Mondays… am I right?
It seems that as we get older, many of us fall into the never-ending trap of working hard all week, living for the weekend, and then dreading the moment we must return to work. Occasionally we find things to look forward to mid-week, like fitness classes and happy hours, but for the most part our days become monotonous: eat, work, sleep, repeat.
Ahhh…it seems like just yesterday that I was rackin’ up my mom’s credit card debt at Target, buyin’ binders, ramen noodles, and a turquoise shower caddy for my quickly approaching college adventure. I remember hoping that, in addition to earning my Bachelor’s degree, I would obtain my MRS. Degree. Although I have yet to meet my future husband, God has provided me with my future bridesmaids. Friends who, first and foremost, set my eyes on Christ when life’s distractions threaten to tear my gaze from Him.
I am soon approaching my one year mark of graduation with already two jobs under my belt, and I do not feel disadvantaged, in fact, I feel encouraged! Encouraged to share 5 things that my jobs have taught me in the past year. This week has been especially telling, and has encouraged me to spend some time soul searching. With changes in my job, I have been forced to search for a new career, but am struggling to find a good fit. I know that I do not want to simply jump into a job because an offer was extended, yet I fear being too selective.
I was thirteen years old when I learned what a calorie was.
I was always a slender child, largely in part to the organic and vegetarian food my mom kept around the house, but around the time of my eighth grade graduation, puberty and junk food joined forces to add a few extra pounds. It was the age of walking to Starbucks with friends to get frappucinos; buying king-size chocolate bars from 7-11; and eating pizza at youth group gatherings. I’d always been thin, so I took for granted that my figure wouldn’t change with my eating habits.
I used to think by the time I was 24, I’d be married with a baby. By the time I was 30, I'd have had a few promotions at work. At 35, I’d have traveled the world. 40, I’d be attending my son’s high school football game. I’d be stuffing the van and taking my kids to college by 45. 50, I’d become an empty nester. I’d buy a boat or an RV or something luxurious at 55 and call myself adventurous. 56, I’d welcome my first grandchild.
I can tell you the perfect recipe for a ruined life, for the complete destruction of the great light within you; the one sure way to put out your fire, to shrink your wild life, to dim your sparkle to one faint flicker: Settle.
The moment we allow ourselves to settle is the moment we start agreeing to live a mundane life.
I think, for a long time, I got lost in someone else. When you let someone become your entire world, it feels like your world has ended when they leave it. I’m not going to let that happen to me anymore. Because I don’t want someone to become my world. Instead, I want to share my world with someone…someday.
Last week, during a trip to my grandma’s house, I discovered an old book called “The Book of Me” from when I was six years old. Illustrated in the style of Dr. Seuss, the book contains a variety of miscellaneous questions, everything from “how many freckles do you have?” to “what do you want to be when you grow up?” According to my answers, six-year-old me had one freckle (false) and dreamed of becoming an artist (true, but ill-advised based on my drawings throughout the book).
Precious girl, I see you and I’m with you. You love hard and give generously. You dream big and serve well. You are kind yet fierce. You wonder if self love is selfishness, and if you ever do enough. There’s a constant battle between whether you’re doing enough or being enough. And you never seem to win.