“Love bears all things.” {1 Cor. 13:7}

“Love covers a multitude of sins.” {1 Peter 4:8}

“Perfect love casts out fear.” {1 John 4:18}

“We love because He first loved us.” {1 John 4:19}

I open my mouth. Pain flies from tongue as I spit undeserved words upon someone. Why? Why do I insist on opening my mouth? Why do I bite? Why do I hurt?

One word: Insecurity. My heartbeat quickens when I hear someone say something. My thoughts begin to race. What did they mean by that? Do they dislike me? Are they mad at me? Do they think I’m a terrible person? And so, in true fashion to my sinful nature, I have to ensure that they don’t hurt me as much I hurt them. So I open my mouth. Out floods pain. And all too often, this pain is not undone as easily as it is inflicted.

I think I am finally realizing that every reaction I make affects someone. And it is no longer just my family who knows me, but people who I really want to impress and really want to be liked by. And that’s a scary place to be. That’s a place where I have placed my identity in how someone else feels about me. That’s a place where I have placed my happiness in the hands of another human, and asked them to perform to make me feel a certain way. That’s a place where I take control away from God, where I ignore how much He loves me, and I look for ways to feel more loved. As if anyone could love more than my Savior.

Where does that lead? Insecurity. Doubt. Fear. Anger. Hurt.

So I begin to search. I begin to search for an answer to the hurt. The hurt I see in other’s eyes, and in my own. I begin to wonder if it’s really my battle to fight, to ensure that everyone likes me as much as I feel I need to be liked to be fulfilled. And in that searching I find these words. “Love covers a multitude of sins.”

A multitude of sins. A multitude of anger, gossip, malice, selfishness, envy, and strife. When I truly love like Christ has loved me, I’m no longer concerned with how people feel about me, or how I feel about them. No, my feelings have no place in love. Because I am called to love, regardless of my heart that is condemning me with every passing day. I am called to hide my life away in Christ’s, not to generously give other people the power to falsely fulfill me. I am called to look up to a Savior who became love as He took on that multitude of sins. 

So when I look into the eyes of the people who have hurt me, and when I look into the eyes of people I have hurt, I dig deeper. I open up my chest, and I cut my heart once again, forcing out one more drop of blood, one more drop of love.

When I truly look into the mirror of others, I see myself. I see my sin, my hurt, my wreckage. I recoil. I hate seeing my own filth personified. My feelings betray me. My deceptively wicked heart screams for me to flee. Flee to false safety. Flee to false comfort. Flee to sin. I look in the mirror of another’s eyes, and I see broken, chipped mirror edges that cut my fingers and my life when I touch them. My first instinct: Push them away, so that my broken edges can’t cut them. Push them away, so their broken edges can’t cut me.

And then I hear the sound of Jesus, crying “Father forgive them, for they know not what they do,” as He bled out in agony on the Cross. And so I reach out. I touch.

That is grace. That is love. Grace and love are bleeding out because you chose to touch the sharp, jagged edges of others. Touching the edges, because of the hand of Jesus touching my heart, restoring it. Because when I cut open my heart for unconditional love, I am cutting open the heart of Jesus Christ as He hung dying on a cross for me. As He breathed His last, He bled out every drop of His love so that every heartbeat that ever sounds on earth can find grace. Can find unconditional love. Love costs everything. Yet it is not my price to pay, because He has already paid it in full.

Love bears all things. |1 Cor. 13:7| All. The messy, broken pieces of me. The messy, broken pieces of you.

We love because He first loved us. 
|1 John 4:19| Without Him, loving anyone would be impossible. Without Him filling us with His love first, we would be completely desolate. Because we are messy, broken pieces.

Love covers a multitude of sins. |1 Peter 4:8|And yet, a multitude of messy, broken pieces are covered when we love.

When we bear all, through His love, we are restored. We are redeemed. We are love. So I will reach out. I will choose to place my insecurity and identity in the One who taught me to love. And I will touch the edges of people’s lives, if only because Christ chose to touch the edges of mine forever.

“Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.” (James 1:17, NIV)

You know that feeling when you’ve had a cold and one day you wake up, and you feel better? And that day is so beautiful and glorious because you can finally breathe through your nose and stand up without getting dizzy, and life just seems even greater than before you got sick? That’s sort of the feeling I have right now. No, I haven’t been sick (thank goodness). But I’ve been in a pretty terrible mood for the past week. (Ask my ever so patient roommate…)

So often, I find myself turning to write when things aren’t going my way. So often I take my bad attitude and write to feel better. This time isn’t one of those times. I’m writing because I’m in a good mood. I feel the need to document while I’m in a good mood, so that once it fades (as moods are so wont to do), I will be able to apply the truth no matter what changing feeling comes my way.

My roommate and I say “choose joy” almost daily. Most of the time it’s her saying it very politely to me, reminding me to chin up, and stop being in a bad mood (bless her for living with me). I can argue and say I’m a melancholic person, a pessimist, a perfectionist, an introvert, a deeply feeling soul, but let’s be honest. Most of the time bad moods come from my own little heart getting hung up on my own little world not going my way. For the past week, I’ve been throwing myself quite the pity party. The honeymoon phase of college is over. Oh yeah, I actually have work to do now. Oh yeah, new friendships require work. Oh yeah, I really miss my home. Oh yeah, not everything is going perfectly. And when things don’t go my way, God often tells me to be still and wait, to remember that He has a better story in the works, than any story I could every try to clumsily write on my own. But because of this call to be patient, I’ve been a bit… mopey. Like a little kid in the grocery store, I’ve been stomping my foot and saying, “No, God! I want the treat NOW!” And when I don’t get what I think I deserve, I plop down on the floor and feel sorry for myself.

I went home on fall break this weekend, and didn’t want to return to school. School is where the responsibilities and the obligations and the life-shaping lessons are. School is just downright hard. But alas, every form of retreat-ism comes to an end, and here I am, back at school. And I had every thought that this would be another week of moping, feeling lonely, and playing a tiny violin while singing “woe is me.”

And then something happened.

Several things actually… The first being a very dear friend (*cough cough* Holly Harris) was kind enough to tell me what I needed to hear. “Get over yourself.” Of course she said it in much nicer terms, but she said very clearly what I needed to hear. Yes… Yes, life is hard. And you can sit around moping about the things you wish you had, or you can make the revolutionary decision to focus on what you do have.

I realize that so often my “bad mood” comes from an introspective, self-centered, way of thinking. Not that there’s anything wrong with self reflection… But it becomes a problem when you are so far into your own head, contemplating only your own thoughts, your own worries, your own hardships, and your own wishes, that you neglect to step outside of yourself and look for others in your life. Look inwardly, find the problem, and take it to Jesus. But please, learn from me and don’t dwell on your problem. Dwelling on problems only creates more problems.

The second thing that happened was that I took her advice and actually did it. I pushed myself out of my comfort zone and went and spent time with others. I picked my bottom lip up off the ground, and decided to enjoy life. So often I say the phrase, “choose joy” without thinking much to its meaning. Choosing joy is so much more than just plastering a fake smile on our faces and ignoring our problems. Choosing joy isn’t ignoring our problems. It’s focusing on our present. Choosing joy isn’t looking at the past we want to change or the future we want to control. Choosing joy is looking at the gifts we have in the here and now, and allowing ourselves to be thankful. Don’t we often sort of want to be in a bad mood? Don’t we let negative thoughts grab hold of us? Don’t we squelch our own happiness sometimes? My father said it to me a thousand times while growing up, and now I think I’m finally catching onto it. Happiness is a choice. And what we choose to dwell on is a choice. When I finally decided to allow myself to be happy about all the little things in life, I found I had so much to be thankful for.

So call this an early Thanksgiving, but I am constantly stumbling across something to be thankful for. Friends who tell it to you straight. Roommates who drive twenty minutes to get some yummy breakfast. Groups of new friends singing together at the top of their lungs. Warm sweaters. A surprisingly good caf meal. Artwork. A new Bible study. A good book. Fall leaves. Letters from home. Laughter.

In James, we are told that every good and perfect gift comes down from the Heavenly Father. In our Bible study last night, someone pointed out that this means the inverse to be true. No good thing can come into our life apart from God. The things I listed may seem small and trivial, but when I look at every beautiful gift I’ve been given as a blessing directly from God, I can’t help but feel my heart swell with joy.

So find your little joys. Stop considering what you wish was happening, and start being thankful for all that is happening. I know… It’s so much more easily said than done. What do you do when there doesn’t seem to be any joy, anywhere?

In a week, I might be back in a sour frame of mind, and I’ll have to scroll back through this post and reread my own words. It’s easy to write about thankfulness and joy when you’re feeling it. The true test comes when those shadows shift, and the feelings are gone. What do I do when the little joys seem to be MIA?

I turn to God’s Word to remember that I have the greatest joy of all. A God who promises He isn’t like shifting shadows and fall leaves and the weather and our moods. He is constant. He is joy abundant. He is life. He is good all the time. And that is something for which to be truly thankful.

It’s been a month.

It’s been a month since I hugged my parents goodbye on a doorstep of a dorm called Stroup on a beautiful campus called Gardner-Webb University, in a little town no one has ever heard of called Boiling Springs.

It’s been almost a month since I laid down in a tiny little twin bed in an unfamiliar room and read letters from home and cried because I couldn’t believe I was finally at college, far, far away from everyone and everything I loved and knew.

It’s been a month that I’ve been in college. And I already feel like I’ve learned so much.

I also feel like I’ve been putting off writing any sort of blog post about this whole experience. I feel like I’ve been drinking from a fire hose. Everything around me is so different. I’m meeting people who are completely different from me, from worlds nothing like any that I have ever experienced.

But in this time of learning so much, I find I must do what I do best. Write.

I knew I would learn lessons in college. Lessons about math, science, social sciences, history, and of course, writing. And I knew deep down that I’d learn lessons about people, and myself. But now that I am reflecting on this past month I see that the lessons I learned were not the ones I necessarily expected to learn. Isn’t that the beauty of learning? We are assailed by a truth we never expected to stumble upon. So, for those of you who might be wondering what I’ve been doing the past month as a college freshman, and for those of you who were just kind enough to click the link and read, here are the five biggest lessons I’ve learned at college that have nothing to do with academia.

1.) Life is a balancing act.

When I left for school, this was the thing I remember my father saying most clearly. And it took be about 4.6 seconds into the semester to realize how true this statement was.

I thought making the choice of what school to attend was difficult. Ha. No one mentioned that every day after I chose was going to fraught with even more choices. How to spend my time… Who to spend my time with… What to prioritize… Suddenly I wasn’t making one choice. I was making hundreds. I’m learning to balance social life and personal life. Spiritual life and academic life. Family and friends. New relationships and old relationships. Homework, sleep, and socializing.

Life is constantly shifting and changing. There is always something vying for our attention. And in the midst of the noise of life, I must make choices. And I must learn to balance. How thankful I am for a God who promises us an anchor of hope for our souls, even in the most unbalanced times.

 “So God has given both his promise and his oath. These two things are unchangeable because it is impossible for God to lie. Therefore, we who have fled to him for refuge can have great confidence as we hold to the hope that lies before us. This hope is a strong and trustworthy anchor for our souls. It leads us through the curtain into God’s inner sanctuary.” (Heb. 6:19, NLT)

2.) Not everyone is going to like you.

Take this lesson from the girl who has eaten many a wrong order a restaurant, and spent a lot of time doing all the work in group projects, all in the hopes that she wouldn’t cause anyone to “dislike” her. I have spent so much of my life striving endlessly for people to “like” me. What does that even mean? Why did I want people to like me? Did I want people to like me for me, or because I wanted social validation? Did I want people to like me so I could represent Christ well, or because I wanted to feel good about myself?

I went into college determined that everyone needed to “like” me. I learned very quickly that this isn’t really a viable way to walk through life. Christ calls us to live at peace with everyone, but I have yet to find a verse in the Bible that says, “Make sure everyone thinks you’re a cool person.” Christ called us to love everyone well. He called us to live a life so devoted to Him that people see Him and only Him. He called us to live a life that makes us say, “anything good in me is Christ.” When I get caught up wanting people to “like” me, I am essentially taking Christ off His throne in my life, and I placing Hannah Ray right on it. I am saying it is more important for me to feel good about myself than to present the Gospel.

There will be people we click with, and people we don’t click with. It isn’t our job to cling to those we click with, or to force those we don’t click with us to like us. It’s our job to love everyone the way Jesus does, and it’s our job to point everything in our life back to Him.

“Now concerning brotherly love you have no need for anyone to write to you, for you yourselves have been taught by God to love one another, for that indeed is what you are doing to all the brothers throughout Macedonia. But we urge you, brothers, to do this more and more, and to aspire to live quietly, and to mind your own affairs, and to work with your hands, as we instructed you, so that you may walk properly before outsiders and be dependent on no one.” (1 Thes. 4:9-12, NLT)

3.) Find your place… Literally.

I was terrified of college because of one thing. Introversion. I am so introverted that I was completely sure that college was going to be one long party that exhausted me after two hours and I’d be trapped in this ongoing world of loud, boisterous people I couldn’t escape from. And for the first week, it sort of was. Don’t get me wrong, I loved it. I had so much fun learning new people and experiencing new things. But there came a time, (that I knew would come) when I desperately needed a breather. I needed a moment to process. I needed a moment to write. I needed a moment alone. And I found it. I found it in a secret hiding place on campus that makes me breathe a little more easily. Whether I need to take a mental health break, or really knock out some of my Old Testament reading in a quiet environment, I can do it.

While it exciting to meet new people, and to begin to strengthen your relationships, it’s also so important to understand, you can’t do it all. You can sign up for a few things, but not everything. You can go out some nights, but not every night. Understanding where your passions are, and where your priorities are, help you better understand your place. Find a quiet place to be yourself. Even if it means saying “no” sometimes.

“Be still, and know that I am God! I will be honored by every nation. I will be honored throughout the world.” (Psalm 46:10, NLT)

4.) Everyone is a complex story.

And stories take time to read. I have met some of the most amazing people in these first few weeks. College seems like a catalyst for life. It compounds life into this one location, and suddenly three weeks can feel like three months, because you are living life with people in a deeper way than you’ve lived with anyone prior to this experience. Suddenly, school, family, friends, church, and sports life are one. You see people’s good sides, bad sides, and ugly sides very quickly. They see yours. In a few days, you can have a repertoire of experiences that would have taken you months to accumulate in the “real world.”

But just because you feel close doesn’t mean you are. As one of my friends here so eloquently put, “College friendships spring up like a new plant, quick and promising, but that doesn’t mean the roots are deep yet.” I’ve planted some amazing seeds. But now it’s time to focus on deepening the roots of these seeds.

Everyone I meet is their own story. They have chapters of their lives I know nothing about. They have characters who changed them, and rewrote their stories. They have tear stained pages, and joy filled passages. They have an entire history that I don’t know, and they deserve the respect of telling their stories at the speed they choose. When reading other’s stories, I have to remind myself to have patience and love. I learn about people, and they learn about me, not through fast paced page skimming. We learn through taking our time together. We learn through communication. We learn through sharing meals, sharing a bathroom, sharing a classroom, and sharing our hearts. Be patient with others, and understand that love takes time.

“Always be humble and gentle. Be patient with each other, making allowance for each other’s faults because of your love.” (Ephesians 4:2, NLT)

5.) Choose Joy

First of all, I must say I have the best roommate ever, and from the moment I met her she has reiterated this phrase to me. At first, it was a cute thing to say and write on our whiteboard on the door. Now, I feel like the truth is taking root in my heart. Every morning, rainy or sunny, Monday or Saturday, tired or awake, good hair day or bad, we are given a choice. We are given the choice to see Jesus in the little things in life, in the people we meet, and the opportunities we get, or we have the choice to focus on ourselves. I have to admit, too often I focus on myself. College is quite an easy place to become very inwardly focused. I have worried over relationships, friendships, classes, schedules, grades, cafeteria food… You name it, I’ve worried about it. And although I would terribly disappoint my mother by admitting this, I haven’t kept a “good attitude” at every turn. I don’t “choose” joy because sometimes I see nothing to be joyful about.

Yet when I don’t see the joy, it is because I am focusing on the things right in front of me. Like a horse with blinders on, I see only my problems, and I fall apart. But it’s so clear in God’s Word that every moment is an opportunity for joy. Why? Not because we are happy or excited about the bad things in life, but because each situation, both good and bad, is an opportunity to grow closer to Christ. It’s an opportunity to run to God’s feet and throw our troubles down, knowing we can’t find happiness on our own. It’s an opportunity for joy, because we choose to praise Jesus over any other circumstance in our life.

“Dear brothers and sisters, when troubles of any kind come your way, consider it an opportunity for great joy. For you know that when your faith is tested, your endurance has a chance to grow. So let it grow, for when your endurance is fully developed, you will be perfect and complete, needing nothing.” (James 1:2-4, NLT)

So there they are. Five lessons from college that I have learned.  College is a place to learn, grow, and understand yourself and your place in the world more clearly. Hopefully I will have many more lessons from the next four years to share. And God willing, these lessons will take root in my heart. And I hope in some way, whether you’ve never been to college, you’re currently in college, or you’re long past college, something in these lessons has helped you. I encourage you, balance life, find your place, pursue stories, and most of all choose joy.

Everything is temporary.

In the year that I have had my phone (and the years I had an old school iPod touch before that) I have never deleted a conversation on my phone. Never once. You can scroll back to October 10^th, 2013 when I got the phone and read the first text messages I sent saying, “I got a new phone!” if you want. It’s all there. (Granted it may take a lot of scrolling, but it’s there.)

I could work for the FBI the way I track things. I can refer back to something someone said eight months ago if it means proving my point or remembering something especially poignant. My iMessage app is a messy conglomeration of names and emoticons and messages spanning the last 11 months.

Why? Because words and memories mean so much to me. Every text conversation I have ever had is like a tiny little time capsule shared with someone. Nowadays, my generation is reprimanded for their excessive use of screen to screen conversation instead of face to face. I am the first to advocate the importance of face to face interaction, uninterrupted by screens. Too often, we hide behind screens. But there is something special about texting to me. Go ahead and laugh, yes I am about to romanticize text messaging.

Some of my favorite, deepest, and realest conversations have come through text messages. Because I am so word driven, I have been able to type out things that I never would have been able to articulate quite the same in person. Some of the most encouraging words, deepest thoughts, and most vulnerable moments have been born inside a little green messaging app on my iPhone.

So I save them. I save all those little texts, just in case. Just in case I ever want reread something funny one of my friends has said in our never ending group messages. Just in case I want to reread some little encouragement my best friend has sent me. Just in case I want to reread the words of someone I miss. Just in case…

So as you can imagine, when my phone recently went haywire and deleted every message and conversation, my heart sank when I opened up the app to see a white blank screen. Every name, every conversation, gone, as if they had never happened at all.

And for a moment, I panicked. I felt sick at the thought of never seeing all the words I had been collecting for almost a year. I felt sick never scrolling through the memories of my senior year, encapsulated in text messages. And then I begin to think about all the words I had said. All the deep thoughts, worried fears, helpful hints, kind words, shared secrets, and countless laughs that were all hidden away in my phone. Was I ever really going to go back and reread every word? And even if I did, then what? Was I going to copy down every single response and reply that had gone on in conversation for the past 365 days. Was I really ever going to do anything with all those words? Or did I just feel more secure holding a memory in a tangible way?

And that’s when I begin to wonder… Where exactly was I putting my relationships? Did I really believe that somehow being able to reread a message made it more real? Did I feel like having a tangible account of it made it more important? Was I really only secure in a relationship when the person sent me a little sound bite of a conversation? Did the loss of a text message really change the state of a relationship? Weren’t the people in my life more than the little blue bubbles I had reduced them to?

Was I focusing on the words on the screen… or the person on the other side of the screen?

Then it hit me. If not today, when? When am I ever going to let go of the moments and conversations I so desperately cling to, and focus on people again? That deep back and forth my friend and I had? I should have savored that conversation in the moment. That funny, witty exchange we had in a group message? I should have taken a picture if I really wanted to remember. And even then, what if I lost those accounts? What if my computer broke? What if my hard drive failed to back up? What if my house burned down?

Suddenly, I was reminded of a very simple truth that I often overlook.

Everything is temporary. No iCloud backup or hard drive storage or safe or bank or insurance policy can tether us to the things we so desperately cling to. Our lives are as fragile as year’s worth of text messages. Here one day, deleted the next.

Maybe that’s why Jesus said, “Don’t store up treasures here on earth, where moths eat them and rust destroys them, and where thieves break in and steal. Store your treasures in heaven, where moths and rust cannot destroy, and thieves do not break in and steal.” (Matt. 6:19-20)

Don’t store up your treasure on iPhones, where short circuiting and technical glitches can destroy them. Instead, store up your treasures in Heaven.

As a writer, it’s easy to get caught up in the fear of computer crashes and paper fires. Anything, (literally anything) can destroy the work I’ve done. But nothing can destroy the impact I make on eternity. When I remember that it’s not the text messages I save, but the real people I invest in that live forever, I am comforted. When I look at a text message containing an inside joke compared to the light of eternity spent with Jesus, I can’t help but feel foolish.

Because Jesus also made it very clear, whatever we are clinging to, whatever makes or breaks our day is where our heart is. “Wherever your treasure is, there the desires of your heart will also be.” (Matt. 6:21) Do I really want my heart invested in a few text messages from months ago? Or do I want my love and heart invested in the real people in my life every day?

Even as I write this, my iPhone is backing up to my computer, and I’m saying silent prayers that when I restore it everything will be back as it should be. But if it never restores, if my messages are lost forever, I will go on.

And best of all, I’ll go on a little differently. I really will put my phone down, and look around for the people in life who need a face to face interaction. I’ll invest in the right now, not in the yesterday. I’ll love my relationships for what they are, not what they appear to be over a text message.

And when I look at it that way, in the light of eternity, I have to be thankful for this little inconvenience. Because maybe an iPhone glitch is just what I needed to focus a little less on the temporary and a little more on the eternal.

“I guess this is everything,” I said. I clicked the delete button on the computer, erasing my final files. I stood up and turned around. My boss was smiling at me. I pointed to the filing cabinet.

“Everything is filed and squared away, all my files are on the server, and I made sure to put the extra instructions for the next intern on the USB.” She nodded.

“So…” I said. I picked up my keys. I clicked the power button on my computer for the last time.

“I guess this is it. You can text me if anything gets lost, of course,” I said. I reached into the coffee cup on my desk, full of paperclips, highlighters, and pens. I grabbed my favorite red pen.

“You’re going to do great at college, Hannah,” my boss said.

“Thank you for everything,” I said. She reached out and we hugged.

“Goodbye, Hannah!” the office begin to chorus. Everyone was waving and wishing me all the best. Was it just a year ago that I walked into this office afraid of the unknown? I looked into the bin where my newspapers came in each morning for me to read and clip. I had read my final newspaper that morning. The newspaper that had been full of stories and life for me each day was moving on without me.

I had clipped an article that morning, a freelance piece about bidding goodbye to the old, and looking towards new adventures. So apropos for my last day. The article in my purse, my pen in my hand, and goodbye on my lips, I turned towards the door.

“Goodbye!” I called one last time. It was Friday, and the whole office was packing up for the weekend. I pulled my hood up as I stepped off the porch. The rainy August day was uncharacteristically chilly. The rain made it impossible to linger in the bittersweet nostalgia. No time for that. I dashed to my car, and hopped in, tossing my bag onto the passenger seat.

As I pulled out of the parking lot, I thought back on the countless times I had pulled in and out of the parking lot over the past year. My first job, a job I loved, with people I had grown so close to was over.

I had only gone in that Friday to “tie up the loose ends.” But tying up the loose ends gives such a sense of finality. Preparing the space for a new employee. Forwarding emails. Deleting your files. Tossing all your sticky notes. Cleaning your desk and knowing that soon, someone else will call it their desk. Removing all the traces of yourself that you’ve so carefully placed around your space to give it a feel of home. Tying up the loose ends.

I had started the job as a paid summer internship, over a year ago, and I had grown to love it. I genuinely enjoyed coming to my desk each day to read the newspaper, write, and work on PR projects. It was something I had never taken for granted, because I enjoyed it so much. But I always knew it would come to an end one day. And today was that day.

As I pulled into my driveway, I thought about the memories of my job, and I thought about the future. Would I ever find a job like this again? Would all of life start as unknown as this, and yet move into a warm, happy home? Why was I leaving again?

The answers didn’t come, but the thought that life was moving forward resounded. It was time. It was time to take a step into the unknown, not unlike what I had done the year before at my office. I had succeeded at my first job, there was no reason not to take the confidence and skills I learned to my next job.

My first job will always hold a special place in my heart. It was my starting ground. It was what showed me I had the ability to do more than I realized. I would miss it, but I was glad that it had its place as long as it did.

I thought back to my office one last time, as I unlocked the door to my house. I thought about my desk, the mailroom, the front lobby, and the kitchen… The kitchen. I thought of my orange cup, still in the refrigerator with the coffee I had made the day before. So maybe I had missed a loose end or two? I suppose that’s only fitting as well. We leave a pieces of ourselves behind, everywhere we go. We touch and are touched by every experience, every environment, and every person. We take the lessons we learn to begin new experiences. And we keep our minds open to change and return. As hard as goodbyes are, they’re necessary. Life is full of loose ends that get tied, if only so the next ends can begin.

The June day is so hot. My t-shirt clings to my back with the sweat of my driver’s seat. Somehow, my 1993 Honda Accord’s black interior can never cool off quickly enough for me. My breaths are so heavy, weighed down by the humidity filling my lungs. The thick air, promising a late afternoon summer thunderstorm, blankets me as I wait on the front porch.

The door swings open, and I am flooded with the cool air conditioner. Deep breaths of the refreshing air fill my lungs. I come inside, and find my place in the light, airy living room. The cool fabric of the plush sofa soothes my warm skin. Softly whirring above, the ceiling fans whispers the lazy tune of summertime. As I settle comfortably into the room, a cold, icy glass of tea is placed in my hand. A chill races over my radiating skin. The freezing glass fogs in my hot hand, cooling my palm instantly. My damp hair pressed to my forehead begins to blow lightly under the light breeze of the fan. Placing the glass to my lips, I sip. Refreshing and flavorful, the tea washes down my dry throat. I lick my lips. Sticky beads of herbal flavor dance on my tongue.

The quiet, barely audible whisper of the old book’s spine stretching touches my ears. The book is opened. The voice, matched to the soft whir of the ceiling fan, fills my mind. Cool breeze, icy glass, soft words. The words of a Southern author, as he describes the changes in life, the moments that make us who we are, bring me a heightened sense of the present. The cut glass of the tumbler in my hand suddenly seeps smoother. The taste of the iced tea on my tongue is sharper. The breeze is cooler. My heart is warmer.

The ladies in the room, people I care for and have grown to love, sit back, enjoying the moment much like me. Our bodies absorb the air of the ceiling fan. Our minds absorb the words of Thomas Wolfe. And I am keenly aware.

Keenly aware of my senses, as I feel, taste, and hear the summer day. Keenly aware of my culture, in a sitting room where I sip iced tea, and listen to the words of a great Southern author. Keenly aware of the present, a moment with friends I have grown up with, friends I will soon say goodbye to.

I am keenly aware of life.

Life made of heavy, summer air, and cool inside breezes. Life made of hot skin and cool glasses of tea. Life made of literature, words, thoughts, and stories. Life made of friends. Life made of moments. Moments like this, isolated and vivid, archetypes of a way of life. Cliche yet original, commonplace yet poignant, lives like this are lived out every day.

Yet, I treasure this day. I treasure this moment. Stopping to catch my breath, I consider the simplest details. I make notes in my head, so that one day, I might look back and remember the beauty in the every day.

For the June day is so hot.

As a writer, I’m constantly looking for new books. Sometimes I discover rare, unknown gems that I fall in love with all on my own. And sometimes I find beauties in the books currently circulating popular culture. I am not partial to how I find my books. I am not trying to be above pop culture, and I’m not trying to fit into pop culture.

With that being said, it would be pretty hard to ignore the book all of the media is buzzing about currently. Five words: The Fault in Our Stars. First it was Harry Potter, then Twilight, then The Hunger Games. Divergent had a run, and now all the teens seem to be flocking to the John Greene novel with a movie recently debuted by the same name. (I would like to put out the disclaimer, I read the book two years ago when it first came out.) The book rose to popularity, and inevitably was turned into a movie that was released this weekend.

Whenever a book comes into such popularity, it always brings with it controversy. The Fault in Our Stars (TFiOS) is no exception. As a young adult (*cough cough* teenager), I believe I have a unique perspective on the book. And as an older sister of a younger teen, I have been asked many times if I think the book is appropriate for younger readers. My friend and I also read several very negative reviews on the book, and I decided maybe I should give the book a quick review. I’d be honored for you to read my opinions on the book, but the disclaimer goes, I am not an expert.

*The below are simply my own personal beliefs and convictions on the book, and it is perfectly fine if you do not agree. I attempt to look at this book from an intellectual standpoint, while coupling it with my own beliefs. This is simply a statement of my own personal views on the novel, and they are meant in no way to infringe on your own views. We can discuss, and we can agree to disagree!*

**SPOILER ALERT: I will reveal the major plotlines of the book. If you have not yet read the book, and would prefer not to know the ending, this might be a good time to stop reading!**

Let me begin by saying, I adored this book. Strictly from a writer’s standpoint, I found the book beautifully written and incredibly thought provoking. The characters were power-packed. The storyline was enticing. Everything about this book made me feel like I knew the characters, felt for the characters, loved the characters, and grieved with the characters. It filled me with emotion, and that is one of my favorite things.

For those who may not know much about the book, the story centers around one Hazel Grace Lancaster, a sixteen year old cancer patient. She meets Augustus Waters, a fellow cancer patient in a support group, and the two quickly fall in love. Hazel and Augustus bond over a book by a Peter Van Houten, An Imperial Affliction. The book is written from the perspective of a cancer patient, who dies at the end of the book. Because the main character dies, the author chose to end the book in mid sentence. Hazel is particularly infatuated with the book, because Van Houten doesn’t romanticize death, but instead he takes a very realistic approach.

Even still, Hazel is plagued by the questions that are left of unanswered at the end of the book. Augustus, motivated by his love for Hazel, decides to use his “wish” to go to Amsterdam and meet the reclusive author of An Imperial Affliction. Despite Hazel’s failing health, the couple journey with Hazel’s mother to visit Van Houten in Amsterdam. However, once they meet Van Houten, they find him to be a sloppy, cynical alcoholic who refuses to answer their questions. Instead he insults Hazel and Augustus, calling them a failed mutation in humanity.

By the end of the trip, Augustus reveals to Hazel that he recently went in for a PET scan, and finds out that his cancer (which was previously thought to be in remission) has taken over his entire body. He is dying. The pair return to their home, and the rest of Augustus’ days are lived out with Hazel. At the end of the book, he dies, and Van Houten appears at his funeral to give Hazel the eulogy that Augustus had formerly promised Hazel he would write for her. The book and movie end with Hazel understanding that Augustus loved her, and that their lives were not lived in vain.

The story sounds bleak. It is. It sounds melancholy. It is. The book isn’t exactly a feel good story. So let me begin by touching on that issue.

1.) This book is not an optimistic novel.

Hazel has a very bleak outlook on life. She says she doesn’t believe in an afterlife, and she doesn’t see the point of trying to live until Gus comes along. She even goes through a period of the book feeling like a “grenade.” She is terrified of causing more pain to her parents and Gus through letting them love her, because she knows she will soon die. So instead, she decides to push them away.

The double edged sword of sad books in my opinion, is this dichotomy between appreciating the sad without dwelling on the morose. I love sad stories. (Sorry not sorry.) For some reason, I love feeling deeply, whether that’s happy or sad. And this book was full of deep feelings. Choosing to dwell on the sadness in the book however, would be unwise. Our lives are not made be lived under the shadow of death and sadness. Jesus redeemed us from that! (Psalm 103:1-5).

Still, the book is not without redemptive values. Augustus loves Hazel with a selfless love. He finds her beautiful, but he makes it clear he loves her for her heart and mind. He is bold in his love, and caring towards all around him. Hazel and her parents form a deep relationship, full of healing and mutual growth. Both characters realize that what matters in life is what you choose to invest in another person. Whether you invest in them for a small amount of time or a large one, you have the opportunity to give someone else an infinity of yourself within your set amount of days.

The book celebrates loyalty, love, and friendship. It doesn’t glamorize or sheen over the difficult parts of life. Instead, it begs us to examine the difficulties, and to live and love in spite of them.

If a mature reader can see the book for what it is, a depiction of the good and the bad in life, and choose not become infatuated with the sadness, I believe that many beautiful lessons can come from the book.

2.) A Higher Teen Standard

I read a review that criticised the “intelligence” of the teens in this book. If the criticism you can find in a book is that the teenage characters are critical thinkers, then I think it’s the least of your worries. All teenagers have the ability to think deeply about the world around them. As my dear friend, Holly Harris so accurately put, “Every teen has the capacity to choose to be who they are and offer themselves to the world, not in spite of their young age, but because of it.”

I related to the character of Hazel, because she spoke with such maturity and depth. (Fitting for someone who has gone through as much as she has.) It was refreshing to read a book that portrayed teenagers as true thinkers, and this is a standard all teens should appeal to.

3.) The Book is not without Faults (no pun intended)

Alright, I’ll just be blatantly honest. The book has some major ethical flaws. A smattering of profanity left a less than pleasant taste in my mouth. (Profanity is never necessary in my opinion.) And yes, Hazel and Gus do sleep together in the book. Perhaps what makes this action even more upsetting is that, as the audience members, we are reminded these characters are dying! Don’t they deserve to bend the rules a little bit? They’re in love after all! Nope, sorry. That’s not how it works. Wrong is wrong, no matter your circumstances. The danger in this scene (although very brief and vague) is that we begin to justify the actions of the characters based on their circumstances.

I have found most people find the major flaws in the book within the parameters of what I have just mentioned. And it’s never good to fill our minds with things we know are wrong. Although I do not condone these things, I think the most important thing to remember when reading this book, is…

4.) The Worldview

Whenever I read a book, I try very hard to examine the worldview of the book. (Worldview: a particular philosophy of life or conception of the world). The worldview of this book is very bleak. When I first read the book in fact, I was not much of a fan because of this fact.

Throughout the novel, there is a theme. The theme is that Hazel believes the world and all its inhabitants will soon return to nothing, tossed into oblivion. Gus, on the other hand, says he fears oblivion. He longs to make an impact on the world, to be remembered. The characters have many deep, thought provoking discussions throughout the book, grappling with their own mortality. At the end of the book, Gus states in his eulogy for Hazel that we all get hurt in this world, and we don’t have a choice in the matter. We only get to choose who hurts us. He says that he likes his choices, and he hopes Hazel does too. She replies with simply, “I do, Augustus. I do.”

This book ends without much more hope than with which it began. The hope we do see, is in the love that Hazel and Gus shared, along with the love that she strengthens with her parents throughout the novel. These positive elements however still leave us feeling slightly empty. After all… What happens to Gus after he dies? Are our lives truly a shout in the void? Did the love Gus and Hazel shared mean anything at all?

I felt that although the book seemed set up to answer these questions, it left them as unanswered as Hazel’s questions to the ending of An Imperial Affliction. And as a Christian, I believe that an unsure ending is only appropriate for a book that was not written from a Christian worldview.

One of my favorite books (plays) of all time is The Glass Menagerie. It’s a classic, and it’s completely UN-Christian. Yet when I read it, I can’t help notice how the characters are filled with longing. And I realize, the author, without meaning to, wrote into his book a longing deeply ingrained in the human soul.

TFiOS is no different. Hazel and Gus long for more, because so often humans do feel like a shout in the void. Yet, I know a God who makes that shout worthwhile. We are created with an emptiness inside of us, designed to be filled by Christ.

There are other beautiful elements of the story, such as Hazel telling Gus that he impacted her and that is enough. Jesus calls us to love. And He created us to love and be loved by another human so closely one day. That was one of my favorite parts of the story. That Gus didn’t explode the world, instead he touched the lives of those around him. And isn’t that what we are all called to do?

I say all of this about the worldview to say this – most people know the things in this novel that are wrong when they read them. Disrespect to authority and God. Profanity. Sex outside of marriage. These elements, although troubling, are blatant. The main reason I would recommend reading this book with caution would be because of the worldview.

Personally, I was able to read the book, spot the elements of falsity, and still enjoy the beautiful writing and story. In fact, the parts of the book I disagreed with sparked the most poignant discussions for me. When you are able to find and dissect a worldview in a book, you are automatically in charge of how the book affects you. Without a clear and critical thought approach to this book, this book could easily skew your thinking. (Hint: That’s true of all literature!)

(Sidebar to parents: If your son or daughter is asking to read this book, I recommend you read it first and decide what’s best for them. You know best what your child can handle, and what you want them to put in their minds. If they do read the book, I encourage you to use it as tool to have a discussion with them on their beliefs on life and death. This can actually spark amazing discovery and conversation!)

Personally, I thoroughly enjoyed The Fault in Our Stars. This book made me feel more than almost any other book ever has. I enjoyed looking at the book as a piece of art, full of beautifully written passages and thought provoking lines. I enjoyed examining the book from a Christian perspective, finding the elements that were wrong or skewed, and understanding why they were written that way. I believe that any book can be used as a tool for understanding the world and humanity a little better, and we’d be remiss to ignore the amazing opportunity books open up to us in that way.

To sum it up, one of the most poignant lines in the book to me, is a line from the play Julius Ceasar that Peter Van Houten quotes to Augustus and Hazel. The line says, “The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves.” Van Houten says Shakespeare was “wrong,” as sometimes fate causes things to happen that are faults.

Interestingly enough, I disagree with TFiOS, and I agree with the original quote. The fault is in us. We do not cause bad things to happen to us, and we do not choose for bad things to happen, but the major fault in the world is the sin each of us carry within our hearts. The faults that happen to us are not left up to fate, chance, or even the stars.

No, I am thankful that the One controlling the universe and all that’s in it, is more sovereign than any constellation. I’m thankful there is a world after death. And I’m thankful for a Savior who chooses to redeem us and our faults.

I am thankful that our lives are not based on faults in our stars, but instead the grace of a loving God.

Leave me a comment, and tell me your opinions on this book! I hope this review was somewhat helpful or thought provoking to you! Thanks for taking the time to read.

Over the past few weeks, I have suddenly been assailed by this idea of change. It seems natural, after all, in fifteen days, I will dawn a cap and gown and walk down an aisle. I will cross a stage, receive a diploma, and turn my tassel. I will graduate high school, and I will begin the last summer of my childhood. I will begin a path to a brand new stage of life.

And I am terrified. And I am excited.

This has brought a lot of conversations up with some of my best friends. They have been fantastic listeners, and they have taught me a lot. A few quotes brought to you by them:

“The secret of contentment lies not in the past, or in the future, but in our current posture of surrender.” – Landis Brown

“Perhaps I will not fully be who I need to be until I give up those consistencies and realize there is only One who is truly unchanging.” – Holly Harris

These conversations have showed me the dichotomy I have fallen deeply into. I am brokenhearted to see my past life ending. I am thrilled to see where the next steps lead. How can these two things be at the same time? The oxymoron called “growing up” constantly astounds me.

And through this all, I began to search myself.

You know, my mom lived in the same bedroom she was brought home from the hospital to, until the day she married my dad. She went from that life, to a brand new life in one day.

My dad on the other hand, has lived in four different states, two different countries, and multiple cities. He’s been to different schools and different churches. He has traveled to China, Brazil, England, Italy, Germany, the Dominican Republic, Rome, and Israel. He has seen so much of the world. And he says he’d be happy waking up in a new city every day.

Their lives are so different, and I see myself so much in my mother. I see myself in her quiet love of the certain, the same, the familiar, the secure. As much I long to have a spirit of wanderlust, I cannot be what I am not.

And yet.

I find myself aching so often for something different. Sometimes, I want to wear flower crowns, and change my style, and cut my hair. Sometimes I want to fly to California just to explore a place I’ve never been. Sometimes, I want to say goodbye to everything and start over fresh. I want to be an artist. I want to be a writer. I want to be this person I am not.

And sometimes, I wonder, why. Do I want do these things because I’m having some sort of quarter life crisis? Am I bored with my life? Am I accepting change, or trying to find fulfillment in it. Too often, I know of myself that I want to do different things because I believe somehow, that Hannah, with Coachella style, and an L.A. lifestyle, would be happier than High Point Hannah living her life exactly the same way every day. But that isn’t true.

As my friend, Holly, so beautifully put, Greensboro is still Greensboro, no matter where I am. And wherever I am, I am still me. I cannot escape Hannah Ray. And truly, I would never want to. And Hannah Ray, can never be fulfilled without Jesus. Flower crowns will not make me happy. L.A. sunsets will not satisfy. Planes, trains, and automobiles will never satisfy this spirit of wanderlust. Sameness will never satisfy this spirit of a homebody.

Recently I was introduced to the book, Soulkeeping. In the book, the author explains that our souls are created with such immense desire. Physical desire for another person. Social desire for relationships. Desires to see the world, to change, to grow, to learn, to understand, to love, to cry, to laugh… to live. And we are created with that desire because we must have something to crave. We crave, deep down, the Heaven that awaits us and the God who created us. We crave something, so that we may wake each day living to satisfy our souls.

But what are we choosing to satisfy this longing? Too often, I believe if my life could look like some sort of tumblr photo feed, I would be satisfied. But Jesus created me to be satisfied by Him alone. 

I feel lost to myself right now. I am in such a strange limbo of wanting everything to stay exactly the same, and yet feeling as if I shall explode if everything doesn’t change. Who am I? A homebody? A wanderlust?

I am me.

I am who God created me to be. I am lost, yet He finds me. I am empty, yet He fills me. I am desiring so much, yet He satisfies me.

I have come to realize, that you can spend forever looking at what was, what could have been, what might have been, what will be, what might be, what would be, or what should be.

But you are only given one thing. What is.

Do I still sometimes want things to change? Of course. I believe that we are made to change and to grow. I just must remember not to find salvation in that change. I must not find salvation in sameness. I must bask in the gift of the present, whenever that may be. 

Rejection hurts. A study recently came out, showing that 10 out of 10 people have experienced rejection at some point in their life. I would beg to make the case that a good percentage of that 10 of 10 probably disliked the rejection they received as well. I’m not an expert on the human condition, but I am, after all, a human. I’m not an expert on rejection, but I’ve been rejected enough times in my life. I’ve been rejected enough times in the past week to realize rejection teaches a few very important lessons, if we are willing to learn them.

Let me begin by saying, the past weeks have been less than. *Note: If you aren’t interested in the pity party section of this article, skip to paragraph four.* I’ve been told “no” enough times to fill my quota for a long, long time. Let’s just say if I had a boyfriend, he probably would have broken up with me. Yeah, it’s been that kind of week. I was turned down by a few things that I really wanted and worked for. It was the kind of turn down that just makes your heart sick and your stomach hurt. It was the kind of turn down that hits you exactly where it hurts. In the midst of rejection, I think our first extinct is to throw a good old fashion pity party. Maybe you’re stronger than me, and you take every rejection in stride, working to be a better person because of it. If that’s you, I applaud you. I’d like to think that’s who I am. But as I set out the hypothetical streamers and party hats for my pity party, I was hit with the reality that I am not that strong person.

The first rejection came early on in the week. It was the rejection from a play for which I had auditioned. I auditioned with high hopes. I loved the role, and I really wanted it. The second rejection came in the form of a little white envelope. I have to say, this rejection hurt more than the first one. Inside that little white envelope wasn’t acceptance, but instead the two little words I didn’t want to hear. Inside the envelope were the words “wait list.” Wait list, is college speak for, “we invited a lot of cool kids to this party, but if they don’t show up, I guess you’ll do.” It’s hurtful to say the least. Even though I knew neither of these rejections were personal assaults on my character, they still hurt. Even though neither of these rejections was going to ruin my life, both really leveled me.

So, this got me thinking. Why was I crying over cast lists and white envelopes? There had to be something deeper behind rejection.

This is where the learning came in. I am a firm believer that God redeems every trial in our life. And I think He often redeems these trials by using them to teach and grow us. So after a good pity party, I forced myself to search for the lesson in rejection. What did these rejections teach me about myself? I came to the conclusion that there were two main reasons rejection hurts.

1.) Rejection hurts because we feel like we have wasted our efforts.

Have you ever tried out for something that you knew you didn’t work that hard for? It was a lot less upsetting to get rejected from that, because you could easily see it was something you could have controlled. I think rejection is a wound that is salted by the amount we worked for and wanted acceptance. I wanted more than anything, to be cast in the play. I wanted to say the lines and get the headline, and feel the part. I wanted it so much I could taste it, so I only took the rejection that much harder.

In regards to that little white envelope, I worked hard for that one. I wrote essays. I got letters of reference. I interviewed. I spent four years of high school trying to get grades that would make colleges consider me. I went through three SAT prep courses. I worked my butt off with the end goal of getting a big white envelope with the words, “we are pleased to accept.” I didn’t work for the words, “we regret to inform.” I suddenly felt like all my effort was futile. What had I really worked for?

When we don’t really want things, or we don’t really work for them, we can’t really blame anyone other than ourselves. We are in control. When you truly worked your hardest, and want it most, and you still don’t get it, you are left without any control. Nothing you could have done could have changed the outcome. And this leads us to thinking about the second reason…

2.) Rejection hurts because it makes us ask, “what’s wrong with me?”

The first reason is the natural reaction to wanting and working and ending up with the results you didn’t want. This reason is deeper. This reason cuts harder, and scars more. You can be the most self-confident, self-assured person who ever lived, and yet human nature is to feel hurt by rejection. When you hear the words, “thanks but no thanks,” your brain kicks in immediately to start evaluating the situation. We were created to work and reap the benefits of our labor. When we feel like we failed, and the fruits weren’t harvested, our brains try to help us figure out “what went wrong.” Unfortunately that usually leaves us saying not, “what went wrong with this situation, and what can I do to learn from it?” but instead, “what is inherently wrong with me that I wasn’t good enough?”

“Not good enough” can resonate inside of us for a long time after all the little white envelopes have been recycled. “Not good enough” soon turns into a dangerous game of comparison. We start looking around and saying, “of if only I was more like them. They got into this thing! They always gets what they want! Of course I wasn’t going to succeed. Not when there are people like them!” Suddenly, it isn’t even about the rejection. It’s a war inside of us.

Rejection hurts when it makes us question our identity. How I viewed myself was affected by my acceptance into the cast of that show and that college. I knew that I would feel a little more validated as a person if I heard the word, “yes.” When we find our identity in things that we cannot control, and further, when we find our identity in the wrong indicators, it can severely skew our view of ourselves.

Again, maybe you are a confident person who has never experienced these feelings of self-doubt. Congratulations. It’s an amazing thing to be thankful for the person you are, and to be content in your life. Or maybe you externalize rejection, instead of internalizing it. I’m not saying everyone falls into the same category with rejection. So if you’ve never experienced these feelings of inadequacy, keep reading, maybe you’ll learn something about the people around you. If you have experienced these feelings, remember, as cliché as it sounds, you are not alone!

While you’re walking around comparing yourself to other people, they’re comparing themselves to you. While you’re wondering why you don’t measure up in certain areas, they’re wondering why they don’t measure up in certain areas. Even those people who seem to hear “yes” every day of their life, have or will at some point in their life experience rejection. You may not see it on the outside, but no one is immune to rejection.

It’s also important to realize, rejection is not synonymous with failure. Working hard and wanting something, and then not getting it, does not mean you failed. And it most definitely does not mean you are a failure. Sometimes, in all honesty, we work hard and it isn’t enough. The standard was too high before we even set out to accomplish our goal. Does that mean that we are less of ourselves? No! Does that mean we should never try for anything ever again? Of course not! How would we know what we were capable of accomplishing if we never tried?

It’s also important to remember, it’s okay when rejection hurts. It’s embarrassing. It’s embarrassing for me to stand here and tell you all that I didn’t achieve those things. It’s embarrassing to admit that we didn’t reach the aims we had for ourselves. Our pride is wounded. Everyone posts pictures of acceptance letters. No one jumps up and downs and calls their grandmother to say, “I just got rejected!” It hurts to hear that we weren’t chosen, because deep down, we all want to be chosen.  But it’s important in those times of embarrassment and hurt, not to let those emotions eclipse our logic. To quote Scarlett O’Hara, “tomorrow is another day.” The sun does rise again, and sooner or later that pain fades. What shouldn’t fade are the lessons we learn from the pain.

So what lessons am I taking away from rejection?

1.) Sometimes rejection is completely independent of us. – Sometimes we work as hard as we possibly can, and we still get rejected. Sometimes we are rejected based on factors that in actuality have nothing to do with us. Just because you see a small piece of the picture, it doesn’t mean you see the whole picture.

2.) Rejection should not be a gateway to play the comparison game. – You are you. You were created for a specific purpose. If you didn’t accomplish what you worked hard for, it just means that there is something greater ahead of you. Stop looking at other people’s successes. They were created with their own purposes. God has a plan for your life that is a lot bigger than any rejection you may experience now. God has planned more for our lives than we could ever imagine, even if we don’t see it now. (Isa. 55:8)

3.) Rejection is not a reflection of who I am, or how my life will play out. – I was the same person I was two weeks ago before casts lists and white envelopes. My family doesn’t love me any less. My life is not drastically altered by the rejection. I am not worth less, because my plans didn’t come to fruition. And my future is not bleak, because my present didn’t occur the way I had planned. Your identity should be based in something much deeper than the word, “yes.” (Hint: Identity is based on what your Creator thinks about you. Psalm 139:14)

4.) The rejection of today, should never affect our outlook on tomorrow. – (oops, got a little fortune cookie on that one.) Rejection hurts. Rejection hurts, and it makes us wonder who we are. But rejection should never keep us from trying again tomorrow.

5.) Rejection does not define us. Instead it’s how we react to that rejection that determines the person we are. – I dealt with rejection by writing this. Am I super thrilled about my rejections, and ready to take them in stride with a skip in my step? Absolutely not. (If you answered yes, you need to reread this article.) My attitude could still use some work, but I hope that in some way, writing this can help someone else with rejection. I hope I go back and reread this whenever I go through more times of rejection, as I am sure to do in the future.  And I hope that in four years, the rejection will not be what I remember as my defining moment. Instead, I hope I remember the person God molded me into in the midst of rejection.

My mother was a librarian, so I’ve always felt some sort of fondness for the great establishment full of books. It’s amazing how the loves and passions of people you know can instill love and passion inside of you.

One of my favorite childhood memories is walking through the big doors of our library, eagerly heading towards “story time.” Sitting cross-legged on the floor with the scratchy 1980’s carpet biting my legs, I would become completely engrossed with the book being read.

Since I practically grew up in the library, it’s no shock that it still feels like home to me. Even now that I’m in college, I find myself sneaking back to the children’s wing of my hometown library. Maybe from nostalgia or leftover childhood longing, I can’t help but return. The librarians all know me by name. They watched me grow up. I’d like to think they measure my age in the books I’ve checked out of the library. Starting with picture books my mother would read to me, through easy read chapter books, novels, mysteries, and all the way until now. Somehow, these librarians never mind when I break routine and they catch me perusing a Nancy Drew mystery or a Junie B. Jones book.

So now I sit in my community college library, writing this entry, and smiling to myself. I have a free hour. I have nowhere to be, and no one to meet. So I picked a place where I knew I’d fit. I picked the library. It’s completely quiet, except for that indie playlist I like to listen to and pretend it’s the soundtrack to life. The books here are formal, stiff, and important. Somehow, I don’t mind. I see the little section of picture books behind me. Maybe I’ll look there when I finish writing this. If you’re wondering why someone is ardently reading children’s books in the middle of the DCCC library, have no fear. She simply found her home.