Forced Beliefs

For those of you who may not know, I am Lutheran. I grew up going to church on Sundays mornings, Wednesday nights in Lent, and every special occasion. I went through Sunday school, confirmation, and senior high youth group. Personally, I always felt like I was sort of forced to go and pushed into being religious. It wasn’t until I moved away from home that I started to find my place in my faith life. Once I had the option not to go to church every single Sunday, I just stopped going for a few months. I usually worked Sunday mornings, and if I wasn’t working I was too tired or lazy to get out of bed.

Gradually, I began to miss that part of my life and the people that had become so familiar to me over the years. Without really realizing it, I had become part of a family at my church, and that wasn’t something I was ready to let go of just yet. So I started going every other Sunday or so and reading the Bible a little more. I like to find verses or stories that best help me deal with whatever is troubling me in my life at the moment.

In my younger years, I never really understood what it meant to feel God’s presence and truly know that He is with you. Then I went to work camp in Rochester, Indiana in 2013. After worship one night, everyone was super emotional and some people hung back to reflect. It was then, crying on the cold gym floor, that I heard God’s voice for the first time. I don’t even remember what He said. All I remember is a feeling of relief and reassurance. I knew that no matter how hard things got for me from that moment on, He would be there to make sure I’m okay.

Whenever I start to doubt my faith or wonder why I believe what I believe, I think back to that moment. I may not go to church every Sunday and pray all the time, but it’s not the external things that matter; it’s what you feel inside.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned from all this, it’s that you can’t force people into religion. It’s just not for everyone. If you push them too far, you may end up making them resent it in the end. Ultimately, if they aren’t open in their mind and heart to receiving it, they won’t get anything out of it. 

Necessary Opposites

In choir, we’re singing this song called “Sing Me to Heaven.” The lyrics are “Touch in me grief and comfort, love and passion, pain and pleasure.” Aside from being beautiful in lyric and in sound, the meaning behind this song really made me think.

There are many things in life that go hand-in-hand; you can’t have one without the other. If it never rains, how can you truly appreciate a sunny day? If you never feel sadness, how can you know what real happiness feels like? Going back to the song lyrics, you need grief in order to really feel comfort, pain in order to really feel pleasure. You can’t have one without the other.

I’ve had a fairly easy life compared to some people I know and compared to the things I hear about in the media. I’ve lost some loved ones along the way and suffered a few wounds to my heart, but all that hurt just makes me appreciate the good times so much more.

I truly do have the most amazing friends in the world. If I had never lived at the dorms at UNO, I never would have worked at Midtown, which is where I met my squaaaaad. My best friend never would have found a guy that makes her happier than I’ve ever seen her. I never would have left Midtown to work at the Alamo, where I’ve met so many more amazing people. This chain of events never fails to blow my mind.

I’ve come a long way in these past 10 months, and I never thought I would be where I am today. I am not the same person in many ways (which scares the hell out of me), but I feel like I’m changing for the better in many ways as well. It’s just nice to know that even when I’m at my lowest point, I can look back and think of the last time I was at my lowest point and remind myself that it really does get better. It might take a while, but it does.

PS- If anyone reading this is alive when I die, I want a choir to sing that song at my funeral.

Mistakes

Maybe this will make me sound a bit pretentious and like I’m trying to be wise beyond my years, but I’ve never seen the point of lingering in the past. Why dwell on something and feel remorse for something you no longer have any control over? You can’t change it, so why let it consume you?

I’m not by any means saying that I never think about things I said or did and wish I hadn’t said or done them, but I at least try my best not to let them overtake me. People make mistakes. People make stupid decisions that they end up regretting later. That’s just a basic fact of life. It can’t be predicted and it can’t be prevented, so why do we make it such a big deal?

Looking back on my life so far, I’m starting to realize that my mistakes happened for a reason. They shaped me into the person I am today, and I’m slowly beginning to accept that person. If I had never made those mistakes, a chain of events may not have happened and I may not be where I am today. It’s crazy to think about just how small you are in the universe, but it’s also crazy to think about just how much one person matters.

Never regret anything because at one point it was exactly what you wanted. In that single moment, that step you took was in the right direction, and those words you spoke felt just right sliding off your tongue. If you’re constantly looking back, you’ll never be able to see all the good that’s right in front of you.  

Christmas Thoughts

Should we be taught to believe in Santa Claus as children? What does believing in Santa really mean? What does it say about our inner selves? These are all questions I’ve come to consider this holiday season.

I very much believed in Santa Claus when I was growing up. It’s not like my parents went to extremes to keep us believing, but they had us leave cookies and milk for Old Saint Nick and carrots and cheese for his reindeer. We even left our lights on on Christmas Eve so Santa could find our house.

For some parents, Santa is a good way to get their kids to behave. If they start to do something bad, parents can throw out the “if you’re a bad boy/girl, Santa will put you on the Naughty List, and you’ll get coal” excuse to get them to be good. 

On the other hand, believing in the man with the white beard, rosy cheeks, and big round belly inspires imagination in children. It reminds us of the endless possibilities in life. In a world consumed by consumerism, it's sometimes nice to be reminded of the childlike wonder we all once had. 

But what does believing in Santa Claus really say about us? To me, believing in Santa isn’t necessarily about believing in the idea of the man himself, but rather simply believing in something. In this day and age, we have become so distrusting and skeptical of one another and the world around us. We often forget that there is good in this world, we just have to look for and believe in it.

So when I am older and have kids of my own, I will tell them about the whimsical and jolly man who travels around the world to deliver presents to people of all ages. And as they get older and begin to question the concept, I will let the truth unfold. I will tell them that no, Santa is not real, but that doesn’t mean the spirit of Christmas isn’t to be celebrated all the same. 

Nostalgia

I used to think that I was pathetic because of how much I missed the person I was in high school. Now I’m starting to learn that it is okay to be nostalgic for what once was. That being said, I must admit that I miss show choir a lot. There truly is nothing quite like it after high school. I just finished the series finale of Glee, and it really made me miss being up on stage and performing with my friends. The rush (no pun intended) that I felt up there was like nothing else I have ever experienced.

I’m beginning to realize that it’s not a bad thing to miss who I was, as long as I realize that the best truly is yet to come. There was a time before that amazing part of my life, and there will be an even more amazing time in my future. I might just be back in a lull right now, but sometimes you need the normal to really appreciate the extraordinary. Playing the waiting game won’t be easy, but if the results are anything like my show choir experience, it is well worth the wait.

And to all you high school show choir kids out there, enjoy this while it lasts. The long weekend rehearsals and all day competitions might seem daunting now, but you'll miss the smell of sweat and hairspray more than anything. It will fly by, so make it count. 

Worrier

I am a worrier. Always have been and probably always will be. When my roommate leaves when I’m not there, and doesn’t give me any indication of where she went, I can’t help but be concerned and curious. I am the type of person that greatly appreciates the, “I won’t be coming home tonight,” or “I went to a friend’s house for a bit,” texts. Otherwise I sit there worrying about you and what you’re doing and where you are and who you’re with.

All that being said, I think this shows the kind of parent I will be someday. I’ve always had this vision in my head of “the cool parent” and what that would be like. I want my kids to be able to talk to me about anything, and I want to be a good balance of strict and laid-back. But being the way that I am, I know in reality that I will be the parent that stays up late to make sure their kid gets home okay. I will want updates throughout the night if they go to someone’s house after a football game. I will want to meet their friends so I can judge their character. And even though this is not the vision I had for myself as a parent, I think I’m accepting the reality that I am who I am, and I can’t do much about that.

That’s the thing about people like me. We are anxious, worried, paranoid, and hesitant, but we care. Sometimes too much, and sometimes too fiercely. But we care.

Leaving My Legacy

As I reflect on the first days of my sophomore year of college, I can’t help but think about the future.

College truly is the time of your life where you figure out who you are and what you want to do. Honestly, I’m not sure what I want to do. I know my passions, but the job opportunities for them aren’t exactly “practical.” I know I want to help people, and I know I want to leave a lasting impact on the world. That last one may seem a bit too ambitious for a nineteen-year-old, but it’s honestly one of my fears. I’m afraid that when I die, no one will remember me. I want to leave a legacy behind.

I think that’s why I’m so attracted to writing. Written word is one of the few things that we can use to reveal a person’s emotions and personality after they’re gone. I want to write things that make people think and analyze their own lives. I want others to see how I feel and know that they are not alone. I truly do believe that words can change the world.

I realize that I went off on a bit of a tangent there. I guess my point is that I want to write because then, when I’m gone, my loved ones will have little pieces of me they can look back on. Hopefully the writings I leave behind can help my loved ones better cope with my death. I think some part of me will always want to be remembered in a grand way, but I’m slowly learning that that’s not the most important thing.