My Prof's Pants

Every MWF I get a text message from one of my dear friends who, instead of taking notes in class, takes a picture of her professor who wears the most ridiculous pants. Every time he turns to write something on the board she snaps a picture on her phone and sends it my way. Now, it’s true, she should probably be writing down whatever he puts on the board instead of texting, but in her defense, I wouldn’t be able to pay attention either. Or take a single thing he says seriously.

I’d like to share these pictures because they really do brighten my day (pun intended) and because he clearly wants to draw attention to himself. Well buddy, congrats, your pants are making their internet debut!

But first, I must preface. 1) I know the picture quality is bad (clearly she doesn’t have an iphone 4 haha) but you can still see well enough to laugh 2) I wondered if blogging about this was slightly tacky, but this man clearly has a sense of humor…and to respect some of his privacy I have intentionally left off which friend gave this to me, and which school he teaches at. So, don’t feel guilty laughing at this one, okay?

The first text I received from her simply said, “No joke my prof is wearing pale yellow pants and we can all see his white and green polka dot boxers!!! I can’t focus at all!!!” I laughed, thinking it was funny and unusual. Little did I know about unusual…

The next text: “my profs pants are pink and white sear sucker today!!! They’re not see through though:(“ who knew she would actually be sad she couldn’t see through his pants- sounds like an answer to prayer to me!

Then the picture texts started…

“Christmas came early with this outfit…he had on read and white candy cane stripped linen pants (he was wearing dark green boxers- they aren’t visible here but the def were in class)”

"Quit pants"

“I don’t even know what to say…today his pants are lime green”

Then there was cowboy day. “Today his pants are grey with a lovely design of maroon cowboy boots sprinkled sporadically throughout”

"Today he wore a pink shirt with green pants with white sword fish embroidered on them. He was also wearing a matching green bow tie” Of course he was!

You know what the best part of all of this is? He announced to the class last week that they could receive extra credit on their midterm if they could list off the shapes he had worn on his pants…does picture texts count as a cheat sheet or sheer luck? Either way, she better have gotten an A!

10.4.09

Oh, the difference a year can make! I went back to Waco this past Sunday for my friends’ engagement; while I was there I visited my old church, FBC Woodway. And as I sat in the back of the room, where I used to always sit and sing and pray, I started to think. I wondered what my life was like this time last year- probably a mess, I thought. What was I sitting here thinking, praying for, praising God for? I wondered how I had changed since October 2009. I had graduated, moved towns, and transitioned into some form of adulthood. Yes, I knew I had changed. So, when I got home I pulled out my prayer journal and found an entry I had written exactly 365 days before.

After reading it, I remembered that night. I remember feeling overwhelmed and scared about my future. I was so afraid of messing up my life. I remember feeling so lonely. And so unsure about how God was working in my life. But I also remember feeling so sure that the only way to work through my problems was to talk to the Lord about it all. So I started writing. I poured out my heart that night, and looking back, I am so glad I have it all in writing. Even though that was a major low point, I am so glad I can see all of the ways God has moved in my life since then.

So, I thought I would share it with you…well at least some of it:) Hopefully, God will use this to encourage you in some way or another. Who knows what you are dealing with! What is on your heart? What is secretly bubbling inside of you? Maybe you relate to me- after all, everyone is 21 at some point in their lives!

God,

I love you. I am amazed by the wondrous things you do. You are always at work- in ways I don’t see, don’t understand and usually don’t trust.

I want to pour all I have into all you have prepared for me but something is holding my back. I’m scared of my future and fearful of what it might look like if I make a wrong move.

I want to honor you. I want to bring you glory. I want to feel fulfilled.

I always pictured myself getting a job at a church but I always pictured having my life together at that point too. But here I am and in some ways I feel well and ready and prepared and in some ways I feel unsure. I’m not sure I am ready. God, my heart feels guilty just admitting that! Is ministry what you want for me, or what people expect of me? I want this to be your conviction in me, not other people’s standards impressed upon me- but maybe you want me to work through that. Maybe you know that is what is best for me.

I don’t know what is going on with me!

Maybe I don’t know who I am- at least in some ways. Maybe that is why I feel like I am waiting for my life to start. Maybe my neutrality is emptiness. Maybe my questions are unfaithfulness. Maybe this is all normal. Maybe it’s Satan trying to distract me. Maybe it’s you working on a different timetable.

Maybe I’m not supposed to figure it all out.

Regardless, I need some affirmation. I want my life to consist of consistency! But I need to know that who I am now is okay. I need to know that I am worthy of something- that I am getting through to people! That I am living now! Let this prayer right now show that you hear me- that my heart is beating and I am working towards something great.

I need to see you working in my life now, not just my future.

I want to trust, I try really really hard, but it is not easy, it is not simple. Maybe I’m looking at life all wrong, but I am feeling it all right now. Please meet me here. Please let this genuinely humble prayer be herd- I am trying so hard to honor your, even though I am a pathetic work in progress. I know I always will be. Thank you for letting me share my heart.

Please, give me something to chase after.

Your child,

Meredith

Yes, I remember that night, that girl, those problems. Tonight, my journal entry will start with something like this, “Oh Lord, I am so blown away by the ways you have worked in my life! Looking back, I can see how you have been faithful and patient and trustworthy…my life is living proof…I'm sorry for every time I questioned You...”

(By the way, this is my official journaling endorsement. Everyone should at least try it. Even you. It takes patience and dedication, but the rewards are wonderful!)

TWO

My pastor, Dr. Stephen, is teaching on Revelation and this morning he said something that has stayed on my mind all day. He was talking about how Rev. 7:9-17 promises that there will be a day when a countless multitude of people from every part of the world will surround the throne of God and worship Him with every part of their soul. Dr. Stephen made the point that there are currently about 6 billion people in the world- of which only 2 billion are Christians. Dr. Stephen left his sermon at this, “Who will tell the other 4,000,000,000?”

Good question…

So, I did the math…and the math is simple. How many people would the 200 billion have to tell in order to reach all 4 billion? Assuming that every one of the 2 billion believers are willing to share their faith, then we all only need to tell 2 people. TWO PEOPLE! (Your heart should be pounding!!!!!)

Even if only half of us chose to share, we would all only need to tell 4. If only one fourth of us share the good news, that just raises the number to 8. (Your heart should be racing!!!!!!)

Now, obviously the numbers are a little more complicated than that because we have to take a lot of factors into consideration. What if two people tell the same two people? What about all of the countries where it is illegal to share the gospel? What about third world countries and hidden rainforest civilizations? What about all of the people who don’t even have the Bible written in their own language?

But what about all of the people in your own little world who don’t even know you go to church?

When I was younger my Bible study teacher told a haunting story about how he ran into his long lost high school best friend at a 10-year reunion; the best friend, who lived a crazy, reckless youth had turned his life around and become a Christian. The best friend had one question, “How come you never told me? I thought I knew everything about you, but how could you not share this? I was so lost, you never showed me the way.” (Your heart should be breaking!!!!!!) My Bible study teacher told us that he would never forget those words. Neither will I.

Who will tell the other 4 billion? Will I do my part? Will you?

For, “Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved,” How, then can they call on the one they have not believed in? And how can they believe in the one of whom they have not heard? And how can they hear without someone preaching to them? And how can they breach unless they are sent? As it is written, “How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news!” Romans 10:13-15

Junk In My Trunk

It was 7:30am on a Saturday, there was a 70% chance of rain, and my bed felt ever so cozy; nothing could convince me to move. My alarm clock, however, was quite determined to get me up- I had plans. Big plans. I was supposed to go to the neighborhood garage sales with my good friend, Jaime.

I hit snooze.

I texted Jaime, “are you sure you want to go…I think it is about to rain…” Please back out. Please back out. Please back out!!!

I made up reasons not to go. (I can’t spend money. Where am I going to put everything that I buy? What am I even looking for? I sneezed yesterday- maybe I’m getting sick!)

I gave up the fight at about 7:48, finally got out of bed, and headed straight for the coffee pot. And I’m so glad I got up!

Jaime and I shopped out little hearts out until noon, bargaining and buying as much as we could fit in her car. Basically, everything we bought needs a bit of TLC, but considering we didn’t spend more than $10 on a single item, I’d say we did pretty good! And can I just say, it is amazing what some people are willing to sell for a dollar. On the other hand, it is also amazing what people think they can sell, even for a dollar. Ziploc brand plastic-ware? Baby dolls missing arms and legs? USED BATHING SUITES? Thanks, but no thanks…

Anyway, the point of the story is that about 10:30am Jaime and I were carrying a huge rod iron candleholder back to her car when we realized it was going to be hard to find a place for it. As she clicked to open up the trunk of her car I yelled, “I’ve got junk in my trunk!!!” I thought it was funny…Jaime thought it was funny…everyone else seemed to think it was just strange. Bummer. Ha! Get it? BUMmer? Ok, ok, I’ll stop writing now…

…right after I tell you that you should always appreciate your own sense of humor-laugh at yourself. Even when other people don’t laugh with you. Especially when other people are laughing at you.

The Songs I Sing

Do you ever feel like music has a way of meeting you right where you are in life? I can remember plenty of times when my heart was so on fire, but I couldn’t find the words to express how I felt. Then I would turn on the radio, or now Pandora and Itunes, and stumble over a song that perfectly expressed everything I had been trying to say.

I remember surviving through middle school by the saving graces of Mariah Carey’s “Hero”- feel free to mock me, I admit thinking it was the deepest, greatest, most heart-felt song I had ever heard.

I remember listening to John Mayer’s “Quiet” every Sunday night during my freshman year of High school, grateful that someone else in the world knew what it was like to not be able to turn off their brain at night.

I remember being broken-hearted my junior year of HS and finding Ben Harper’s “Walk Away.”

I remember my friend Nicole showing me a song called “Love is Waiting” by Brooke Fraiser to encourage me when I felt so alone my sophomore year in college.

I remember walking to school every day in Argentina while listening to a playlist my mom made for me and learning to sing Fernando Ortega’s “Give Me Jesus” in Spanish.

Even this past summer I found a song called “Take All the Sky You Need” by Ellis Paul- I remember thinking, “Wow, that is exactly what my parents have been trying to tell me since I graduated!”

My point is this- music is my therapy. Any my favorite kind of music therapy is when I can listen to the lyrics of a song, close my eyes, and transform every line into a conversation I am having with God. Does that even make sense to you? Allow me to explain, before you think I am crazy. I’ll take a love song, an angry song, a sad song, a searching song, and apply it to where I am in my own life.

For example, “I’m There Too” by Michelle Featherstone is a song about two people who are so in love that they have become the same person, feeling everything the other person feels. However, I sing this song and think about all of the places in the Bible that God promises to always be by my side, to never let me go, and to welcome me into Heaven some day. When she sings, “I see myself in you, in everything you do…I see me in your eyes, and I’m the tears you cry,” I think about how God cares about me so much, and how every single thing He does is for my benefit, even when I don’t understand it. It makes me remember that He loves me so much He sent is son to die for me, that the tears He cried were for me! So, for me this song becomes a poem of comfort for today and security for tomorrow- all wonderful gifts from God that I don’t deserve.

To listen to the song click here. But while you listen, maybe you could make it your own conversation. I’ve included the lyrics below, and have put all of my parts of the conversation in black and all of “God’s replies” in red (I wonder where I got that grand idea). I hope you enjoy! It’s an amazing song!

"I'm There Too"

I see myself in you

In everything you do

And when you’re all alone at night

You know I am by your side

Cuz I’m there too

I see me in your eyes

And I’m the tears you cry

And when you fall apart

And are dying from a broken heart

I’m there too

I see your footsteps in the sand

As you journey on across this land

But if you should fall on your way

Then I will carry you that day

Cuz I’m there

I’m there too

Yeah I’m there too

I see your face in mine

And I know there’ll come a time

When you will take my hand

And I will understand

That you’re there too

When you will take my hand

And I will understand

That you’re there

You’re there too

The Waco Breakup List: the Final Edition.

Last, but not least:

20) It was a lovely fall day and I had just finished a long day in class; I was ready to get home and relax, so I hoped on my bike and headed for my apartment. This was the first time I had ever consistently ridden a bike since elementary school, and to be honest, I was glad that I hadn’t fallen off or ran into anything yet. So there I was, peddling along, minding my own business when I heard a voice from over my shoulder yelling, “Ma’am please pull your bicycle over. I repeat, please pull over and get off of your bike vehicle!”

I turned around to find a bike cop, yelling at me, of all people, so I pulled over and innocently asked, “Can I help you with something?” I thought for sure I had dropped something, or that he needed something.

The out-of-breath mustached officer, who was wearing very short black short leggings, unbuckled his bike helmet, glared at me, and said, “Ma’am, are you aware that you just obliterated five very important bike safety laws in a matter of 30 seconds or less?”

“Me? Oh, no Sir, I was just headed home from campus. I live right-”

“-Ma’am, I have been chasing you for two blocks!” he said, still out of breath.

At this point, I started looking around for a hidden camera or for my friends, thinking this must be a joke, there is no way I just got pulled over by a bike cop. (Side note, who even knew bike cops actually existed? I always thought they were something you saw in movies…but no, they are like talking M&Ms and Santa, they really do exist!) So, I asked, half kidding, of course, “Sir, did I do something wrong?”

“Yes! You did! You made an illegal passing of another cyclist, you didn’t stop all the way at the stop sign, you didn’t signal correctly, you are riding on the wrong side of the road, and your bike is not properly equipped to be riding at night.”

“Sir, it is 2:30 in the afternoon.”

“Yes, Ma’am I am aware of that. It is just something you need to know for the future. Regardless, you still made a lot of costly mistakes back there. Are you aware you can receive a ticket and have to pay a fine for such indiscretions?”

“Really?” I still hardly believed him, but he seemed pretty serious so I blurted out, “I mean…oh no Sir. I’m sorry, I only live a few seconds away from campus and I don’t ride my bike very often. When I was little my parents taught me to drive on the left side of the road so I could see people coming towards me and the cars from behind would be on the other side of the road. Isn’t that the way you are supposed to do it?”

“Ma’am, that I for walking pedestrians only.”

“Oh…well…I’m sorry, I never new. And the signals, and the stop sign? I just didn’t think-”

“Well Ma’am,” he said, “Frankly, that’s the problem. Cyclists don’t always think. How can the law protect you if you aren’t even protecting yourself?”

There he was, yelling those exact words on a very busy street, while I was thinking, “Oh my gosh, he is serious. His mustache is no joke and neither is he! This is humiliating-I am being chewed out by a bike cop! This is the cockiest guy I have ever met and he rides a bike for a living- they clearly don’t even trust him with a car! And someone’s spandex is a little too tight- no wonder he is grumpy! (harsh, I know , but I was really mad at the time.) What is someone sees me? I’ll never live it down! This man is still talking to me, it has been at least five minutes! This needs to be over…NOW!” I nodded along for a few more minutes while he rambled on and on about the importance of bike safety and somehow, I finally convinced him that A) I was very sorry for what I had done B) I would be more careful in the future and C) (and most importantly, I might add) that I did not deserve a ticket.

Officer Mustache regrettably let me off with a warning and went on his merry little way. I, however, got to my apartment to find multiple text messages and facebook comments from all sorts of people saying things like, “Why were you talking to a bike cop on Bagby today?”, “I saw you on the corner of Bagby and 10^th street talking to a bike cop, I didn’t even know they existed!” (Exactly my point, I’m glad you thought the same thing!), “Did you get pulled over by a bike cop on campus? Only you, Mer, only you!” etc. etc. etc.

Basically, this is the story of my life: Meredith, spotted in an awkward situation, embarrassing herself…again. At least I won’t be embarrassing myself in Waco anymore! On to a new stage of life, a new town, and a new crowd to embarrass myself in front of? This should be fun! Sic’em new adventures!

The Waco Breakup List: Rreasons 17-19

My crazy friend, Caroline, who I love to the moon and back, called me the other day and said, “Mer, why am I not at the top of the Waco list on your blog? I’m not even on there at all! Seriously, don’t you love me at all?”

I was like, “Care, are you really asking me why you are not on the list of things that I hate about Waco? Really?”

“Ya! I wanna be on the list…oh wait…what? It’s a list of the things you hate? Oh, never mind. Ya, I though it was a list of things you loved. Oops.”

So, to Caroline and all of my other dear friends, thanks for so meticulously reading my blog;)

Anyways, what else do I not miss about Waco? Hmm…

17) Having to endure the ever-present construction and traffic on I35 in Hillsboro- I know I only had a two-hour drive from Dallas to school, but on a bad day, Hillsboro could easily turn it into a three hour drive. Unless it is the Sunday after Thanksgiving- then it is at least a four-hour drive, but usually five. Basically, it is the drive that makes you need a vacation after your vacation.

While we are on the subject of the drive to Waco, I have the perfect reason to list for number 18…

18) The Itasca Police Department. One of the lovely officers from that grand town clocked me going 18 MPH (get it? 18 for number 18? I know, I’m just too funny) over the speed limit on my last drive home as a college kid. No joke, My mom and I were squished into my Jeep that was filled to the brim, and I was physically and emotionally exhausted from a long day of packing. Officer what’s-his-face was the last thing I needed. In my defense, I thought the speed limit was 75…okay, fine, 70. I had no clue it was really 65. So, 78 really wasn’t that bad…right? He did not agree with me. I even gave him my sad-sob-story about how I was moving home from college while I let a few crocodile tears slip out of my eyes. He didn’t care. What a sweet going away present! Thanks, I35.

19) Having to use Time Warner Cable. I know, TWC everywhere, not just Waco, but at my apartment complex, it was my only option. One of these days I am going to give TWC a full lesson on the meaning of customer service. I will leave it at that because I know you don’t want to read a bitter rant about terrible customer service. But mostly, I’ll drop it because if you have TWC, you know what I am talking about. Nevertheless, it stands firmly as my number 19 choice.

Wow, only one spot left in my top 20! I know just the story to choose. Some might say I saved the best for last- check back at the end of the week to find out what it is. As for now, I’ll give you a hint: It has to do with me, another police officer, and one of the most embarrassing things that has ever happened to me…in Waco.

The Waco Breakup List: Rreasons 14-16

The first day of school has passed. The official high temp here in DFW was 107 degrees, meaning it was around the same temp in Waco. And if you recall, earlier I said I would not miss sweating like a pig on the first day of school- first impressions are best made without a triple layer of antiperspirant…just saying. So to all of my dear sweet friends who suffered through the heat yesterday on campus, I feel for you. I’ve been there. But I’m glad I am not there anymore;)

Now, on to the list. I must admit I don’t like being so negative (I am usually a glass-half-full kind-of-girl) so I have decided to mix it up today. One of the many life-long lessons I learned at school was from my dear group of friends who meet on Tuesday nights on campus; they taught me that if I have something negative to say, I should surround it with two good things. Respectable idea, if you ask me. So, today, and today only, I am allowing myself to modify the list, and include two things I genuinely miss about Waco. Then, of course I’ll tell another ridiculous story. Deal?

14) I really miss FBC Woodway. I started attending and serving at the church at the beginning of my junior year and I can honestly tell you that it made my college experience. Yesterday at 2pm I know the youth staff met with Bob, talked about the Cowboys game, planned a skit for Wednesday, and talked about how this summer was the summer of all summers (they say that every year haha). I would have given just about anything to be there. And I would give just about anything to get to see all of the kids I worked with. I miss them all!!!

Ok, I could go on forever. Snap out of it, Mer, what do you NOT miss?

15) Oh yes. One time, while I was eating dinner at Georges, I witnessed the most shocking parenting experience of my life. First off, you should know that Georges is a local restaurant that has been around forever. Everyone in Waco loves this little run-down masterpiece- it is a wonderful middle ground for college kids and Wacoians to mingle in peace and eat great food.

So there I was, eating my food, minding my own business when this man in full cowboy paraphernalia caught my eye. I couldn’t help but stare at his outfit, and his mustache that curled up to his cheeks. I saw him order two beers at the bar and watched him walk back to his table, curious to see what kind company he kept. He took a sip of one of the beers while he slid the other across the table to his wife…WHO WAS BREAST FEEDING HER BABY! No joke!

I mean, there she was, in the corner of the restaurant dinking a beer while nursing. Where is CPS when you need them? In my mortified state, only one thing came to mind: the quote from Sweet Home Alabama, “You have a baby…in a bar!”

All of that to say, I will not miss red-neck, beer-drinkin’-baby-feedin’, CPS-needin’, Georges-eatin’ women.

16) Speaking of food, I could use a grilled chicken sandwich from Food For Thought right now. And a rodeo clown coffee from Common Grounds. And a pancake from Café Cappuccino. And an orchard salad from Olive Garden. And bar-b-que from Vitek’s. And ice-cream from Katies. Ok, I’m done. That was a bit excessive for what was supposed to be one little reason. Sorry.

The point is this: Waco, you have stolen my heart. Despite all of your issues, I’ll always love you.

The Waco Breakup List: Rreasons 11-13

Now, where were we? Ah yes, reasons I'm glad I don't live in Waco.

11) Trying to drive down Valley Mills in less than 15 minutes at any time of day is a nightmare.

12) Without fail, you will have to wait at least 45 minutes to get a table at any restaurant in town Friday through Sunday night.

13) GHETTO HEB. Story time.

So, for those of you who have never experienced the pure joy of shopping at the HEB on 12^th street, you should know that this grocery store is grungy, old, and quite possibly breaking at least 42 health codes at any given time. Really, it deserves its name, Ghetto HEB. Ask anyone. But everyone still shops there. Personally, I tried my best to only go in to snag a few refrigerator basics- but good intentions only go so far. And by that I mean I shopped there at least 2 times a week, just like every other Baylor student and native Wacoian who lived in the surrounding area.

One Wednesday night in the fall of 2009 I shamelessly stopped in to grab milk, bread, and orange juice (a must in my apartment). It was about 10:30pm, and I was a little bit nervous to shop alone, but I really wanted orange juice so I parked my car, clutched my purse, and went in. I grabbed a basket, avoided making eye contact with anyone, and went on my hurried little way.

OJ. Check. Milk. Check. (I really love checklists.) Now, all I needed was bread. Perfect, I thought, bread is right by the cash register. I’ll be out of here in 3 minutes tops. I cut up an aisle, and headed to the front left of the store.

So, there I was gazing longingly at the minimal selection of Orowheat bread when I heard a group of shrill, terrified screams from the front of the store. Out of instinct, I leaped into the nearest aisle and ducked behind someone’s shopping cart. I thought for sure someone had pulled a gun, the store was being held hostage, and my name would flash across the morning news, headlines reading, “Baylor girl held at gunpoint in grocery store, released after giving gunman purse, orange juice and bread.” (Please keep in mind that every Wacoian there didn’t even flinch during this process- they just looked at me like I was an idiot and kept shopping.)

I finally got up the nerve to peek up to the front of the store to see what was really going on.

Good news, no gunman.

Bad news, the store was being held hostage…

By a 20 pound RAT who had set up camp under cash register number four. No joke, the world’s largest rat waltzed across the floor like it owned the place. Baylor boys screamed like girls. Baylor Girls screamed like girls. Everyone from Baylor froze.

At this point I was about to throw up, and I looked around to my fellow shoppers to gage their reaction. One old man just laughed and said, “Well, we all gotta eat.” Then, some lady pushed her cart past me, looked at me with disgust, and said, “What? You never seen a rat before?”

No, ma’am. Not in a grocery store, thanks.

But should I be surprised? This is the chance I took. I promptly returned all of my items to the shelf and walked out, empty handed and mortified.

Yet, I shamefully returned to good old ghetto HEB a few weeks later and continued to shop there for the rest of the year. Stop judging me, I was really busy in college! Yes, ghetto HEB and I had a love-hate relationship. But I hated it more than I loved/tolerated it, thus making it lucky number 13 on my list.

I will not miss you ghetto HEB, I will not miss you.

The Waco Breakup List

Packing up my apartment, saying goodbye to all of my friends, and watching my college experience become a memory was one of the saddest things I have gone through in a long time. But knowing that so many of my friends are on their way back to Waco to start another semester at Baylor is almost even harder.

Now, I am aware that I am being a little dramatic, but I can’t help but take every Facebook “back to Waco!”, “moving in to my new apartment!”, “can’t wait to see all of my friends!” status updates as personal insults. How dare the world not take my feelings into consideration; don’t they know how much it kills me to know that life is going on without me? Would it be too much to ask people to put “…but I wish dear old Mer was here too” at the end of their taunting statuses? Hello, graduated BFF here clearly having separation anxiety…a little support would be nice! (see, I told you I was being dramatic).

Anyway, yesterday I was watching an episode of “How I Met Your Mother” where Ted, one of the main characters, explained that every time he went through a breakup he would write a letter to his future self in order to remind himself why the relationship ended. (I.e. we fought all the time, she hated my job, she flirted with my friends etc.) Ted found the letters very helpful when, a few months after the breakup, he started missing his ex, wondering why they ever called it quits.

What a genius concept, Ted! Our memory loves to trick us when we are vulnerable, only reminding us of fond past-times, sliding past all of the junk that accompanied the good. I have spent a good amount of time daydreaming about my fabulous life in Waco, wondering why I even left. So, I’m taking Ted’s advice. Thus, for the next week (the first week of school for my dear friends) I’ll be blogging about all of the reasons I’m glad I don’t live in wacko Waco. It’ll be my Waco breakup list, if you will.

I’d like to note that the list is mostly about Waco, not Baylor, because there is no part of me that wishes I were sitting in class on syllabus day…sweating like a pig because it is 105 degrees outside. Also, in order for this blogging adventure to be any fun at all, you must remember that every story, every reason on the list, every one of my snide comments comes from a place of love and slight depression that I’m not sitting in Common Grounds right now…

So hear me loud and clear- I love Waco and all of the people in it. Waco will always have a special place in my heart, and I will visit often. But as for now, I need to muster up some bitterness, for the sake of Facebook stalking my friends, my poor family who listens to my complaining, and, most importantly, my sanity.

Let the list begin…

1) The cricket plague that invades every dorm, apartment, house, restaurant and church in town for at least 3 months every fall.

2) One-way streets.

3) No parking on or around campus.

4) Receiving notice that sexual predators live on my block.

5) All of my sketchy neighbors.

6) Cats. Everywhere.

7) The terrible-smelling, terrible-tasting, clear liquid that comes straight from the Brazos into every faucet… also known as “water”.

8) Brother’s Management. Did I really just say that?

9) The birds. I think Alfred Hitchcock’s inspiration must have been from traveling to or through Waco.

10) The distinct terrible smell by the sewage drains on campus that is intensified by the summer heat. I felt the need to shower every time I walked by one.

Ok, that’s enough for now. I feel better- this is quite therapeutic. Stay tuned for reasons 11-1,000.

The Best Day of Your Life

Every summer the youth group that I work for does local mission projects. So, last week I spent a few mornings at a place called Spirit Horse, a non-profit therapeutic horse riding center in Corinth, Texas that serves around 400 mentally and physically disabled children every week...for FREE. Mr. Charles, the owner of Spirit Horse, took time to explain the importance of his ministry; while Spirit Horse meets hundreds of physical needs, Mr. Charles makes it clear that he works for the purpose of meeting the spiritual needs of these kids and their families as well. In other words, it takes about 3 minutes of listening to Mr. Charles to find out that he is living out what he believes God created him to do.

Mr. Charles said something to us last week that is still fresh on my mind. He said, “The best day of your life is when you realize the ministry God has created you for. You were all created to do something for the Lord, you just have to find out what it is. God gave me a passion for horses, a passion for children and an aptitude for business. And He has taught me everything else I need to know to develop Spirit Horse. The work done here is important because it is the Lord’s work.”

I looked around at the 20 teenagers I was with and smiled because I knew exactly what he meant. I love my ministry. My life feels worthwhile because of these kids. I love going to camp with them, serving with them, laughing with them, and figuring out life with them. And I even get paid to play glow-in-the-dark ultimate frisbee with them. Yes, there are many reasons why I love my job. But there is only one reason I do my job- because I know God created me for it.

As Mr. Charles spoke those words, I realized how important it is to hear that we are created for a purpose. So many people wonder around life trying to find something to make them happy. We look for it everywhere, requiring instant gratification and an excess return for our labor. We often make the mistake of trying to avoid our calling, convinced that life is better without responsibility. We make excuses. We wait until we are older and wiser. We postpone lifelong satisfaction until we are ready to settle down.

What I want to know is why we are so determined to avoid the best day of our lives? Aren’t we all looking for hope? Something to look forward to when we wake up? Something to make us feel worthwhile? What are we so afraid of? What is holding us back from turning our potential into passion?

Lately I have heard a lot of stories of people struggling. Struggling to find a job. Struggling to find love. Struggling to find inner peace. Struggling to find a reason to live. Mr. Charles reminded me of the hope we have in the truth that we are made for a purpose. Life can be brutal, you might as well spend it doing something worthwhile.

So, go do whatever you love. Make music. Create art. Teach little kids. Find the cure. Save the rainforest. Whatever you choose to do, do it well, and give glory to God. Ministry is nothing more than embracing your God-given talents, sharing them with the world, and doing it in such a way that people want to know more about the God your serve. The best day of your life is waiting for you. So, go live it!

If you are interested in learning more about the incredible ministry at Spirit Horse, click here.

Not Alone

On late-night drives home by myself, I tend to do some real soul searching- especially when I turn my music off, which is a rare occasion. I do my best thinking in moments like this, probably because I cannot escape myself. It is just me, my beloved Jeep, and the road ahead.

Sometimes I reflect on the day I had, or what I have to look forward to tomorrow, or what I wish I did better, or what I’ll do different next time. Sometimes I pray, sometimes out loud. And, yes, sometimes I cry. Sometimes in that exact order. But no matter what, I always get lost in my thoughts, and have to pull myself out of a trance once I drive up to my house.

(Side note here- you’ll need to know this to understand who I am. I am convinced that my brain works at an average speed of 90 miles a minute. You might think I’m bragging- I’m not. Convenient? At times, yes. Overwhelming? Usually. This is basically the nice way of saying I could overanalyze things for a living. I scrutinize life like it’s my job. For me, saying, “there is something on my mind” is merely the understatement of a century. When something is on my mind, I usually work through the whole issue in 2.5 minutes. This means two things: one- I am helpful in a crisis, and two- that’s all it takes to fully stress myself out- 2.5 minutes, or, heaven forbid, less.)

So, really, a five-minute drive can be genuinely therapeutic or torture for me.

I can be driving along, sweetly thinking, “Wow, I really love this neighborhood. I’m so glad I grew up here. I hope my kids will live in a neighborhood like this one day. Who knows, maybe I’ll end up here one day with a family. Wouldn’t it be crazy if my kids went to the same elementary school I did? And middle school? And high school? And college? Sic’em Bears! Maybe that is what God has in store for me. But maybe not. Lord, I can’t wait to find out.” (This thought process takes about 10 seconds, of course.)

In quiet moments like this, anxiety and fear creep up on me, attacking my sacred silence, stealing my breath, invading only to hold my mind hostage.

Now, instead of, “Wow, I love the neighborhood I grew up in.” I’m thinking, “Wow, I’ve lived in this neighborhood my whole life- don’t I want to go explore? Live somewhere new? If I move back here, am I creating a life for myself or falling back into everything I already know? Wait, I already did move back here. Yeah, Mer, wake up, you are still living with your mom and dad! Goodbye college apartment, hello suburbia! But do I really belong in suburbia? I’m not married. I don’t have kids. I don’t even have a dog. I’m sure the nearest 22-year-old lives at least 1,000 miles away. Am I living someone else’s life? What am I saying, I chose to move back here…I know this is where I am supposed to be. I love my job. I love my church. I love being close to family. God has shown me so many times that I am right where I need to be! I need to trust him. He will provide. He has plans I don’t even know about. I should be grateful. I should embrace this time at home. It is going to be good for me. Deep breath, Mer, deep breath.” (It’s now been a minute and 42 seconds, and I’m still waiting at the same darn stoplight…great.)

Does your brain work this way? Oh, please tell me I’m not alone! Do you start out with a simple thought and snowball it into a giant mess in your head? Do you know what it feels like to be bombarded by your own thoughts? Betrayed by your own little mind?

Welcome to my life. Take a deep breath (either with me or for me).

I’ve told you all of this because tonight all of those thoughts were fresh on my mind as I unbuckled my seatbelt and got out of my car. My heart was racing as I pulled up to my parent’s house when something caught my eye- the stars were out tonight. I looked up and felt a rush of piece that only the Lord can give as I stared up at summer’s night sky. Suddenly, my problems felt small. I felt small. And I felt understood.

I stood there for a few seconds, admiring the shimmering droplets of hope, and thanked God for grabbing my attention, rebalancing my perspective. He has used stars to do that my whole life. Stars are even in my first memories- I remember being pushed around in my stroller at night when I was a baby, looking up and watching the “twinkle lights”. Now, a simple shooting star is enough to make me tear up with humble adoration.

Whatever is looming over you tonight, whatever feels too heavy on your heart, whatever is keeping you from sleeping peacefully- I encourage you to go stand outside and look up at the stars until your worries feel small. Until God feels big and you feel small. Until you feel understood.

These Stories Don't Mean Anything...

There is a song by Brandi Carlile called “The Story” that I absolutely love. The song speaks deeply to my heart because I feel like I can relate to almost every line; she talks about how she has lived through highs and lows, how she has traveled across the world, and how she feels like there is only one person in the world that really knows her. She confesses, “It’s true, I was made for you.”

I am only 22, but I have lived an incredible life, thus far. I, like all people, have vivid memories of the highs and lows of my life (most of my low points were awkwardly lived in those glorious years between 13 and well, last week?). Also, I have had the opportunity to travel and live abroad, making memories that will stay in my heart forever. And I have experienced the truth that there is only one person in my life that knows the depths of my heart: Jesus.

You might have another name come to mind, maybe your spouse or a family member, or even a close friend. And while I have many family members and friends who make my “most trusted” list, it is undeniable that God knows me better than anyone else. Out of every adventure I have ever had, He has been right there with me. In fact, my life story wouldn’t make much sense without Him in it. If you know me at all, hopefully you agree when I sing along with Brandi, “It’s true, I was made for You.”

So I, a single, 22-year-old, newly graduated woman who is trying to figure out how to make a mark on the world, decided to start here: on a blog. If I want my life to be worth anything substantial, I know it will be because I shared it with others. After all, didn’t Jesus spend His whole life trying to teach us this simple truth?

A few years ago, while I was living in Argentina for a summer, I had the opportunity to go horseback riding through the foothills of the Andes Mountains. I spent a few silent hours that day, just taking in God’s beauty and singing Him songs in my head. And while I loved every minute of the adventure, all I could think about was who I wanted to share the experience with.

Like the song says, “Stories don’t mean anything, when you’ve got no one to tell them to.” So if you don’t mind, I think I’ll tell my stories to you.