the soccer field, I was more interested in making a new friend than scoring a goal. When in t-ball, I was picking flowers or talking to one of the grown-ups helping out in the field instead of running the bases. I don’t have many memories of my early days in ballet, but drawing from other memories, I’m sure I found daydreaming more interesting than plies. Don’t get me wrong. I was happy to be in all of those activities. But…I wasn’t like the other kids.

You know how teams or dance classes and such have that sense of togetherness? Close friendship built by a love for a sport or an art. I never felt apart of that. I barely remembered the names of the other kids on my teams or in my classes.

Rarely have I felt that sense of belonging. I seem to always feel like an outsider. Someone looking in. Merely an observer. There are few people with whom I feel I “belong”. When I’m with them, or talking to them, the thought of oh…this is what it feels like plays through my mind. This is belonging.

Sometimes I feel like a stranger to myself.

I know sometimes I purposefully back myself away from people. But that’s part of these feelings. I can’t randomly join a conversation without feeling awkward. Like I’m not apart of anything. Even if I’m invited to join.

People think I’m quiet.

That’s true.

But really only when I feel like a complete stranger.

Which is a lot.

I cherish those moments when I feel like I belong.

Art classes.

When I held hands and prayed in a small circle of friends before we said good-bye.

Waltzing in a hotel breakfast room.

Staying up to all hours talking about nothing and everything.

Having a heart to heart with a girl I’d just met.

I don’t know why I’ve never felt like I belong.

I’m almost positive that if you took a scan of my brain and compared it with scans of others, it would be vastly different. I have never met anyone wired like me.

Or maybe, I’ve been too consumed to notice others like me.

My behaviors and mannerisms are all odd. My mind comes to conclusions that make sense to me, but convince others that I’m not listening.

I hear that a lot.

You must not have been listening.

One of the most frustrating things in the world is to not be able to explain myself and how I got to a conclusion.

I pick up a lot.

People think I’m oblivious.

It’s all selective.

Every single day I yearn to be like everyone else.

You’re all so different, but all so much the same. I feel like a random neon crayon in a world of primary colors. People always say being different is good. Not this kind. Sometimes it is. But only God knows just how much I want my puzzle piece to fit.

To be like that other Autumn.

Or many of the other girls I know.

Truthfully, I don’t know myself very well. I’m a stranger in my own body.

But I’m here for a reason.

God has a purpose for the way he made me. I’ve been crying out to Him as I’ve written this. To help me get it out. This isn’t easy. But it needs to be written. It needs to be said.

I keep feeling a pulling. Something that keeps my pen moving. God has a reason for me writing this now. And I’m going to keep writing. Even if it’s for just one person. Someone like me who’s crying out. Aching for the feeling of belonging. It’ll be worth it.

If you’re that person, you’re not alone. God is in control. There is someone else like you.

As I’m writing, God has started whispering to me. You the puzzle piece that I am? Maybe I’m trying to put myself in the wrong puzzle.

God,

I’m putting myself back onto the table. I’m a puzzle piece, desperately wanting to fit in. I want to belong. To be apart of something beautiful. Please, put me in the puzzle that I belong in. Don’t let me take control. Place me where You want me. I don’t want to be anywhere else.

In Jesus’ Name,

Amen.

Resolving Upon a New Year

The year 2010 is almost over. On Friday, I will stay up until midnight (not exactly a difficult feat) to ring in the new year. 2011. The year I will graduate. The year I will begin college. THE year.

But what about 2010?

Uh... what about it?

Wasn't 2010 THE year?

Sort of.

It was THE year. But not in the way in which I was referring to 2011.

2011 will be THE year of transition. Change. Growing up. Starting to be on my own. Becoming an adult.


EEEEEEK.

But 2010 was also THE year.

THE best year of my life thus far.

Looking back on the year, I can see that God completely and utterly spoiled me. He gave me so so much this year. He let so much good happen.

So much.

TeenPact.

Getting the opportunity to visit BJU

Three amazing best friends.

More Teenpact.

Teaching me forgiveness.

Leading me into and even now walking with me through this season of healing.

Epic air travel adventures.

My brother getting saved.

I could probably go on forever. God gave me a beautiful year. I keep going back and adding things He's done for me.

And then there's next year.

Highschool graduation.

College.

Teaching photography classes.

More TeenPact.

Working on (and hopefully finishing) my book.

Whatever else God has in store.

With every New Year comes the idea of new beginnings. A new start. A time to begin breaking bad habits and forming good ones. In my mind, New Year's Resolutions are kind of a list of things you really really want to accomplish in the upcoming year. So, here's mine.

1) Read through the entire Bible by the end of the year.
2) Take my dog for a walk at least three times a week.
3) Read all the books I got for Christmas with understanding.
4) Prayerfully develop my leadership skills.
5) Be more consistent when I commit to something.
6) Curbing my temper.
7) Complete a year long "A Photo A Day" project.
8) Become a prayer warrior (this one kind of ties into #5)
9) Be a better steward of my money (aka work on enlarging my college savings account)
10) Be continually thankful for every day that goes by.
11) And the most important: Never stop praising God.

What are your resolutions?

Hold Up!

Hey everyone,

I know I've started a series, and I would love to continue it, but I've had a lot on my mind lately. I'm putting the series on hold indefinitely until I can get some other stuff written and blogged. It's just a couple things and I should be ready to continue the series at the beginning of the new year.

I've really felt like God has been leading me to writing about a couple topics. I won't post what they are right now--I'll let them stay a surprise until I'm ready to post. I'd really appreciate prayers especially with one of my topics as it's a very touchy subject and going to be hard to write about.

Thank you, God bless, and Merry Christmas!!!

The Kind of Friends We Are (part 1)

My mom kept saying God had a reason for that horrible day. But when it was happening, all I could think about was that I had missed my flight, my new was kept getting delayed, I was stressed out, tired, and couldn't stop crying. The day was progressively getting worse and worse. But every time I talked to my mom she would the same thing.

God has a reason in all this. He is in control.


When I finally got to the camp, my luggage had not. It was still in North Carolina. In another plane. Evening session was almost over. Dinner was long over. Not that I was hungry. I did the motions through the end of evening session and then through coffee house. Finally, I dragged myself to the girl's dorms, searching for my room. Finally, I found it. Instantly I was confronted by twelve other girls staring at me. I moved through the room, stuttering out my story.

My only possessions in the world at that moment were the clothes I was wearing and whatever was in my backpack.

I didn't even know if there was an extra bunk for me.

There were two left.

Blindly, I picked the bunk in the back corner. Above you.

You lent me a pair of sweatpants. Encouraged me. Let me follow you to breakfast the next morning. By the end of the week, you had become my best friend.

God had a reason for me missing my flight. For my next flight getting delayed. For me losing my luggage. God had you.

You have blessed me more than you will ever know. Even though you live so far away, we've only grown closer since that week. Thank you so much for your beautiful friendship.

Your godly example.

Your affirmation.

I thank God every day for you. I pray for you.

I love watching God work through you and your life and example. Keep living for Him.

Love you <3