reminded: what i love

February 7, 2011 at 11:53 pm 2 comments

Today started out absolutely horribly.

I was in an emotional funk and downright depressed for half the day.  Not fun. 

I’ll admit that part of it was because I had talked to my parents last night and we decided that I shouldn’t go on the spring break trip with the Navigators this year.  (They do a service trip every year, and almost everyone goes.  Very fun and very bonding).  I had wanted to go last year, but I also wanted to go home, and since it would be my first spring break, I didn’t want to break my little sister’s heart and didn’t even bother asking my parents.

This year, I felt it might be a bit more manageable.  So I asked.  One thing I love about my parents is that they let me ask about things; no matter how wild or inconceivable a plan I concoct they’ll at least give the grace and respect to talk it over.  So they did.  And for the record, they have nothing against the trip, just the timing.  Various things are going on and it would be so much easier on my family if I would be at home to help out, but I know they would have loved to tell me yes.

But it’s hard, because in addition to feeling a little bit left out, no one really understands why I’m going home.  They respect my decision, of course, but there’s also a bit of that you’re in college, you need to grow up, be on your own, and do what you want to do rationale.  Which makes sense in a lot of different scenarios, but not in mine.  They don’t quite get it that I’m also struggling with the whole independence thing; struggling because I love my family, but I also love being independent.  But independance is no excuse for selfishness.  I have to honor my family, too, and sacrifice what I want when I need to. 

So I was sulking, because I hate feeling left out, and I didn’t particularly want to recognize the fact that it would be very dumb of me to go on a service trip over break when God had made it very clear that my place of service, the place where I was truly needed (I doubt one more person would make a difference on that trip – so many people go) for this year is home. 

Did I mention that I was also a bit irrational, and in one of those moods where a grain of sand can tear more than a giant rock could do on other days?

But lest you think that this post is just a rant, I will tell you that the day had a spectacular ending.  Because a speaker came to my class, and in 75 minutes managed to put my entire life back into perspective and remind me of what I love and what I was made to do. 

(If you guessed telling stories, you would be right.)

We had been assigned to read an article called “We Love Mommy for her Heart” for my feature writing class.  The article told the story of a woman who suddenly went into septic shock from streptococcal pneumonia (which doesn’t actually mean anything to me – but the end result is that she was in a coma for something like six weeks, teetered on the edge of death, and when she finally came out of it she needed to have her hands and feet amputated). 

But the article isn’t about her illness – it’s about her spirit.  She’s human.  She was angry and frustrated, and still is, sometimes.  But she also has one of the most beautiful spirits – she’s so gracious and warm, doesn’t sweat the small stuff, and is also very witty and funny.  And she is so. grateful. 

It blows my mind.

Anyway, the woman and the reporter who did the story talked to my class today.  It was so very cool.  Not only did seeing her and hearing her story simply throw everything in my life back into perspective (I mean, really – my meltdowns were pretty pathetic), but I almost got chills from just hearing the story of the story. 

Remember when I wrote that my entire life is about telling stories?  It’s true.  And telling someone else’s story, especially one as powerful as that, is an incredibly precious gift, and a weighty responsibility. 

But somehow, I feel that it is what I was made to do.  In some way. 

And it was cool to be reminded of that – this is why I am here, at college, majoring in public relations and taking a feature writing class.  This is why I am taking all the story-writing classes I can, be they fiction or personal essays or journalism.  I need to learn, and I need to tell stories.

What things do you love, what things send your heart soaring? 

{if you want more inspiration, read Sara’s article over at (in)courage, I Have a List.  Sara can’t physically do much either, but it’s about the goals she has for her life, her responses, and her spirit.  And it’s beautiful.  Read it.  And go read Annie’s beautiful post about living in the present, too.  That girl’s such a good writer.}

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Entry filed under: beauty, inspiration.

what makes it a good day? Pride. Fall.

2 Comments Add your own

  • 1. singamelody  |  February 8, 2011 at 12:44 pm

    I completely understand what it feels like to be the one person not doing something… And it isn’t fun. Trying to explain parental logic to other people doesn’t sound as convinsing as when your parents explain it themself. But what keeps me going is when I remember God placed them in a position of authority over me, and they are doing what they think is best for me, so I know God will bless me for obeying them.
    Also, the majority of people who like the whole independence of college are there cause their parents are paying for it, so they’re not quite so independent as they think. 😛
    But I’m glad the speaker came to your class. Events like that just seem to come up at the right times to help our self pity – and I’m saying this from experience ;-).
    Just keep pressing on!
    Besides, if you went on that trip, then I wouldn’t get to see you over break!!!

    Reply
  • 2. Annie  |  February 9, 2011 at 6:25 pm

    I loved this post, Megan. That’s a beautiful reminder: your service trip is not the one that’s called a service trip, but at your home. & I know God will bless that.

    Thank you for the mention! That was a pleasant surprise! And thank you for the compliment! I will be keeping that piece of encouragement close by when I feel, as I often do, that my writing is inadequate.

    Reply

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